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

no but i'll go with ur doge

[sleuthtastic]

[ She's quiet for a moment, but that's only because she's distracted. There's a certain deliberateness to it because she's not good at this, and Edgeworth's been through worse than just feeling the space blues — so Veronica takes a moment, bends to rub Pess's belly with a bright expression, the kind of smile you reserve for small creatures and babies. (—hi buddy, how're you doing, how's your stomach been—)

A beat. Veronica looks up, still crouched down over Pess, idly rubbing the spot between her ears. ]

I was wondering more like what I could do for you.

[ Then, as if to clarify: ]

You know I can take over, if you need a little time.

good choice, she is such doge, much dancing, wow

[jurisimpudent]

[He knows, objectively, that a little time is precisely what he needs. He knows he ought to spend time in medical. Never before has he used his ability like he used it there on the bridge; prior to this, he'd always been careful to respect the bounds of what he's able to accomplish with his telekinesis, but there, at the door, he'd strained time and again until something broke in him, time and again - He worries he did damage, worries there will be some side effects, worries he won't be at his best.

And he trusts Veronica to take over for him. She plays bubbly and chipper and facetious, but underneath that extrovert's personality lies a keen intellect. And, he thinks, more crucially still, there's a genuine desire to do good. Veronica has proven herself, these past weeks, to be competent, intelligent, and deserving of faith.

Yet he still balks at the idea of letting anyone take over his duties. Never mind that he needs it, never mind that she's good at it, never mind that it's what he's training her to do - the thought of taking time off is...He's only taken time off once, after the...incident those six months ago. He ought to now, but...

But then Edgeworth takes a moment to look at Veronica. He listens to the strain in her voice. And he wonders if perhaps she's not asking for his sake, but for her own.]

It will be...a difficult few days. This whole incident on the bridge must be documented in full.

[sleuthtastic]

You know me. [ She jerks a thumb to herself. ] People person, right here.

[ Which is— debatable, depending on who you ask, whether they're from home or the ship. And, okay, she's a lot better with dogs (or Edgeworth), but he looks— tired. And it reminds of her of the look she'd see on her dad's face, when the Kane investigation was going on and her mom was still (barely) around — she couldn't help then, but she can, now. It'll keep her busy, something to do, just— keep things on the DL for him, for a little while.

Veronica Mars: covert sleuth. Yeah, that sounds believable. ]

I'll interview people who want to be. Cross-reference. Comb the network. Just like— taking down notes of a crime scene.

[ A beat. ]

Or making a copy of the Sheriff's files, but we're not going to go there.

[ Chipper deflection! ]

[jurisimpudent]

[Edgeworth's face is, at the moment, deadened with exhaustion, physical and emotional - but that last comment is enough to lift his expression, enough to cause a bit of alarm to light up his eyes. His chin lifts just a bit, nervous, and he frowns, and asks - ]

Making a copy of the...? You've not actually done that, have you?

[God knows Ms. Mars is clever, and curious, and has a decided tendency towards underhandedness. He's spoken to her enough to know that. But making copies of files seems...Well, bold, mostly.]

[sleuthtastic]

Uh.

[ Of course the answer here is yes, because Lamb is incompetent and he said I should go meet the wizard, which, really, isn't something you forget. (She won't forget what he did for Meg's little sister, either, but that's— that's different. People are complicated.) ]

Yes?

[ She lays her hands out in an imitation of a scale, her expression twisting into something that borders on comical thoughtfulness. ]

On one hand, solve the crime, make copies of files. On the other: let the incompetent Sheriff handle it with his case reports that read like they were filled out by five year olds.

[jurisimpudent]

[And that's the best sort of argument she can make to Edgeworth; it's the same line of thinking that let him forgive her being a private investigator, in spite of his normal distaste for private investigators. But there's a large difference between forgiving someone for having a career he doesn't like and accepting something...illegal, most likely, since many jurisdictions criminalize those sorts of things.

So his tone turns firm. Not angry, certainly, not condescending, but very firm.]

First - Ms. Mars, you will not do anything like that in your capacity working for security. That sort of thing will lead to your immediate dismissal.

[sleuthtastic]

Scout's honor. [ She raises her hand, twines forefinger and middle together. And, you know— she does mean it. Professional respect aside (which she never had for Vinnie Van Lowe, so it's kind of a first; it's not like she never got into fights with her dad either), he's— a friend. Edgeworth is a friend.

Still, a little bit of her usual mirth seems to fade out, replaced with a more serious kind of promise. ]

I don't have to do that when I know people are doing good work. That they're being responsible. [ Go ask the wizard? Who wouldn't have trouble with that one. ] Let's say he made it personal.

Everything done through the professional channels. [ A beat, then she cups Pess' face in her hands, noses closer. ] Or else she'll get me. Rarr.

[jurisimpudent]

[And Edgeworth's response is - perhaps not surprisingly - excessively earnest: he reassures Veronica firmly:]

You needn't worry about that. Pess would never do any harm.

[Which is foolish, because he knows full well that Veronica was joking around, and because at that very moment Pess had twisted her head to chew playfully and delightedly on Veronica's fingers, giving a little huffy growl of happiness. Edgeworth is flustered enough by the stupidity of what he said and his damnable dog giving the lie to what he just said that he cannot quite follow up with any sort of dignity on Veronica keeping clear of the files.

Especially not with her assessing the security team as doing good work. There are few compliments which will go to Edgeworth's head; being called handsome or charming or even smart will just make him irritable and snappish. You help people, though, hits him right at his core, makes him a bit stupid with pride.]

In any case. I hope that you will continue to assess us with a careful eye, Ms. Mars, and I hope that if you see us no longer doing good work then you will speak up against us harshly. We have no law here, and so it would be far too easy for us to become tyrannical; I fear that the people here would not recognize it if they saw it. But you are intelligent, and you have a critical eye; it's people like you who must keep us in check.

[sleuthtastic]

[ Veronica seems happy to be absorbed in that for a moment, laughs as she twists her fingers, voice taking on a higher pitch. ]

Oh, you got me!

[ Still, after a beat Veronica shifts her fingers away, gives Pess a short scratch between the ears before she stands again. Edgeworth's— good. Methodical, someone she would have liked to have back home she realizes, which is— not something she wants to look at too closely. Maybe it would have been easier, having someone like him, in the days following Lily's death. If—

Well, Veronica. You know what they say about ifs. ]

I know.

[ And then — because Veronica smiles and then feels something strange that feels like that tug of friendship, or maybe guilt, though the guilt is a little more difficult to place — she reaches out and punches him in the shoulder. ]

Go get some rest, okay?