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

[wheeloffire]

A part of Frodo didn't want to stick around. This man seemed horribly grumpy, and the last thing he wanted to do was intrude in his business when he was never really welcome in the first place. But the man asked a question, and it would probably make him more upset if he were to leave.

"Frodo Baggins is my name, sir." He nodded. "A pleasure." Despite a few things, but he decided it was probably best to leave that out.

[godofthemachine]

It wasn't a name he knew off the top of his head. Perhaps AM had encountered the name in literature, but he certainly couldn't remember if that was the case. AM had met Bilbo several months ago, but it had been long enough where that man faded from memory, so no such connection was made. The only thing that struck in similarity was their heights. But there were others on the ship of similar stature.

"Frodo. Ah, I thought I had seen you somewhere, but I suppose not." His light smile faded back to his neutral demeanor. "But it's a pleasure then." Not really.

[wheeloffire]

"Yes, yes indeed." Just pardon me, if you don't mind.

Frodo started to inch away. This man certainly didn't seem like it was a pleasure at all. There was no reason to be bugging him any more, if that was the case. "Perhaps I shall see you soon!" And with that, he started to leave.

Maybe soon, if this man was in a better mood...