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

[altercate]

[ don't worry, veronica, derek frequently wears a can you believe this shit expression, though it's slowly losing ground as he gets used to all the shit going on up in space. which is a problem on its own, but. ]

None of us did.

[ she can never meet stiles. derek has already determined this. ]

If you don't believe me, there are windows in Shuttle Bay.

[sleuthtastic]

And they won't be magically generated holograms from the future?

[ When in doubt, fear, pain, etc: resort to the verbal defense. She wipes the back of her hand across her forehead, which seems to calm her down some, because blue goo on hand = not that nice, and she makes a little face and flicks her hand to try and get it off. ]

Let me guess. This isn't the beginning of a creepy girls gone wild video? Because I warn you, I'm stronger than I look.

[ Despite the fact Mr Growly Growlerson has, like, a bagazillion things on her in terms of weight, height and bulk. ]

[altercate]

[ derek just lets that go, like he can't be bothered. holograms, sarcasm, whatever, that's not his department. none of this was a hologram. she'd figure that out quickly enough, if she hadn't already. ]

That's a good thing.

[ her being stronger than she looked, not the girls gone wild. ]

This isn't a video. It's not a joke.

[sleuthtastic]

[ You know what sells it, Derek? The fact that you look like you wouldn't know what a joke was if it hit you in the balls. ]

But it's a dream, right? Because in my dreams I'm usually embarrassingly naked.

[ Blue.... ..... goo.. . .... ... .. gross. ]

[altercate]

It's not.

[ firmly, though for all derek knew it could be. this could be some sort of ridiculous mass hallucination, and no one would be the wiser. but that's an avenue best left unexplored. ]

You get used to it.

[ the blue goo or the nudity, take your pick. ]

[sleuthtastic]

[ Okay, so Veronica's getting the feeling he's not the guy to turn to for answers. She's also kind of part-naked, though not that naked, but she is covered in blue goo and she might as well be having a bad dream right now.

Though, there's something she needs to— ]

How do you know?

[ She's going to allow herself precisely one moment of weakness. Hey, if science fiction can happen, then. ]

That— that she's not here? Who I'm looking for?

[altercate]

[ yeah veronica, derek is probably the last person you want to ask about anything ever. unless it's about werewolfing, and even then, that's dicey. ]

Most of the time they aren't.

[ meaning the people who were being sought out, or called for. derek raises one shoulder in a shrug. ]

Sometimes they show up later.

[sleuthtastic]

[ Later. Okay. Veronica's trying to make sense of all this but it's— difficult, especially when Derek is apaprently not one for words. She frowns, first at him and then at her hands, because she's— her brain isn't quite working.

It scares her, a little, but it's not rohypnol. (She hasn't been drugged again.)

Eventually: ]

Who are you?