Day 003: Pardon Me?
Summary: A discussion brews about whether or not the offer of pardons from the Chancellor is for real.
Date: 1 May 2016
Related: None Directly
Quinn Morgan Faolan Grey Layla Max 

The Grounds, The Camp

With the removal of underbrush and a half-dozen small trees, there is now a tiny clearing around the dropship. It has begun to fill with detritus from the ship, including all of the seating, padding, and removable plates or bulkheads. Several tents have been set up within the clearing, set close together within the confines of the surrounding trees. There are no defenses to speak of, save for the usually-open door to the dropship and the ship's metal walls.

The forest immediately surrounding the camp has been cowed into near-silence, but is still vibrant and green to a people used to stark metal bulkheads all around them.

3 Days After Landing

Like Faolan, Morgan arrives from the forest. Though instead of nuts or berries, he carries strips of bark and a small branch with drooping leaves in one hand. The other holds a metal rod that used to be part of a dropship seat at one point in the fairly recent past. Spotting a few people congregated near the ship, he heads over, giving them a nod. "Hey."

Layla offers a curt, "Hello," to those now gathering. Not much for social niceties since her time of incarceration, Layla nevertheless does try. Somewhat. To Faolan she answers in the negative with a minute shake of her head. "I've been concerned with…other things."

Inching closer, Layla attempts to peer into Faolan's makeshift pouch. "Have you tried them already? How do they taste?" She starts to reach out her hand, aiming directly for that pouch. "Look at how red they are." Is that faint amusement in her voice? Just maybe. Layla stops herself suddenly, and retracts her hand. She casts both Quinn and Morgan a speculative look. "Have either of you tried them before?"

"Better'n anything you'd eat back up there," Faolan says. His eyes narrow a little when she asks the others if they've tasted them. As if he doesn't k now enough to tell what berries are edible or not. Well. Technically he ''did'' sleep through most of the Earth Studies, thinking them worthless as long as they (and a couple of more future generations) were stuck up there. He never expected to be among the first on the ground. Defensively he adds: "Zoe showed 'em to me. Others've eaten them and been fine."

He upnods Morgan and Quinn. Companionably enough, even if he's slightly reserved. The ex-Cadet still carries himself like he's different from the other delinquents. Like he's not an actual criminal just like everybody else.

Quinn pauses at the question, shaking her head before she glances at Faolan, grinning at him, "Your girlfriend doesn't trust you." She informs him before she moves back to a spot nearish to the ramp of the Dropship, throwing herself down onto the ground to get comfortable.

"Yeah? What did she charge you to do that?" Morgan asks curiously. He steps a little closer to look at the berries then shrugs. "Look like the ones someone brought in before. I probably should have studied them more closely but I was hungry. None of you know trees do you?" he asks, looking from one to the other.

"I was merely trying to be…polite," Layla murmured mildly. Clasping her hands behind her back, there was nothing to indicate that she was flustered by either Faolan's defensive reaction or Quinn's quip. Instead, Layla honed in on Morgan's question. "Ecology was never my focus of study." She paused, as if considering something. "It was chemistry, mostly. A little bit of biology." Earth studies Layla attended dutifully, but had considered them a lesser pursuit.

"May I?" Layla asked, though she didn't wait for Faolan to give an answer. She plucked up a few berries, and proceeded to eat one. And only one. Because she would not indulge in the carnality of eating before the others. Most especially not when she was so very hungry!

"She's not my girlfriend." It should've been a friendly bit of banter, but its soured in his mouth. The last girlfriend Faolan had he 'accidentally' killed. His mouth twists in a grimace.

"Nothing. Everybody has to contribute if we're all gonna manage to survive. Sooner or later people'll see as much, once enough of them get hungry. Even Zoe." He squints in the wake of that statement, thoughtful like. "Okay, fine. It might take some extra persuasion on her account, and probably raid her hiding spots to retrieve the contraband. But she does know her earth studies."

"Go ahead. I already uh, ate my share." Its said sheepishly, like a guilty admission.

"Sure." Quinn replies, looking unruffled by Faolan's less than friendly response to her comment. She just smiles at her fellow ex-Cadet, then her attention turns back to Layla and Morgan, watching them, listening to what they're saying.

"Yeah, me too. Biology doesn't cover botany. I /think/ these are from a willow though." Morgan says and glances at his burden. "I just need someone to confirm that." He snorts a little at Faolan's answer. "A lot of extra persuasion. But anyone who refuses to contribute to the welfare of the group shouldn't benefit from any of it either." He slips the metal rod into his pocket which sticks out a good two feet but leaves his hand free. "If you don't mind then…" And he takes a few berries as well. "Thanks."

"I believe there are some Agro kids gathering up such items as they are able," Layla says to Morgan. "Perhaps one of them will have an answer for you." The spare berries were discreetly pocketed, even if her tongue was probing her mouth for any spare bits of the one she had allowed herself to eat. When finally convinced that she had savoured all that she would be able to, Layla spoke again. "If Zoe does not want to be a part of the group, then she should strike out to make her own camp. Morgan is right." Spoken with little emotion, as though Layla could care less about the fate of the other girl. (Or anyone of a similar disposition!)

"Thanks for sharing, Faolan. Was there anything else you planned to due today?" Was she offering to help? It was…possible

He might have already eaten his share, but he steals a couple of more berries to chew on, savoring the juices. It sure beats the rations back up on the Ark. His stomach makes a sound, a growling testament to its further demands.

Then he leans forward to put his nose in the offered example. He wrinkles his nose, thinks real hard. Real, real, hard, and he's the sort of guy whose concentration is writ all over his face when he starts thinking. "I.. uh. I mean, I think so? I'm pretty sure. Well. Perhaps. Yeah, yeah. I think.. yeah. Probably. Willow? Right, definitively willow." After a quick pause he adds: "But I'd still ask someone else."

To Layla he says: "Umm. I don't know. You got any bright thoughts?"

"We'll see," said Layla. She pointed at a passing Delinquent. "I have to ask that kid about something. I'll be right back." And off she went.

"Which one is Zoe?" Quinn might actually know, or she's really not putting names to faces for whatever reason. Possibly because anyone could be added to the body count at any time, and it's a wasted effort. She pushes herself to her feet, venturing over towards where the berries are, holding out a hand for one.

"I plan to." Morgan agrees. Some of the agro geeks were drying herbs. They should be able to confirm it. "Never thought I'd ever need to do medicine with plants." Pause. "Never thought I'd live to do medicine." There was no chance of a successful appeal for him, he was sure. "Ummm. So high." He puts a hand out several inches below his head. "Dark hair. Attitude. Just go around asking for help with something. She'll be the one asking for something in return."

"Wearing a baggy jumpsuit," Faolan adds to the description of Zoe. He scratches his cheek with one hand, the other still holding his t-shirt out so the remaining berries won't fall to the ground. He looks away when Morgan mentions not having had much of a chance. "Yeah. This is our opportunity to pay back for all the shit we did. Clean slate." Is there a desperate quality in his voice when he says it, a yearning? "I heard some have been taking off their bracelets. They're gonna think we're dying off."

"You really think there's such a thing as a clean slate?" Quinn questions, reaching down to grab one of the berries out of Faolan's shirt, tossing it into her mouth before she shakes her head. Evidently she isn't really buying the idea that there are going to be clean slates for them all.

Morgan looks at Faolan like he's crazy. "I'm not the one who needs to pay back anything. I'm just sorry I got caught before I could kill more of them. And yeah, my bracelet is coming off as soon as Silver figures out how to do it. If we can cannibalize the comm gear, she might be able to jury rig a way to read what they're monitoring. A bracelet would make a good diagnostic tool for when someone is ill." He shrugs. Whether she can manage it is another matter. "You're right about one thing though. We have a chance to make something here before it all falls apart. Set up a group that helps everyone equally and not just the ones with the power."

Faolan, Quinn and Morgan is standing by the dropship doors, and Layla has just gone vanished from the steps moments ago. They're talking. The big lout that is Faolan is holding out his t-shirt from his stomach so it'll work as a bowl for the berries and a few nuts he's brought with him. Fear not, while he might not be an Earth Studies genius himself, he's had help from someone who is to discern where to find and what to eat.

"As much as any of us deserve, yes," of the clean slate. "We're on the ground. The things that were necessary to do up there, they're not necessary to do down here. It'll change." He frowns at Morgan, looks at him like he's crazy. "Helping everybody means making hard decisions sometimes. If you think what you did was right, then you're deluded. Fuck that. You're just a murderer, a selfish asshole who thinks his pain is somehow special, that it somehow entitles him."

Grey has refined his hunting weapons. He now has a pair of strait wooden spears as tall as he is, with little metal points at the top, and he carries them with him, up over his right shoulder. He wanders toward the little group just in time to hear Morgan's words, "But who's to say has power?" There's a sly little smile behind the question, his lips pulled up at one corner, "And why should it be this Council," he clearly uses the word very carefully, "that has the power to help everyone equally?" Now that he's made his intro, he gives nods around the group, adding a little grin for Quinn and a smirk for Faolan. "Not that I have any clue what he did," a nod to Morgan, "Just because someone got killed doesn't mean they didn't deserve to die." Says the matricide.

"Just because someone died doesn't mean the person that killed them did something wrong." Quinn adds, taking another berry before she crosses her arms over her chest, "I'd have killed the dude if they hadn't caught me…people like him deserve to die. Fuck, most of those still up on the Ark deserve to rot in hell…they're all selfish pricks, and I don't care if that makes me selfish. I'm owed."

"A selfish asshole willing to help everyone survive down here." Morgan counters. "Even guilt ridden assholes. And no one like a devil's advocate." he comments to Grey with a snort though there is some amusement in his tone. "But yes, he definitely deserved it. But. they're up there and we're down here. They'll be coming down sooner or later so we need to get set up before that. Otherwise we're dead. That talk of pardons was so much bullshit."

Faolan sizes up Grey and his weapons warily, especially when the other ex cadet starts spouting those ideas. His own attempts at making hunting tools haven't gone extremely well just yet, and the knife of scrap metal is mostly for cutting things, it isn't a comfortable fit in his hand for any kind of fight where a good grip matters. He might know Grey, might have even been around the other ex Cadet up in the Skybox because ex cadets stick together, but its obvious he's not all that comfortable with him now. Its just as obvious, because he isn't very good at hiding what he's thinking, that he's chewing over it.

"Perhaps they did deserve it." But then he stubbornly he repeats: "But it wasn't your call to make. If everybody could just kill anyone they felt like it, as if they were owed, then we'd never even have been born. The whole fucking Ark'd gone to hell long ago."

"It'll change. Perhaps it wont be the Council, perhaps it'll be a new way of making laws. Laws that'll have to change anyway, because we don't gotta float anyone when there's a whole planet to share. When there's enough air for everybody, enough food once crops are planted and herds are gathered. It'll be different. But if you think a couple of dozens of you with some spears is gonna make a difference in a fight against the Ark?" He just shakes his head.

"Maybe it'd have been better if we weren't all born, that the Ark was gone." Quinn shrugs her shoulder, giving Grey a bit of a chin tilt in greeting, then she slants a look towards Morgan before she glances back at Faolan, "Who were they to decide our fate? So what…Council…" She rolls her eyes a bit, "It's all just arbitrary words…people only follow out of two emotions. Fear or love. Fear is easier."

Grey shrugs at Morgan's comment, "I don't know. Some of the politicals and the thieves'll probably get pardons if the folks up there," he gestures with the point of his spears, then lets the weapons rest against his shoulder once more, "ever get down here." He hefts up his left wrist, "I'm about ready to start prying some of these damned things off to help convince the people up there that it may not be safe." Glancing over to his spears, he gives Faolan a shit-eating grin, "These? They're not weapons. They're tools. They're for deer and," that would be Hanne's name for possum, "Even I'm not stupid enough to go against assault rifles with a spear." He nods to Quinn, "And half of the jackholes down here hate me already, even after I brought back meat. So there goes me runnin' for Chancellor of Earth." There's a scornful laugh to the last title, and he shakes his head, "Naw. There needs to be a strongman." He glances to Quinn, "Strongperson. In charge, or we're gonna have more of this," he gestures around to the rough-housing, lazing about, and macking going on all around them.

"No, I don't think we can win a fight with them. That's why I want to be long gone from here before they arrive." Morgan states. "Taking off our bracelets will slow them down since they won't know we're alive and well. Assuming" he adds, "we stay that way. We still don't know how radioactive everything is. We might be exposed to just enough radiation that we'll start showing symptoms in a month or two and be dead by the end of a year. But since we can't do anything about that, we might as well assume we're safe from that. We need to get to Mount Weather and check it out. Use the supplies to hold us over. Send out scouts to find a good place to settle where we either won't be found or can defend."

Grey makes Faolan think again, that's obvious. He wears his frown openly as he works through it in his head. "It's a mistake to take off your bracelet. We need them to know that it's survivable, we need them to come down. Even if you don't care about the survival of the human race," though from his tone everybody should, "they'll have the skills, information, technology and manpower to make our lives easier. And there's no reason for them to go back on their word. There isn't. We are pardoned." Its said with just enough insistence that he might be trying to convince himself as much as them.

"But perhaps you're right. I'd rather everybody came together because they were smart enough to realize it was for their own good. But.." a strong man? Its not as if Faolan didn't support a strong-arm regime up in the Ark, too.

"If we're dying of radiation we're dying. Mount Weather'll have the medicine we need. Just another reason to get there faster."

"Strongperson." Quinn agrees, then she frowns at Faolan, "To make things easier? Why bother with easier now….we've already toughed shit out, and we've proved ourselves so far…I don't want easier." She shakes her head, not at all seeming to be ready to budge about the concept of life being easier.

The suggestion from Morgan raises Grey's brows, "So you think we repopulate the Earth, just us hundred?" Chuckling dryly, he shakes his head, then turns a grin to Quinn, "Whaddya say, Q, you looking forward to the human race jumping out of you and the other girls in the Hundred? Without MedTechs?" By his tone, he doesn't think they'll be particularly interested. "I agree that we need to hit Mount Weather though. Keats and I've been working on a plan for a trip. Probably tomorrow. One more day to gather supplies in case it takes a couple days to get there and back. And if things haven't been sorted out here by the time the group gets back, we use the supplies to get people organized." He looks back to Faolan, "Because those of us who don't have a fart's chance in an airlock of getting a pardon, no matter what the Jackhole Jaha says, don't want to follow some Councilor's daughter just because she's a Councilor's daughter. And no one wants to do anything they don't have to, because we're all lazy and selfish." Of course, he's been keeping himself busy, and he gave away the majority of their hunting proceeds.

Layla returns from her impromptu departure. Whatever it was she had wanted to speak to the other delinquent about is kept between her and that individual, and her expression gives little away as to whether or not Layla came away from the exchange satisfied. She returns to Faolan's side, her dark eyes passing over Grey before offering a faint nod of her head in greeting.

"If they come down, and there are those amongst us who don't want to stick around for the grand reunion, we should make sure, once we're at Mount Weather, we get the intel on it if we can. Learn when they intend to descend. Those that want to split, should." Her slim shoulders rose into a shrug.

"Now that we agree on. We need to get there as soon as possible." Grey's comment gets a raised brow from Morgan in return. "Did I say that? I'm not all that concerned about the future of the race. Just our future. I think staying alive and being healthy is enough to worry about right now." Anything after that is a luxury.

"I don't plan to stick around for the reunion." Quinn adds her voice to the getting lost aspect. "But I'm not sure I care how they are coming down, either. If we get the bracelets off they shouldn't be able to find is…we're on a planet. Big, wide open spaces with mountains and shit…not locked up in the Ark or the Box."

Grey frowns at Morgan, but he doesn't respond right away, glancing over to Quinn, nodding to Layla as she joins in, and then lifting his left hand up to bite at the nail of his middle finger. He worries at it a moment, drawing in a breath through his nose, then lets it out with a sigh and drops his hand, "I never thought I'd be sayin' this, but are we gonna be it? Are we gonna be the end of the human race on Earth? If we keep the Ark folks from comin' down, they're not gonna come down for another hundred years. We just gonna die out in a generation, two at the most? Shit…" And a weight seems to settle onto the young man's shoulders, a frown settling darkly on his features.

"I've been securing a cache in anticipation. But.." Faolan scratches his chest again, takes the rest of the remaining berries and scoops them into his mouth. He puts the nuts in one of his pants' many pockets. "Its hard. Everybody's hungry." He looks a bit embarrassed. Obviously ''he'' is included in that, and has trouble setting enough aside like he knows he should. "Anyway, I'm coming. Chances are there'll be more'n just rations and medicine and comm systems there. Chances is there'll be weapons, too. They should not be in the hands of just anybody."

He looks at Morgan, he looks at Grey. He says: "Again, if human race doesn't matter to you, consider this: Without kids, we'll die slow and horrible when we get old. Everybody who wants to live beyond youth needs community."

"You worry yourself over that which cannot be controlled at the present, if ever," Layla said to Grey. "Instead we must concern ourselves with that which we ''can'' do. If we cannot survive even a season, then, yes, it is likely we'll be the last. If it helps, think of it as 'one step at a time.'"

At Faolan's words, Layla offered a brusk nod. "A valid point, but again, jumping the gun." Pausing, Layla was silent for several seconds as she watched the larger, taller youth. Gauging a potential reaction. Then, almost silently, she mouthed, "Oops."

Morgan rolls his eyes. "Look. We need to be concerned about our future first. We need to stay alive and prepare for the winter. Otherwise we're dead, no matter what the Ark does. Once we do that, then you can all worry about the future of the human race. And seriously, if we get settled somewhere, babies are going to happen. If we're growing enough of our own food, there doesn't need to be a limit of how many kids anyone has. But first, we need to stay alive."

"You going to raise a kid here? You going to carry it, have it climb it's way out of your privates?" Quinn shakes her head, her arms uncrossing before she shoves them into her pockets, "I'll help go to Mount Weather, but I don't care to have them come down, and I don't give a shit if we have kids or don't. That's a personal choice, and it's not our right to tell people they should, or shouldn't, nor how many to have if they choose." She then nods at Morgan, apparently agreeing with his sentiment that they need to be focused on surviving winter.

Grey nods slightly, almost grudgingly, at Faolan's point, but the mention of weapons by the other ex-Cadet draw a tight smile, "They won't be in the hands of just anybody. They'll be in my hands, at least to start with. I'll lock 'em up in the top level of the dropship and we'll only use 'em for hunting." Layla's point draws a shrug, "Some things you can't think about, but some things you gotta think about." Morgan's impatience and Quinn's agreement causes him to grimace, "We move from here, we're likely to lose… what… a third of the people here? The ones who want to wait for the Ark. If they think the Ark's coming down." And again, he lifts up his bracelet, "Losing these gives us options, so far as I figure it."

"No. Our hands." Faolan says, his voice serious, calm, and stubborn. "No offense, Grey, but you've got a history." The worst part is that the kid looks like he expects everybody else to agree that ''he'' is the most stable and dependable of the lot. The manic who might b calm most of the time, but when he actually gets angry tends to go on mad berserker rampages that leave people bloodied messes. Then again, at least ''he'' always feels bad about it afterwards.

"Losing these loses us options. I'm not taking mine off. You're all thinking they sacrificed us callously. This is ahead of any kind of schedule I've heard about. Think about it. If they sent down a dropship ahead of schedule, sacrificing it, even if it was with just us 'expendables' in it.. it aught to make you think. Perhaps they ''need'' to know."

"Our hands." Morgan agrees. "There's not going to be a Chancellor here. Besides, why would we want to come back to the dropship except to get everyone who wants to come? We can't transport two years of food. It'll be warmer and safer there than here. As for the bracelets, Silver should be able to figure out a way to get them off without damaging them. That gives us the most options."

Layla begins to frown, but says nothing for the time being. Instead, she crosses her arms and adopts a closed-off stance. After a few moments spent pondering, the young woman says, "The longer we all stand around debating and arguing about what to do, the less that will actually get done. Worse yet, the more divided the group will be. If cohesion and survival are what we deem to be of most import, then that's what should be focused upon."

"Losing these gain us options…we lose our babysitters." Quinn retorts, then she laughs at Faolan, "We've all got a history here…you can't use that to judge. We all did something to be here…some may have only been caught doing something more violent than others. But we've all got histories. So do you."

Grey snorts aloud at Faolan, gesturing to Quinn and repeating, "We've all got damned histories, you jackhole." Rolling his eyes hard, he shrugs a little, "I killed my mother. She deserved it. It was self-damned defense." Planting the butt of his spears into the ground, he leans forward a little bit, "And I never misfired a weapon." The words are cold, sharp, cutting in the best traditions of the Grey family of assholes. He keeps his eyes on Faolan as he continues, "But no, I'm not tryin' to become Chancellor. Wouldn't take the job even if you people were dumb enough to offer it. But the people who get weapons, if we find weapons, that's gotta be a real careful list. And it's one I'll be making on the way back from Mount Weather. You want to come, make yourself useful around camp." And then he's leaning back again, offering up a smile and stepping back, distinctly and definitively out of arm's reach, before turning and walking off again.

Faolan looks from Morgan to Layla and then to Quinn. Quinn is the one makes him look away, frowning, not so much for her laughter as for the things she says in the wake of it. Hard to argue about the fact that he has a history, too. Especially when Grey reinforces it. He falls silent, just scowls at nobody in particular. No response to Grey's departure, either, too busy chewing on his own thoughts.

Morgan nods at what Layla and Quinn say. "Yeah. We need to go soon. We're only going to get weaker if food stays scarce. And anyone who doesn't want him deciding on his own who gets weapons better come along." Checks and balances.

"Well," says Layla, her hand straying towards the pocket where she had stored those berries. "Faolan, want to help me with that chore I mentioned earlier?" Which, actually, she did not quite mention, more like said: I'll think of something for us to do. It did not seem to matter much to Layla! "I'd like to finish while there's still light."

"What?" Layla brings Faolan out of his self-tormenting reverie. He frowns between the lot of them, then grunts out a: "Spears." That'll be the chore, the decision made. Weapons for the trip, to try his hand at hunting with, since berries just aren't doing its job with filling his stomach. He starts trudging off and letting Layla follow in his wake. Morgan and Quinn get grunts by way of farewells.

"In addition to that, people are going to start getting ideas soon…fighting…boredom. Plus no telling how many'll go missing." Quinn replies with a shrug of her shoulders, watching Faolan and his reaction for the moment. Then she glances at Morgan, "So you seem like you have ideas." She glances towards Layla and Faolan at the grunt, her chin tilting in a good bye.

"Lots of ideas." Morgan agrees, nodding toward Layla and Faolan as they walk away. "Shame he's an Ark apologist. He's kinda hot." A shrug. "Anyway, the only idea of importance right this moment is to stay alive. You planning on going to the mountain?"

Quinn glances after the pair leaving again, smirking just a little at Morgan's comment, "If you like that type I guess." She then shrugs, shifting her weight back onto her heels for a moment, "I was figuring that I might go…there might be stealth mountain lions on the way."

"You should." Morgan tells Quinn. "The more people who go, the more we can carry back for the others. And unless you trust everyone else who's going, you'll want to be there to make sure your opinion is heard."

"I don't trust anyone. Maybe Max." Quinn replies thoughtfully, but then she nods, "I'll probably go, though. Just because." She glances around the camp, watching as a few delinquents goof off near the forest line. "Mostly because some people get too distracted."

"Who decides to go will tell me who is thinking ahead. And who's willing to put their lives in the hands of others." Morgan's also looking at those who are wasting time to play around. "Probably the same ones who'll welcome the Ark coming down to take them home again, thinking there's no chance they'll just get shot."

"Why bother saving us? We're tainted, broken….we got history." Quinn smirks a little, looking, of all things, amused by the conversation. "I have no interest in being here when they land, if they land. I plan to be long gone, far far away."

"I doubt they will. But you heard Faolan, he's hoping all is forgiven. As if they didn't already lie to us about the appeals." Morgan says and shrugs. "I'm dead no matter what so I'm not going to stick around."

"He's delusional…." Quinn then pulls her hands from her pockets, giving him a thumbs up, "And he does this all the time…I tried to get someone to break his thumbs, but no such luck." She tucks her hands back into her pockets, "We're tools, and when you're done with a tool you don't invite it to dinner."

Morgan grins at that and shakes his head. "Please don't try that again. We need his thumbs to hunt and for other things. We can just use him in turn. Really, that's probably the best way of doing things: everyone uses each other and gets something out of it until there's a certain loyalty tying us all together. Expecting everyone to care about each other is too much to ask."

"What other things does he need to use his thumbs for?" Quinn wonders, one corner of her mouth twisting upwards in a bit of a smirk. She's got a few ideas, but she's not going to say them out loud.

"Picking berries, of course." Morgan answers as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. "What else?" Though the corners of his lips do twitch.

"Sitting with them up his ass." Not that Quinn would ever seriously accuse Faolan of being lazy and not helping out. But it's at least funny. "Good luck there. Not sure you'll get much traction with him, you'd be better off hitting on Grey."

"You think?" Morgan looks off to where Grey disappeared then he shrugs. "Maybe. But this isn't really the time to worry about getting laid. Like I said, staying alive is the most important thing. We need to make sure that happens. I'm pretty sure Silver would agree to everything we just talked about too."

"No." Quinn shakes her head a bit, "But Grey's always hitting on people, so might as well try him. Not sure Faolan knows what his dick is yet, either. Who is Silver?"

"The one working on the bracelets." Morgan answers. "She's good with medtech. Not at all squeamish either. She pulverized the dead guys' hands to get the bracelets off without breaking them more than she had to. She's solid."

"I think I saw her working on the bracelet earlier, inside the Dropship." Quinn glances towards the ramp, and up into the cargo hold, "Hopefully she figures out a way to get them off…I don't want to be wearing it when we head to Mount Weather."

"Neither do I." Morgan agrees. "I don't want them looking over my shoulder. As long as we're all concentrated here, they don't really know what's going on." He looks over to where some of the delinquents are having fun. "Though if the readings are accurate enough, they can probably tell at least some of us are doing just fine."

"And that some of us are dying." Quinn reminds, jerking her thumb back towards the forest, "It might be a slim chance that they think we're all dying…but we can hope."

"They'd know that happened on the trip down." Morgan points out. "So doesn't really count." Reaching up, he runs his hand through his hair. "I really wish they had sent a geiger counter down with us." he says quietly. "That alone means they don't care if we live. We could all be dead already except we're not feeling it yet." They're standing not too far from the ship's opening and talking.

Max wasn't there, and then he's there. Quiet and unobtrusive, he doesn't make a whole lot of noise and doesn't say a whole lot, so it's not unusual for him to just turn up. He wanders over to Quinn, wherever she might be, and ends up standing next to her. He has that bag over his shoulder, the one that he's cobbled together with a red cross on it that he carries some first aid supplies in — poultices he made the first day, herbs.

"There's the missing kids that went hunting, too. Good bet they aren't alive." Quinn points out before she glances over towards Max when he shows up, then tilts her head towards Morgan, "He thinks we should take off, leave the ship behind."

"Probably not." Morgan admits. "But it's not a sure thing." He nods to Max when the guy shows up then focuses on the bag. "You're one of the agro guys, right? The ones drying the herbs?" He's holding a strip of bark and a branch with some droopy leaves attached in one hand. "These willow? Took me an hour to find a damned tree that looked right."

"Not Agro, just know a bit about first aid, medicinal herbs," Max says as he looks over at the droopy leaves. "I usually check with Hanne, but yeah, that looks like willow." He straightens up a bit and then looks over at Quinn, "Leave the ship and go where?"

"Somewhere that the Ark wont land, hopefully." Quinn replies with a twitch of her shoulders, her hands remaining in her pockets as she looks down at the bark being discussed, "Not sure…there's an entire planet out there though, and we'll see more of it when we head out to Mount Weather."

"Good. And there were several tree there so that's one more good thing going for us." Though Morgan will check with Hanne just to be sure. "Do you think we'll all be able to survive winter here? In that ship? When an entire base is only twenty klicks away?"

Max nods to Morgan and says, "Won't survive right now, forget winter." Not if they don't find some shelter and tools. Can only run around in the woods for so long. His attention shifts from one to the other. He then nods to Quinn and says, "Whole planet that might have stuff worth scavenging."

"I bet there is plenty left around that is worth scavenging, we just have to find it." Quinn agrees, leaning over to bump her shoulder against Max's, "Just think about all the new plants you can find further out there."

"Right. So we need to leave here, preferably without the bracelets turned on so we can't be tracked." They're all standing not too far from the ship's entrance talking. Morgan's got a leafy branch in his hand as well as a strip of bark. "I'm going to need to learn about plants and herbs now. Wish I'd paid more attention to that class but…" Who knew?

Max returns the shoulder-bump that Quinn gives him and smirks, "I'm not even a plant guy. Just.. needed something to do." Probably why he's just been helping with whatever seems to come up: Herbing, Hunting, Latrine digging — like you do. He gives a slight shrug of his shoulders. Then he glances down at his wrist. He hadn't given the band a lot of thought, having mostly forgotten it. "Why do we care if we're tracked? They don't know where we are.. just that we're breathing."

"Cause there's no way they'll give me a pardon and I kinda want to stay alive, you know? They sent us down here with nothing." Morgan reminds him. "Not even a simple geiger counter for what was supposedly a radioactive wasteland. For all we know, we could be getting a lethal dose right now but not so strong that it'll show up immediately. I don't want them finding me to finish the job."

Max nods to Morgan and glances down at his own wrist, running his fingers over the metal. He'd been pretty caught up in thinking about the possibilities of this new place, that he'd forgotten entirely about the people still above. "True enough," he says. There's a faint frown as he looks around and asks, "Anyone figure out how to get them off yet?"

"Silver's working on it." Morgan answers. "She got them off the dead guys and is working on them to find out how they open. We could use more people who know electronics if you know anyone. We all know the comm gear on the ship shorted out but it would be great if it could be cannibalized to make a short range receiver for whatever the bracelets are transmitting. Could be a good diagnostic tool."

Max shakes his head, not knowing anyone offhand who is good with electronics. He looks over at Quinn, as though suspecting that she might know. "Not my thing," he admits. He knows a little, but not enough to be of any significant help.

Morgan nods. He glances down at the branch and bark and extends them to Max. "Can you take these and make sure they're willow? If so, add the bark to the rest of your herbs. Natural source of the basic form of aspirin."

Max takes the bark that Morgan hands him and carefully tucks it away into his makeshift bag with the other medicinal herbs and poultices. "Sure," he says, easy enough. He then adjusts the strap on his shoulder and nods to Morgan. "We'll collect some more."

"Great. I'd like to learn more about herbs if you could teach me. I'll teach you more about first aid if you want to learn." Morgan suggests. Can never have too many medics. He hands over the leafy branch too with the telltale willow leaves. "I need to take care of a few things but I'll be around." Where else would he be, after all. Nodding to Max and Quinn, he heads into the ship.

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