twenty-eighth 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: It could just be the standard sensation of air on wet skin, but if you bother to check, you might notice the steam rising from your body, barely there and gone within a minute. By the time you get to the showers, it will be clear that it's not just taking you time to adjust. The room is cold — colder than usual, but no worse than the last jump. While it's nothing dangerous, it's certainly motivation to hurry through the usual routine and get dressed quickly.



It's getting closer.




YOUR EYES ARE OPEN.

KEEP LOOKING.

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

emma swan • ota

[uncurse]

PODS:

[ she hadn't expected any of them to make it.

ten minutes left til the jump, when those doors opened, she was sure not a single one of them could get into the grav couches in time. but they had, and however long the jump had lasted, it wasn't long enough to drain the adrenaline from her, because she ripped the tube from her throat with just as much panicked desperation as she'd had when she climbed into that thing.

she spills out of the pod in a pool of blue liquid, coughing and looking around wildly and fully clothed because she was too damn rushed to get out of them like she normally would. she pushes slimy hair from her face, glancing around and panting as she slowly comes down off the panicked high.

they'd made it. she was alive.

with a final exhale, she shuts her eyes and tips her head back, leaning against the pod. she turns her head and spits out blue liquid, then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand - as if that's somehow cleaner. she takes a minute to just sit in relief, numbly adjusting to the awareness that their stupid plan hadn't killed them after all. ]

LOCKERS:

[ eventually, she drags herself off the floor and gets herself into a shower. she remains mostly in a haze as she goes through the motions of cleaning herself off and changing into what clothes she's got in her locker. she never thought she'd be glad to be on the tranquility, but when the alternative's dead without any chance of saving her kid, she'll take it.

while she seems at ease, casual even, as she goes through the routine, her eyes are distant still and out of focus, her skin still feels a lingering numbness of recovering from the adrenaline dump, and she doesn't much pick up on anybody as she's milling around, like she's barely engaged with her surroundings. ]

pods.

[wolfchild]

You were in the bridge.

[ it's a guess. eyes narrowed, fingers curled into nymeria's scruff, arya scrutinizes emma. ]

[uncurse]

Yeah. [ she exhales it heavily, her breath still evening out. she glances up at the kid addressing her briefly, then glances back down as she coughs, hacking up more of the blue fluid that had gotten down her throat in her panic to escape the pod. she wipes her mouth again. ] Happy to say I'm not now. [ because yay not being a puddle on the floor after she'd all but resigned herself to it. ] Why?

[wolfchild]

How did you escape? [ how many escaped is the question she wants to ask.

she was sure they were— ]

[uncurse]

Doors opened. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes before the jump. By the time any of us got here, everyone else was inside. [ she glances around the room, still trying to shake the disorientation. she blinks hard, bringing her eyes back into focus, and fixes a questioning gaze on arya. ] Who did you know in the bridge?

[wolfchild]

No one. [ she turns around to leave, then looks back. ] I'm glad you all didn't die.

[uncurse]

Uh ... thanks. [ she's flummoxed for a moment, so she has to take a minute to gather her wits about her, and she clambers to her feet, reaching out a hand in a gesture to encourage arya to stop, but not touching her. ] Hey, wait. At least tell me your name. [ she can reverse engineer and figure out who she was looking for that way instead :) ]

[wolfchild]

[ nymeria shows her teeth. arya shushes her, but she's not exactly friendly when she says, ] Why? We're not friends.

[ pulling nymeria along behind her, arya walks away without waiting for a response. she has bikers to yell at, sorry, emma. ]

[uncurse]

[ ... THE FUCK. emma stares after her, too disoriented to process the necessary steps to, well, take steps and follow. she just blinks, baffled by the behavior, and then turns to glance around the rest of the room. ]

[dogbane]

[Pleased with his new duds, William is preparing to explore. He's picked up a few things just by skirting fistfights and tying his shoelaces in proximity to other people. Apparently something unusual happened the last time this-- happened. The implication that this, with the waking up floating in goop, prehensile machine in one's throat, is relatively normal was shitty, but at least the technologies of his home world approximate these ones.

At least he isn't the only one having a bad day.] All right, love? [He peers at the blonde woman from past his locker room, which has not changed its contents since his last visit.]

[uncurse]

Well, I'm alive. [ beggars can't be choosers, right? she slams her locker door shut, clearly not in the happiest mood but ... well, she doesn't have room to complain, at least. spending days locked in the bridge during a failed attempt at a mutiny wasn't something she'd expected to get out of, and her brain still hadn't caught up to the fact that she'd actually survived when they'd only have 15 minutes to make it from the bridge to the grav couches before the jump happened. ] So, let's say better than expected. [ to explain, she adds on conversationally; ] I was on the bridge.

[dogbane]

[Judging from the look on William's face, he doesn't get the connection between bridge and the miracle of survival.] Sorry, first day, [he manages, pretty noncommittal about it, the demonstration of his optimal adjustment as much for the sake of this shell-shocked stranger as his own.] --Oh. You're an officer, then.

We was under attack? [He stands a little straighter, perfectly shifty, like he abruptly realized that he is in the presence of a superior, who might not like that he has paraphernelia in his locker. That's a nice topping for the we may be under deadly attacks pastry. To be fair, interdimensional kidnappings tend to come with a few incorrect assumptions.] Did we win?

[uncurse]

[ she blinks, confused, then it processes. oh. he's new. it actually leaves her skin feeling like it doesn't fit right, the fact that he's called her an officer of the ship, because technically she supposes she is. she has roots. she works with security, she's familiarized herself with many more of the faces-to-know aboard this ship. it leaves her wondering if she's walking the inches towards going just as native as the people nathan had worried would stop the attempted mutiny. ]

Not exactly. [ she shakes her head, clearly apologetic as she breaks it to him. ] There are no officers on this ship. Well, two, but I wouldn't be able to tell you what they look like, 'cause they've been holed up ever since I arrived. The rest of the original crew disappeared before people started showing up in the grav couches.

[dogbane]

[What kind of officers abandon crew for a month? William's eyebrows shoot up his face, finding camouflage somewhere behind his forelocks. He doesn't entertain exactly how much longer Emma may have been here on the ship, just yet. From the medbay, the operation had looked like it had been running fairly smooth; a crew of invisible two would suggest otherwise.

As far as he's concerned, she is native.] Right then, [he says.] Well-- [she doesn't look like an especially fangy or hostile native. Maybe that's just the shellshock. He hesitates to guess what was doing on the bridge, then, but now seems as good as time as any to find out. Crossing his arms, he props a shoulder on the locker.] keeping in mind that I've got little love for any sort of regime that crews through abduction, and I'm definitely not spying for Big Bruv up there, but nothing I'm saying seems reportable or grounds for court martial, [just covering all his bases, you know,] can I ask--

--what you was doing in the bridge?

[uncurse]

[ her brow furrows a bit, only briefly, as she notes the sheer number of qualifiers going on there. he's being cautious - she doesn't blame him, necessarily, it's smart. it's just astoundingly unlike the way emma responds to any situation that doesn't involve emotions. it absolutely confirms that he's new, but her newness had more greatly resembled, well, yelling. ]

Trying to find us a way off this damned ship. [ there's warning in her tone as she answers, because this is the beginning of a bumpy ride. ] We work the ship to keep ourselves alive, but we don't have control over it or its trajectory. We're stuck. So, while no one's around to court martial you, there's also no one who's going to help.

[dogbane]

[As the full reality sets in, or at least a substantial part of it, William's face changes. He looks at Emma, assessing.

It is not difficult to take her seriously-- she has a forthright and pragmatic and, frankly, deeply unhappy way about her that's more common to drill sargeants than the politicians. While everything is unknown quantities out here, it's easier to believe somebody who's in the trenches with you, who recently died near her, than the illusion of clean automation granted by the numbers printed on the inside of his forearm and premade jumpsuit he found in his locker.

Not that he was very good at the whole rank and file thing anyway, even when he tried.] Ain't true, [he says, after a long moment.] There's you, and you look a little rough this fine morning, granted, but not exactly defeated. I think defeat's got a lower speaking tempo, shitty posture, less rage. [A ghost of a smile touches his face, but it slides off quick.] If there's another plan, would you let me know?

[uncurse]

[ at first, she gets ready with a disparaging look. 'ain't true.' not the first time she's heard it when she drops the act of holding onto hope. but as she opens her mouth and furrows her brow, ready to cut him off, he catches her off guard with the kind of faith that she's felt so sorely lacking on the tranquility. the kind of faith that her parents had, that henry had. there's you.

she blinks, and the defensiveness drains out of her for an instant, dropping her guard. the only person who's actually demonstrated any kind of faith in her before that's henry, and it's been a crippling loss. even from a complete stranger, it's enough to stagger and disorient her.

it's clear in how her lips remain parted as she hesitates, and in the softness of her expression as she blinks to process it. he asked her a question, she really ought to muster up a response. her eyebrows jump up briefly as she gets the words out in an even voice. ] Yeah. [ she straightens her slumped shoulders and squares them again. ] Yeah, I can do that. [ her tone and her eyes are still a little distant, jarred by the effect of that vote of confidence. her thumbs hook into the front pockets of her jeans, leaving her looking smaller and more childlike in the face of it. ]

I'm, uh. I'm Emma. If you need any help getting used to things around here.

( PODS )

[gilding]

[Gold will never be taken to lingering in the medbay after the jumps, but recent circumstances have added some imperative to at least taking a quick walk around. Events immediately preceding the jump had made it all the more clear how dangerous and surprising things on the ship could turn, only strengthening his resolve to keep Belle safe until he found a way to have them returned home.

He's only looped back to the gravcouches after failing to find Belle around the lockers, holding it firmly in mind that the pods were released in waves, and of course she could still be in the showers. No need for concern.

Which is all quite neatly derailed when he comes across Emma sitting in a pool of stasis fluid, drenched and dishevelled but, most importantly, unexpectedly alive.]

I see your quest didn't end as terribly as it could have done, then.

[Most of the immediate surprise already schooled away from his expression, coming to stop in front of her, resting both hands on the top of his cane.]

[uncurse]

Is that disappointment, or relief?

[ there's a comically wry edge in her voice, because honestly she wouldn't begrudge him either - if it were him alive, she's not sure which column she'd chalk it up under, even if he is henry's grandfather. besides. it feels an awful lot like poking fun at her, which feels like adding insult to injury when she's still coughing up blue liquid that she'd choked down in her scramble to get herself out of the pod.

her eyes rest briefly on him, studying the expression and the way he's arrived instantly and entirely composed in sharp contrast to her own situation. it always seems to be that way. she doesn't bother forcing herself to her feet yet, because she knows it won't particularly help her feel like the playing field is any more level. ]

[gilding]

Well, I wasn't preparing to celebrate your death, if that's what you're thinking.

[Emma was often difficult - all the moreso now it was apparent she had the advantage of time and information on him - but she was still uniquely useful. And after the initial surprise of seeing her has passed, he can't say he's actually surprised at her survival at all. Perhaps being the saviour still had some power, even up here.]

I'll assume from the state of you that your escape was rather close to the line.

[uncurse]

Starting to think cutting it close to the wire might just be my M.O. [ she gets up at that, trying in vain to wipe blue fluid off the sleeves of her turtleneck, sloughing off some goop but not really cleaning it any. she shakes her head. ] Not the ideal jump, but strangely, I'm not complaining.

[gilding]

It'll take a few rounds in the washer to have that clean, I think.

[It's tinged with a little minor disgust, watching the blue gunk drip from her hands. He hates being in the pods ordinarily - getting the fluid on his suits was a horrific idea. Then again, he'd have much quicker ways of getting it cleaned up, ways that he doesn't go out of his way to offer to her. There's slightly more interesting things to discuss.]

And what was the great heroic deed that had you all saved? That door was being remarkably obstinate, last I heard.

[uncurse]

[ she looks uncomfortable at the question, and takes her time answering it, glancing off to the side. there's no hiding how begrudging she is to admit that she didn't do anything. once again, she'd just been moved around how somebody else wanted her to be. ]

Nothing. We did ... nothing. [ she shakes her head. ] Doors opened on their own at about fifteen til. We booked it. [ she moves to step around him, not thrilled with the prospect of discussing her failure further. ]

[gilding]

Another mysterious rescue from our friendly smile?

[He lets her step past him without a single attempt to stop her, can recognise her reaction quite well at this point. He doesn't stop speaking, though, turning easily on the spot to continue as she passes. Her frustration is misplaced, turned inward, when there were far more complexities to the situation than one hero's failure to save the day.]

Of course then the question is, why keep you locked away for so long, convinced you were facing your doom?

[uncurse]

[ she stops as she passes him, rolling her eyes. goddammit gold. do you really need to rub it in. ]

Hell if I know. [ she turns. ] I don't think they want us dead. Whoever's behind those messages, or whoever's still got their hands in running this damn ship. They're getting something out of screwing with us - I think they dosed the bridge with some kind of hallucinogen. We were all tripping. But, we're not expendable.