oswin fights the good fight with eggs and milk! (eggstir) wrote in thedisplaced, @ 2018-07-15 20:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | nathan summers / cable (movies), oswin oswald |
Who: Oswin & Cable
What: Oswin tries making new friends.
When: Sunday, July 15th,
Where: ~c y b e r s p a c e~
Warnings: Non-consensual attempted hacking.
Status: Complete in gdocs
There wasn’t much for Oswin to do. The routine went something like: Wake up. The bed was a hammock she constructed. It was large and just like the simple canvas one her best friend Nina had the backyard of her parents’ home in Glasgow where you could lay in it all day while reading and enjoying the flowers. The problem was no one ever really used the hammock. It had been a nice idea, but Oswin had always desperately wanted to lay in it despite having no practical time to do so. Except now she did. Sleeping in the hammock never lost its novelty. There was texture and it supported her just right and, unlike most hammocks if Oswin had ever really spent time in one, was easy enough to get in and out of. Every day, Oswin woke up in that hammock and it never once lost its appeal. The next part of the routine: Check defenses. At the back of the broken ship there is a round door. It doesn’t really match the design of the rest of the ship, except for the curiously and improbably round window of the cockpit Oswin can see out of. They are the only two circular parts of the ship white the rest is boxy and practical. The window never needs defending. Nothing ever happens where Oswin can see. It is the back door that must be nailed shut at all costs. Oswin takes special care to set up large wooden planks and nail them to the back door. The voice of the Dalek is on the other side and she cannot under any circumstances let it in. She will nail the circular door shut and she will drown it’s hideous voice with music if she must, but she will never let it through. It doesn’t matter where the wooden planks came from. Or how the nails are able to punch through the metal frame. It does just. The banging of the hammer is loud, but Oswin does it religiously each day knowing the planks will fall away each morning because the Dalek comes at night while she sleeps. She imagined it must have been ramming itself against the other side of the door until the planks fall away, but it has not been able to ram itself through yet. The third part of her routine: Food. It never turns out right. Oswin is a little hungry, but not hungry enough to eat whatever utterly destroyed, shrivelled thing that has been cooked in her oven for too long. Oswin never looks too carefully in the oven. There’s something disturbing about it. The last and most important part of her routine? Keeping busy. Before it meant hacking Dalek systems and defenses and making herself the largest pain in the ass that she could. Now it meant hacking into anything worth looking at among the Displaced and making sure everything looked shipshape. The captain’s chair was large, black and she often reclined sideways into it with her legs dangled over the armrest and a keyboard in her lap while her eyes were focused on the screen. Oswin kept prodding at this new system, the coding, layout and purpose completely unfamiliar to her. So obviously the first step was to see if it could be broken into. If she could, it meant someone else could, which meant security patches would be required. But only if she could find a way in first. Of course she would. Right? She’d hacked into the Pathweb so easily. Dalek tech had to be harder to break into than anything ever produced on Earth? Right? She wasn’t in any rush, anyway. -- It started out as basic irritation, an itch that kept returning no matter how he ignored it. Slowly that itch turned into the beginnings of a headache, back at the base of his head and creeping up and toward his brow. After about half an hour Cable realized exactly what was happening. Someone was trying to work their way into the programming of the machine parts that were integrated into his body. It was simple enough to boot them out, like swatting at a fly and nailing it on the first try. His attention turned back to the various weaponry on the bed, repairing and upgrading depending on what was needed for each piece. System diagnostics had become infinitely easier to do once he’d determined how to integrate with the weapons that had become like a second skin to him. But there was that damn itch again and Cable focused on the coding that was trying to infiltrate his own, manipulating the coding as needed to send a message to whoever it was; try it again and he’d blow their system up. -- Oswin saw the message on her screen and smiled. It was habit, really. She’d received countless hatemail from the Daleks over the year she’d been bunkered up on their asylum planet. Could Daleks send anything but hate mail, she wondered? Most likely not. On the plus side, Oswin figured out how to send a message back. » So grouchy. » Was I supposed to buy you dinner first? » Don’t know if I can order pizza from here. » Miss pizza. » Remarkable coding, by the way. » If I can’t break it you’re probably safe. Oswin stared at her screen and wondered just how much damage he really could do, and if this mysterious stranger really was the type of person to try and destroy her for trying to poke around. She waited for a response first while she weighed the pros and cons. -- If Cable had been prone to rolling his eyes thi was when he would have been doing so. Instead he simply stared at the wall, filtering through the mess of wirings and code that his mind constantly picked up on. » Entering someone’s server without invitation is a sign of attack Always had been and always would be. No one liked when someone did it and considering his own was on such a personal level it was something he wasn’t about to condone. » Maybe you need to relearn you etiquette Which he honestly had no issue showcasing for whoever this was. It took him a couple of seconds to rework a simple virus code and send it to whoever had been poking around his own network setup. -- It took a few moments before Oswin could respond. Dealing the virus stirred a small amount of hunger in her gut. At least she was pretty sure it was hunger. Eggs always sounded good. » Why? You plan on inviting anyone? » Like to feel useful. » Mostly just like to have something to do. » What is all this for anyway? » Hold on. Oswin tinkered a little, trying to engage the voice channel. Instead of sounding like the electronic screeching of a murderous Dalek, the voice was feminine and more than mildly flirtatious. “Can you hear me? Like a bit of mystery.” -- Cable blinked at the sound of the voice, not having expected that outcome from the conversation. Though everything that had been typed out coupled with the feminine voice gave him a fairly good idea of who he might have been talking to. Only one new member of the community seemed like the type to be cracking into various networks out of boredom. Probably Oswin. “I'm not here to be your entertainment.” -- “Mm. I could listen to your grumpy voice all day. Not entertainment. Defense. Also bored. Also have I mentioned I could listen to you grumble all day?” Oswin gave what she imagined to be a winning smile. Not that he could see it. No one could while she was still shuttered away on the Alaska. Strangely no one was pressuring her to try to come out. Her rather flimsy excuses about damage had held up. Perhaps too well. She would have to worry about that later. “I’m going to guess future tech? Human? Grumble if I’m right.” -- “Your defense is shit if you’re going to go around looking for and causing problems.” The last thing they probably wanted was someone hacking into any government organizations because someone was ‘bored’ and trapped inside a Dalek. It was one thing if you were actually looking for something, another entirely without a plan. No matter what the others might say about the people from this place not having a clue who they were or overlooking everything that happened, the former military had known who they were and had definitely been covering up everything that happened. As for her questions, he wasn’t saying shit about them. -- “Not mine. Yours. Not concerned about mine. Been reading the net. Portal sends me back, the Asylum Planet blows. I’m on borrowed time. Just seeing what I can do for my neighbors until then. My very grumpy neighbors.” Oswin attempted again to gain entry to the coding elsewhere. Her fingers felt like a blur, as though she weren’t really typing but thinking about the code. Of course that was impossible. Of course she was typing. She could hear the soft clacking of keys. It sounded like rain. She missed the smell and feel of rain. “Average time here looks to be about six months? Based on the arrival and departure posts. Can do loads in six months. Least I can do.” -- “If you’ve been able to read that much then it looks like you need to work on your reading comprehension skills.” Because there was quite a bit else that should have been on that page if she had been able to read it. Specifically the whole ‘you’re a Dalek’ part. Also wouldn’t surprise him if she had managed to suppress that bit. People were pretty good at hiding what they feared from themselves. He felt that nagging sensation again, the one alerting him to a potential hack and this time he wasn’t nice about it. An aggressive trojan was catapulted into her system. “Help someone else.” And with that he cut off the communication. -- It almost seemed as though the message was received. Oswin didn’t try to enter the system again. If the trojan had been successful or not, there were no messages to indicate how she had managed or if she had managed. Several minutes later, there was message. » You got mail! 📬 » [Attachment] » Come on, Grumpy. » Please with cherries on top? Oswin couldn’t break his code, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t have other ideas. The attachment was suggested code for a digital skin, forged to look like his code, borrowing the syntax of the language she still couldn’t quite translate. Designed to look like it could be cracked, loaded with viruses if it was. His trojan horse, in fact. Modified with a few modest improvements in a few different variations. Easily customizable if he wanted to use it and make his own improvements. » Tell me you hate it and I promise I won’t speak to you again. -- Cable deleted the message without looking at it. “Fucking kids,” he muttered, before going back to work on his weapons. |