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 couldn't stand the chill in the air anymore. He felt uncomfortably sticky as well, and he knew couldn't linger by his pod forever. He started for the showers, keeping an eye on as many things as he humanly could while he moved. There was so much to look at. New faces, new places- and a glimpse of glowing red that had him lurching to a stop, as if he'd run face-first in to an invisible wall.

He'd thought he was imagining things. No one in this place, no matter how unique some of them were, seemed to have a RIG. Except for this guy.

Isaac stayed there, frozen and staring openly. His head was urging his body to go, but his legs refused to listen.

Nate had the same issues, atop his more unique afflictions. Stickiness, frozen to the bone, a marked inability to move from the spot he had came to. Granted, this other fellow clearly had an upper hand on Nate as far as mere distance traveled; Nate had barely made it three feet from his personal little sludge tube before his knees decided they had enough.

By the time Isaac's presence had been registered by Nate, he had moved from an awkward crouch to a far less pitiful stance of hunched over on his knees, left hand pressed firmly against the floor. Supporting his entire weight was a difficult task, especially given how slick the floor was and how weak Nate had become, but he managed... Taking a deep, shaky breath, he looked up to see this stranger, his eyes fighting to focus. Why was he staring at him like that...

"...What's the matter? Haven't seen a naked man before?" Ahahah... okay, he had a little bite left in him, but if this guy decided to poke fun at his condition, that shaky neutral state could quickly turn aggressive. He didn't have time to screw around, after all.

Damn, he looked bad. Isaac was caught up in an internal conflict; help him, or leave him. On one hand, he felt like this stranger was one of his own kind, so to speak. On the other, that was precisely the reason why he felt he should keep his distance. For all Isaac knew, he was a Unitologist or EarthGov. Maybe even the same asshole who'd broken in to his apartment and smashed him in the face before he woke up here.

But he was spotted before he could settle on a decision, and he had to admit, he was surprised by the choice of conversation starter. About to keel over and he still had jokes, wow.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes- and may have failed. "Never. I've just decided it's not my thing." There was a brief pause, then. "Do you have this," he made a vague gesture towards Nate, "under control, or...?"

He was just getting started with the jokes, apparently; Isaac gave him an opening he couldn't resist. "Your loss, I guess." HahahAHAHAHA ok Nate laughed a little at himself just... out of how ridiculous the entire situation was. It hurt his ribs doing so, but he couldn't help it. He was nude, for Christ's sake, and critically, if not fatally, injured. The loss of blood and all the stress must have really been getting to him. If that was the case, he wasn't about to go out without embarrassing himself a little.

He'd start on that task by trying to get up off the floor. His legs felt like the gelatin that he had come out of, but he managed to get up... a little. He cussed in frustration, looking around bleakly for something to support himself on. "Oh yeah. Totally."

His eyes flicked up to this man suddenly, as if he was waiting for him to lunge out or attack him. "You're a pretty vivid... hallucination." Talking to his supposed spectres? Or was he kidding, making a reference to the situation in general? Nate felt himself sink into a defeated state. Even he hadn't a clue. "I don't suppose you'd know where I could hook myself up to an implant station, do you?"

Fuck. Isaac sighed, squeezing his eyes shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt a headache coming on- not because of Nate's terrible jokes, but because of himself. His own idiotic God damned head. There were plenty of people around; he could leave, the guy would be fine, someone else would probably do something. But Isaac knew exactly what that blinking red light meant, and he couldn't in all good consciousness just split when someone was wobbling in front of him and obviously loopy from traumatic injuries.

His inability to get the fuck out of dodge made him angry; he had a surly look on his face when he dropped his hand and glanced back up at Nate. Fine. Fine, he'd at least get him... somewhere. Isaac took a step towards Nate, reaching a hand out, intending to grab hold of him and lead him away-

Until he heard the word hallucination. Nothing made a knot of anxiety form in his gut like that word. He recoiled slowly, drawing his arm back toward himself, suddenly not wanting to touch Nate at all.

It was probably nothing- a side effect from blood loss, or disbelief at waking up in a place like this. Vivid hallucinations didn't have to mean anything. But Isaac still watched him warily, like he was contagious. "No," he said quietly, clearly uncomfortable. "This is my first time here, I don't know where anything is. You should flag down a doctor."

Nate would have clearly shown genuine gratitude in Isaac's gesture, had he been given the chance. He wouldn't have blamed him for jerking away, either; if their situations were reversed, it was probably pretty likely Nate would be wary, too. But that was assuming that Nate was of clearheaded persuasion, which he definitely was not.

He hazily watched Isaac approach, his mouth open to say something defeatist and sarcastic, but Isaac snatched it right out of his throat when he caught sight of him jerking back. Nate was an untouchable, apparently. His eyes studied Isaac's face, searching for some sort of unspoken answer, but he found none. His ability to read people was off its game, predictably. All Nate could see was someone disgusted or fearful.

"...I see," Nate croaked roughly, stumbling backwards in an attempt to put distance between them. It was embarrassing, being so helpless, but Nate was stubborn, too. He managed to grasp onto a wall clumsily while he caught his breath. Sweat was starting to run down his face and he was markedly paler than he had been. "This isn't the Ishimura, is it..." His voice was soft, as if he was speaking to someone that wasn't there.

Isaac heard it. He wasn't lucky enough to not have heard it.

This isn't the Ishimura, is it...

His head hurt. His chest hurt, his stomach hurt. This was- something. A trap, or a bad joke, or a dream? Isaac didn't know. What he knew was that he felt sick, worried, and livid all at once; his brain and body couldn't settle on a state of being, so he did the only thing he could do. He shut down.

Face and voice equally blank, he answered, "No, it's not."

He stared for a moment longer, branding the stranger's sickly looking face in to his memory for future reference (avoid, avoid, avoid) before speaking again. "I have to go." That said, he turned, and began to walk.

He'd point a doctor his way or something.

Well, that wasn't a reaction he expected, especially since he hadn't really directed the question Isaac's way in the first place. He looked confused, then it sort of clicked: this guy probably heard about what went down on the ship. It was too personal of a reaction to be just a flat out rejection. "--Wait,"

Nate was in absolutely no shape to be chasing people around, but he made the effort regardless. Pushing from the wall, he stumbled and swayed for a few steps before managing a semi-straight line towards Isaac's quicker pace. It was difficult, it hurt all over, and he was certain he'd faint eventually, but he needed at least some more context before he made a bed on the floor. The voices in his head were starting up again, hissing dissonance and chiding Nate for behaving the way he was. "S-stop." That wasn't exactly directed at Isaac, either, but he'd probably take it that way.

"I... I need... I need my friends. I need to know if they're okay," His voice strained and started to pick up in volume, and with it, stress and panic. His chest was tight. This guy couldn't just leave him like this, right?! He was dying, for shit's sake! "We were headed towards the Sprawl, I passed out on the pod and woke up here. Please, I need--" Nate sucked in a breath and knocked right into a wall, unable to force his legs further along. "I won't... forgive myself. I have to find them."

Isaac whirled around on Nate like a snarling animal. There was something furious and desperate about the way he glared at him, not unlike agitated, cornered prey ready to fight to the death. "I don't know what kind of shit you're playing at-" He nearly felt a twinge of guilt; it seemed wrong to spit fire at someone in such pitiful shape, someone whose begging sounded almost honest, but there had to be something shady behind this.

First the Ishimura, now the Sprawl? That wasn't a coincidence. He didn't know who Nate was working for or how he'd ended up so injured, and he didn't care. This was bullshit.

Nevertheless, much to his own disgust, he took the bait. "Good luck finding them, since the Sprawl's fucking gone, and all." Trying to pit Isaac's own empathy against him- what a cheap move. Again, he turned away, taking off once more. "Just stay the fuck there, I'll send someone to you."

Oh.

"You failed."

Nate stared, wide-eyed and slack jawed at Isaac's accusations. His brain went completely blank. There was nothing there, nothing firing off, just the hissing words spoken in Gabe's voice, over and over again.

"You killed us."

The Sprawl. The Sprawl was gone? How?? Nate had made contact to a station on the Sprawl not a week or two before the whole incident went down on Aegis VII. There was no way it was gone. That didn't make any fucking sense! Against his wishes, Nate's legs buckled and he slid down the wall, staring past Isaac as he tried to piece a sequence of events together. Normally, Nate might have regarded that information rationally, asking and prodding for information--who, what, how, why??--but the thought of Lexine and Gabe, dead and gone was too much.

"No," Nate murmured, reaching up to his face with his remaining hand. He gripped into his still slick hair, pulling and digging. "No, no, no." Flashes of memories came, old with new, twisting and melding together. "Get a hold of yourself." Nate gnashed at himself, digging into his short hair more desperately when his fingers couldn't gain enough purchase to tug with force.

"They can't be..." If Isaac was out of earshot by then, Nate hadn't noticed. He was working through frustrated grief; all that work, all that loss, just to get to some ship alone, without his friends? The ones he had to protect? He failed, badly.

"Fuck you, you're lying!" All of that frustration suddenly erupted from Nate like water boiled over from a pressure cooker. He glared at Isaac's back, that fucking RIG, fully functional and not red, mocking his own pitiful state. "You're a fucking liar!" What Gabe had said about Eckhardt, the suspicion in his voice, it created a path for Nate to charge down blindly. "You're probably one of those Goddamned Unitologists, aren't you?" His chest was tight, his RIG blinking wildly in time with his quickened pulse, and his vision was hazing over. Nate shook his head, then suddenly and sharply slammed his hand into the wall behind him. "Fuck! Fuck..." And as quickly as his temper flared, it died down, Nate's posture slumped against the cold wall.

Isaac was gone. Out. Done. Finished.

...Mostly. He was well on his way, figuring someone else could deal with Nate, but he hadn't traveled far enough to be out of earshot. He mainly ignored the yelling, but there was one particular insult that made him pause.

Someone speaking ill of Unitology... it was a breath of fresh air. Isaac knew, logically, that it could be an effort to lure him back in. He'd been lied to enough times before, but the seed of doubt had been planted in his mind, and now all he could think was what if I'm wrong.

God, he felt like throwing up.

Against his (possibly) better judgement, he turned back around, returning to Nate. "Hey. Hey!" Shit, shit, he wasn't screaming or flailing around anymore. Was he awake? Or alive? "What'd you call me?"

"Fuck you, Markerhead..!!" Nate's venom was far weaker then it had been a moment ago, mostly due to the fact that he was wildly out of breath and energy. His RIG was flickering against the wall, but at least it seemed to steady out rather than blink rapidly, as it had been. The insult was pretty out of character for Nate in general, but knowing that one of those "Markerheads" had nearly killed his best friend seemed to lessen his guilt over it. That, and the fact that he was under the impression that they had something to do with all that nonsense that had transpired.

And ultimately, in his mind, led to Gabe and Lexine's deaths.

Even so, Nate hadn't been able to protect them. He was just as terrible as those extremists.

Nate didn't even raise his head as Isaac neared. It was like he gave up. And in actuality, he had. As far as he was concerned, there wasn't a point in fighting to stay conscious. His hand pressed weakly into his face, and Nate made a pitiful sound, something akin to a groan. He was just Done.

"Just..." Just what? Nate hadn't any idea what to say. He was overcome with exhaustion, with grief. "Why couldn't it have been me." A worthless question, though on Nate's lips, it was more a statement.

Standing before Nate, Isaac was having a hell of an argument with himself. He scrubbed the palms of his hands against his face, grinding his teeth in his frustration.

He dropped down in to a kneel in front of Nate after giving himself a severe mental scolding, grabbing him by the arms so he could drag him back up. "You're just a son of a bitch, aren't you?" Funny thing was, he wasn't sure who he was talking to- himself, or Nate.

Isaac supported his weight, dragging him along as he struggled to think of something to do with him. He didn't see any medics nearby and he didn't know where to find any. He wasn't a doctor, either, so he had no clue what needed to be done to patch Nate up. The only thing he could come up with was the locker room- earlier, a girl had told him there were sometimes things in there. Maybe he could find something useful, whether it was a damn bandage or an emergency contact system of some kind.

Nate's vision was blurring, tunneling and blackening around the edges. He hadn't a damn care about what was to happen to him next. He was going to let things operate around him, go with the flow of it all, so to speak. He wasn't the type to off himself, at least the dementia hadn't suggested it yet, thankfully. Didn't change the fact that Nate didn't very much care for himself anymore. There wasn't a reason to fight anymore.

Which was why he allowed Isaac to move him around, like a ragdoll. He was deadweight, for the most part, aside from occasional squirms of discomfort. Somewhere halfway into their shared trek down the hallway, Nate suddenly tuned back into the action. Like a switch flipped in his head.

"Where are you taking me," He asked, weakly and almost disinterested. It wasn't that, though. He simply lacked energy to shout anymore. Everything started to catch up to him now that someone else was supporting his body. The adrenaline, what had been pushing him to continue on for hours now, was wearing off. Even if he cared about his ultimate destination, it didn't necessarily mean he cared enough to fight. "I thought you had someplace to be."

He didn't know where he was taking him. To the locker room, but aside from that, fuck if he knew. He left that question unanswered, instead responding to Nate's attempt at attitude. "I do." Hah... hahah...

Ugh.

The girl said his locker would be the one that matched the number on his arm- he hunted it down, dumping Nate off on the nearby bench so his hands would be free. He swung the locker open, thankful that no leeches jumped out at him; nothing much else did, either. A jumpsuit, plasma cutter, a single medium medpack...

A fucking medpack.

Isaac laughed bitterly. Giving his only medpack to a guy he couldn't even trust? Sure, why not. It wasn't the first stupid decision he'd made, and it wouldn't be the last. He removed it from his locker, dropping it in Nate's lap instead. It wouldn't do much for him, but it'd at least get him to yellow.

Their little journey was boring enough to get Nate zoning out again until they reached the locker area. It was probably a bad idea to let himself drift off, as the whispers were bound to start up again. Luckily, some stuff went down soon enough. The feeling of a bench under his ass made Nate wake up enough to get a good look around; it was pretty much exactly as the lady had described it to him, but seeing it was sort of strange.

Even stranger was how Isaac rummaged around a seemingly random locker and dug out a medpack. Stranger still was that it ended up in his lap. Nate stared at it dimly, clearly confused beyond the exhaustion. "...Why are you giving this to me?" After all, the guy was a jerk... ready to leave him there to pass out... he looked at Isaac then, trying to read his face.

"Because I don't know what else to do, okay?" When in doubt, honesty is the best policy? Sometimes? Whatever. Isaac's voice was tense and exhausted at the same time. He wasn't ready to be backstabbed again, nor was he ready to answer a bunch of questions he wasn't prepared for.

All he wanted was a shower and to find a quiet place to collect himself.

"Look, do you want it or not?"

"..." Nate's face clearly displayed his own level of distrust, as well. It was a sudden and abrupt turn around in attitude, especially without explanation. But, it was needed medicine; Nate wouldn't make it much further without a boost.

"...Thank you." His voice was soft in volume, but rough in cadence. As though he was fighting the urge to yell or cry or scream. All were valid reactions, as far as Nate was concerned. The whispers didn't agree.

Nate fumbled with the medkit, shakily waiting for it to properly enter his blood stream. It didn't take long, thankfully, and the blinking red soon faded into a steady orange, then yellow. It was almost like he had gotten a nap in, with the mere difference in energy level from a moment ago to the present. "Fuck..."

Nate inhaled sharply. He regarded his own nudity then, with a lack of shame but more with confused curiosity. "Last time I was in one of those pods I didn't think I'd get out." He said, distantly. Like it was almost a fond memory in comparison to their current situation.

"Yeah," he answered flatly, shutting the locker (in case Nate felt the urge to loot) and leaning his shoulder against it. Way to accept thanks gracefully, Isaac.

He watched Nate stabilize with a frown on his face and his arms crossed over his chest. Now that the crisis was over, the urge to flee had returned; it could wait, though, until he cleared one thing up. "You've been here before?" Isaac assumed he was referring to that specific sort of pod. Wrong, but a good try.

Edited 2014-02-10 05:44 (UTC)

"No," Nate shook his head. Now that he had some medicine in him, his concentration was amended. It was like magic... Didn't do anything for his mood, though. He leaned forward and rubbed his hand through his hair, ignoring the soreness of his scalp. "I was on the Ishimura's medbay. I was under quarantine, sort of. They thought me and my friends were... infected."

If he knew about the Ishimura, then Nate had to assume he knew about the necromorph infestation. It wasn't exactly easy to keep under wraps that an entire planet cracker was devastated by aliens. "Definitely not a pleasant way to wake up."

Edited 2014-02-10 05:55 (UTC)

The Ishimura again, huh.

"I see." Isaac closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in a slow breath. He remained quiet, thinking and reeling in his temper. He wanted to prod Nate for answers and snap at him at the same time. There weren't supposed to be other Ishimura survivors. How had that happened? How many were there? Where had he been for the past six years? Had he been in stasis here all that time? How could Isaac be sure he wasn't a lying asshole?

He rested his head against the lockers as well, before he opened his eyes again. All of the cold metal pressed against his skin made him feel uncomfortably chilled, but the cool sensation against his temple also helped ease the ache he felt there. That's all this guy was, so far- a headache.

Idly, he wondered if Nate was sick of being stared at yet.

"Seems like the Ishimura's a sore spot for you," That much was obvious, more so now that Nate was growing more aware of what was going on around him. Isaac was probably going to regret giving him that medicine sooner or later. Still, even if Nate had questions himself, he also was wary of this guy's temper. Unitologist or not, he didn't want to set him off when he was at such a gross disadvantage.

"I'm sorry." He didn't really know what he was sorry for, but putting together the pieces seemed to suggest that maybe Isaac had known someone on the ship. Or maybe the colony? Either way, he didn't like seeing others in pain over losing a loved one. Lexine had been heartbreaking enough.

As for the staring, Nate chalked it up to ... whatever reason that caused Isaac to jerk away from him initially. Maybe he thought he'd turn into a necromorph? Seemed legit.

Shrug. "I heard about it, it was a sad story." Maybe Isaac just had a lot of feelings...

Or, rather, maybe he wasn't all that keen on sharing yet. It was funny, in an accidental and pathetic way- Nate suspected Isaac was a Unitologist, and Isaac suspected Nate was another EarthGov agent, like Kendra had been.

They were both dumb.

"Are you good to go now?"

"...Yeah. Real sad. Understatement of the century." Really? Sad? That didn't even begin to describe the level of hell Nate went through on that damned ship. But, he didn't feel like talking about it. Not yet; he was still reeling from the fact that the Sprawl was gone.

"...I should be." Nate looked Isaac's way, then down at the floor. Time to try getting up again! This time, his legs didn't buckle, though he was still a bit shaky. Not too bad. He should have been able to get where he needed to go now. A shower sounded wonderful, though getting clothed was probably more prudent. "Thanks. You didn't have to come back to help me, so I appreciate that." Even if it was a bit suspicious...

Oh, good, he could stand on his own. Isaac was relieved- he wouldn't have to pull him around anywhere else. This was awkward enough, he felt like he'd overstayed.

Even though this was his locker...

Isaac pushed away from the lockers, righting himself as well, and acknowledged Nate's gratitude in the kindest way he could. "I know," he said with a sigh, voice sounding suddenly tired. The way he looked at Nate practically radiated a sense of don't make me regret it.

"Well, since you've got this under control, I'll leave you to it." Isaac had places to be, things to take care of. Like this crusty shit on his skin. That wasn't going to work. And he couldn't think of a tidy way to wrap things up with Nate, so he just... awkardly moved away and headed for the showers.

Edited 2014-02-11 15:52 (UTC)

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twenty-eighth jump;

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