twenty-sixth jump;

[ataraxites]

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: Your average, run-of-the-mill jump—except some characters don't seem to be waking up from stasis like they should.



Don't worry.




THEY NEEDED THE REST.

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

[emergingspirit]

[Good. A question he can answer.]

A ship called the Tranquility. [beat] In space.

[needsheadphones]

Space?

[ She takes another look around. Hmm. ]

Well, I guess that explains why the pod-things felt like a sci-fi movie. Spaceship. Okay, that's... not what I was expecting, but sure. Space.

[ She is going to be much more excited about that later. ]

I'm guessing we don't know how we got here? Since, well, if we knew that we'd probably be leaving.

[emergingspirit]

There is an observatory, if you would like to see the stars.

[So yes. Space. Also, what's a sci-fi movie?]

As far as I am aware, no. No one on this ship knows exactly how we came here. We all awoke in the same way, as we do every month.

[needsheadphones]

[ Somewhere, Carolyn is laughing at Connor calling "the windows in the shuttle bay" an observatory. ]

Hell yes I want to see the stars.

[ Don't worry about it, Connor. ]

We have to do that goo thing every month?

[emergingspirit]

[You modern people and your weird words. Also shut up, Carolyn, it's a perfectly acceptable way to describe the windows.]

Yes. I...will not profess to fully understand, but every month the ship...moves. [He got it explained to him but it mostly went over his head. There was a lot of science in there that just doesn't exist in his time. Or it does, it's just nobody knows that yet.] When it does, we sleep. After a fashion.

[needsheadphones]

Huh.

[ She'll have to find someone who understands it a little more, but it's a good enough explanation, for now. ]

And where are we... going? I mean, do we know?

[emergingspirit]

[Shrug. Rebecca, you are asking a man from the 18th century about a spaceship. Be glad he's figured out enough to explain this to you in this much detail.]

No.

[Also that he can point out your comm to you.]

That device will allow you to communicate with others on board. It is very useful. [Actually, he kind of wishes he had one back home, too. Organizing missions would be a lot easier if everyone had one.]

[needsheadphones]

[ He may be from the 18th century, but he's an Assassin. She'll take what he can get. ]

Ooh, high tech space phone. This I can figure out, no problem. These go with our arm numbers, too?

[ Because if so, she's going to make sure to write your number down, Connor. ]

[emergingspirit]

[Go ahead and write that number down, because the answer is:] Yes.

[Oof, he's getting terse. Must be tired.]

[needsheadphones]

[ Aw Connor, do you need a nap?

Too bad. ]

So. Those allies?

[emergingspirit]

[Not a nap, a break. He's starting to appreciate the vast swaths of solitude on the ship.]

A man, Javik, and a woman, Carolyn. They are both friendly, though...Javik can be difficult. He is still trustworthy.

[needsheadphones]

Javik, who's difficult, and Carolyn. Got it. Anyone I should avoid, get more information on...? [ She really, really wants something to do, Connor.

At least she realizes how overbearing she might be coming off, because she smiles a little, apologetically. ] Sorry. We, uh, just had some major shit go down back home and I kind of just... want to work it off, I guess.

[emergingspirit]

[Connor's eyebrows lift, but he lets it slide. Assassins. He gets it.]

There are few, if any, direct enemies here, only occasionally unpleasant people. The difficulties we face are not...not easily solved with our usual methods.

[Kind of hard to stab a disembodied chunk of text in the face.]

[needsheadphones]

[ This is why you're her new best friend, Connor. She likes the grumpy ones. ]

A challenge, huh? Of course, I never get the easy ones.

[ That's because the easy ones are boring. ]

[emergingspirit]

[Hey, he's not grumpy! Usually!]

You say that as though you have done something like this before.

[needsheadphones]

Being kidnapped into space is new. Long-term assignments? Not so much.

[ SHRUG. ]

Not a lot of us left anymore, and it's way harder to just go in and stab people and let that be the end of it.

[emergingspirit]

I understand. There are very few of us in my time, too.

[He'd been hoping things would get better. Apparently not. That's depressing.]

[needsheadphones]

[ Don't worry Connor, it gets worse. ... wait. ]

The Templars, they, uh. Kind of did a world-wide purge. And lots of people that they don't kill, they manage to persuade into betraying us.

It's... well, it's not good. [ FORCIBLY OPTIMISTIC: ] But we'll get through it.

[emergingspirit]

A world-wide--

[No. Don't focus on it. Even though there were already so few Assassin's in Connor's time, don't focus on it. It's not like they can do anything from here.]

There is nothing we can do from here. We must focus on our current situation first.

[Aw, listen to him, trying to sound uplifting and in control.]

[needsheadphones]

[ She knows. She knows, and it's so hard not to think about it all of a sudden -- about Clay, about Lucy. About Desmond yet again, whose death is still ringing in the back of her mind. She's still partially hoping that she'll wake up and it will have been a dream. ]

Right. Getting off the spaceship is kind of a big step in doing... anything, when it comes to back home.

[emergingspirit]

[Connor is nothing if not sympathetic; he knows loss when he sees it, and he reaches out to rest a hand on Rebecca's shoulder.]

You will get home.

[needsheadphones]

[ There's a half-smile in response. ]

Thanks. You will too, you know. [ Connor has the advantage of a historical record. ]