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

[killarevolution]

"And knows the ship better, so he can remain that way." He's a fox hiding in his hole and no one is capable of sniffing him out. They don't have the kind of resolve for that.

But they can get organized.

He follows her, leaning a bit on the wall to support him when his vision gets a bit blurry. Post-jump sensations are a lot worse when you add withdrawal into the mix. "That attempt may have failed, but it did prove one thing- we actually might have a bunch of fighters."

[circumitus]

Rey nods absentmindedly, reaching for a towel on the way out of the shower area. She pulls it over her head to dry off the dripping strands of hair. She leaves it that way even after she heads to her locker to retrieve some dryer clothes, casting glances to Haymitch every now and then. He looks unwell. Perhaps more so than usual, and it doesn't go past her notice.

"That why you went? To size up potential comrades?"

[killarevolution]

"It was my idea." Partially. He pushed Nathan to it, even if Nathan controlled the entire operation and more power to him. If it had failed spectacularly worse than it, then his name wouldn't be on it. "I went because I expected it would work."

And it didn't, so now he's left with the pieces leftover from the attempt.

He moves away from the wall and keeps following, glad of the prospect of a decent drink waiting for him once he gets upstairs. ..Probably clothes too. This robe isn't gonna cut it.

[circumitus]

"Sounds like something you'd stir up." Haymitch was no meek, but everyone has their breaking points. She looks to him as she takes off the towel from her hair, stopping at her locker. "Should rest. You've done enough."