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

[pushfall]

[ She'd be more relieved to hear that if she wasn't already focusing on the part about this being dangerous. ]

I figured this wasn't going to be the safest place in the world just... given the circumstances. The white van of outer space kidnapping people doesn't inspire a lot of comfort. [ Claire looks over in the direction that everyone is heading, some with a comforting voice of a stranger who has been here, others alone, yet more still who are seasoned veterans. Her head swims. She smiles. ] I'll check out that network thing.

[boogiewoogiebugleboy]

If you need anything, you can call me? My name is Blue. Um. This is my number.

[He show her his tattoo. It has a number on it. God knows I don't remember what it is.]

[pushfall]

[ Claire looks at it and then holds out her own arm to inspect what's been stamped there. ]

These are phone numbers? I thought it was some kind of a brand.

[boogiewoogiebugleboy]

They're nanites. Like tattoos? They tell us which room we're in or if we belong to a particular department.

sorry for being so slow work sucks

[pushfall]

So what happens if I decide to move?

[ She's joking. A little. ]

forgiven

[boogiewoogiebugleboy]

[Annnnnd just a shrug.]

[pushfall]

[ Claire nods, slow and deliberately, a parody of acceptance considering the circumstances. Carefully, she draws her tattooed arm back inside the warmth of the towel. ]

I might... call you? After I get settled.

[boogiewoogiebugleboy]

I'll talk to you later.

[He gives a grin and makes his way, because well, she's hopefully heading to the shower.]