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

[nuked]

006... [ John's lips thin even more so at that. It'd been too long since he'd heard those numbers. Too far out. On their own. Juliana and these "Freelancers" however, were beyond his knowledge. ]

Since when did the UNSC make use of freelancers?

[ He raises a brow, partially out of curiosity, somewhat out of concern. ]

[overthought]

Is that an issue? [he doesn't need to tell her, but she's there if he needs to. she's learned what certain inflections or the way that he just puts an emphasis on even a syllable what he could mean.]

During the war, apparently. Surprising that neither of us would know about it, isn't it? [especially her.]

Come on, let's get you showered.

[nuked]

No. Just a surprise. [ Maybe a good one. Maybe a bad one. It's been too long, and usually when there are years between these sorts of things... it makes it difficult. His lips twist carefully, a subtle motion of thought as she mentions the war.

He would have known, wouldn't he?

They would have told him.

They would have told her for sure. We weren't gone that long. Four years... ]

Alright. Lead the way.

[ Like you always do. ]

[overthought]

ONI doesn't like surprises. [she says as she pulls him along, as if she has to lead him on some sort of dangerous quest. mostly, she's using him for balance (still haven't gotten those post jump wobbles out of her system), but mostly because she doesn't want to let him go.

what if it's a dream. what if the moment she lets go, she'll wake up cold and alone in the pods and whatever joy she felt on making it past the bridge was lost?]

Contact said that they were a little past the war. Not too far past that we wouldn't have known if they were new.

[nuked]

[ He doesn't shake her off. If anything, he keeps even closer to her, as if perhaps making a shield with his body for her, something to keep close to. The shakiness has, for the most part, worn off. He's sturdy on his own, and something like this isn't going to change that. ]

We'll investigate further. [ Later.

Which is not something he usually means, but they have... catching up. ]

How long have you been here?

[ It's hardly accusing. Where did you go? seems obvious. She "died."

No. Not "died."

Died. ]

[overthought]

[she feels bad that she's smiling, like she's betrayed him. but, at the same time, it's something unconscious because she knew that he'd come. he always comes when she needs him, and this time it was across universes and transcends even her own death.]

Don't worry, there's lots for you to do. [even as she turns on the water for him (as if he can't do something that simple without her).]

I've been here for four jumps. [...that's a long time to be undead, but she doesn't say it. she didn't expect this to be the after life. she looks at him, as if she knows what he wants to talk about -

that he wants to talk about that.]

At least it isn't Forerunner technology? [that brought her back to life.]