[hr][h1][center][color=9e0b0f]Ailbeart Rend[/color], [color=f49ac2]Owen Childs[/color] & [color=009496]Tahlia Spade[/color][/center][/h1][center]Collab between [@Eru Iluvatar], [@Atrophy] and [@TheMadAsshatter][hr][/center]

[i]The hours passed by in a quiet serenity for Isaac Ford, for he was flying in one of Ailbeart Rend's own private jets. This meant a luxurious, secluded space stocked fully with expensive delicacies from all around the world, plus wine bottles made out of crystals and a state-of-the-art computer that hovered by Ford's hand one minute and, after expanding, covered the far wall the next minute. Some research had obviously been done into Ford's personal life, because his favourite meals revealed themselves through retractable chutes, and a Peter Gabriel-era Genesis song was drifting through a wide archway into the room. As he reclined into an unspeakably comfortable armchair, the computer-turned-wall came to life and began playing one of his favourite films - the 2025 adaptation of Frank Herbert's 'Dune'. However, despite all these conveniences bestowed upon the robotics expert, he had not seen another human soul since departing New York. Ford knew better than to wonder if the aircraft was somehow reading his mind and providing the solution to every one of his wants; there were undoubtedly cameras everywhere, fitted with technologies that studied his facial inflections and, comparing them with previously recorded data, assumed what he would like to do next. Yet, now that Ford thought about it, he supposed it was kind of like the craft reading his mind.

When the jet hummed to a standstill in a white-bedecked hangar on the east coast of Scotland, and the robotics expert came face to face with his client for the evening, Ford regretted his self-imposed refusal of a certain risotto that his mother used to make when it had appeared before him during the flight. He knew now that he would have thoroughly enjoyed it.
[/i]

Tahlia woke up on the train some time after they were knocked out, again.  She understood the secrecy, but figured it would be easier to just put them in a room with no windows while enroute.  Then again, they would also be able to vaguely discern turns and directions.  She supposed it was reasonable, but was nonetheless off put by the suddenness of it.

She slowly got up from the ground and looked around the room, stopping when she noticed Rend in the same compartment as them, still sleeping.  Her eyes locked on him, and she began to approach him with ill intent.  She stopped short of him, looking around again.  Fortunately for him, Owen had begun to stir.  Tahlia resigned herself and took a few steps back, looking for someplace to sit.  There was a rounded table with a likewise rounded seat curving around it.  She took a seat whil;e the others slowly got up and seemingly followed suit.

Not a word was spoken between the finally re-united humans, as each recovered from their inflicted grogginess in their own time. However, after Yazmin excused herself, the atmosphere became laced with currents of tension.

Owen had been silently staring into his bowl of porridge, his hand mechanically shoving the drek into his mouth as his mind cleared from the after effects of whatever it was that they had gassed them with. It seemed ridiculous to him that the Principality even took the effort to keep where they were taken a secret, since it wasn’t as if any of them had anywhere to go, and even if they did escape for some (stupid) reason it wouldn’t be that hard for something to find them—kind of hard to get lost in the crowd when you’re the last of it. It was almost as ridiculous as the stunt Echo had pulled earlier. She had gone and put ideas in his head of him having some responsibility of leading everyone (as if he had any clue how to do that) and then went ahead and completely failed to back him up when he needed it. That stung. A part of him was almost relieved that she had received the Benji special and was spirited away after her little show; one less headache. The bigger part of him felt gross for even thinking like that.

Besides, she had been replaced by someone completely migraine-inducing: Ailbeart Rend. Owen was rather glad that they didn’t get to hash everything out right then and there, because he knew he had gone and made himself look like a complete idiot. Rend was a lot of things, largely bad things from what little personal interaction he had with the man, but he was also shrewd. If it had come down to a straight-up debate then he doubted he could’ve gone toe-to-toe with the man. Now? Well, he could always just say he was gonna check up on Yaz and leave Rend alone with Tahlia. He wouldn’t, or at least he told himself that, but it was tempting.

[color=f49ac2]“We didn’t eat like we were the orphans from Oliver Twist until you showed up. Guess they must’ve really appreciated your acknowledgment of the classics,”[/color] muttered Owen, slowly looking up at Rend. [color=f49ac2]“We never really did get to meet, did we? Seems you were able to...bypass the screening stage. I’m Owen. You owe us a few explanations, Bert,”[/color] he said, his voice unusually calm. [color=f49ac2]“Mind telling me how you came to be apart of our crew in the first place?”[/color] 

[color=9e0b0f]"[i][b]Yes[/b][/i],"[/color] the word escaped his lips with some difficulty, and his eyes refused to look upon the man across from him, [color=9e0b0f]"I do mind."[/color] Either the gas was having some extended effect, or something else was weighing on him. He had been pressing the tips of his fingers against the table since his eyes had opened. [color=9e0b0f]"How... how can you two just sit there, acting like this - like most of the things going on here are... fucking normal? I [i]really[/i] do not care whether you try to pal up with me now, or whether your 'Queen' suddenly snaps and finishes the job, but I do wanna know one wee thing,"[/color] his eyes suddenly snapped up and locked with Owens', and he raised his voice and shouted, with saliva flinging from his mouth: [color=9e0b0f]"How do you cope with the realisation that you're in space, God knows how far from Earth and anything we humans ever knew, with God-fucking-damned [i]aliens[/i] in control of the rest of our lives?!"[/color] 

[color=f49ac2]"It's pretty easy,[/color] said Owen, who had been barely coping with those facts over the past few days. [color=f49ac2]"You just ignore it; kind of like how you ignored my question. So,"[/color] he leaned forward, resting his hands underneath his chin, [color=f49ac2]" Tell me how you ended up here."[/color] Rend's lip quivered, hovering between a hopeless droop and an enraged scowl. 

[color=9e0b0f]"I 'ended up' here after six decades of hard work that began before any o' you were born, and that helped you to live your facile lives. The beloved technologies that answered your every question and showed you how ta' do anything? Sure, I had a hand in their origins. Guess whose business pioneered the 'touch screen' function? That [i]shit[/i], among other things, helped all o' you get inta' those pods. I had the challenging upbringing, did the lion's share of the fucking work, and you think I don't have any right to outlive the generation - [i]your[/i] generation - whose hedonistic lifestyle destroyed the world?"[/color] Rend's breath faltered and he spent a few seconds subtlely panicking. His operation had left him with a strange, slightly different style of breathing - one that took more attention to enact as he adjusted to it. He noticed his fingers gripping the small table now instead of just touching it. He would have probably have been shouting on his feet if the situation had been different. It was strange to have to explain himself and his beliefs on equal ground against an opponent; on Earth the only times he would even have to raise his voice was when he was firing someone or in a loud environment. Still, this was not the only thing making him feel out of his depth.

It hadn't taken long for Owen's stony composure to begin to crack once Rend had started speaking. By the time the older man was done, Owen was pinching the bridge of his nose and wearing a tight-lipped frown on his face as his head shook in disbelief. 

[color=f49ac2]"I don't care if you think you deserve it. That's not the point,"[/color] said Owen through gritted teeth as he pointed his finger at Rend, his voice raising. [color=f49ac2]"There were supposed to be six people on this project: myself, Tahlia, Echo, Benji, Yaz, and Andrew. But you're here, and Andrew's not. None of us knew about that change except for you."[/color] His palm slammed down on the table, rattling the dishes that contained their mediocre meal. [color=f49ac2]"So tell me what happened!"[/color]

[color=009496]"I'll give you three guesses,"[/color] Tahlia chimed in, nonchalantly.  Truth be told, her composure was already in a fragile state.  The swarm of stupid shit that happened during their "hearing" as it were, along with her growing lack of sanity, were taking their toll, but at least now she had a goal, and it was sitting across the table from her.  Or, more accurately, it was what she had to defend the others from.  Having an objective allowed things to return to focus somewhat, but her nerves were still shot.  She was using every bit of energy she had to keep herself under control.  That's not to say she was afraid of Rend, or the aliens, or anything that was happening around her.  If anything, she was afraid of losing herself, and her comrades losing faith in her.  She had to be the strong one.

[color=009496]"And it's not our fault that you didn't grow with the times old man.  We've adapted; you haven't.  It's pretty simple, really."[/color]  She leaned forward a bit.  [color=009496]"And just to clear the air, there are very few things stopping me from relieving you of that new windpipe that you despise so much.  You've already done enough to prove that you're a liability."[/color]  She knew that Owen likely didn't approve of any of this, but as long as it was only them three in the room, she could live with looking like a rabid dog on a fragile chain.

Rend's eyes flicked back down to his hands on the table in response to Tahlia's eerily casual threat. He subconsciously filtered out the content and meaning of her words, to reassure himself of her bellicose stereotype, and to keep himself from fuelling the argument. He was not ready - not yet - for a final confrontation. Moreover, it was likely that their alien observers would prevent one, if precautions were not already set in place. With a careful and precise movement, Rend arose, using his hands on the table as support.

[color=9e0b0f]"If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go take a breath of fresh air."[/color] He stepped quickly around the seat and proceeded to the exit of the compartment, believing that the air outside would certainly not be fresh, and that it might not even be air.

Owen sank down in his chair, his hand cupped contemplatively over his mouth. Yet again they had no answers and they had come to no solutions. [color=f49ac2]"So,"[/color] he said, muttering into his fist, [color=f49ac2]"I guess we should tell Pseudo that we're an anarchy, then?"[/color] 

Tahlia thought about that.  It wasn't technically incorrect- or at least that was how she saw it.  Unfortunately, be that as it may, she was all but certain the council wouldn't take too kindly to that idea.  Socio-anarchy?  Nomadic republic?  Representative oligarchy?  What would accurately describe a system in which the population was small enough that everyone's contribution was important, and everyone was, in effect, a member of their government?

[color=009496]"An autonomous collective."[/color] she said aloud as the term came to her.  [color=009496]"That describes us pretty well, I think."[/color]  She had to think about that, though.  The implication with that was that Rend should be considered as equal to the others, and to be perfectly honest, Tahlia didn't trust him nearly enough to even consider that at this juncture.  She cupped her face in her hands and let out an exasperated sigh.  [color=009496]"God, life would be so much easier right now if Rend hadn't sabotaged us."[/color]