ataraxionlogs | twenty-eighth jump;

Entry tags:

twenty-eighth jump;

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.

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(isaac pretended not to notice for all of six seconds. it would have been the smart thing to do. retreat, hide out, lurk until he could put the pieces of this place together. no one had caused him any real trouble so far, but who knew? this could be the lucky one. he should just let the door slide shut and let it be.

but there was something about her plea that sounded genuine enough to make him feel like an ass for even considering it. he grimaced at himself, sticking his arm out and pushing the lift doors open right as they started to close. god damnit.) I think so-

(he didn't expect the voice to belong to a tiny blue lady. a tiny blue lady hauling around scrap metal??) Uh, what is it you're trying to do, exactly? (he was reaching out to help her bring the pieces aboard before he even knew what they were. they had some weight to them; not as much as a line gun, but it was no surprise she was having trouble.

maybe that being blue thing had something to do with it, too.) What are these, hull scraps?

[what a nice man. she offers him a bright smile, holding her pieces of scrap metal against her chest even though she needs some help moving it. though, more like just shoving one thigh plate at him as she tries to readjust it so that it secured under her arms.

the rig makes her curious, though she knows better than to ask outright. after all, she's a tiny blue person holding very expensive thigh plates whilst running around looking for a 6'10 man. if anything, she's far more strange than whatever that spinal interface could be.

(it makes her a little nostalgic too, to be nestled that close to chief's neural pathways and to have constant feedback from his vitals).]

These, oh no. They're not mine. [obviously, considering that one of them is as big as her head (if not bigger).]

Just helping a friend move some things into his room. [a beat:]

Do you need any help? I'm sure you must have a lot of questions.

(he couldn't hold on to his plasma cutter and his modules and the plate... with some hesitation, he put his own things away. stuck in pockets, hooked on clips, whatever the jumpsuit would allow, so he could hold the piece steady with both hands. she probably wouldn't appreciate it if he dropped it.)

Your friend has an interesting way of decorating. (har har. isaac squeezed himself back in to the corner once more as he turned the plate over in his hands, looking it over curiously. that was one way to keep him calm during an elevator ride; give him pieces of junk he could nerd out over.

her question had him looking back up at her, though, and he considered it carefully.) Probably. (here's to hoping honesty wouldn't bite him in the ass.) It's a lot to take in.

(he paused, drumming his fingers against the metal he held. he did have one question in particular, one that had been nagging him ever since he'd woken up.) Is it safe?

No, if you're holding things- [well, that's too late. she feels a little sheepish, almost apologetic for putting him through that. but, he's nice enough and he automatically gets a tick in her book.]

Decorating? [oh, he thinks that these are -] These are actually thigh guards, they snap around his thighs to offer protection without sacrificing range of motion. [a beat:] Interesting fashion sense, more like.

[she's used to recluses, she's been inside one's head for so long that she isn't offended by his reaction.]

Considering that you're not in shock from the pods, and you managed to get showered, I'll say you're doing far better than I was on my first day. [then again, her first day was going from being a hologram to being human - but you know, cheer him on.]

We're in a ship that brings people from across dimensions and universes, I wish I could tell you that it's for research purposes only. [she inhales sharply, remembering the past few days on the bridge right before the jump.]

(isaac gave the guards a quizzical look. what kind of friends did she have? ones with crippling thigh weaknesses, apparently, but considering she was blue, he supposed anything was possible. he wanted to question her further about the odd choice in protection, but it was none of his business. he wouldn't want a stranger asking stupid shit about his weird leg disabilities either, if he'd had any.

he breathed a quiet laugh at her praise, choosing not to mention the less cheerful aspects of his time aboard the ship so far. he also wasn't sure if he'd have a meltdown once he was out of sight and out of mind or not.) Thanks, I think.

No one knows what we're doing here, though? Or who's running things?

Who knows? As much as I hate to admit it, we're in the same boat and this isn't even my first Jump. [as much as she hates to admit it? she loathes to admit it. she always knows what to do; this was who she was.

was being the operative word there.]

Cortana. [she says, extending her hand to offer him a firm handshake. it's what she likes, she thinks, even when she touches people. it's personal. human.]

If you need anything, I'll pay you back for helping me lug these to my room.

(of course it wouldn't be that easy. nothing was ever that easy. rule #1 of isaac's life: all situations will be complicated, no matter what.

at least something around here was consistent.

he reached out to shake her hand, struggling to hold back a smile as he did so. there was something hilarious about such a small, delicate-looking woman delivering a more confident handshake than him.) Nice to meet you. (he pulled his hand back afterwards, inspecting his palm- seeing if that blue had worn off and on to him, as though he expected it to be dye. because that made sense. after a moment, he added-) Caleb.

(yeah, no, that wasn't right at all. there wasn't an earthgov emblem or a marker stamp in sight thus far, but he wasn't comfortable with the thought of carelessly raising his own stakes. not like this was anything new for him. hell, he hadn't freely given his honest name to a stranger in, what, two years? three?) I can't really think of anything I'd need right now. Let's call it a raincheck?

[he's a little shaky, even if she does squeeze a little harder than most people would. it happens when you're around a spartan like the master chief or all of your life (wow, that's strange to say out loud isn't it?

though her head tilts a little at the small smile even as she tries to juggle the many things in her arms.] Nice to meet you too, Caleb.

[she rocks on her heels gently, even as the elevators move as slow as they possibly can.] Of course, you can always reach me on your communicator. We're all in a directory listing.

(oh... oh, it was like an old timey phone after all, huh. hah! he glanced at the pocket he'd jamed his communicator in, shaking his head in amusement. that's cute.) I kind of like it. Very vintage.

(he quickly looked back at cortana, shifting the plate he held with relative ease so he could free up at least one hand again.) Hey, uh- do want me to carry something else? I'm used to it, so it's not a big deal.

I don't. [she retorts at the comment about it being vintage.] Then again this ship is almost a relic, I don't even know where to begin.

[data files that take up entire rooms, no AIs, manual controls for shuttle bays- she hasn't even made it to engineering. usually they'd have backups and subroutines, but they don't. it's run by people and for an AI that's just unacceptable.]

That's very nice of you. [she has to bend to the side to hand him a thigh guard as they reach the passenger floors.] Really, I appreciate it. I didn't start out today thinking that I need to do heavy lifting.

Yeah? What's the deal with it? (the medbay looked all right, judging by the short time he spent there. but that didn't mean much of anything. he leaned over to take the piece from her, giving a quiet, humorless little laugh at her last comment. he understood that one- he hadn't expected to end up on a ship when he woke up this morning, either.

or whatever morning it was. there was no way for him to know how long he'd been in stasis, and that in itself was uncomfortable to think about. luckily, he had cortana to discuss other things with.)

It's falling apart, for one. Various departments barely have the tools needed to keep it up and running. We have physical libraries for data because there's so much of it, yet no way to synthesize it. Our AI is Rampant, yet there's no protocol to see that he's repaired.

[she doesn't say disposed of, she doesn't say kill; smiley is a person too. he might have trapped them here, but he can't control himself. she likes to think the best of her fellow AIs.] Really, do I need to go on? [because she can.]

The worst part is? Repairs are illogical because the ship changes at any given moment.

(ah.

ah.........

that was a little more serious than he'd hoped. he looked bothered by it all, actually. they were on a runaway falling-apart ship that couldn't be repaired? what was the point, then? hell, he didn't mind fixing things, but he was used to them generally... staying fixed, more or less.) Uh.

(how to acknowledge this new information???) Oh. Okay, then. (yeah good try isaac.)

[she couldn't blame him, she's been in the same place as he has. she's just been lucky that she's been working in comms. but, if she could develop a ship-wide monitoring program, she could.

she's usually the one monitoring the ship.]

That's the only way to put it, sadly.

(isaac still had that weird troubled look on his face, even after taking a moment to think the situation over further. why would someone or something bring them in if they couldn't do anything to help?

guess it wasn't for the purpose of help, then.) What are we supposed to do? Sit around and look pretty?

I'm sure you'll do fine. [he's good looking, it's just a fact. she gives him a little smile, hoping to make it less awkward. she's just used to it, sorry.

plus, it's his fault for being cute.]

Do you mind if I ask you a question?

I haven't been trained for that... (he still looked like a sulky baby, but hey, he had jokes! a brow quirked slightly at her unexpected question- unexpected, but not unappreciated. answering pop quizzes would be better than grumping over the ship, right? he shrugged.) Go for it.

If you need a crash course, you know where to find me. [it was odd that the joke was something that the chief would roll his eyes at (or rather, she'd do it for him).]

Your spine has an external neural interface, doesn't it? [oh boy, aren't you a fascinating specimen.]

(hey hey hey, any day you get a chuckle out of isaac is a good day.

he probably should have expected that question, but it was still hard for him to digest the fact that no one else owned a rig around here.) Yeah, that's one way to put it. I'm used to seeing them on just about everyone. But, uh. (he shifted his shoulders awkwardly- making sure his rig was still there, perhaps. he knew it still was, but hell, double checking put him a little more at ease.) It's not common around here, I guess.

I actually thought everyone had theirs removed. Nobody even seems to know what they are, though.

[she'll get to discover that soon enough, she thinks.

for now, she inspects it like it's a very curious thing. it's like what keeps her- kept her- and the master chief in sync for so long, but on the outside.]

Does it change colors? [it looks like it was an indicator of sorts.] Does it house anything? [like an AI?]

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twenty-eighth jump;

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