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

[cons]

[ well, this is a weird feeling. she's so used to being the one to help the angry new crew member, not actually being the angry new crew member. so when someone she doesn't recognize approaches her with that same kind of "hey, stranger, we're both stuck in the same shit situation, so I'll throw you a bone" tone in his voice that she's given people before, it takes her a second to realize that said tone is being directed at her. weeeiiiirrdd. ]

Oh. Hey, that means we'll be neighbors, too.

[ not that she sounds all excited about it, but yeah. it makes her stomach twist up a little bit, thinking about her last neighbor ( Sherlock Holmes, with his serial killer wall and serial killer turkey. but. not the time. ]

Well, until I move back into my old room, at least. Maybe we can trick your nanites into giving you a double.

[ she's trying to be friendly. but it probably just sounds all weird, considering he's definitely new, if he's got a number that matches her new one. ]

Sorry, uh. I'm Wichita, and I've been here before. I guess it just sent me home for a while. [ a beat ] Don't know why, but whatever. I don't know why this ship does anything. [ annnnnother beat ] Mind showing me where our lockers are?

[moonstruck]

[He listens, patiently enough, even with all the pauses. Neighbor? That was right, he remembered hearing that the numbers etched into their arms also dictated what quarters were assigned to them. Yuri isn't quite fond of the idea of anything being dictated to him, and the very thought makes the corners of his mouth turn downwards.

But little to be done about it. So she was to be his neighbor -- or at least temporarily, from the way she was making it sound. At least Yuri would likely make a better neighbor than a Sherlock Holmes, though he does have his own set of interesting quirks.

But that's neither here nor there. He nods, offering his own introduction.] My name is Yuri Petrov; this is -- obviously -- my first time on board this ship, and I can't say I'm very fond of it. But I'd be happy to show you where our lockers are located, if you don't mind the walk.

[He's already turning on his heels to lead her there, whoops.]

So... I take it it is possible to return home, as you said?

[cons]

I don't blame you, showing up here for the first time pretty much sucks.

[ ... what? it does. she's following him though, careful steps over the goo-messy floor. ]

But, yes and no, about the going home thing. I was here for twenty-something months until -I wasn't anymore. But I hadn't gone home at all before then. [ it's obvious she has no idea how she got sent home ( or if she even really went home, it's not like she has any new memories of Zombieland ) ] We don't really get a choice in the matter. But people sometimes show up for a month before they go back home, or they end up for over a year. It's kind of a mixed bag.

[moonstruck]

Twenty-something months?

[He doesn't stop walking, but there's a slight falter in his step as he attempts to register that in his mind. That's nearly two years; he can't imagine being away from Sternbild for that long -- it may be arrogant of him to think so, but what sort of trouble might the city get into without him being there? He has certain duties to attend to.

He tucks a piece of hair behind his ear, considering his response, before replying. He sounds vaguely irritated; not at her, but at this entire situation.]

I was going to call it hopeful, the fact that anyone might be sent back home. But to wait that long... [He trails off. He's sure he doesn't have to finish the sentence, as someone who has been here for that long probably knows of his sentiment.

He continues moving past rows and rows of lockers.] I have better things to do than finding myself kidnapped and placed here. I'm sure everyone feels the same.

[cons]

Yeah, pretty much everybody's got stuff going on they're rather be deal with at home. It's a mixed bag though, I mean, I thought of this place as a vacation when I first got here. Hot showers, free food. It used to be a step up from where I came from. Now I know better, though. Just took a couple of months. Though I'm pretty sure the ship's only gotten worse since I first got here.

[ boy, she is rambling. but it's kind of easier to just talk about what she knows of this place instead of focusing on what she's missed ]

Do you know how to use a weapon?

[moonstruck]

[Yuri has a difficult time believing how this can be the equivalent of any sort of vacation, but then again his experiences are likely quite different from hers. He's about to ask, "You don't have hot showers where you're from?", when she asks him something he didn't quite expect.]

I -- [A beat.] I can't say I'm very familiar with weapons in general. [That's a lie. But there's only so much truth Yuri is ever keen on revealing.] Why do you ask?

[cons]

You should learn. Gun training is your best bet. [ yup, simple as that ] You don't really have to worry about these guys most of the time - [ she's twirling her finger, indicating the people around them ] - but this ship is pretty much a horror show. Monsters and whatever. But you don't have to learn how to shoot, plenty of people on board know how to handle a gun, so I mean. Teaming up is an option, too. [ but obviously not her first choice ]

[moonstruck]

[It's a sound suggestion; he would have to be very foolish to not realize that much. But part of him is hesitant and he frowns. (Whether it's because he feels as if it's beneath him, or he's caught on his obligation to be the upstanding judge where guns do not equate, or both... that's up for debate.)

He doesn't reject the idea verbally, though. There's something else that she said that bothers him.]

Monsters? [So not only is he in space, but he's in a horror film.] The sort of... "monsters" that aren't terribly fond of bullets? [He adds, referencing her prior statements. The implied question is, "what exactly are we dealing with?"]

[cons]

As opposed to the monsters that are fond of bullets?

[ she gives him a sideways look, her grin quirking up on one side, but moves right along ]

The thing we end up running into more often than not are, uh, manticores. Which are just- nasty science experiments gone wrong, as far as anybody knows. There were mutated rats one time, but I'm pretty sure they're all gone by now. Who knows, though. The ship is huge, and we haven't exactly been encouraged to go out looking around.

[moonstruck]

[He knows that was likely to be a joke and not meant to be corrected upon, but -- he's in law, and it's difficult for him to not play the semantics game.] Rather, those that are quite indifferent to bullets was my meaning.

[But either way, she answers his question.] So this ship was a setting for... scientific experiments? Like something you may see in a film? [It's very unbelievable, all of this.]