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

[invigor]

Might be a real thing where I'm from, too. I'm not gonna know since I'm stuck here.

[But. He's already brought up his death before, however awkward that was. So he moves on.]

So what do we do with this... head? Is it going to pose a danger?

[bearwitness]

[Abbie turns the head over to examine it and then checks to see if there's any hidden surprises in the hollow part...]

No, we're fine. It's just a head.

You know, you told me a pretty interesting story about what you've experienced. [Details still left unfilled aside. She holds up the head with an almost cheeky look, her humor restored.]

Guess it's as good time as any for me to share something back.

[invigor]

[He quirks a brow, but her lightened mood manages to almost make him return the expression. As gruff as he is.]

If that's the case, then I'm listenin'. If you're up to it.

[bearwitness]

It's either that or sleep off this jump. I'd prefer the former.

Wanna meet up at the Media Library later? I'm gonna stick around and let Crane check this out and see if he can find anything I might have missed.

[Her partner is pretty good at gleaning the finer details after all.]

[invigor]

Sure.

[He stands and straightens.]

Just send me a message on my communicator whenever you're ready. Ain't no hurry though.

[bearwitness]

Get some rest if you can. Don't know how long I'll take.