3998/The Secret of Nim

The Secret of Nim
Date of Scene:	01 November 2020
Location:	Nim, Planet of Rigged Elections
Synopsis:	The Titans get into the business of rigging elections.
Cast of Characters:	Donna Troy, Terry O'Neil, Caitlin Fairchild

---

Donna Troy has posed:
    "The simple fact is that the safeguards that we used to take to ensure that citizens are able to identify a non-citizen are too easy for those of ill intent to bypass. The very thing that makes our society open, equitable and honest makes us an easy target for off-world criminals. Restricting off-worlders to the City of Liars has caused a dramatic fall in the crime rate."

    "Mister President, I can't deny your policy has caused a dramatic fall in the crime rate, but is it not equally true that it has also seen a dramatic fall in trade?"

    "Councilor Johns refers to the eleven percent drop in interplanetary trade." President Jal-Von, an elderly Daxamite woman, turns to the camera and smiles confidently. "People of Nim, the duty of a president is to see to the protection, well-being and prosperity of her people. An eleven percent drop in trade sounds bad, but it is not the entire picture. In return for that drop in trade, we have greater personal security, and a greater protection from off-world cheats and scammers. Councilor Johns, have you perhaps read the Treasury Committee's report on the economic impact of the Restriction Doctrine?"

    The camera turns to Councilor Johns, a human in his middle years. He pinches the bridge of his nose, shuts his eyes and says "No, I..."

    Johns is interrupted by a sudden, shocked drawing of breath from the studio audience, and he raises his hands to ask for quiet. "Of course I have read it. Yes it's true that /at present/ the loss in trade is less than the gain in reduced criminal activity. Of course I'm not trying to deny that. However this misses the point. We must consider the future. The old figures for criminal activity by lying off-worlders that this report uses as a comparison occurred with improper safeguards. There are alternative safeguards that can be employed, such as the Caminask ID disk technology, which would be far harder to bypass. We should also consider not just the loss in current trade, but the impact on future trade. This eleven percent represents Nim becoming a less attractive market for off-world traders. We are losing competitiveness. Eleven percent this year, but what about next year? And the year after that?"

    "If we find better solutions to our problems in the future," the President says, smiling at the camera again, "We will employ them in the future. These magic answers are not here today though, and it is today that we must think about. Tomorrow you all have a chance to decide who will lead this planet. Would you vote for a man who will oversee a return to the criminality and distrust of previous years in the hope that the price and pain might one day be worth it? Or for me, who has kept you safe and eliminated the worst problem our society ever faced? I think you know the answer."

    The camera cuts to the purple-skinned moderator, who speaks with an expressionless, slightly insectoid face. "President Von and Councilor Johns, thank you for your answers. Sentients of Nim, you've heard the candidates speak on one of the central issues of this campaign, and our instapoll results give this section of the debate to President Von by sixty-seven to twenty-four, with nine percent undecided or declaring it a tie. We will be resuming the debate in two hours, after the Electroball match between the Ironworks Electrodes and the Meat Packers, which follows these messages. Thank you for tuning in."

    "Hopeless!" Donna declares. She sighs and leans back in her chair, turning away from the screen. The bar-being mutes the screen, and the other patrons of the /Yarn Spinner's Bar & Grill/ mutter amongst themselves. "This is hopeless," she states. "The Johns guy has promised to immediately repeal the Restriction law if he gets voted in tomorrow, but we can all see that's not going to happen. I see two possibilities. First we give up on the Koranian ship altogether and just go straight to the Beating Heart, or second we go the full Caitlin on these idiots and force our way there. Someone help me see a third possibility."

Donna Troy has posed:
    A day into the visit to Nim, and the chances of visiting the museum that the Koranian ship had been turned into are looking slim. The Nim spaceport is in a settlement called 'The City of Liars', and as off-worlders, the Titans have been told they are not allowed to leave the settlement to travel to the capital, where the museum is to be found.

    Unless, that is, they undergo the citizenship training program at the ominously named 'Reprogramming Center'. It has been explained to the Titans that on Nim, the citizens cannot successfully lie to each other, and that if they wish to become citizens, their visit to the Center will render them equally incapable of doing so. Exactly how has yet to be made clear.

    Perhaps it's all unnecessary after all. Royal decree back on Caminask had that planet's historians rushing around for the best part of the day of Caitlin's ascendancy, and seems to have established the first real lead for the Titans - the historians are confident that the Beating Heart, Endovar's ship, crashed somewhere on Gombar. On the other hand you can't get to Gombar from Caminask without passing Nim and Alfort, so if there is something to be found in the databanks of the Koranian ship, now would be a good time to find it - and Vic is still holed up on Caminask with all the cybernetics experts Caitlin could round up to help.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
The Cheshire cat- for Terry does need to spend some time as the more chaotic creature to give time for his ankle to heal- swivels on his seat and taps his chin, glancing at his team-mates. "While I do admit that 'going full Caitlin' is always the more entertaining of the options, we /could/ simply go there. I've been able to see a few takes of buildings over there thanks to that /riveting/ debate. It's just a matter of Rabbit Holes... and if we can go where we want to, and we have two Amazonian warriors worth a army each, who is going to stop us?" He shrugs, "Alternatively, we could try and see just how formidable this 'reeducation' program is. According to Kian, my nogging is an acid trip that's resistant to most telepathic fiddling. Wanna see if I can break their machine?" He grins toothily, "And then... we /do/ have my power of illusions," he says in a quiet voice, "It could be applied... creatively. What do you say, Doctor Full Caitlin Fairchild?" he turns to his friend and smiles at her.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
A cardboard tissue box *bonks* off Terry's head. "I think I'm gonna go Full Caitlin on the next person who says 'Go Full Caitlin'," Caitlin informs him. She's configured her clothing into comfortable-looking yoga pants and a hoodie, and rotates back and forth in her own chair. The weight of it makes the bearings screech in protest and prompts her to halt.

"If you guys want to, go for it, but I can't."

A look's exchanged with Donna and Caitlin grimaces at Terry. One hand lifts her hair from her neck so she can massage it with the other. "I don't like spreading it around, but I don't like people messing with my head. There's a bunch of ... behavioural malware that I can't turn off." It's a grotesque oversimplification of the situation, clearly. "Bottom line is that the wrong intrusive thoughts can have a really bad reaction. Sometimes I just go comatose. Once or twice I've... done a lot worse," she admits reluctantly. "But it's not safe to let anyone in my head with just Donna for crowd control if I snap."

Hands flop and she shrugs. "But, that's assuming that anything they say is true, and I think I'm getting a little cynical about this whole stupid dimension because I don't think there's a politician alive who would freely give up the ability to lie. If that's even possible."

Donna Troy has posed:
    Donna returns Caitlin's look, and gives a quick nod. "Yeah, no. We're not going to try that out. We don't know what's involved, and I'm really not in favor of finding out. Besides, I doubt we have time for a 're-education program'. " She gives Caitlin's arm a quick squeeze of reassurance, then turns to Vorpal, a speculative look on her face. Her eyes narrow, then she glances up at the screen.

    "You think you could Rabbit Hole us into the debate studio, having seen it on the screen? That would give us a route to the capital, anyway. Or maybe we could do something to change the course of this election."

    Donna taps her fingers on the table thoughtfully. "Politicians that can't lie. It's an interesting thought. What is it that stops them from lying? Or is the fact that they can't lie a big lie in itself? That doesn't make sense though. This whole issue of how vulnerable they are to outworlders who can lie. Why would that be? Unless this entire thing is a scam, and the reprogramming doesn't make people unable to lie, but instead makes them extremely gullible, so the politicians can lie freely. Maybe we should try to figure that out."

    She glances back at Caitlin, grinning. "Or we could just land the shuttle next to the museum, walk through the front door, and threaten to hit anyone who tries to stop us, if we want to go full Fairchild on them. I could probably do with another day or two of recovering from Warzoon inflicted injuries, but I'm fit enough for a fight."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
The Cheshire cat steeples his fingers. "Say when and we can be there in three steps. All I need is a few seconds to concentrate and we're as good as ready for our debate appearance." He taps a claw against his chair, and looks thoughtful for a few seconds before responding to Caitlin.

"You know, your cynicism might just have found its exception. This whole 'sequestering the liars' and what Donna just brought up makes me think that there's something that... might just break you about this re-education program. If it makes you unable to lie, and you are surrounded by people like you, you're going to assume everybody around you is teling the truth. No matter what."

"I remember a movie like that when I was in high school. Someone with a... creative tongue would be like a wolf among sheep."

He straightens up. "So... shall we plop over there and test our luck?"

Terry leans back, to give Caitlin a clean shot with the next box of tissues as Donna makes a reference to going Full Fairchild.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"Wow, you guys really need to play more video games." Caitlin just sticks her tongue out at Donna. "We can't solve every problem by bashing our heads through the social walls. Like-- if you do it once or twice, okay, we're cool and sexy renegades," she points out. "If every problem we come to, we just--" she drives knuckles into her palm. "Pretty soon people will decide that we're not welcome on *any* planet. We'll get a reputation. The last thing we need is to be blacklisted from this entire starsystem. Or get labelled as some kind of... violent anarchists."

A beat, then she sits back in the chair. "To be honest--" She grimaces and rolls her eyes skywards, already anticipating the ribbing from the other two. "To be *direct*, I think you and Donna are our best bet to get eyeson the inside," she bids Terry. "I can't do the programming and Vic's laid up. Between you playing fast with the truth and Donna's truthsense, we'll know pretty fast if this thing is real or not. Donna's had enough psychic defense training to be able to dodge most kinds of influence."

Caitlin's strong shoulders roll in a shrug. "And, y'know, if you get totally brainwashed, I'll just start knocking down walls until I find the two of you."

Donna Troy has posed:
    "Cait, we need to get home. That's the most important thing. I really don't care what our reputation is in this dumb system, and my willingness to put up with this kind of idiocy is limited. I'm not convinced we shouldn't just conquer the entire system, because it would probably be quicker and right now I'm kind of feeling like we'd be doing them a favor to bust up all this stupidity and make them rethink their entire way of doing things."

    Donna leans back and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Sorry. I mean... stupid as all this is, people actually seem to be happy. It's just..." She shakes her head then looks up at the muted screen, where the Ironworks Electrodes and the Meat Packers are warming up in a roughly basket-ball sized court with high metal walls. "What was Johns about to say?" She says suddenly. "About some report. He started to say no, and that shocked the crowd, then he corrected himself. So... they can lie, but everyone can tell they're doing it. That's got to be it. But that makes no sense, because if that's the case why would they be worried about off-worlders lying to them? This planet is giving me a headache. "

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Well, we're not going to get anywhere by conjecturing about it. I noticed that little gasp, too. There's a thousand reasons that could be behind that... but I think that what's best is if we go ask the horse and get it from his mouth."

He slides off his chair and looks at Cait and Donna. "I also have a beef with this place because if this whole 'reeducation' thing takes away your free will, I have some serious misgivings and some questions for people."

He extends a hand, as if ready to open a portal, "I know that we're favoring the cautious approach... but Raven will destroy all of reality if we take too long, and I'm pretty sure I've just missed my first Halloween with my first actual boyfriend. And my mother is probably going insane..."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"You mom, my brother..." Caitlin makes a sour face. "But you're right, we can't sit around on our rears all day. If we can't go through the processing centers, let's just go around them." She stands and touches the corner of her hoodie. The clothing starts to contract and change colors, morphing around her into her preferred colors of purple and green. Compression sleeves stop at her biceps and leave her shoulders bare under a sleeveless tee; an inch or two of midsection's exposed between her shirt and the knee-length tights that adjust around her. Already she's whipping her hair up behind her head in a hasty warrior's knot that the Amazons prefer.

"But we go in gentle. No violence unless it becomes absolutely necessary. They can't catch us lying if we don't say anything. I'm a terrible poker player, so I'm just going to stay silent. Donna, you listen for the Truth; Terry, do you best to tap-dance us around any obvious red flags. Worst comes to worse, we fight clear until we can portal out."

Donna Troy has posed:
"Eight hundred miles to the capital." Donna glances out the window, staring at the black hole and the strange arcs of frozen plasma that surround it. "That'll be the longest distance Rabbit Hole since we got here." She shakes her head, looks back and stands up. "We... I wish I understood more about black holes.Themysciran science has theorized them, but not in any kind of detail. And this one doesn't fit the models from Man's world either, as far as I know. I've tried figuring it out, and I can't make sense of it. None of these planets should be here. The curvature of light we can see out there just doesn't fit with the stability of the planets we're seeing. Terry, you should be really careful of where you try opening Rabit Holes, okay? Gyges' balls. Eight hundred miles should be okay, we probably won't cause any significant temporal paradoxes and the change in inertia is unlikely to be noticeable. Give it a go, Terry."

    She sighs and nods her head at Terry. Whether it's less out of character for Donna to be threatening to conquer planets or to be making scientific predictions is anyone's guess, but this system is clearly having an effect on her.

    Terry opens the Rabbit Hole to the wings of the debate hall, and Donna steps through first. She glances around then gestures for the others to follow quickly - nobody's looking their way. There's an odd sensation stepping through the Rabbit Hole that isn't normal, an odd momentary sensation of being off-balance, but it passes very quickly.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Vorpal makes a note of the sensation as they pass. He had entertained thoughts that, once he had seen all the planets, he could easily traverse between them. This was now definitely out of the agenda, as that brief moment of feeling out of balance at eight hundred miles might become something worse at larger distances. His tail snakes behind him irritably, clearly not happy with the limitations this place is seeing fit to impose on him.

Cheshire cats don't take "don't" very kindly.

Caitlin's glam-up isn't something he can do with real clothes, but he can at least give himself a little more dignity. A brush of a claw and his outfit changes from the makeshift space pirate garb into...

Well. Let's just say that if Captain Harlock, Franz Schubert and Liberace had decided to design an outfit, it would very much resemble what Vorpal appears to be wearing. And, bizarrely enough, the illusion rather works for him. Like a feline version of the Scarlet Pimpernel in space, only slightly gayer. Or a whole lot.

"I definitely felt a tug," he says quietly to his friends, just in case that had been a thing only he experienced.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin staggers mid-trip but maintains her balance. "Woah. Yeah, that was... trippy." She grimaces and pinches the bridge of her nose to brush away a sudden sinus pain. "I've been thinking about it too, and I'm pretty sure I could get another doctorate on it if I bring the solution home. Maybe a Nobel prize," she says, wryly.

Caitlin dusts herself off despite an absence of dust, as if brushing away nagging doubts. Terry and Donna in front; Caitlin elects to trail a pace behind, half a head taller than Donna. She's so well proportioned it only really comes into view when she's moving with other people nearby.

"Okay, let's get in and get out as fast as we can," she reminds them with a murmur. "Terry, do your, uh. Thing," she suggests with a vague gesture. How it's supposed to mean 'tell charming half truths' is anyone's guess, but the context makes it clear.

Donna Troy has posed:
    "Figuring out the physics of all this... good luck with that," Donna says. "Figuring out how that would interact with magic anyway? Who knows. " She glances out to where the podiums now stand empty, and various functionaries are going through equipment checks. She flicks a curtain slightly more closed to give them more shelter. "So, what next? We going to sneak out of here and try our luck with the ship, or interefere with the debate?"

    A door opens and a man in a suit, something approximately human but not quite, glances curiously at the trio. Donna nods her head at him and says "It's okay, we're meant to be here. " The man shrugs his shoulders and continues on his way.

    "Well, this shouldn't be too tricky if everyone's going to react like that," Donna comments with a faint smirk.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Vorpal passes a hand through his mane to slick it back, "So we get to play politicians now. I'm thinking We could do a bald-faced lie that makes them believe they're in danger of having some severe economic repercussions because the other planets are being fed up with being treated as criminals when they set foot here," he whispers to the two as he glances over the assembly, trying to pinpoint the main players. "Something to give J-boy a boost into that position needed to relax the measures. That's my idea, but I'll take suggestions if you've got any." He adjusts his cravat. Because of course he has one.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
They go through a few people who range from unhelpful to rude. Just because people can't lie doesn't mean they're going to volunteer information, and after a half-dozen attempts to find Johns, Caitlin sighs wearily.

"This is going to take all day. Here, I got this one," she tells Terry. She casts around for a moment, then ducks behind a corner. A few beats later a soft-handed functionary occurs, a portly little fellow with blue skin and the sort of complexion that suggests he doesn't get much sunlight.

Caitlin grabs him by the shoulders and lifts him to eye level, pinning him against the wall. "Tell me where Councilman Johns is, or I'll smash your face in!" she informs the fellow. She's definitely struggling to emote real anger-- fortunately, this is the one place where her acting skills get an easy pass!

Donna Troy has posed:
    Donna's contribution to the search for Johns starts with walking over to the door the man and come out of, opens it and looks inside. A voice can be heard from inside, and Donna replies, "No madam President. Just a security check. Not at this moment. Yes." She rejoins the other two just in time to find Caitlin going full Caitlin again.

    She puts a hand on Cailtin's arm and looks up at the cowering, quivering blue functionary. "I apologize for my colleague's frustration," she says. "The president has asked us to pass on a private message to Johns, but there seems to be some confusion about where exactly he is at the moment. Perhaps you could help us?"

    "He's in his dressing room!" the blue man squeaks.

    Donna gives him an encouraging smile. "Which nobody seems to be competent to lead us to," she replies. "I'm sure my friend would be willing to put you down so that you could lead us there, if you ask her nicely."

    The blue alien looks to Caitlin pleadingly. "Please ma'am... I would be happy to lead you there, just put me down! I don't like heights..."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Not everybod is up to rise to the challenge," Vorpal quips, arms crossed, "Please do guide us over, good sir. We come bearing urgent news and every moment that passes might be of grave importance."

He spreads his hands and gives his most charming smile, "We would very much appreciate the help."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"I'll put you down when we get there." Caitlin's clearly starting to get into this newfound capability for violent intimidation. Who knew? She carries the man along by belt and collar despite his protests; a guard stops her, and her response is, "This man will come to great harm if he doesn't meet Councilman Johns immediately!"

Also getting the hang of the power of half-truths, here, and she barely slows her stride.

Down the hall they go, and when they get to the sturdy door, Caitlin just leans back and kicks it in with enough force to damage the hinges.

"I need to see Councilman Johns! It's an emergency and lives are at stake if we don't talk to him right now!"

Donna Troy has posed:
    The blue man is good for his word, and the room he leads the Titans to has Johns waiting inside. He turns in surprise when the door is kicked open, and demands "What is the meaning of this?"

    Donna steps towards the other occupant of the room, a tall and vaguely gorilla-like being with the air of a bodyguard. She smiles at him in a friendly fashion, and nods towards the door. "Come on," she says. "We better leave them to it. This is top secret stuff, highest security clearance. Don't worry, everyone's safe - for now - but something has come up."

     Donna has her hand on his arm and is leading him towards the door before he manages to gather his wits sufficiently to answer "Wait... what's going on? I shouldn't be leaving Councilor Johns, he..."

    "It's above our clearance, old man! Serious talks. Not for the likes of us. No questions!" She gives him a gentle push to help him through the doorway, yanks the damaged door back into some semblance of position, pulls the blue-skinned functionary by the arm out of the room with her, and gives a wink to Cait and Terry before pulling the door shut, leaving them with Johns.

    Johns blinks in surprise at the entire performance then turns to look at Terry and Caitlin. "What's going on? Is there some kind of problem?"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Councilman Johns," the Cheshire cat's mellifluous voice is like warm honey as he adjusts his cravat, "We apologize for the hastiness and the breach of protocol. Normally we would have gone through the regular channels, but then again- urgency and emergencies have a tendency to disprespect procedure."

He extends a hand, "We do not wish to importune you more than we have to, but allow me to introduce myself- Terrence O'Neil, and I am the representative of a trader coalition. There is, as you said, a problem. One pertaining to the restrictions on Nim. This is my colleague, Doctor Fairchild." He gestures to Cait, "We know that you are a man of reason and have already foreseen the issues that the restriction on off-worlders are causing. Will cause. Unfortunately the situation at hand is much more serious and much more immediate than you anticipated..."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Now that they've got Johns attention, Caitlin starts looking more than a little guilty about the damage she's done. She turns to the door and eyes it, then tries to more or less push it back on the hinges. Scraping turns to creaking, then to crunching, and she realizes she's pulling focus from Terry's diplomatic efforts.

"Sorry," she mumbles, and sets the door aside out of the way. "I'm-- we're in a hurry. It really was necessary."

She looks for non-existent pockets on her leggings, fails to find them, and just hooks her fingers in front of her thighs.

"Sorry," she mouths again, and falls quiet. Now is the time for diplomacy!

Donna Troy has posed:
    Johns looks in confusion from one to the other. "Trader's coalition?" He finds himself shaking Terry's hand, and is almost surprised to do so. His eye goes down to his own hand and he pulls it away again. He steps back and shakes his head slightly. "What's all this about? Who are you and what do you want?" He tilts his head in confusion.

    The door opens and Donna steps back in, closing the door after her. There's no sign of the gorilla or the blue-skinned functionary with her. She gives Caitlin a subtle nod, then says "I've explained things, they're waiting outside."

    Johns takes another step back. "Are you outworlders?" he demands.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Off-worlders?" the Cheshire cat raises an eyebrow, "Off-worlders are not allowed outside of the City of Liars. I do not understand the nature of this question."

He shakes his head, and then raises a finger, "However, I won't waste more of your time than necessary," Vorpal says, segueing into the answer, "The trader coalition of which I spoke is a heretofore unofficial, but soon to become quite significant association of merchants, traders, craftsmen, importers and exporters." The Cheshire cat leans back against the nearest surface, arms crossed, "There is a growing sense of discomfort and downright anger at the presumption of being treated as criminals starting at planetfall. As you yourself have observed, these practices mhave decreased Nim's competitive attractiveness."

"I need to give you early warning that the aforementioned coalition is considering a full incporporation and placing Nim under an interdict. By restricting trade, they consider forcing Nim's hand in easing restrictions. It will be a long-term, tooth and claw negotiation. In the end, though, they are sure to win. By relaying this information, you may spare Nim of cycles of economic stagnation and harsdship."

Vorpal shakes his head, "On-world or off-world, I can guarantee you that this shall come to pass, just as you suspect yourself. You have my permission to disclose this information, such as you have received it. You can do with this as you choose."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin's jaw drops at Terry's absolutely *bald-faced lie*. Even on a planet where the truth is presupposed, his flowery explanation is staggering in its ambition. Caitlin's cheekbones even pink a little at her presupposed guilt by association!

But when Johns looks at her, she snaps her mouth shut and nods twice. Then-- an awkward thumbs up of encouragement for the Councilman.

Caitlin can't lie for beans but she's at least smart enough not to get in the way of Terry's epic bluff!"

Donna Troy has posed:
    Johns listens to the explanation and sighs, then goes back to his chair and sits down. "You are off-world traders, aren't you? I don't blame you for being upset by president Von's policy, but I don't see what you are trying to achieve here. It's not like I'm the person you have to persuade."

    He rests his arms on the makeup desk, staring at himself in the mirror. "She's right, in a way. You offworlders cause a lot of problems here. We /need/ some kind of solution. You don't understand how good things are here. Of all the planets, this is the one that's got it right. The closest to a paradise. You wouldn't understand, though. You couldn't. When nobody can get away with a lie, they stop trying to lie. Honesty is becomes the standard behavior, and society is so much healthier when you can trust everyone. But we can't trust you off-worlders. I can't go out and say what you've said to me, because I don't know that it's true. It may well be, but without evidence, I would be telling people what I think to be true rather than what I know to be true. If I present this as if it was a fact, I would be lying, and my chances of winning will be zero."

    "You did lie though, didn't you?" Donna says. "In the debate earlier, you started to say you hadn't read that report. "

    "It was an unfair question," Johns counters. "Yes I'd read it, but... ah well. I wanted to avoid simply agreeing with her, because whatever ther report says, she's /wrong/. It's just not the full story. It wasn't my intention to lie, but it kind of... slipped out. It felt like telling the absolute truth would actually convey something that was not the truth, but I made the mistake of saying something that wasn't true, and probably ruined my chances. I think you're barking up the wrong tree. I've lost. After tomorrow my influence will be minimal."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"So your wonderful system allows /her/ to lie to all of you by telling the truth. It doesn't sound like such a paradise- weaponizing the truth so that the full story is omitted?" Vorpal smirks, "Sounds like you all have just found a different way of telling lies. In fact," he tilts his chin up, "it sure does sound like she is telling people what she thinks to be true rather than allow the full story to be told. Sure seems you don't need off-worlders to cause trouble."

"So what are you going to do about it? Just fade away into that good night while they use the truth to tell lies, while you are certain of what will happen and know what the full truth is? Don't you owe it to the actual truth?"

"This presumption that you can't tell lies means that you will always be truthful is deeply flawed. The Fae have managed to not tell the truth while avoiding telling a lie far longer than any of your civilizations have existed."

He blinks for a second. How did he know that? Must have been one of those random memories from his father. Strange things.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin rubs her face briskly. "Okay. Golly. We are getting -sidetracked- on the ethics of honesty and social conventions," she declares, and steps over to the desc. Knuckles plant on the surface and she leans over, looking at Johns. Despite her intimidating posture her expression is clearly one pleading for sympathy.

"I don't like lying, Mr. Johns. Lies always get out of control. And I wish I could stand here and help you realize a better way of doing things. But the honest truth is this: we're strander in this universe. And we think we've found a way to get back home. It's a million-to-one shot, but we have to take it."

Caitlin swallows a dry mouth. "Because there's a-- a person-- a friend," she clarifies, "who is literally going to go crazy with grief. And she will punch a hole into this universe and doesn't *care* that it's impossible. And I'm no astrophyscicist, but I'm pretty certain the end result will be at least this universe collapsing into either a singularity the size of a pea, or it'll dissolve into Bose-Einstein condensates and become quantum foam. Either way, it's bad for you and for everyone on this planet."

She pauses a beat. "Now the best way to get us home-- the best thing for *you*-- is to get us full access to the Koranian ship in your museum. We need something off of it for our escape plan. We don't want to hurt anyone getting it. But we will if we have to."

"That's--- that's the honest truth. You're the only person on this planet who can save it, Mr. Johns. All you need to do is believe I'm telling you the truth."

Donna Troy has posed:
    Johns smiles at Vorpal in a slightly patronizing, sympathetic way, and shakes his head. "No... no. Nobody is foolish enough to think that something must be true simply because it is believed. Were that the case there would be no election, you'd just ask both candidates which one ought to win. Yet we both truly believe that Nim will be better off if we were the one who wins. She's telling no lies; what she says, what the report says - those are facts. I am sure of it. It's about how we differ in our interpretations of fact. She can't tell lies of omission, if that's what you are thinking."

    "No," Donna agrees. "It's about someone truly believes, isn't it? If someone says something they know to be deceptive, you can tell."

    Johns gives Donna a look of surprise, but after a moment, he nods his head. "Yes. The fact that we can disagree on interpretation is why there is even any point in elections, but we both genuinely believe our policies are for the good of the planet. If a politician did not, they wouldn't survive an interview. But please, this is... there's nothing I can do to help you that I am not already doing."

    Johns scoots back a little when Caitlin looms over him - pleading expression or not, it's the posture, and her sheer size, that have the biggest impact. He listens to her explanation with increasingly wide yes, and when she has finished her explanation she grips his hands on his knees and shuts his eyes tightly. "It's not that I don't believe you, it's that I can't help." He sighs and opens his eyes again. "I'm sorry, but I'm /not/ the president, at this very moment I'm unlikely to ever be the president, and I'm not the person who can help you. You should be speaking to the president, not to me."

    "No you don't," Donna says. "Believe her. You were lying."

    Johns sighs again in frustration, and scoots his chair back a little further. "Of course I was!" he says. "I /can't/ hide lies. You know that! Your story is... not very credible. But what else can I say? I was telling the truth when I said there's nothing I can do to help. You're asking the wrong person!"

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"You just became the right person," Caitlin informs Johns. "You're a Councilman. You can help us get into the Museum. We'll deal with the guards, we'll come up with any story that'll fly and spin it until our faces turn blue."

Cait's features harden. "But if you don't find a way to help us, right now, hook or crook, then I promise that my face will be on every news camera covering the break-in, and I'll very happily lie to the public and tell them you found a way to circumvent the lying protocol. So you can be the liar who the public hates, or the hero who got rid of the lying strangers who broke in here. How do you think *that* will help your odds?"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"The President?" the air shimmers around the Cheshire cat, and he becomes the very semblance of the Daxamite woman, "Now there's a thought" 'she' says, tilting her head while looking at Johns. "She sounds extremely set in her interpretation of things. Do you think she might risk admitting being wrong? Or will her set-in ways doom all of you?"

He snaps his fingers, and the magic vanishes. "As for not very credible, I am afraid there are far more in-credible things we can do than you can imagine."

That's when the Rabbit Hole manifiests and, with one quick application, his lower body and upper body are separated by the warp. His upper body hovers closer to him, arms crossed, while his legs remain behind, protruding from the other Rabbit hole, crossed.

Donna Troy has posed:
    Althougth Johns is clearly worried, he's doing a decent job of keeping his cool. "You think you'd be believed? Everyone knows off-worlders can lie!" he retorts. "Besides, my odds are shot already. And 'lying protocol'? Is that what you think it is?" he snorts.

    Shock is piled on shock when Terry transforms into the president, and his mouth opens and shuts like a guppy. "You... what. How... how did you..."

    "Wait." Donna steps forwards, placing a hand on Caitlin's arm. "I want to... Councilor. We're not here to threaten you..." Oh the advantages of being able to tell lies. "...But this is important. Do one tiny thing for us and then if you really want us to go, we'll go. But maybe you won't. Just tell me... uh... tell me you are the President."

    "What?" Johns asks, baffled. "But I'm not..."

    "That's the point. Just say it, and then if you want us to go, we'll go."

    Johns shrugs his shoulders, closes his eyes, and says "Okay, I'm the president." He opens his eyes again and looks expectant. "There. Satisfied? I have a debate to prepare. Will you please let me get on with it?"

    Donna looks at Terry, smirking. "Maybe we can make it simpler than that. Tell me Councilor. You truly believe that this planet would benefit from your presidency. Would you be willing to lie to become the president, for the good of your planet? Would you be prepared /not/ to lie, knowing that telling the truth means you don't get in, and your planet suffers?"

    Johns shakes his head. "But I can't..." his eyes open wide, and he stares at Vorpal.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Maybe it's time to ask yourself why it is that you do what you do?" Vorpal slinks out of the Rabbit hole so that his body appears re-united, "Your commitment to the truth is commendable, but there are things that are more important. A hierarchy of values, if you will."

He writes in the air, and curling strings of light appear, detailing a hierarchical tree. Branches spread from it, 'Truth', 'Justice', 'The Nim Way' and some other fruits appear to hang from those branches, their names written in swirling script on their luscious surfaces. "But when you get lost yourself in the branches, you forget about the tree. And more importantly..."

His finger reaches down to the bottom of the tree, and roots sprout. "To that which makes all of those values possible." The words 'LIFE' appear scrawled across the roots.

"So while you're over here..." he taps one of the fruits, grabs the 'Truth' fruit and plucks it into his mouth, "and ignore the major threat..."

A creature of pure darkness emerges from nowhere and wraps squidlike tentacles around the root system, devouring it voraciously. Within seconds, the tree wilts, and then vanishes into nothingness.

"So what will you do to save the tree?"

Donna Troy has posed:
    Johns watches Vorpal's illusionary illustration with an open mouth, his eyes following the streamers of light weaving the words and pictures of Vorpal's display, and when the show is over he slumps down into his seat, breathing out heavily. "How...?" he asks, shaking his head.

    Donna's reaction is much less obvious, but she's pretty impressed too. Vorpal has obviously been practising, and from the hotpants incident of a few days previously, this marks a significant improvement in the cat's illusion weaving. She leans against Caitlin and gives her friend a broad grin, a mixture of amusement and pride. It's an expression Caitlin has seen quite often over the last few months, whenever one of the new Titans really steps up to the plate.

    Johns breaths in suddenly, and then blows it out again noisily, his eyes fixed on the floor. "You could... you could do this... whatever you're doing. So that people think my eyes stay open. And I could say... I could say anything. People would believe it." He shakes his head. "I'm not sure that you labelled your diagram correctly. I suspect that monster was you." He looks up, staring at Vorpal. "Yes, you're right. It would be better for the planet if I win, but that's a door I fear to open. The bigger threat to this world is not President Von, it's you. If I do this, and give you the access to the Koranian ship you asked for, will you agree to leave this planet the next day and never, ever return?"

    An hour later, the three Titans are seated in John's dressing room still, watching the debate unfold on a monitor screen, where President Von is concluding an address on the economy."... At least two percent per year. This has not been exceeded in over a century, and certainly wouldn't under Councilor John's plans." She sits down with a smile, to enthusiastic applause, and Councilor John stands.

    "President Von has had an enviable economic record," he begins. "It will be a challenge to live up to it, I freely admit that. In fact she has, in many ways, been an excellent president. I will admit that until an hour ago, I was considering simply standing down. However new information has reached me that has made this election far more pressing." He looks up from his notes, staring straight into the cameras. "For reasons of the utmost security I cannot pass on precise details at this moment in time, but I have been given incontrovertible evidence that president Jal-Von has been psychically compromised by a hostile outworld agency attempting to create a trade monopoly with this world. She is entirely unaware of this, but I'm afraid to say that until this outworld agency has been identified and removed, she is simply no longer safe to remain your president. Perhaps, were it not for this issue, she is the better candidate, but this changes everything." His eyes are closed during this entire speech, but thanks to Vorpal's illusion-making, they appear to be wide open.

    The debate descends into uproar.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Vorpal maintains his illusion. Eyes aren't hard, he just has to resist the temptation to make them green with slitted pupils, like he feels all eyes should look. "I've never helped rig an election before, you know," he says to his friends, watching and maintaining the illusion. "... I'd feel bad about it, except that everybody here is batshit, and that if we don't do this Rae is going to do something much, much worse than rigging an honest man into office..."

He keeps his eyes on the screen, to keep the illusion going.

"... did we do the right thing?"

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"No." Caitlin gets to her feet and walks away, looking out the window. Her arms are wrapped around her ribs; her expression is almost sour, like she forced herself to eat something highly disagreeable. "But we did what we had to."

She turns her gaze to the promenade outside where people are reacting to the announcement. "I'm getting really tired of saying that phrase." Shoulders slump with a weariness of the soul rather than the body.

Donna Troy has posed:
    A flicker of what might be anger crosses Donna's face, before it's replaced by a look of weariness to match Caitlin's own. "It's not like that, Terry," she says with a sigh. "Rae's not some villain. It's... it's just complicated, okay? She's trying. Really hard. You don't know how much she tries, all the time. What she has to fight. It's not about what she'll do, it's about how long she can hold out."

    She sighs and downs her beer in a single gulp. "No, we didn't do the right thing. But I don't think we did the wrong thing, either. We did a... borderline acceptable thing. Look at how he set up the story - it was a lie, but it was a lie designed to avoid his opponent harm, done because he believed it would produce the most good. We cheated a whole planet by making the choice between two good options for them, without knowing which was the better of those two good options. Maybe the world will be better for having Johns lead it, and it will turn out for the best. Maybe not. We will never know. But that's what we do, isn't it? We make choices for other people, because we think we are making the right choice in the greater scheme of things. Sometimes that's an easy call to make. Sometimes it is not. Sometimes being a hero isn't about putting your life on the line, it's about putting your judgement on the line. Being willing to make the calls that aren't easy, because sometimes those are the calls that have to be made."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"I didn't say she was a villain, Donna..." Vorpal replies, quietly, "In the event of our failure, she would have to do something catastrophic to get us back. Not getting us back isn't an option, from what you've told us, so... our job here is not to fail."

He pauses for a second to keep his attention, and then once it is finally not needed, he relaxes.

"Right. Like the call of deciding who you're going to help when you can only realistically reach one person." He's been thinking about that. "I can't wait to go back home and leave this sociology experiment gone wrong behind me. Which planets are left, again?"

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"As many as it takes. We might have to backtrack. I know there's a couple places we *won't* be welcome back. And that's all hoping this doesn't turn out to be some... wild goose chase." Frustration colors Caitlin's voice. "We're probabably going to be stuck here forever."

She walks over to the transmitter and turns the display off. "I guess we're done here. Terry, dip back to the hotel and grab our things. Donna and me will make sure Johns doesn't decide to screw us over-- we'll meet you at the Museum," she tells him.