1/20/99

Your communit crackles to life and announces "Hey Nick, Clara, it's an obscene hour of an obscene day. Anybody want chili?" in Riley's voice.

Your communit crackles to life and blares "Huh? Chili?" Boy, she's sounding swuft right about now. "What are you talking about?" in Clara's voice.

You say "Is the chili obscene too, Chief? Uh, sure, sounds good. I'm off shift in... three minutes." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and says "Food Clara, at my place. I plunked chili in the slowcooker while on the phone with my mother this evening. I have more than enough if y'all want to share. Nope, not obscene Nick. Well, actually it probably is." in Riley's voice.

Your communit crackles to life and says "Err, this morning I mean." in Riley's voice.

Your communit crackles to life and says "Ooooh...food. Riley, if you're offering food right now, I'll write next years budget requests without bribes." in Clara's voice.

You say "But doesn't the food count as bribery?" He snickers. "I think that's a yes from both of us, Chief." into the communit.

Riley walks here from the Chief Addison's Office.

Riley has arrived.

Your communit crackles to life and blares "Sounds like a plan," He chuckles, "And wait til -after- you've survived my cooking to suggest it counts as bribery." in Riley's voice.

Niko looks over with a grin, tucking away the last of his paperwork. "Hey, she sounds like any food will do. As long as it's -food-..."

Riley is faster than the speed of sound? He shuffles a pile of paperwork under one arm and muffles a yawn. "Well, it's most assuredly food. -I- think its good, but then there's no telling if y'all'll agree."

Niko gets to his feet, shoulders lifting in a brief shrug. "Well, I guess we'll see," he says, with a grin. "Are you all set?"

Riley nods amiably, snagging the last of the messages and heading for the door, "Ayup. Getting out of here a couple hours is good."

Riley heads towards the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.

Riley has left.

You head towards the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.

Second Floor Elevator Lounge

Despite being one of the major hubs of activity in the Complex, few people linger here. While there are usually people present, usually they are on their way to someplace else. The lobby is nice enough, with broad tapestries hung on richly paneled walls, and floors of veined black marble; but it is simply too busy for most people to stop and chat in. The occasional tasteful potted plant lurks in the corners, and large mirrors are hung near the elevators for passing lobbyists to check their appearances before descending to the main level. Corridors lead to the northeast and southwest.

Contents:

Riley

Clara

Obvious exits:

Elevator General Housing Library Security Maintenance Medical

You arrive from the Security Central.

Clara is leaning against a wall near the elevator and stifling a yawn. She glances up and offers a somewhat vacant grin. "Heya, fellas. Chief, you can't be a worse cook than ours was back on Cannerton."

Niko's brows lift a bit at Clara's manner. "You look tired," he murmurs.

Riley offers an amiable wave, restricted as it is by the fact both hands are encumbered by paperwork. "I don't know, I figure y'all are really trusting to let me feed you when it's known my primary food source is a vending machine." He all but winks, moving to thumb the elevator button, "I promise I won't poison ya' though."

[Travelspam deleted. Scene resumes in the 3rd floor elevator lounge.]

Clara chuckles vaguely, waving ahand dismissively at Niko. "It's just been a long day, is all." SHe makes a face at Riley, rolling her eyes. "That's what the cook said at the 8023rd. And he never did, amazingly."

Niko nods to Clara, expression lightening a bit. "Not poisoning us would be good," he quips. "If for no other reason than you'd have to -replace- us, and Anya would be annoyed."

Riley juggles various piles of paperwork to rummage for his keys. "I -used- to cook more often. But time's been short for a few years." He snickers, moving to open the door. "Anya would shoot me point blank."

Riley unlocks the door to room I16 and goes inside.

Riley has left.

Clara unlocks the door to room I16 and goes inside.

Clara has left.

You unlock the door and go into room I16.

Room I16

While the battered nature of the furnishings shows this room has been occupied for some time, little else distinguishes it from being an un-assigned room. Sunlight is piped in down a reflective tube from the upper levels, and the small patch of resulting light illuminates an un-used desk. From the proximity of the cooking unit the desk presumably also serves as a dining area, but there's little evidence Riley cooks much. Cupboards provide storage space above and at the end of the desk, their doors are kept shut. A small closet is half-open, revealing a closet full of uniforms and the occasional t-shirt. The door to the bathing unit is closed as well. The sleeping unit is stored in one wall. Perhaps the only personalization to this room at all is a battered sofa across from the viewscreen with noveltapes scattered at one end, and a picture on one wall of a small girl standing on a huge beach with a stuffed penguin in her arms.

Contents:

Clara

Riley

Obvious exits:

Out

You come in from the Elevator Lounge.

"Gee, I can't imagine what you've been busy with," Clara quips, grinning. "And besides, Honalee would come hunt you down too, for that matter. Better to just abuse us both non-fatally."

Riley drops the pile of paperwork on the desk, leaning to scoop up the pile of noveltapes. "Have a seat, I shall go poke the slowcooker and shove the bread in." He pulls open a cupboard to stow the tapes. A half dozen penguins peer out of the cupboards depths, "And Honalee'd do worse than killing me, ayup."

Niko sniffs a bit, nodding his approval of the chili aroma that his player assumes is present. He muffles a grin at the penguins, folding himself into a seat. "Oh, yeah, as long as we don't -die-," he murmurs.

Clara shakes her head with amusement, tugging off her lab coat and folding it up to rest on the back of the sofa in one corner, then peers up at the picture. "She's precious, Riley. One of your sisters?"

Riley rummages about on the other side of the room, unlidding the slow cooker. The smell that was present earlier intensifies as he stirs said chili. Oooh, yum. There's more clattering as he puts a length of bread on a cookie sheet and into the broiler, "My little sister Evvy when she was much smaller. Her own little girl's about that big now, I'd guess."

Niko eyes his abdomen as his stomach voices its approval of the intensifed aroma. "Quit," he murmurs. He looks up to murmur a sheepish apology, then peers towards the picture in question, a quick grin flickering across his face.

Clara finally turns to lower to one arm of the couch opposite from where Niko's sitting, but glances back up at the picture. "That penguin's nearly as big as she is." She pauses as well at the intensified scent. "Oh, wow. Yeah, next years letters are free, just for the smell."

Riley rummages for a bowl and a grater, tugging a cube of cheese from the tiny fridge. Absently he begins shredding said cheese. He glances across the room with a grin, "That's where the whole penguin joke began pretty much. It's also one of the few of those pictures that've survived. Anybody want anything to drink?"

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Niko's head bobs in a brief nod. "Sure, Chief. Whatever you've got works." He considers the picture for a moment, clearly on the verge of asking just what the whole penguin joke is, then shakes his head.

Clara thinks the question over seriously for a moment, then stifles a yawn and nods in agreement with Niko. "That's fine with me, too." She leans back against the wall absently. "There's a joke about the penguins? Beyond the kidnapped ones?"

Riley rummages in the small fridge for several canned sodas. Snagging those and the bowl of cheese he heads over to the couch area. Hooking the toe of one boot into a depression in the wall he pulls out a retractible coffee table. Setting the cheese on it he proffers the sodas, "Yeah, when I left home and all for the Navy, Evvy was kinda' unpleased. I was packing for my first ship and she was complaining that I wouldn't get to go on vacation with everybody that year, or see any of the new places they'd be moving. So I rummaged in a pile of stuff that was headed for the attic and pulled out a stuffed penguin. I told her to take it and pretend it was me and that I was getting to go. And that she had best take lots of pictures so I could see all the places I got to go." He looks mildly embarrassed, "She was very young."

Niko takes his soda with a murmured thankyou, popping the top. "No, that's great, Chief. Wish I'd thought of something like that for the girls." With a sip of the soda, he inquires, "She's a lot younger than you are, then?"

Clara accepts the can gratefully. Oh, look! It's -red-. This is a goodness. *duck* Cracking it open, she smiles back up at the picture for a moment. "It was a wonderful idea," she adds. "Looks like you got to go the beach," she comments, before taking long drink and listening.

Riley snags a potholder, carefully tugging the bread from the oven, "About eight years, yeah. I enlisted at sixteen, so she's probably around eight in that picture." He snags a wickedly bladed knife and sets about carving the bread into less unwieldy chunks, "I got to go a lot of places. My parents moved a fair bit right before Mom retired." Scooping the bread into a larger bowl he tugs several small bowls from a cabinet.

Niko watches Riley's culinary efforts with a hint of bemusement, though the use of that knife apparently restores some of his faith in the order of the universe. "Need any help, Chief?" he inquires, likely right after everything is done. One learns to time these things correctly, after all. "And eight years... that's about like Losi and me." His lips quirk fractionally. "No stuffed animals, though. Too bad."

"Sixteen?" Clara repeats, nonplussed, and glances over at Niko with a grin at the offer. "Brave man," she notes almost to herself, then seems to change thought track and head elsewhere. "Your father's not military, then?"

And Niko's timing is indeed perfect, as Riley has just managed to collect bowls, spoons, and napkins together. He shakes his head, "I got it Nick." Depositing the cutlery and all on the table as well he returns to pull the ceramic liner from the slow cooker and brings the pot to the table too. Snagging a large serving spoon he offers, "Dig in, folks, eh?" He shakes his head as he pulls the desk chair away to seat himself on it. "No, Dad teaches history. Mom wasn't home much."

An eerie chittering echoes behind you, "To loh kaaa!"

Niko flashes a quick grin to Clara. "Had to help out back home. You learn." Like, as was mentioned, when to offer help. He doesn't move to take up the spoon, instead gesturing to Clara. Ladies first, all that. "Smells great," he murmurs, willing his stomach to remain silent.

Clara finally drops down onto the sofa itself from the arm, waiting absently for the men before noting Niko's gesture, then grins and reaches forward forward to snag one of the bowls, nodding affably. "That's military life," she agrees airily, dishing up a bowl.

Riley belatedly realizes there was another question in there as well, "Kashid starts young. But then they kind of have to. They have a policy of not handing out commissions without having run the full scale of enlisted rates." He grins, "I hope it's edible. There's always that trick of people being from so many different cultures and all having varying opinions."

A small, adorably cute creature zips into your general vicinity. It makes a squealing noise, then continues on its way, quickly enough that one would have to have been looking right at it to see it.

Niko, dishing up his own bowl o' chili, assures Riley, "If it tastes the way it smells, Chief, it'll be grand." He pauses a beat, then inquires, with mock-suspicion, "You didn't put tziziki in it, did you?" His brows lift a bit at Kashid's policy, but he doesn't comment on it.

Clara waves a spoon congenially. "I'm Jamaican. I can eat anything, if it's not poisonous," she replies, stirring the chili slowly. "The whole enlisted ranks...saints above," she murmurs, awed. "I can't imagine being enlisted." She stops stirring at Niko's question, pausing with uncertainty.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see something moving. You get the impression that it's very, very cute.

Riley aquires a bowl of chili as well, snickering quietly. "No Nick, I don't think anybody's grandmother's going to be offended by my chili." To prove it's not deadly he actually eats some of his, obviously far less fearful of his own cooking than y'all are. "Being enlisted's very enlightening I guess, the whole idea's so you know who it is you're commanding later. I was very stunned when I went to AF OCS with folks who'd never served before."

Niko puts a bit of cheese on his chili, flashing a grin towards Riley before digging into his chili. "You'd be surprised what offends my--mm, no, this wouldn't. I think she'd approve of this." His head bobs in a nod at the latter statement. "Must've been interesting," he comments.

Clara mulls this over while sampling her own bowl, then stops mulling long enough to let out a long and appreciative sigh. "Very, very good," she agrees wholeheartedly. "Forget cultural differences, this is wonderful." After a few more bites, the tilts her head. "It's not a bad idea," she says after a moment. "I can see the rational, at least, even for a noncombatant."

Riley's brows lift a bit and his tone is hopeful, "It's edible then?" He scoops more chili into his own spoon, "It seems to work for them. You never have to take orders from somebody who wasn't in your shoes once." He grins, "Although I wouldn't know which is scarier. Being enlisted, or that hell first year at the Academy."

You hear a soft purring noise from... somewhere. Maybe there's a Zaeltan stuck in a wall. But if there is, Riley didn't put it there.

Niko nods an emphatic affirmative to the question, though his enthusiastic eating would likely say the same thing. Fortunately for his already-strained relationship with the folks in Laundry, he manages to keep the chili where it should be, as opposed to letting it fall to his uniform. "More than edible, Chief. Tastes good." He nods as well to Riley's latter statement--that nod of someone who knows of horrors only by reputation.

Clara smiles faintly at her bowl, and merely takes another bite, shrugging vaguely. "First year at the Academy is...interesting," she says mildly, unconsciously stealing Niko's word. "Very...physical." She clears her throat and decides the chili is safer than repeating Academy stories. "You always this good a cook, Chief?"

Niko notes the use of his word, quite obviously. He considers a moment, then nods an apparent agreement of Clara's choice, the briefest of grins crossing his face.

Riley shakes his head lightly as he leans to snag a piece of bread. "Normally my cooking's limited to what comes out of the vending machine. Once in a while I get the urge to do chili or stew or something along those lines. It's been a while. Last time I tried something came up and the spaghetti sauce sat in the cooker for um... Several days. Long enough to become carbon."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

You hear a piercing voice announce, "Kay ay-ay u-nye!"

"Chocolate and soda. I noticed," Clara agrees, then winces. "Carbon. Okay, now we're ranging into the realm of my cooking," she explains with a grin and a glance over at Niko. "Hence why I haven't offered to try. I frighten children and small animals just by going grocery shopping."

Niko grimaces fractionally at the mention of carbonized sauce, then moreso at the piercing voice. "Hey, -I- can't cook," he protests, grin returning. "I wasn't allowed to -cook-, just chopping, that sort of thing. And frightening kids and small animals is -useful-. I'll have to remember that." His grin turns roguish, and he turns his attention back to his chili, helping himself to a piece of bread as well. The bread, of course, is used for dipping purposes.

Riley continues to poke at the chili with his spoon, "Great, the only one that cooks is the one that thinks chocolate bars are a food group. You do realize if we ever got trapped in the wilds, say away from microwaves, we'd be doomed, eh?"

Clara leans forward to snag a slice of bread, making a rude noise. "I -passed- survival training, thank you very much, mister. It's just a matter of being able to forget about just what you're eating and how it tastes."

Niko casts a brief, speculative look at Clara, then says mildly, "You just have to be hungry enough, I guess."

Riley reaches for his soda, chuckling quietly. "Let's all just be happy that there's vending machines and fast food and all."

Clara nods over a Niko, offering a somewhat sheepish smile. "Really hungry," she affirms, then nods more fervently at Riley. "Very happy indeed. And that Kramer makes a mean ham sandwich. I swear that man needs to canonized."

Niko lifts his soda in salute to vending machines and fast food, downing a gulp with a flourish. "He seems like a good guy," Niko agrees. "Though I've never experienced the sandwiches."

Riley sets his bowl on the table, crossing his arms across his chest lightly. "It's good to have helpful people. Keeps things sane."

Clara covers a yawn with the back of her hand after finishing the last bit of bread, but keeps the bowl in her other hand, likely having forgotten it was still there. "Mm-hmm. Not sure what sane is anymore, but close enough."

Niko, finally polishing off the last of his chili and setting the bowl aside, nods his agreement at the mention of the goodness of helpful people, murmuring something about Anya. Clara gets a mildly concerned look, but he says only, lightly, "Sanity's overrated."

Riley's brows lift slightly at the mention of Anya and he grins rather absently. "Anya's always right. ANd we'd never get anything done without her. Heck, I'm not sure I managed before she showed up. I think it involved sleeping in my office even more than I do."

Clara ducks her head as she trades bowl for soda can again and idly traces a line around the rim with one finger. She's not going to chastise on sleeping in their office, nope. "Anya's a good person," she simply decides. "I keep meaning to have a chat with her, but things keep coming up."

Niko shakes his head slightly. "Well, that explains that couch." Casting a grin towards Clara, he adds, "Yeah, you've got to see her about looking after Addie."

Riley chuckles ruefully, "Anya imported my couch from some storeroom someplace. It was one of the first things she did, and how I knew she was a genius."

Clara returns the grin and wrinkles her nose at Niko. "During which everything's going to go just fine," she assures, then leans back into the sofa and raises her brows. "You were sleeping in your office without a sofa? Egads. Poor you."

Niko snorts quietly at Clara, murmuring something about confidence, before peering at Riley. "Please, Chief, -tell- me you didn't sleep in those awful chairs."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see something moving. You get the impression that it's very, very cute.

Riley gestures vaguely, "That was years ago." He grins ruefully at Niko. "I had to use both of them, but I did. I keep them around for diplomats."

Niko snaps his fingers. "Hah. I -knew- it." He stifles his grin, though, with a shake of his head. "That had to hurt, Chief. Those chairs really are terrible."

Clara listens to the banter, drinking quietly at her soda. She's never had the glorious joy of sitting in said chairs. "Not to mention the horrid things it likely did to your back."

Riley edges a notch further down in his current chair, "It wasn't exactly pleasant, but those were a pretty hectic couple years anyhow. That was when we first tried shutting down the Undergroundm and then had to open it up and try and regulate the worst of the chaos."

Niko shakes his head fractionally. "That," he observes, "must've gone beyond interesting." He takes a final pull on his soda, then sets the can aside.

Clara shakes her head with bemusement. "Better the enemy you know...?" she ventures. "Probably the only area of Copper I didn't prowl through when I was younger." She stifles a grin over at Niko. "Far beyond."

Riley shudders slightly at the memory, "It was glorified chaos. My predecessor hadn't done much of a job worth the name, and the Council was in quite the uproar over my upstart decision making. But we managed to get it all headed in the right direction. And once you get everything going the right way, well social inertia tends to keep it on track."

Niko shakes his head slowly back and forth. "Somehow, I'm glad I wasn't here," he says, with a small smile. Of course, we won't discuss how old he was when all this was happening, but the thought is still there. His lips quirk fractionally at the mention of social inertia, headshaking reversing til it's a nod.

Clara opens her mouth to say something to Niko, then closes it and simply smiles at him. "I'm sure there's chaos aplenty in the future," she offers quietly, then tilts her head back to peer at the ceiling for a moment. "What's the right way for the Underground you wanted, though? I mean, it's illicit and shady. Does it -have- a right direction?"

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Riley shifts his chair back so that it is balanced on the two back legs. His grin is wry, "We keep the worst of the violent types out. The Underground mostly polices itself. As for the rest, well, orders is orders, eh? The Council wants it, we're duty bound to try and protect them from it. The Underground and I have something of an understanding. I could destroy the place, shut it down for good. I'd get cashiered, but I could do it. So they don't press the issue too much."

Niko returns Clara's smile, perhaps a bit quizzically, but the expression fades as Riley speaks, to be replaced with thoughtfulness and the furrowed brow that hints at the issues he still has with the Underground's continuing existence. He doesn't comment, however--like the folks in the Underground, he's not pressing the issue, though he likely wouldn't appreciate the comparison.

Riley continues edging the chair back until it leans against the wall. "It's not a bad symbol for the Alliance. Down there nobody cares who you are, what you are, where you're from, or what you did. There it only matters if you've got giros or any of various valuable commodities. Most of them aren't even criminals, they're just poor. I learned a lot when I first started heading down there without the uniform."

"Isn't that dangerous, though?" Clara pipes up, then shakes her head just as quickly, crossing her legs comfortably. "Never mind. I'll ask that of some other man who isn't as big as an Edreeni and carries a tangler." She looks from one man to the other and shakes her head again, this time with amusement. "Both of you."

Niko just shifts in his chair, perhaps looking a bit uncomfortable, then reaches for his soda once more. A few swallows of the beverage from the evil red can seem to restore him, though. "That's not something I've done," he says lightly, looking as if he agrees with Clara's assessment of the danger.

Riley chuckles softly, grinning. "It probably would be dangerous if the dangerous ones realized who I was. But that kind doesn't live Underground. So if they see me without the uniform they don't so much as look twice. It's only the harmless ones, the ones that live there, who've been around long enough to think to look past the uniform to figure out who security are."

"Harmless?" Clara repeats dubiously, then shrugs in disagreement. "I don't know how far I'd go with that, but then you've been here a whole heck of a lot longer, so I won't argue." She hesitates, then blushes slightly. "What's it like down there?"

Niko has apparently gone back to his former phase of not commenting, gaze flickering between the others. Setting aside the soda, a slight shake of his head is his only other movement.

"It's kind of a sad place." Riley pauses to consider his words, "There's a quote, "Where do the forgotten people go? The people who've seen Hope bleed to death at their feet? Where do they go to be forgotten?" I think the best answer I've ever seen to that question is Underground. Linnae is scrubbed, clean, the center of the Alliance's Glory. Unless you've money or a position or some such you're simply not welcome. So a lot of folks with no money, no hope, no way off this world end up downstairs. They're the prey for the predators the Council deals with."

Clara sets her can down as well, folding her arms as she leans back with an odd look, staring at the can for a long moment. "I don't think that's something I can imagine," she finally admits, faintly embarrassed. She glances over at Niko curiously. "Have you been there yet?"

Niko's head bobs in a short nod. "Second day I was here," he replies quietly. "Part of the Chief's tour." He hesitates fractionally, then adds, "In uniform."

Riley nods, trying to school his expression from vagueness. "The Underground's safe if you keep your head about you. And in uniform, well nobody's going to mess with Security most of the time. Their business depends on staying away from our attention."

Clara steeples her fingers thoughtfully. "What kind of medical care is available there?" she asks. "Is there a similar reaction to all AF uniforms?" She glances sidelong at Niko with a faintly concerned look, but doesn't comment.

"There's a couple of free care clinics," Riley answers, "Underfunded and undermanned of course. Any uniform, Peesh, any clothing that's not obviously Underground gear is likely to get suspicious looks. One item of note though, if you ever do get up the desire to go down there and get grungies to wear... Skip getting junk shoes. Running can be a life saving science downstairs."

An eerie chittering echoes behind you, "To loh kaaa!"

Niko doesn't catch the look from Clara, though he's clearly paying attention to the conversation. It says something that he doesn't glare in the general direction of the chittering, though his gaze does shift towards the Denner. At Riley's last statement, he smiles thinly, in agreement with that, at least.

Clara nods seriously. "Got it. Actually, I don't own any civvies beyond that dress, and it's not made much for running. I'll need to get something if I'm going to check out the healthcare facilities. Maybe there's grant funding that Kramer and I can pull off." Frighteningly, she's really considering this. At the sound of the chittering, she leans across the couch and taps Niko's arm, grinning. "Want my scanner to throw at it?"

Riley's brows furrow Dennerwards. Instead of going for his tangler he just yells, "Go away! We gave at the office!"

Niko regards Clara for a moment at her talk of going Underground, his expression a little too bland. "That's okay," he says lightly. "It's gone now, anyway. Will the two of you excuse me, please? I've got to take care of some things yet tonight."

You hear a soft purring noise from... somewhere. Maybe there's a Zaeltan stuck in a wall. But if there is, Riley didn't put it there.

Clara snaps out of the remains of the reverie, eyes widening. "You're leaving?" slips out before she can tuck it back in, and starts to climb to her feet as well. "Oh, things. Yes. Goodnight?"

Riley's brows lift in a questioning fashion, but taking a cue from Niko, he doesn't press the issue. "Night Nick, thanks for coming by. I really appreciate it." He hmms, "Heading out as well, Clara?"

Niko offers a smile to Clara. "Letters home won't write themselves, and I'm woefully behind on news. Somehow, I don't think that this is the place to write them--you two are good enough company that you'd distract me. Can't have that." Nodding towards Riley, he says, "Thanks for the invitation, Chief. And the chili. Beats the heck out of machine food."

Clara's expression softens into a near blush at the comment. "Oh. Of course." She turns a briefly uncertain look from one man to the other and clears her throat. "Aaah, it is late," she offers. "I'm sure you need to get some sleep, Chief," she adds.

Riley glances at the chrono, not quite grinning, "I probably do. But I also need to start playing phone tag with Admiral Lowenthal's office." He settles the chair on all four, climbing to his feet. "THank you both for coming then. I appreciated the company."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Niko eyes his own chrono, as the bell chimes. How Pavlovian--though the response is likely in part elicited by Riley's similar gesture. "You're welcome, and thank you," he says, as he heads for the exit. "I'd offer to host another get-together, but, well, you heard about my cooking skills. That'd just be scary." He grins rather boyishly, adding a "Goodnight" before heading through the door.

Back