Log:A Breach in the Case, Scene 18

A Breach in the Case 2016/08/21 Rick Griffin Indira Quiet 18

Zero Division has had ample time to recover from their ordeals in Operation Sundial's black site. They've also had time to work on smoothing over frayed nerves and wounded lines of communication in the immediate aftermath of "The Incident". Starguard may still have some hackles up as they work on the mysteries of the sarcophogi and the quasi-living/quasi-dead soldiers entombed within the cold confines, but the worst of the interminable investigations, interrogations, and the like have concluded.

Naturally by the time Starguard got mobilized to investigate Zero Division's claims, Operation Sundial had moved out and somehow left next to no verifiable traces of their presence under the Colonial Bay Industrial Park. Breach's not-quite-twin, whose appearance exists deep inside of the Uncanny Valley of resemblances, had somehow disappeared in the chaos of Starguard mobilizing against the sarcophogi and Zero Division appearing in the streets of the Alien District. And Breach himself was left with very few answers for anyone's questions, much to Starguard, the Department of Defense, and the Department of Justice's frustration.

As the interest in Zero Division wanes, it seems like the time is right for Indira to risk investigating the huge trove of data she stripped out of Operation Sundial's computer systems. Likewise, Griffin and Lien both sense there is now an opportunity to investigate, unmolested, the various and sundry clues they found deep in the heart of Operation Sundial. Griffin, no doubt, has a lot of questions to ask about the many familiar-yet-not symbols of Rick's past and how they could possibly intersect with Rick's service jackets, both official and unofficial.

It's late in the day, the sun setting over the city. Indira drinks in the last of the sun's rays as she stands by the window in her office, still wearing her form fitting space suit. The day has been an exhausting one. Somehow the questions and interrogation was tiring than the escapade against Operation Sundial.

Now that her office has cleared out of Starguard officials, Indira's body heaves in what could be a sigh, before turning to her desk and tapping the small comm button. "Violet? Could you kindly please arrange for some tea, coffee, and edibles to be brought to my office?"

"Yes, I'll get something right away." Violet sounds stressed, as usual. Probably because she's been stuck acting as the barrier between media and other investigators and Indira's offices.

It takes Violet a bit longer than usual to get tea and edibles delivered to Indira's office. She has to overcome a line of Starguard investigators with more questions about the space station the Asrani Ambassador parked in orbit of the Earth, only to discover that it was infested with some kind of horrible alien menace. Violet manages to clear up the matter in an efficient, albeit time consuming fashion.

Violet enters the office with a tea service that Indira may or may not recall receiving as a present during her tour of Europe during the spring. There are two silver tea pots piping steam, one is very clearly scented with some sort of herbal tea already brewing. A selection of cookies, candies, tea biscuits, and fruits is also artfully arranged on the tea service that Violet sets down on the conference table set off to one side of Indira's office.

Following a minute or so of careful reorganization, Violet straightens up to regard Indira in her usual prim, professional manner. Smiling politely, Violet inquires, "Will there be anything else? Or should I get back to putting out the usual fires?"

Indira's eyes expand at the question. "You cannot just allow fires to burn. That can be dangerous. Please attend to those, Ms. Wyndell. Thank you so much for getting libations for myself and the others," she says with urgently paced words. She can't understand how Violet is so calm.

"Let us know if you require any aid," she offers as she steps around her desk and walks towards the conference table. "But I am sure Starguard officials can help you deal with the matter." She'd offer to help herself, but fire and plants do not usually mix in a way that benefits the plant.

Violet opens her mouth, expression twisting into one of mild confusion at Indira's response. She looks like she's struggling to both maintain her composure and find a way to answer that won't make things worse.

Rick Mason steps up behind Violet and places a hand on her shoulder. Violet immediately jumps, very nearly out of her pale blue skirt suit, and yelps. Glancing back toward the door, Rick jerks his head in a silent suggestion as he offers one of his vaugely reassuring smiles.

"I'll explain it to her later, Ms. Wyndell. Don't worry 'bout it," intones Rick, cutting Violet off.

She /WAS/ in the midst of stammering out just how badly he startled her!

Frumping a little bit, Violet turns back toward Indira and offers a polite smile. She slips around Rick and disappears out the door, leaving Indira and Rick looking at one another from opposite ends of the conference table. One of the tea pots on the elaborate tea service set out on the table continues to pump a tiny column of steam up between the sightlines of the duo.

"How many others are you expecting for this little shindig, Indira?"

Indira gazes at Rick though the steamline as Violet leaves. "Shin...dig? I would never do something so painful. This is just a meeting to discuss all that happened. I thought...you might be hungry." In truth, she could also use the tea to help her relax from the little ops they just got through, which has her worried about her position.

"Although Mr. Freeman and Ms. Van Den Brand were invited to attend to discuss what happened," she adds as she steps around the table, a finger tracing along its highly polished top as she nears the food tray. The finger finally lifts to delicately grasp a tea cup. "Please. Help yourself, Mr. Mason. I have already eaten."

Indira gazes at Rick though the steamline as Violet leaves. "Shin...dig? I would never do something so painful. This is just a meeting to discuss all that happened. I thought...you might be hungry." In truth, she could also use the tea to help her relax from a long day of questions from Starguard and United Earth, which has her worried about her position.

"Although Mr. Freeman and Ms. Van Den Brand were invited to attend, but it was at their discretion," she adds as she steps around the table, a finger tracing along its highly polished top as she nears the food tray. The finger finally lifts to delicately grasp a tea cup. "Please. Help yourself, Mr. Mason. I have already eaten."

"It's..."

Rick pauses a moment, reaching up to rub his forehead. He squints around his forearm at Indira, lips pursed somewhat as he tries to decide how best to address her unfamiliarity with English. Finally, Rick taptaps at his throat as he lowers his other arm.

"You should maybe use the collar a little more. Until you get a grasp on slang," offers Rick, slowly dropping both hands back to his sides.

Moving around the office for the moment, Rick demures from attacking the food. His metabolism is different from that of a normal human - or horrible undead revenant! - and that gives him a certain latitude when it comes to offers of food. Rick occasionally wonders if his different dietary needs would make him a marked man in different ages...

Would he be killed for refusing proffered food in the Viking Age?

Could he be persecuted for not being hungry in Meiji Japan?

Circling back around toward the table, Rick shrugs at Indira. Idly he comments, "When haven't you already eaten?"

At his suggestion, the Ambassador reaches up and brushes her fingers over the side of her translation collar, causing it to light up briefly. "My english is not as good as I wished," she laments. It's a difficult language for her to grasp.

Lowering her hand to reach for the pot of hot tea and pouring it into her cup, she smiles in some amusement at his comment. "Late after sundown?" she counters nonchalantly, her eyes focused on the rising level of tea in her cup before lifting the pot and cutting off the stream.

"English is tough," remarks Rick as he circles the office. He gradually gets back to the table, folding his arms behind his back as Indira pours herself a cup of tea. There is a brief, puzzled expression on Rick's face as he regards Indira's choice of beverage, but it passes.

Rick smirks slightly at Indira's nonchalant counter, but he doesn't immediately respond. Instead, Rick quietly observes the Ambassador and the array of candies, cookies, fruits, and tea biscuits spread artfully across the tea service. He can't deny that they are a tempting collection of empty - especially for him - calories.

Indira sets the pot down and steps away from the conference table, returning to her desk as she dips her finger lightly into her drink despite the heat. Stirring the liquid for a few moments, it begins to turn a light blue, similar to her skin.

She slides back into her seat, crosses her legs, and swivels towards her holo-screen. "Aridot, please bring up the files I was reviewing in folder Keta Prow," she orders the virtual intelligence application she imported to her work computer with her omni-system tools. Some of her files are in her native language to discourage hackers, but in this case, it's just the folder name.

A number of windows begin to open up on the display, bringing up the data recovered from Operation Sundial's computers.

A holographic hemisphere of datapanes pixelate into existence around Indira's desk. Rick drops into a seat at the conference table, leaning back slightly as he watches the datapanes populate with information recovered from Operation Sundial's computer network. The whole process takes about twenty seconds as Indira's virtual intelligence sorts and organizes the files according to Indira's preferences and previous browsing history.

Nearly a hundred panes float at roughly floor level, all populated with dossiers about people with whom Rick has regular interaction and/or established relationships. Indira, Lien & Quiet, Griffin, Gabrielle Grimm, Violet, his landlord, the two ladies at Bagel Palace that give him preferential treatment, and on and on the list goes. Aridot considers these low priority files for various and sundry reasons, though the fact that Indira has already browsed through all of the dossiers several times is likely a contributing factor. There is also the fact that they don't contain any information of particular merit to Indira's investigation may also contribute to their priority level.

Above this base level are another eighty or so panes that are more suited to Indira's investigation. Helpfully, Aridot has broken up several larger files into sequential panes for easier perusal by the ever busy Asrani Ambassador. Most of these panes contain information on Richard "Breach" Mason himself, such as his official Army service record, his medical records, his death certificate, and very current legal papers regarding his multiple law suits and filings to be recognized as the Richard Mason he is.

Further files, including ones that Indira has not yet begun to peruse form ever higher layers of datapanes. Eventually they reach the apex of the dome, where an enigmatically encrypted file remains. It may be taunting Indira and her advanced alien computer technology at this point.

Indira sips her tea ever so calmly as she reviews the information display, even as she eyes that frustrating encrypted file. "I shall have to ask Mr. Fayton if we could hire his services again. Perhaps he can help unlock that final file," she comments, intrigued at why that would be encrypted so securely compared to everything else.

"They know much about you, Mr. Mason," she continues as she leans back and looks over his service record file. She points to it and beckons, causing the window to pop out of the display and draw closer to her so she can read it more clearly. "More than I do, certainly." Her english is improved with the help of the collar, finally.

"I would say they did a more thorough check of your background than I did," she adds with some amusement before her expression becomes serious again. "It worries me a great deal."

"It's up to you if you want to read him into this," comments Rick. He folds his arms across his chest as he leans back even further, watching Indira with those brown eyes of his. At her running commentary, Rick offers a little shrug before commenting, "They've been running surveillance on me. That's more than just running background, Ambassador, that's just damned creepy."

Having the translation collar on may be helping Indira more than she initially realizes. She draws in several datapanes containing the official Army/DoD service record for Mason, Richard Henry "Breach" with an effortless gesture. Data scrolls along the edges of the relevant datapanes, providing her with additional information about the file itself.

As Rick talks about how creepy it is that he's under surveillance, Indira notices something out of the corner of her eye. Without the translation collar running, she might not have noticed the pattern in the file metadata streaming semi-transparently at the edges of the datapanes. The collar, however, automatically converts the created on, uploaded to server, and last modified dates into ones she'll immediately recognize. Not surprisingly, the file was last modified approximately the same time that Breach emerged from under a Nebraska cornfield.

What IS surprising - perhaps even shocking - is that the file was created nearly 50 Earth years ago. Indira may even feel certain that the created on and uploaded to server dates are ones she should recognize from what she does, in fact, know of Breach's history. At the very least, she recognizes that they are prior to his death in the early part of the current Earth century.

28 March 2015

08 July 2015

Indira's face goes through a few emotions as she processes the information. As the collar translates things to bring to her attention, the old dates really do stand out from the rest. She leans forward and sets her cup on the desk without taking her eyes off of those two files.

With a great deal of gravitas, Indira replies, "Mr. Mason. I believe they have been running surveillance on you for a very, very long time."

She taps at the two files to open them up and enlarge them for easier reading. "Do these dates have any significance to you?" she asks, her eyes beginning to read over and oldest document; the one from March 28, 2015.

Rick climbs to his feet, red-orange eyebrows knitting together in consternation. He doesn't know what, exactly, Indira means when she suggests that he's been under surveillance "for a very, very long time", but her tone and her expression worries him. The Undead Soldier comes to a stop just at the fringe of Indira's holographic dome, just close enough to read the file dates.

"... I... Well."

Pursing his lips, Rick seems deeply troubled. His brown eyes fixate on one of the file headers, expression falling.

Aridot automatically searches for all files created on 28 March 2015. Three files pop up immediately, which Aridot quickly places on the panes closest to Indira. Naturally the first file is the one Indira was already inspecting: The U.S. Army's official service record for Mason, Richard Henry.

The second file is a comparatively short legal document. It features Rick's signature and initials in no less than seven locations spread throughout the document. Should Indira scan over it briefly, she gets the impression from her collar's translation matrix that the document is written to be purposefully obtuse, obscuring the exact details of what Rick is agreeing to through "clever" use of legal jargon and nonspecific terminology.

Finally comes a bevy of psychological, physical, and medical evaluations, all condensed into a single file. Every last evaluation was conducted between 20 December 2014 and 15 March 2015, all of them written or typed on official U.S. government letterhead, and all of them stamped [BEYOND TOP SECRET] at the top.

"I... Got scouted by a CIA recruiter at the end of March," mumbles Rick. He looks down at the ground, digging the toe of his shoe into the office floor as he bites back on the emotions bubbling in his head. One hopes Indira doesn't have her telepathy on at the moment, she might get a headache from trying to understand so many complex human emotions simultaneously radiating from one brain. "Base command got a tip about insurgent activity on July eighth... That's... That's how I ended up in the village I died in."

With so much already requiring her attention, Indira is not currently trying to connect with the sentients around her. It would be too much of a distraction. Although it could've given her some insight on the situation.

"I...see. So then...these documents go back to when you started your service?" she asks as she scans the evaluations. What were they checking for, exactly? If it was just that he was in good health, why were they top secret?

She looks back to the legal document, spending time to carefully read it over with the help of her collar as she tries to discern the truth behind it. Perhaps she can uncover what Richard Henry Mason actually signed up for.

Soon enough comes a fairly cheerful knock at the door before it swings open.

"Sorry I'm late, got caught in the middle of a short gun fight- I hope I didn't miss too much." He says in a tone that's even cheerier than his knock.

He stops short as he sees the holographic interface glowing in the middle of the room.

He's wearing a vest with lots of pockets, khakhi pants and hiking boots. He looks like an off-duty national park tour guide as per ususal.

He steps inside and purposefully looks away when he sees the BEYOND TOP SECRET tags. "Woah- sorry, States Secrets?"

"They... Well, no. I started in the Army in 2010, so these were after I finished basic and my Ee Oh Dee training," comments Rick. He sounds utterly crestfallen, shattered even, as he keeps staring at the ground. Shifting his weight awkwardly, Rick sadly mutters, "I thought... I really thought the Rangers and the CIA wanted me..."

Griffin promptly arrives. Rick flinches slightly at the sound of his Army Bro's voice. He shuffles toward the door, not letting his eyes meet Griffin's gaze, and very purposefully slams the door shut behind Griffin. The Undead Soldier looks at the door and his hand for a few seconds before he starts over toward the conference table and the long ignored tea service.

Indira takes her time in examining the legal document, it is exceptionally extensive and extremely densely written text. She may feel unclean and sleazy for having read it in its entirety. Because of the way the document is written, Indira can't grasp the intent of the obtuse language, though she certainly can understand the text of the document. Richard Henry Mason quite literally signed away his life, his body, his brain, and (possibly) his immortal soul to an explicitly unspecified government organization or agency.

With Rick no longer in the middle of Griffin's sightline, Griffin gets a clear look at the datapanes housing those [BEYOND TOP SECRET] evaluations. They looks distinctly and immediately familiar to Griffin, though he is going to have to take a closer look to understand why.

Indira's eyes flicker away from the document to observe Rick as he acts very unusual. She doesn't need to be connected to him to understand his feelings on the matter. Her expression softens. "Mr. Mason, they went through great lengths to get you. If they did not want you, they were blind. You are an incredible soldier," she offers to comfort him.

After Rick slams the door and causes Indira to startle from the nose momentarily, she looks to Griffin. "Ah, Mr. Freeman, at least you were able to get here. I thought perhaps Rick, you, and Quiet could make sense of some of this more than I." Her collar is fully activated, allowing her to speak quite fluently. "Unless Mr. Mason has objections, I would be comfortable with trusting any of you with the information in these documents."

She goes back to reading the document over, falling silent for some time. By the time Indira finishes reading the contents of the document, she feels more than just sleezy. She feels ill. "How...how could they allow such a thing?" she murmurs in horror.

The idea that the government would create such a document to trick its citizens into selling themselves unknowingly is abhorrent to her. She covers her mouth and leans back in her chair as if to get away from the very concept that the document represents.

Griffin puts his hands in his vest, and nods to Indira saying, "Thanks ma'am."

He passes by the tea service to get a better look at the datapanes overhead now that he's gotten at least some permission to do so.

He doubts very seriously Rick would have an issue with this- but he does take a moment to take a deep breath nearby to get a good whiff of the warm liquid brewing.

"So I'm assuming this is about Project Sundial- am I right?" He asks turning to Rick- he still hasn't looked up to inspect the document. Perhaps he actually is waiting for Rick's approval.

"Yeah. It's Operation Sundial," grunts Rick. He is very haphazardly filling a plate with various candies, body hunched over the conference table. Indira's attempt at comforting him falls flat, though exactly why is unclear. Griffin can probably assume that Rick is tacitly giving him permission to peruse his records.

"This...cannot stand," Indira murmurs to herself as she rereads parts of the document. The corner of her mouth twitches; the only sign that she is angry at the outrage of what was done to Rick.

She takes a moment to close her eyes and steeple her hands in front of her, taking a pause to clear her mind before going on to reading the July document.

Griffin tacts that tacit approval and runs with it. "Alright. Let me get caught up." He says as Indira's inner feelings begin to bubble with rage. He's noticed Rick is upset, but he hasn't figured out why yet having missed that part of the conversation.

He looks up to the datapanes- for a moment he's almost awestruck by the technology, looking at the hologram and not the data within for a long moment.

'Damn...' he thinks to himself as he realizes he's not paying attention to the details he should be.

He refocuses his eyes on the words of the text hanging in the air.

Its not long before he says, "Oh... wait- is that your signature, Mason?" He knows it is, but he's prepping a very fluid segway as he reds further to make sure this isn't what he thinks it is.

The wording reminds him of the paperwork he signed to get on that black ops unit that wound up with him forgotten on ice for 50 years. Silently he prays it isn't that.

It takes Griffin a minute or two to peruse both files - the one with the signed legal documentation and the one filled with evaluations - and another minute to fully digest what he's read. The legal document is very similar to the one Griffin remembers having to sign to join his last black ops unit. Honestly, it smacks of black budget spending at its most egregious; Griffin has probably seen similar documents, he has a few years of military and black ops experience on Rick.

While Indira stews in her own juices, Griffin continues to evaluate the documents. His attention is naturally drawn toward that pile of evaluations jammed into the other March file. Griffin can quickly recognize a pattern in the psych evals, the physical exams, and the batteries of medical tests to which Rick was subject prior to that fateful document. Rick must have pinged on some kind of pre-screening radar, the evaluations listed in the files here are clearly follow-up testing to ensure his compatibility for the program.

Judging by the results, it would appear that Rick did prove to be medically and psychologically compatible for the program. His existence is pretty much proof of that. Griffin can also see, from the pattern of evaluations, that several documents are missing from the files Indira has arrayed for them to examine. The actual pre-screening document, for instance, is notably absent for instance.

Meanwhile, Indira taps on the July date. Aridot promptly begins searching the downloaded databank for files with the relevant date. Only two files pop up this time, appearing in datapanes to the Asrani's left; automatically they detach from the larger dome and drift inward toward Indira. The first of these documents appears to be a series of memoranda regarding "prospective project personnel" and the dates of their "start of service" to the project. Accompanying that file is a massive intelligence document profiling an insurgent stronghold in a tribal village, the insurgents themselves, and 24 American soldiers likely to be assigned to "neutralize the threat"; Rick is, naturally, one of those 24 soldiers.

Indira reads over the memoranda carefully as she tries to keep her emotions in check. She's not even sure how to tell Rick about what the documents say. But she doesn't want to keep it a secret from him.

Eventually, she looks away from the memoranda and gazes gently at Rick, trying to read into what he's feeling without violating the privacy of his mind at a moment like this.

"Rick...this document they had you sign. They went through a lot of effort to hide it's true intent. But in essence, it was crafted to fool you into signing to sell yourself to an unknown government party," she says as gently as she can.

When he finishes the document, Griffin is silent. Its a lot of information to process, and now he is suddenly quite parched.

He turns and heads for the tea.

He pours himself a cup of tea. He doesn' put any sugar in it- tea is to be enjoyed as is so that one can fully experience the tea's flavor notes. He'd never say this aloud of course, especially not with Rick in the room.

He takes a long pull on the small cup before holding it between both hands. He makes the cup look even smaller when he holds it like that.

Finally he speaks, "Well good news is, we know where Ricks come from." He's having difficulty finding a silver lining after reading throughh all that, though selfishly, he's glad his friend suffered through this so they could meet.

The moment that thought passes through his mind, he feels guilty- instantly. He sighs.

"Pretty typical for our biz, ma'am." Griffin says to Indira. "Back then- that's just how it was in the military once you moved into a certain league." He takes another drink of tea and looks to Rick to say, "What worries me is how much information they have on you in total yet they're missing some very particular documents. Like the pre-screening data that brought you to 'their' attention."

The memoranda are dry and uninformative as far as identifying "prospective project personnel" other than Rick is concerned. One gets the impression that these are just memoranda specifically related to Rick's acquisition, though they may include references to others like him. Indira also gets a feel for how the operation was laid out, back in the early part of the human century, based upon both the titles in the communiques and the references to military personnel who were "read into the project" without actually mentioning names.

"They offered me my dream job," icily states Rick, "And they gave me a black sheet to sign. Can't risk opsec by giving me something that a grunt might understand."

Rick has, by this point, made a significant dent in the tea service's licorice supply. It is precisely the kind of dent that should make a human being vomit because their internal organs are crying. He is not yet stopping.

"Might be in that encrypted file. Or maybe it just wasn't as relevant as the other information in the file. Or it could've gotten lost, "lost", or "/LOST/". Maybe it got filed separately from my dossier."

Indira can't seem to fathom what Griffin is telling her. "Typical? This...this is standard? So you knew all along what the document was truly requesting of you?" she asks, finding it hard to believe. For the first time ever, the volume of her voice rises as she gets emotionally charged over this.

At Rick's frigid reply, she looks between the both of them, at a complete loss. She looks back to the document, a look of severe disappointment on her face.

Closing her eyes, she takes another moment to compose herself. She is not home anymore. This is a different world, with a different culture, and different values from hers. She reminds herself that she can't impose her own values on others.

Her whole body breathes through the surface of her skin as she takes a breath, oxygen filling her windpipe so she can speak while her eyes remain closed. "I am sorry you no longer have your dream job, Rick. I am just trying to help understand why these people kidnapped you."

"It's a calling, ma'am. To live and die for our country- for duty." Griffin says simply. That's neither a confirmation or denial of anything of course. He begins picking at the food proffered. He grabs an apple cinnamon muffin and his cup and saucer before returning to the dome created by the holographic interface.

"I don't think there's any doubt why they chose you- but I was hoping to find out why you're loose and those other Rickcicles didn't." Griffin says to Rick, but loud enough to be heard by Indira. He takes a bite of the muffin while balancing the tea cup on its saucer.

"Mmm... thashs delshush." He says still chewing.

"To join special forces or black ops, you have to sign certain documents," intones an emotionally spent, mildly exasperated Rick, "That largely mean you can't ever discuss what you do with anyone without the proper clearances. Usually they also mean that the government has the right to disavow your existence and/or foreknowledge of your actions."

Rick turns around and tiredly faces Indira (and the back of Griffin's head) with his hands shoved into his pockets. He looks wrung out. Shifting his weight uncomfortably, Rick meets Indira's gaze as she apologizes for the loss of his dream job.

"I never had my dream job, Indira. They sold me a lie and I signed my life away without knowing it."

Glancing off to one side, Rick looks out the windows for a few moments. He shoves some chocolate licorice into his mouth and chews sourly while he stares into space. Or the sunset. Or whatever it is he sees where the windows happen to be. Shifting his weight at Griffin's remarks, Rick grunts something unintelligible at Griffin.

"Because they didn't jam in a freezer coffin. I woke up in a tank in a mothballed lab under Nebraska, Griff."

Plus it's not like you guys have even started looking at the more recent files that Indira downloaded. You've only just started going through the background and surveillance documents that matched Indira's search criteria.