The words are a muted whisper in her mind; should have guessed that enlisting in the military would entail fighting its backyard threat. But it all sounds rather complicated, doesn't it? Someone born in the Outer colonies, viewing first hand the cruelty and unjustness with which their labor is demanded. Friends, family and neighbors resigning themselves to agriculture or ore-digging until their bodies give out. Maybe joining the Insurrectionists seemed too much of a lost cause. An instant death, not worth any amount of valor. Or maybe her criminal charge had wedged her between militaristic pillars she simply couldn't escape from.
A real conflict of interest, no?
Again, Ripley's natural instinct is to pick her brain about it. To ask questions that maybe aren't appropriate for a party setting like this one. Perhaps the look she gives CT unbidden says as much; head cocked, eyes round and curious, lips pouted. The kind of expression her crew might groan at, for they knew they'd be subjected to her incessant asking.
But she's smart enough to know when to drop things. What to pin to the neat board in her mind.
"That's quite a lot of trust to put into a computer. We were plenty reliant on them too, but when you say the risks out loud it sounds so much more..." She makes a gesture with her hand, wincing. "Stupid? Bound to fail? Our technology was so cumbersome in the end. Like every design had been implemented without disaster in mind. You should have seen the self-destruct initiative in the Nostromo." A dry laugh. "It had, frankly, a ridiculous number of steps for how quickly things needed to be done. I'm sure that wasn't deliberate, but it still felt like I was being laughed at, somehow."
no subject
She fought against the Outers.
The words are a muted whisper in her mind; should have guessed that enlisting in the military would entail fighting its backyard threat. But it all sounds rather complicated, doesn't it? Someone born in the Outer colonies, viewing first hand the cruelty and unjustness with which their labor is demanded. Friends, family and neighbors resigning themselves to agriculture or ore-digging until their bodies give out. Maybe joining the Insurrectionists seemed too much of a lost cause. An instant death, not worth any amount of valor. Or maybe her criminal charge had wedged her between militaristic pillars she simply couldn't escape from.
A real conflict of interest, no?
Again, Ripley's natural instinct is to pick her brain about it. To ask questions that maybe aren't appropriate for a party setting like this one. Perhaps the look she gives CT unbidden says as much; head cocked, eyes round and curious, lips pouted. The kind of expression her crew might groan at, for they knew they'd be subjected to her incessant asking.
But she's smart enough to know when to drop things. What to pin to the neat board in her mind.
"That's quite a lot of trust to put into a computer. We were plenty reliant on them too, but when you say the risks out loud it sounds so much more..." She makes a gesture with her hand, wincing. "Stupid? Bound to fail? Our technology was so cumbersome in the end. Like every design had been implemented without disaster in mind. You should have seen the self-destruct initiative in the Nostromo." A dry laugh. "It had, frankly, a ridiculous number of steps for how quickly things needed to be done. I'm sure that wasn't deliberate, but it still felt like I was being laughed at, somehow."