circle7 | a small price to pay

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a small price to pay

Gladsheim, buffeted by both civil unrest and foreign tension, was abuzz with information. The locals were quick to say what was on their minds, and while it took some effort to pick out the useful information from the bias and the opinions, it was a skill that all scouting members of Circle Seven were well-trained with, and the picture had quickly begun to take shape as to the state of affairs down in the military planet. As far as habitable planets went, Gladsheim was actually on the small side of the scale - its population was barely five billion, as a good portion of the surface was uninhabitable anyway, covered with strict rock and mineral deposits that made it good for raw resources, but poor for refining plants. That was why Gladsheim relied on foreign weapon supplies - it relied largely on what the earth gave them to trade for firepower, and when supply had begun to run thin from exploitation, Gladsheim's military had obviously taken affairs into their own hands.

It could be said that the reconnaissance mission had gone off without a hitch. After all, they had gone in, ascertained the situation rather quickly, and they had all managed to get out in one piece. A scratch like this, thought Evan optimistically (maybe it was the drugs making him think crazy), was really a rather small price to pay. He didn't doubt that people paid higher prices for valuable information down in the Fourth Circle, in fact. All in all, his small team had performed admirably, and it would have been virtually impossible for anyone to have noticed that Aquilo trailing their progress. The Aquilos barely wandered far from their own planet given their biological limitations - Evan hadn't been trained to listen for their sound. They were lucky to have realized when they did, losing her before they returned to the trip. Like I said, he thought, without a hitch.

The lights had blared in Evan's eyes like a rhythmic flare (was the artificial lighting always that blinding?) Vaguely, he had been aware of Viana's voice as he was carried into the First Circle ship. He had been good until then, managing on his own feet, but either the relief got to him, or the blood loss did, and as soon as he was safely inside, his knees gave out. The next thing he knew, he was staring at the ceiling. "What?" he tried to say, but his mouth wasn't cooperating, and all that got out was a confused, "Nnn?" which technically sufficed, but was considerably less graceful. This wasn't his room.

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"'Not so bad?'" Evan repeated, somewhat incredulously. "It should be better than that, after all the hospitality we've shown you, doc." (Viana excluded.)

Oh, he considered that, definitely. Bentley's expression went flat. "A certain someone keeps me from getting too comfy."

"That's too bad," Evan said, almost too nonchalantly. "Maybe you should have a talk with them. Work out your differences."

Dropping an elbow to his knee, Bentley rested his chin in his palm, frowning. "Not likely to happen, I don't think."

Raising a brow, Evan stretched out his arms, careful not to move the rest of his torso, and reached toward the ceiling with his (eight) fingers. It was an idle movement, probably a better alternative than lying still, in his mind. "Why do you say that? Irreconcilable differences? You should give it a try. There's surprisingly little that you can't talk your way through, these days." It's just faster to use brute force.

"Something like that," Bentley said, sighing. The person in question certainly made it hard to get along with them. The only sign of humanity in said person was helping him walk. After beating him senseless and pushing him off a building. "Some people in these worlds we're just not meant to understand, I think."

"Well, we've all got our secrets," Evan responded, the statement true for all parties involved. "You don't have to know them inside-out. It might just be better to understand a little - like how to avoid them."

Bentley gave an amused scoff. "That's a little hard to do when said person's brother is stuck in the infirmary."

"Oh," Evan said innocently, blinking at Bentley. "You were talking about Viana?" But he wasn't as good at hiding his expressions when injured, apparently, because a hint of a smile was tugging one side of his mouth up.

The doctor scoffed, disbelieving. He leaned forward, curious. "Is there someone else you know who fits the description of 'incredibly stubborn, does not play well with others, and legally insane', Evan?"

Evan stared plainly back. "So you haven't met most of the crew yet."

"I..." A pause. "Well, no. Only whoever comes through here. Not many, recently." The infirmary could be a lonely place, with only a few patients and fewer nurses in at any given time. Not that it was good to have patients, necessarily; but not always bad, either. Come to think of it, Evan and Bentley hardly ever talked one-on-one like this - not that the other man had to take a bullet for Bentley to realize it, but he rather enjoyed it. He seemed less stubborn, played all right with others (he guessed), and was definitely less insane. At least, on the outside.

To Bentley's luck, it could definitely be said that Evan was one of the less...idiosyncratic of the entire crew. He had an obligation to be firmly rooted, after all. Someone had to be, when his sister spent a good deal more time off the ground than the average person. He liked to think of it as evening out, maybe clearing the ground to make sure she had somewhere to land, even if she was fully capable of stomping out whatever trouble she had then and there also. Evan nodded, understanding, and said, "You should get used to it. That type of person. There are worse out there, by several degrees. Anyway - Circle Seven is at a bit of a lull right now. Conflict...comes and goes. There might be days where you've got so many people lined up to come up, you don't even know where to put 'em."

Bentley's eyes lowered, brow furrowed. "If things keep up the way I think they're going, it's not going to be in a lull much longer." He looked up, as though looking to be proved wrong; maybe right. This conflict with the military was only starting.

"You have that in good confidence?" Evan asked, frowning slightly himself. He probably found it odd that a doctor would know, especially one that was kept out of the loop so often, since he was new.

Though his brow was still wrinkled, he smiled, watching the bend of his metallic fingers as they curled in, and back out. "I have it in good confidence that Gladsheim military is bad news. We had a problem with them in Asche, back on Erclesse."

Frowning deeper, Evan gave that answer some thought. He hadn't heard of Gladsheim being involved in affairs as far as Erclesse, but with a military that conniving, he didn't find it hard to believe, either. "You were involved?" he asked carefully, simply curious. It would be foolish to judge on peoples' history in an organization like this. The members came from all sorts of backgrounds, but all that mattered now was their ability. It was a good system, in a way - prove yourself with what you have, not with what you were given, and it made for a rather motley gathering of all kinds of individuals.

The doctor was silent for a moment. Evan's comment on 'crime by association' came to mind, and he gave a sigh, which came out as something of a bitter laugh under his breath.

"In a way," he said. "Meant to ask - I can get Viana if you want. She'll be glad to see you awake."

"Offering to get Vi?" Evan said, disbelieving. Then, he laughed. "Don't be so obvious the next time you want to change the subject, doc. Call her in."

"It's not a pretty story, that's all," he said as he got to his feet, disarming grin in check. "But I really did mean to ask. Be right back, then."

Evan wasn't surprised - even for the most humanitarian job on the ship (the doctor), there were few in Circle Seven that could attest to a 'pretty story.' Something made a person turn to outside-of-the-law operations like this, after all. People with good homes, good backgrounds, and good futures didn't turn to an option like this. Leaning back, Evan listened for the tell-tale sound of his sister's footsteps. They were distinct from Bentley's - lighter, more rushed, and almost always in a distinct staccato, like she wanted to keep her feet off the ground as much as possible, even when absolutely necessary.

Soon enough, their voices began to filter through the walls too. "He's fine?" she was saying, no doubt not the first time she had asked the question. "If I find anything wrong with him..."

Bentley and Viana's voices got louder as the doctor opened the door, accenting the last half of his sentence. "I know, I know - I think I've heard enough of your threats to last me a life time and more." He rolled his eyes as he stepped in, his footsteps much more languid and precise than Viana's. "Now go see your brother. And don't stress him out, he's still in a fragile state."

"Fragile," Viana snorted, around the same time her brother did the same.

"Fragile?" Evan echoed, looking affronted. He pulled himself higher on the bed, so that he could lean up as she approached. She slowed to a stop as she came to stand at the side of the medical bed, like a bird coming down to perch and rest. Rather than ask and confirm something she had already been told, Viana just gave her brother's wounded abdomen a quick glance, though the bandages blocked the wound from view. She bit her lip, and though the expression lasted only a split second, Evan was familiar enough with her mannerisms to laugh, patting her elbow.

"The mission was a success," he reassured and reported, all at once. She understood, thankfully, nodding curtly and patting his upper arm back.

"Guess you won't have to die today, doc," she added.

"Yes, fragile," Bentley confirmed, chin tilting up. "You may not think so, but I think your middle there would disagree."

The doctor quieted though, going to a corner of the room where a clipboard lay on a counter. He scribbled something, glancing over his shoulder now and then to look up at them. Viana seemed different around her brother - not that it was surprising, but something about it still resounded in the silent room. The other patient had left that morning; maybe that's why it felt more intimate in here than usual, with just the three of them, even if they weren't particularly close.

Bentley glanced at the clock, wrote something else down, and set down his pen. He turned and leaned against the counter, scoffing at Viana's comment.

"Good," he said. "Wasn't on my agenda."

"Well," she said flippantly, turning back to Evan. "I don't cause you any stress, do I?" She crossed her arms over her chest, expectant.

Evan just smiled. "Of course not," he lied easily, because even if Viana was more than capable of taking care of herself - so capable, in fact, that half the crew aboard the First Circle avoided her - that, in and of itself, was something worth worrying about. He was no heckling mother hen, though, and he supposed worry just came with the whole Being Related package, so he never fussed.

Satisfied with the answer, Viana nodded once at him, and then again in Bentley's direction, in a sort of, "See?" gesture.

"Thanks for bringing her in, doc," Evan smoothed over. "I'm good for now, so if you're busy, you can get back to your job."

a small price to pay

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