ELEVENTH WAVE

[astrogate]

CHARACTERS: any and all
LOCATION: Gravity Couches and beyond
WARNINGS: maybe some swearing, or even some violence, and more than likely some implied (and possibly explicit) nakedness.
SUMMARY: Another month, another jump, another round of new faces.
NOTES: Keeping up with the tradition and copy pasted like always from the last one


You wake up in darkness.


There's a breathing tube jammed down your trachea, and you're suspended in a tube of clear blue fluid. Upon registering your level of consciousness, the gravity couch drains the fluid surrounding you and retracts the breathing apparatus; the doors in front of you open, and you're deposited on the floor of a stark, sterile medical bay.

You are not alone.


There are others who have come before you, others who are awakening beside you. Some may be familiar to you, perhaps even friends. Others have much less amiable plans. Some are merely alien and inexplicable, but there are always those who might mean you harm.

After you catch your breath and your vision returns, you notice a number on the inside of your forearm. Maybe it's a familiar number. Maybe it means something. Maybe it's just a number. But the number—completely unique to you—is a tattoo, and it does not come off.

If you enter the room adjacent to the medbay, you will find a small locker with your number on it, surrounded by rows upon rows of identical lockers. Inside, you will find a few of your personal items, a communications device, and a ship's uniform in your exact size. The comms device is fully powered and connects directly to the ship's network; it's your only means of communication beyond physical conversation. Upon turning the device on, a neutral, automated voice will say, "Please take the blue lift to the passenger quarters." Any other attempts at communicating with the rest of the network are met only with static.

This is your welcome party.

Comments

[lawyer]

[Harvey takes a moment to read carefully what she's written, then quirks his head to the side.]

Two conditions - you tell me your name and you promise you won't run off with it. Deal?

[majestyofthethrone]

[She nods and writes out, in all caps:]

SERAPHIM GRACE DIAS


(what's yours?)

[She's never shared her middle name with anyone onboard, but if this is going to be official she doesn't want any loopholes. Then she makes a gesture: crosses her heart with one finger and offers her hand for a handshake]

[lawyer]

[Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, name for a name. He thinks he likes Seraphim, if only because she seems crafty and astute.]

Harvey Reginald Specter.

[He reaches out his hand to grab Seraphim's in a firm, binding handshake. This was a deal and he was going to uphold it, so once he lets go he holds out the baseball that was in his other hand out to her.]

She's all yours.

[majestyofthethrone]

[She giggles and it's odd, a movement with no sound, like a movie on mute. But she shakes his hand and takes the baseball, her fingers tracing over the stitches, her slate now hanging from the lanyard attached to her wrist. She's getting a little chalk dust on it, but finally she tosses it in the air, and then catches it. She looks pleased, and hands it back.

Then she takes her slate and writes:]

I used to play on a Little League team when I was little. My twin hated it so I would tie up my hair and pretend to be him. It only worked a few times, but I was pretty good.

(thank you Mr. Harvey Reginald Specter. Can I call you Harvey? You can call me Sera.)

[lawyer]

[Harvey watches her with a hint of a smile. He likes Sera already, Sera adapted to survive and survive she did. There's something to like in that.]

If you ever want to practise, I'm always up for it. Nothing wrong with throwing these around for a bit.

[It's always good to find someone who appreciates the art of baseball, he thinks as he runs his fingers over the material of the sphere.]

And please, call me Harvey. No reason why you should call me anything else.

[majestyofthethrone]

[Her smile is beautiful. It's not a smile she shows often, and it brightens her eyes, makes her face fill out a little. She takes his hand and shakes it, purposefully, then writes out]

It's a deal, Harvey.