eighteenth jump;

[mathematically]

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

[chromosomes]

[ John should probably look far less darkly amused at McCoy's mutterings. It's not his fault that the synthetic chromosome helps him recover from the post-jump stasis side effects almost immediately. It's also not his fault that he missed the grumpy doctor who shares his face (with less stubble and longer hair, but details), just like it's not either his or McCoy's fault that every time a member of Starfleet looks at him, they have a moment where they look like they've seen a ghost. ]

Showers are that way, [ he says, pointing with a thumb. ] After that, you'll want to go to your locker to get dressed. It's the number that matches your nanites on your arm. [ He taps his own, ignoring the fact that his are on a different side than most thanks to the Grim Reaper tattooed on his left forearm. ] Those'll open your room number, too. And no, you're probably not hallucinating, we really do look that similar.

[ Anything else? Hmm... Oh, right. ]

Staff Sergeant John Grimm, United States Marines. I'm about two hundred years before when you're from, which isn't an uncommon thing around here either. If you're lucky, your locker will have alcohol in it.

[hypospray]

[ John should look less amused, but of course he doesn't. Arguably the fact that he's looking darkly amused isn't what bothers Bones, it's the fact that John has his face ( with certain things that are different ) and is looking darkly amused at his predicament that bothers him. ]

Unless you're willing to show me a medical degree that goes along with that rank, I'll let myself believe I'm hallucinating right now. [ He desperately wants to believe that, trust him. ]

I'd also give my introduction but I'll take a wild stab in the dark and say you knew me from my last trip here that I am so lucky to have forgotten. [ A beat. ] What's the exact year you're from?

[chromosomes]

Believe me, if you can tell me that we're all having a mass hallucination, I'd love to agree with you. Been trained in field medicine but that's about it, Doctor. [ None of that is an exaggeration, either... although thanks to C24, John could probably pick up the knowledge for an actual medical degree far faster than normal. ]

Kind of hard to miss someone with the same face, so yeah, we knew each other. Had a few drinks, that sort of thing. [ A beat of his own. ] 2046. Centuries before you, a few decades after a majority of people. This ship is pretty advanced for most of us.

[hypospray]

Give me enough time, and I can tell you exactly why we are and how it's being continued. Because I've got more than the field medicine training going on, Sargent. [ Don't tell Bones that, he'll probably cry tears of blood at the idea. ]

Had a few drinks, talked about differences. It's like the twin I never thought I'd have. Or just mirror image. [ This is just slightly bothersome. ] Only two. Not nearly as bad as some of them, I suppose. Advanced as in even the ones from my time are struggling?

[chromosomes]

Well, we've got a stocked medbay. [ Oh but that would be quite the sight. ]

Depends on the piece of technology. Jump drive, gravity couches, and whatever the hell's wrong with communications haven't been fixed, though. [ so. yeah. ]

[hypospray]

Define stocked. [ Because that's real vague and Bones knows that stocked can mean barely have anything okay. ]

...Is there anything that works right here beyond apparently the oxygen and the gravity? [ c r y. ]

[chromosomes]

Pretty sure no one's been going and getting their check-ups.

[ waits for bones to have a coronary ]

... Not really.

[hypospray]

Yet.

[ that is a threat because goddammit if he thinks about it too long he'll die and cry and a lot of things.

but at the not really bones just exhales and it sounds like he actually hates everything ever. ]

This reminds me of every reason I hate space.

[chromosomes]

Yet, yeah.

[ Trying and failing not to look amused again OOPS. ]

I'm not a fan of it either, if that helps.

[hypospray]

Keep looking that amused and I'll make you come in.

[ ASSHOLE. ]

...A little. At least I can know I'm not the only one with my face who feels that way.

[chromosomes]

[ SUDDENLY SERIOUS: ] I don't think you really want that, Doc.

[ It's not a threat, not at all. Just... well, Reaper's fancy synthetic chromosome comes with all sorts of problems, and anyone trying to study it is going to get a new problem in the form of him. ]

[hypospray]

[ Raised eyebrow of doom. ]

By calling me Doc you just said what I want. [ Which is to say, does it look like I care? You're considered a patient and I like seeing them. ]

[chromosomes]

It's part of your title, isn't it?

[ NOPE GONNA BE STUBBORN ]

[hypospray]

It is. Comes with the job. Job has certain strings attached to it.

[ STUBBORN X 2 ]

[chromosomes]

Only for you and your patients.

[ ALL THE STUBBORN ]

[hypospray]

Is there something that makes you not count as one?

[ STUBBORN LOGIC ]

[chromosomes]

I'm not sick and I'm not injured.

[ And can't really remain either, but McCoy doesn't need to know that. ]

[hypospray]

And a doctor tends to make sure you stay in that state.

[ Bones would quit for a little bit, lbr. ]

[chromosomes]

I've got that part covered.

[ Sorry Bones ;; ]

[hypospray]

...I've got too much of a headache to be dealing with this right now. Just— you better hope I don't remember that later.