Not Noah


hector2_icon.gif kazimir5_icon.gif

Scene Title Not Noah
Synopsis Under the guise of catching up with old colleagues, Kazimir Volken comes to visit Hector in his lab and sow seeds to dissent in the machinist.
Date December 22, 2009

Svartalfheim Bunker


Iago's been kicking the robots again.

Hector found this one dragging itself along like a bird with a broken wing early this morning, left leg all bent and skewed in the awkward roll of its hip socket. It looked very sad and he had picked it up and hefted it off into one of dozens of variably temporary and makeshift workshops to lay it out on its side in favor of taking a late breakfast.

The long tail twitches occasionally as he works, black goggles and white lab coat providing only minimal protection against the orange hot heat of a new femur shaft still cooling at the end of a delicate twist and nudge of tongs to give it a more natural flow along its midline.

His back is to the door, attention focused down at the metal workbench rather than out, but his stature, taste and preoccupation make him difficult to mistake for anyone else who might be here.

"Steel?" The sound from behidn Hector is an amused tone of voice, even if somewhat gruff. "I was somewhat fond of Pendragon, it has a very classical feel to it." The click and clack of Kazimir's dress shoes on the concrete floor accompany the voice that heralded his arrival. Moving out from where he has silently watched the machinist at work, he carries himself with a casual grace, hands tucked into his pockets, brows raised and blue eyes curiously transfixed on the man at work.

"I suppose Steel has a favorable affect as well," his stare drifts up from the glowing hot piece of metal to the goggles hiding Hector's eyes. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

"Nearly four days," says Hector. Dryly. The somewhat vexed cut of his eyes sideways where he fails to turn and offer any kind of proper, formal recognition is — fortunately for his structural integrity — impossible to discern through the turn of his black and the inscrutible tint of his goggle lenses.

Still quite 'alive' despite currently being indisposed, the little dowel and bolt velociraptor twists its head up and around to focus on current company, yellow eyes no more or less easily read than Steel's sheer absence of affect and bleak goggles.

Quiet for a time, Kazimir watches Hector work with a mixture of child-like wonder and professional curiosity, almost like having an employer leaning over an employee's shoulder to watch them work. "You've become so very skilled…" Kazimir admits quietly, leaning away form the work bench, taking a few meandering steps away from Hector, hands folded behind his back. "I spoke with Iago some, over the last few days, discussed what is coming, plans for the future, and what has happened in my…" it's carefully chosen, "absence." Disquiet is painted across Kazimir's face, even if his back is turned to Hector.

"I wanted to discuss something with you, and I fear that Iago may not entirely approve of my bringing you into this particular circle of knowledge." The hesitation in Kazimir's voice is strictly out of respect for Hector to begin piecing much of this together on his own, to let conspiratorial notes begin to lock into place. "But this is still my operation, and I feel it ill-suited to keep you in the dark on what he's known is coming for any longer."

It is rather like having a manager looking over your shoulder while you type and may (or may not) have an AIM window open in the bottom left corner that you are desperately hoping will not choose this moment to start blinking. When technically it already has. Unease in the way Hector holds himself is more subtle now than it was, but he's clearly still in possession of some disquiet of his very own.

It knits his brow and turns his mouth down into a frown within the trim keep of his goatee while he listens and works, mistaken for concentration easily enough by someone who doesn't know better. At least his hair looks nice. Suit, too. Today it's a rich, dusky midnight blue, with tidy pinstripes and a tidier vest buttoned neatly over the dress shirt underneath. At least they still have their taste in junglewear in common.

"It's nothing," is what he chooses to say first — a patent lie in disguise as modesty. The metallic creature wrestles and stills; he re-fits joint to socket and picks up a pair of tweezers to set to threading wiring back in where it belongs. "I am here at your service, to listen and to assist where I can."

"Listening…" Kazimir notes with a nod of his head, circling back around Hector to stand at his side again, "listening is important, admittedly. Putting ones ear to the ground to hear the approach of the herd." There's a cast of his head to the side, leaning in to regard Hector at an askance angle. "But then you must be careful not to listen to the ground too hard, because you risk burying your head in the sand after too long."

A curious eye wanders down to the way Hector's hands are at work, then slowly lift back up. Given their history together, Kazimir seems to assume that Hector is able to divide his attention to more than just what is directly in front of him. "How much exactly has Iago told you about the nuclear warhead, Munin?"

Kazimir's look askance is — met askance. Hector lifts a brow, tweezers poised mid-pluck in a futile effort to discern…well. What? essentially.

He resumes at a slower pace, attention tilted down at an indirect incline so that his left hand can wind it's way 'round the soldering iron positioned next to it. "Oh," he says eventually, "you know." Touch iron to wire here, touch another one there, trade it out for the flathead with a sigh and a shadow of exasperated dismay at the join of nose and brow.


"Nothing." Kazimir parrots back with a little more emphasis than Hector did. There's a nod of his head, one gloved hand brushing that lock of hair out from his brow, accompanied by a sigh much the same as Hector's. "I would have imagined an engineer would be given some education on this, but… I assume Iago had his reasons for not trusting you." Blue eyes offer a conspiratorial look to Hector. "Iago seems different these days." The layers of suspicion begin to be laid on, gently at first.

"We're on the eve of the finale of our plans, as it were. The Vanguard has been in possession of a theromnuclear warhead, twenty kilotons, for several years now. Originally there were two, but the fallout from the events in the United States has rendered one out of our control." Shrugging his shoulders, Kazimir tucks his hands into the pockets of his slacks, eyes focused on the machine on the workbench more than Hector now.

"It is going to be detonated beneath the surface of the Antarctic ice shelf, the resulting heat will vaporize a good portion of the shelf and turn the remainder to liquid water, resulting in literal representation of the mythic flood. It is no coincidence this base is situated atop a mountain." Blue eyes drift up to Hector. "The new world that results will find the Vanguard in control; survivors, left to guide the course of humanity's remains."

Beginning to walk again, Kazimir paces around behind Hector. "Those idiots that were escorting me up the mountain are apparently hell-bent on stopping the detonation. I cannot truly abide by that, so I was hoping this little talk of ours might motivate you to further apply your ingenuity to stopping them before they can find the information they'd need to… make this a problem."

If there's one thing Peter admires about Richard Cardinal, it is his likewise ability to sow seeds of dissent among loyalists to a cause. Peter is hoping, somehow, that this gambit of his plays out properly, and twists Hector from his current apathy to something more productive.

"I'm surprised Iago didn't tell you."

Like squabbling; or betrayal.

"…Well," Hector is nothing if not quick off the mental block (while sober, which is rarely of late), and takes only the amount of dramatic pause necessary to draw in a breath to replace the one he just sighed out.

"That sounds fantastic, sir. Very dynamic. Congratulations on a watery apocalypse well organized."

He is going to have to find another mountain with a bunker in it. Does he even remember where he put his suitcase? Everything is going to get wrinkled and he will have no one to iron his pants. He could design a robot to iron his pants. It could have three arms.

These thoughts and more play out without outward representation, rhyme or reason. A trip of his thumb closes a band of protective plating around the component he's just finished replacing, and then the little device is scrabbled back up on its feet, ticking like a clockwork bomb. "I did do some theoretical work, once upon a time. Programming. I suppose it must've slipped your mind to mention it would see active application — no worries. I can imagine things tend to get jumbled with so much masterminding going on in there…" Aah. What was he doing?


His latest glance at his own right hand has revealed that there is a peculiar-looking gun seated comfortably in the fit of his palm, lifted from a mixture of various other scrapped weaponry scattered around the work table. He sets it down. Carefully.

"Sorry, what were you saying? Oh, Iago. Yes, well. He has been a bit down over the course of your haitus. Separation anxiety or," he gestures, "you know."

"He seems in better spirits now," Kazimir admits, regarding Hector's mood with scrutiny, "especially since he's been made aware things are going along as scheduled." Breathing in a deep breath, Kazimir looks down to the small firearm amidst the scrap on the table, then back up to Hector. "There is not much time left, a week or two," he admits casually, "I thought that it might benefit you to be aware that this bunker may well become closer to the water line soon and likely a part of what will be a mountainous archipelego rather than the wall of stone and ice that it is today. Climate change is bound to occur."

Turning to offer his profile to Hector, Kazimir's eyes downcast to his feet. "Well, now that you know… I presume you'll have a fair lot of preparation to undertake in order to ensure the safety of your creations. It's funny," Kazimir muses as he turns his eyes up to the ceiling, "I always intended the bunker-fortresses to be like the biblical arks, and this one has animals— but none most people would recognize." A look is offered back down to Hector, "Perhaps I should have called you Noah."

"Well that's — er — sssounds promising." A broken hinge fails to match two sentences evenly together, and Hector's left to chuckle a little weakly as he slides a workbench drawer open and brushes the gun carelessly down to rest inside with the back of his hand. Aaaah! Where did it even come from?! Thunk. He closes the drawer and the raptor hops three feet down to smooth stone flooring to prowl its way back onto active duty.

"Aaah — Noah — good one, sir. Maybe you missed out on a career as a comedian, eh?" His eyes are clear blue, casual dishonesty deeply ingrained enough to read as truth truth truth once he's pushed the goggles up onto his forehead and set to shrugging out've his lab coat.

A wry smile comes in return to Hector's comment. "Comedian," Kazimir once again parrots, "I wouldn't think of depriving Jensen of his passtime." Blue eyes alight to the mechanic. "I won't take any more of your time, I can tell you have a great deal of things to work on." Two steps are taken to the door, and Kazimir halts, recalling something as he turns to look back at Hector. "Oh, and… I saw that war-machine of yours, the ah…" he wags his head from side to side uncertainly, "giant crab? Very marvelous workmanship, actually, I spent a fair deal of time looking it over."

Kazimir's lips purse to the side, distracted by that errant conversational piece. "Do you think you might be able to get it up and running— soon?"

"Of course. Glad you like it, sir. Ramirez mentioned that he might want to take it out for a test run on the village soon — I could have one of the Sentries accompany him to record his progress." And desperately hope Captain Iago doesn't get bored and decide to get into a shooting match with it once he's finished demolishing the locals.

That unfortunate line of thought is clamped down upon quickly, as if in hopes cutting it off will keep it from leaking into Iago's consciousness. Such is his distraction that he's left to look somewhat helplessly at Kazimir for a moment before he resumes folding his lap coat over his arm.

"The village?" One black brow raises slowly, and Kazimir nods his head. "Of course…" There's a subtle nod of Kazimir's head, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. In a way, save for his decades younger appearance, it's much like having the tired old man back. He seems unaccustomed to movements in the young body, like an old actor wearing a young man as a suit. "Do think about what I mentioned today. Sometimes, you need to consider the future."

Kazimir tips his head into a nod, offering Hector a smile concealed by the angle of his posture. "Good afternoon, Hector. I'll see you at dinner." He doesn't wait for a response, just steps carefully over a skittering raptorbot to walk out into the hall. The machine skitters and clinks up into the room, head quirking to the side as it considers Hector, then beeps once before bobbing out of the room on matchstick legs.

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