the_last_resort | Agent K

[Narvin purses his lips, then clears his throat, then looks away for a while before answering, trying to decide whether he *should* answer. In the end he concludes that catching the possible terrorists is more important than pride.]

Yes, although we don't speak of it much. Some scientists speculate that our telepathy first evolved as a function of pack communication. And there are some...aspects of our digestive system that...ah...indicate a carnivorous evolutionary heritage. [It's terribly embarrassing for a species that makes a great show out of being peaceful and abhorring violence as barbaric to admit that their ancestors hunted down other life forms and devoured them.]

Edited (typo) 2014-06-29 10:45 (UTC)

Could come in kinda handy. If you can tell when they're comin' like the other pack hunters, maybe it'll help to have someone around that can actually say, "Hey guys I'm feeling uneasy."

Especially, I notice, since you've been wantin' to stick your nose in the investigation pretty hard.

[He doesn't know if that means Narvin is involved or not. The intensity of his interest is a little suspicious, as his behaving as if he has the right to know.]

Speaking of what you mentioned earlier, what would happen if you tasted this dirt? [Another genuine question.]

[Narvin grows tense at Kay pointing out that he noticed Narvin's interest in the investigation.]

Force of habit. I used to sometimes serve as a consultant for investigations of this nature when the Chancellery Guard needed a specialist in technical matters.

[Best lie he can do on short notice.]

Anything to get this matter settled quickly.

[At Kay's question, he glances at the dirt, then back up at Kay.]

I would spit it out again immediately.

But, if there were traces of unusual chemicals in the area, I would probably taste it.

Well, if you give it a try it'll be our dirty little secret. [Yes, yes he did just make that joke. And it's an awful joke and somewhere someone's heart panged in pain. But the cruel, unwavering agent that Kay is means that he doesn't even blink in the face of his own reprehensible humor.]

[He steps back from the site, putting away the psychic scanner. That didn't yield much of anything.]

[Narvin stares at him a few seconds, wondering if he really meant to say that or if it was an unconscious slip. No, he's pretty sure Kay meant to say that.]

I'm glad no one else was around to hear that. [Narvin has a strong constitution. He can take it. Being around Braxiatel so often inoculated him to wordplay and puns.]

All right, I'll do it.

But don't look. It's...embarrassing.

Fair enough.

[He turns his back on Narvin, jamming his hands in his pockets like it's the most casual of things. He's not ignoring a man about to stick dirt in his mouth, nope!]

[He doesn't want to admit it, but it's the fact that Narvin looks very human that does make this a little weird to watch. He's glad to turn around.]

[Narvin crouches down, pinches up a dirt sample between his thumb and fingers, and, before he can think too much about what else might be in forest dirt, drops it in his mouth.

He mouths it for a good two nanospans to make sure he gets a full and proper taste, then spits it out. Afterwards, he makes ample sounds of disgust with much tongue smacking and licking the air like it will take the taste of dirt away.]

[Kay turns around upon hearing that, hands still in his pocket.]

Any luck, Sunshine?

[Narvin hurriedly sticks his tongue back in his mouth when Kay turns around.]

There's higher than expected amounts of potassium nitrate, some kind of concentrated carbon that's unfamiliar to me, and...[His mouth twists]...sulfur.

Other than that it's the usual decayed plant and animal material, and various trace minerals.

Concentrated carbon... [He says out loud thoughtfully.] Gunpowder.

[And, if pressed, these things can be naturally produced by something. Stored in a body. That's bothersome. Hell, the spider itself could have gone off if rigged.]

Gives me somethin' to think about. Thank you for your time.

[He starts to walk by him, patting him on the shoulder.]

[Narvin jumps at the pat on the shoulder, not expecting it. Then trots to keep up with Kay as he starts to walk by.]

What's your theory?

[All full of pestering curiosity here.]

Not one I'm at liberty to share. [He says simply, putting his hand back in his pockets.] Don't wanna get too far ahead of myself. Too much speculation can lead to stupid mistakes.

I see. Very well then. [He doesn't like it, isn't used to being denied information, but he can't force Kay to share his theory. But it doesn't stop him from asking questions.]

I wonder if the associated caninoid agitation is an unintentional side effect of either the method of explosion or the species who set the bomb, or if it was an anti-dog whistle of some sort to keep guard dogs away.

[Just going to talk about that like he's not included in this category of caninoids.]

Ever heard of something called the "Infrasonic 17 Hz tone experiment"? It's a test humans did on infrasound based on our own range of audible sound wavelengths.

[There's no harm in making conversation, and while it seems a little like a deviation from topic he does plan to bring it around.]

No, I haven't. I'm aware that humans have fairly keen hearing as far as intelligent species goes, but my knowledge of Terran science on the matter is limited.

What is it?

[Relevant or not, now Narvin's curious.]

More keen than we let on. The experiment suggested that infrasound can fill us with fear, anxiety, make us imagine pressure on our chest.

Similarly you have some species that will flee any sort of electromagnetic pulse, immediately registering it as a threat. Birds of my word migrate based on the direction of the poles. So it makes you wonder.

Maybe convergent evolution has given you guys some traits that keys you in on something that you can't consciously detect. The sense is there, but only there enough for you to be on guard or to know not to approach. I just have no clue what that something would be. [Unfortunately he's not excluding Narvin from that evolutionary line, because it's useful.]

[Narvin supposed that it could be worse. At least it's practical, instead of inciting something like territorial aggression. Still, he's a proper Time Lord and proper Time Lords do hate to admit that beneath the robes and extensive genetic tinkering they're just mammals.]

It's lovely being a living bomb detector.

Ah well, I suppose this means that I least I won't need to worry about being a victim of these bombs. I'll probably be mindlessly running away before they go off.

You got a bomb problem?

[This promises to be a pretty good story. He's glad to enter the fence again, though. He's not so much of a bomb magnet, but today isn't a good day to start.]

A run of ill luck with them.

[He has to pause for half a nanospan to think of how to explain while still pretending that he was in no way ever a professional intelligence operative back on his home planet.]

The first was at a diplomatic conference, much like this one now. I was there as...a servitor tech, to make sure that the robot servitors were operating according to specs. The ambassador from Unvoss was assassinated by means of an explosive in his drink. I happened to be right next to him at the time and was lucky not to have been injured. It was a near thing.

The second time I wasn't so lucky. There had been a string of terrorist attacks on Gallifrey, explosions much like this. I was a technical consultant for the investigation and determined that the bombs were being sneaked into high secure areas hidden within the mechanisms of newscast camera drones. When I made this discovery, I realized that the members of government were potentially in grave danger of mass assassination. There were all in the Panopticon holding a debate surrounded by these camera drones. I ran to them, opened the casing on one to offer proof of the threat, and triggered an early detonation sequence. The bomb went off right in my face.

And the third time...[The third time was the worst. But at least he could be completely honest about what happened.]...the third time was during the civil war. Romana had assigned me and her body guard, Leela, to plants explosives along the artron forum, to destroy it while it was deserted. I was selected for the job because I best knew the mechanics of the bomb. And Leela is a hunter, a human, and an expert at stealth. Plus she carried the bombs for me. The first few were planted and set without incident, but the bombs were old, corrupted. The timer was faulty on one, and it went off in my face. If it weren't for Leela, I wouldn't have survived. Finding medical care wasn't easy with the war on and Pandora hot on our heels.

Well, look at it this way. You got a streak of survival in you.

I was lucky enough not to have an intergalactic war on my planet, but as you probably know our domestic ones are bad enough. Messy stuff. Most of the exoplanetary community, while appreciating the service of use providing neutral ground, also are pretty wary of how primitive and violent they can be. That's why my organization has to be filled with humans that are about as advanced as they get.

[He nods in a direction.] I'm gonna get some pie. You want some pie?

[He's guessing no, but it seems polite to ask.]

[He stands up just a little bit taller at that. He's rather proud of his ability to survive and is glad that someone else has noticed and appreciates the talent, too.]

How do you screen your applicants? Have there ever been any errors?

[He blinks at pie suddenly entering the conversation.]

Pie?

Well, if they have tafelshrew pasties I might get one, although I generally favour simple synthetic nutritional disks.

What's a tafelshrew?

[He has to get that out of the way before he starts any comparisons. But he has a guess.]

It's a delicacy. A small rodent native to southern Gallifrey.

[Totally normal to eat rodents, right?]

We don't often eat non-synthetic foods, but when we do tafelshrew is a common item. Also dactyl eggs and seerlak.

I'm rather grateful that food is produced by spawners here. If they actually grew or raised the food here, I'm not sure I would trust it. With spawner produced food, I know where it's been, where it came from--electrons in the power system.

Well, I'm goin' to the diner where they do use picked and hunted food. So you might not like it so much. [The shrug is almost apologetic.]

Sorry about that, slick. On top of that, I'm goin' for a fruit pie, too. They have somethin' like an apple here.

Oh that establishment. [He says it like, by serving up picked and hunted food they might as well be bringing out plates with live cockroaches on them.]

No, I cannot eat there. I wouldn't mind asking you a few more questions, however, so I may join you for the company rather than the food.

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