June Recon

[2leftfeet]

CHARACTERS: June's recon mission teams (see here)
LOCATION: The spooky unknown of the ship
WARNINGS: Doom and danger (but really: will update if necessary)
SUMMARY: June's recon mission to explore and map the unknown parts of the Tranquility, survey spatial weirdness and assess internal structural damage etc etc look it's a long list of goals okay.
NOTES: Takes place from 6/15 onward. When commenting to your team's respective sub-thread or the comms chatter sub-thread, make a note of the day (or mission stage) in the subject line.

Second verse, really damned similar to the first. With May's recon a relative success - no marked bodily injury to report and a whole lot of technical and theoretical data to sort through -, it should be no surprise to anyone that Shepard's advocated for a second trip into the ship. A cycle of scraping and training and petty ship politics and here they all are, field operatives and comm liaisons alike: meeting at 0800hrs in the rec-room-turned-war-room on Deck 0023, otherwise known as Shepard's base of operations since the completion of the last mission.

There's some scuffle getting all the equipment sorted between the fireteams. For one, there's simply more of it this month - packs and drones and two-way mirrors and miscellaneous gear. Shepard herself has a length of rope coiled in her pack. If they run across a chasm this month, she's not going to be leaning over the edge of it without sending a survey drone on a rope down first. Eventually though she separates herself from the minor chaos and moves to the front of the assembly. Like last month, she raises her hand over her head, issues what may be a familiar call: "Eyes up!

"You know your gear, you know why we're here and how the communication check in's should operate so I'll spare you the crap. But I want this to be as clean as last cycle's mission was - understood? First timers: use your resources. If you have someone with you who's been in the ship before, I expect you to defer to their judgement."

Standing there at the front of them, she looks like tired than she has in days - weeks. Feels it too. She raises the line of her chin, shoulders square.

"See you all back here in a few days."

Comments

DECK 023 BRIEFING

[2leftfeet]

COMMS CHATTER

[2leftfeet]

[Catch-all for your inter-fireteam and misc. fireteam-liaison communications.]

FIRETEAM AGINCOURT

[2leftfeet]

15th

[2leftfeet]

[They set off from Engineering down what are at first relatively familiar hallways for at least herself and Javik - simple turns easing into the next one after another, matching well enough with the mapping equipment she's pawned off on Javik. But as the decline starts to register under her feet, it becomes more and more obvious that something if wrong. It doesn't--- feel right. She'd walked this same direction out of Engineering last cycle and maybe she shouldn't be as certain as she is, but one unfamiliar intersection after plants another barb of uncertainty somewhere behind her ribcage. It's only when they're nearing what should be their second check-in with Darcy that she draws up, moving to dig her comm out of her pack.

In the low light of the dim corridor, she glances from Corvo to Javik - nods to the mapping gear:]

How're those readings?

don't give a dude a map, they refuse to use them

[ancientalien]

[At first he had payed little attention to the readouts that Sheppard had assigned him to. They had already gone down this way, it was meant to track where they had not yet been, and he had better things to pay attention to- keeping his eyes out for the shadows from last time, for the chance of finding another room or another door.

But eventually he notices that although nothing is leaping out at him, he does feel... discomforted. It is easy to write off, these halls will never be familiar, the twisting guts of this massive ship will always remind him of where he is not meant to be. It isn't until the Commander speaks that he realizes it might not be entirely in his mind.]

Useless. [he doesn't bother to keep the disgust out of his voice] These readings are not the same. Either we have not been down these halls before, or this machine is worthless.

is this edible he's not interested if it's not edible

[vindictam]

[ As much as it's all unsettling wrong, it's no worse than before and no worse than the places he has been. So he doesn't mind the long trek in silence.

Though he didn't mind so much, the rat that had been set on his shoulder, went to hide immediately the walls became once more unsettling. A squeak and it was gone under the collar of his jacket again. It's more of a warning sign to him, than the machines he can't read. ]

I would not say it's broken. Only that this place does not wish to be mapped.

18th

[2leftfeet]

[The corridors turn and turn and turn, leading in a spiral driving steadily, purposefully down until it's so dark she can't see the walls, the ceiling, the deck. Until they are walking in nothingness, the empty blackness of something else entirely. But she feels a distinct truth tugging like a hook in her ribcage: if they walk far enough fast enough, they'll turn in the dark and find a bright light waiting for them. She hadn't been quick enough last cycle, but this time she would. This time, she'd reach the doorway and go through it.

"What are you waiting for?" says Anderson's voice near her ear.

And she jerks up, her head lifting from her knees. She'd been sleeping, her assigned off time during watch rotation, her back to the wall of a pitch dark corridor and her firearm tucked between her chest and legs. She breathes shallowly, blinking into the dark. Before she can think to stop herself:]

Anderson?

[vindictam]

[ He hasn't slept, not really. He doesn't like to. They're all on edge, and the last thing they all need is someone waking up shaking and gasping and spitting blood and bile.

He finds a wall and presses his back to it, drops his hand and drifts instead. Breathing hurts less when he's not moving, everything hurts less then. His mind occupied somewhere that the void couldn't quite touch him. A habit far older than his mark though, he never quite slept as a Protector. Always half awake and waiting.

So it doesn't take much more than that whisper, his head jerking up. He can see her faintly in the dark with eyes that aren't quite his anymore. The whisper of a name that is no one's hear and he wants to sigh in relief that the ghosts are not following him for just once. ( but hadn't he always been selfish that way? )

He fumbles a moment, not sure what to do with what he heard. But after a moment's consideration, he stretched out a leg from where he sat, and gently tapped his foot against hers. The outer of her boot against his. Something real, and there, and the mark on his hand glows brighter and brighter in the dark. Clear and vague and blue as the void. ] Commander.

[ He clears his throat, cutting through the empty ticking ( watchful) silence. ] There is only madness that way. Don't follow it. [ he doesn't clarify, but then he doubted he needed to. ]

[2leftfeet]

[The tap of his boot against hers, not his voice, is what breaks her search of the darkness. Shepard shifts against the wall, reaffirms her grip on her firearm, and looks to him through the pitch dark of the hall - the raw illumination of the blue mark and the beam of her own flashlight propped pointing upward marking the three of them out as a small, insignificant knot of light in the otherwise oppressive belly of the ship.]

I'm fine. I just-- [A pause. She wets her lips; her mouth and throat feel dry like she's been shouting.] --Never mind.

[Shifting, she reaches for her pack and wrestles her comm device free so she can check the time. This is the last watch rotation, meaning they're due to get up and start moving.]

FIRETEAM HASTINGS

[2leftfeet]

15th.

[wiped]

[ this isn't really anything like what thomas thought it would be. they're out in a group, they're not running, they're--

it's just different, is all. thomas is trying to shake the feeling that they should be moving faster. he's making up for that by fussing with his comm, sticking close but trying to keep out from underfoot. he's literally biting his tongue against his questions, like he figures he'll have better luck asking if he bides his time.

thomas is pretty terrible at biding his time when he's curious about something, but for the moment, he's making an attempt. ]

Is it time to make the report?

[ it doesn't count as a question if it's about what they're doing right now, right? ]

[dogbane]

[If William lives to see a third fire team, he thinks, he's going to have to keep a close eye on his favored hypothesis at the moment: he always has some seriously raw-ass awkwardness with whoever the comms liaison is. Wizard professors, lady vampires.

His favored tactic thus far has about a fifty percent success rate, and he engages in it now, deliberately unfocusing his eyes to look past the teammates talking about making report, looking further down the hallway, and then glancing down at the mapping device in his hand.] If y' gonna do it, we ought-a' let the bird know the map equip ain't choking up yet and altitude symptoms is minimal.

[Among the other things-- like, you know, nobody's been ingested by manticores, experienced a psychotic break or had drippy poop other miscellany Brad checks on periodically. William keeps his pistol out, finger on the trigger and clip full of magic bullets. Magicked bullets. He wouldn't know the difference, anyway.]

[wiped]

[ between william's slang and thomas' slang, this team must be a hot mess of crossed wires. to his credit though, thomas has had enough practice with the gladers to be able to pick up a fair amount from context. ]

And that we're all still alive.

[ because if william's not going to say it, thomas will. ]

They'll probably be happy to hear that. [ thomas isn't in charge of the mapping device, but he keeps stealing glances at it. ] Do you think it's going to hold out?

FIRETEAM SHASTA

[2leftfeet]

FIRETEAM NAIROBI

[2leftfeet]

15th

[c24]

[ Some of the equipment is renegotiated between the two packs now that they are one less. He gives Tony responsibility over their drone and, eventually, the tacky shit Shepard calls paint because, yeah, he's not taking that job. He needs his hands un-nasty in case the inevitable occurs. And it, being inevitable and all, would. That's his excuse anyway.

The mapping device is also Stark's realm. It would be better if they can split the duties a little more evenly between three people, but they don't have that luxury this time around. If someone wants to consider it lazy, so be it, but if John is leading this team and is on the front line, he has no interest in having his attention divided between where his gun's pointing and where they're located on a little bleeping screen. That's not safety in his book, and after the debauchery that was his mission in South America, he's not compromising on that front again.

The rest of their supplies he divides by weight, keeping the heavier shit in his pack. That way it looks pretty even without necessarily being so. John's pretty proud of those logistics even if no one else is.

Then they are off, informing Hill they would get in touch with her just outside their designated area to make sure communication is working properly. Thankfully, several of their hallways from Medical Bay are simple back-tracking. ]

How's our position look?

[ Hopefully the mapping device is doing its job properly, an easy control experiment inside the more routinely walked hallways of the ship. ]

[fe_male]

[ Tony was basically more or less probably going to snatch the drone out of John's hands anyway, so it was a nice bit of forethought that had him transfer that particular ownership before things got to that point. Tony himself seems to be more or less on back-up duties, but he doesn't mind because hey, apparently this ship is dangerous and he rather enjoys living, so he doesn't actually mind letting the guy who is probably a little bit better at shooting guns than making them go ahead and do the shooty bit while he takes care of the tech side. Even while he would maintain you can't hit a lightbulb from some abstract distance because no one can do that, Rhodey you got lucky, the point is that he is the best at gadgetry. So.

That's basically just a long paragraph for: 'Tony didn't turn into a five year old over the way their jobs were delegated.' He doesn't really call attention to it either way, really, just takes the pack he's handed and the handhelds he needs and goes to follow mon capitane. ]

Looks fine to me. Coloring within the lines and everything.

[c24]

[ Perfect. Coloring in the lines is music to a Marine's ears. When those lines start to disappear, it gets a little hairy. Deviation and soldiers don't get along very well. It takes experience, not training to roll with the unexpected and not let it fuck with the well-laid plans. Something John has only some experience with, so he hopes this goes relatively like it should for everyone's sake but his. They go in, look around, they come out. Fingers crossed on this one. ]

Hill, this is Reap--Grimm. [ Alright, already off to a good start. ] You copy?

FIRETEAM PERUGIA

[2leftfeet]

17th } kate

[lostsoldier]

[ They sleep in shifts. Not that he sleeps much, as a rule, but even Mr. Survivalism here isn't stupid enough to add sleep deprivation to paranoia and hallucinations on purpose. So they sleep in shifts, and when he wakes it's with bright, unfocused eyes, quiet and listening for something in all directions and none, but eventually he settles beside Kate with a bag of space peanuts from his pack, shovels a handful into his mouth, chews, swallows, and asks, ]

Do I have kids?

[ Which sure is a way to start a conversation. ]

I mean the guy you know– did he have kids?

[alsohawkeye]

What?

[ What little sleep Kate has gotten has involved more twitching and mumbling than can be considered restful, but the circles beneath her eyes do nothing to soften the quick sharpness of her attention or the resolute set of jaw and shoulders. She wears it like someone who's used to going without, with more familiar exasperation than distress. Still, she blinks a slow double-take at Bucky's question, and her answer comes on a delay. ]

No.

[ A pause, in which she sticks out a hand for peanuts, and then amends. ]

Not that I know of. I guess I can't entirely rule it out, but if he-- you did I don't think anyone knew. I don't think you knew. That's my best guess. Why do you ask?

[lostsoldier]

[ He'll have to remember to bring a camera next time he has to ask these questions, to catch her face. ]

No reason, [ he deflects, distracted. The peanut bag tilts, dumping a small mound on her palm.

(Like he does anything for no reason.) ]

Weird dreams, I guess. [ He pops another peanut, working his jaw at it. ] And he remembered everything, right? From before the war. Rogers, too.

18th

[lostsoldier]

[ The phrase, It'll get worse before it gets better only really applies if you expect things to get better, and 'Jack Davis' isn't exactly an optimist. He's quiet about it, though, keeping his general exasperation with Hook's leadership to himself, along with the small, skittering reasons at the edge of his vision for why his shoulders draw tighter with each passing day, or why he keeps sparing glances out of the corner of his eye, dropping his hand next to his sidearm whenever they stop or walking a few paces ahead when they start up again.

Which is how he's first to pitch brows at a spattering of red paint along one side of the corridor. ]

That match ours? [ He calls back to whoever's got the paint. ]

[uncurse]

[ Surprise, Emma has the paint.

She pulls the brush out, sighing. ]

We’re going in circles.

[ Which, as she figures it, is answer enough. ]

DECK 023 REC ROOM aka Comm Liaison Home Base

[2leftfeet]