thirty-ninth 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: A feeling of deep dread greets you as you stumble out of the gravcouch, strong enough to hold you still for a long moment, searching your surroundings for the source of your wariness. Nothing becomes apparent, only your fellow passengers waking up. Eventually you gather the resolve to pick yourself up and start moving, the feeling fading slowly as you progress through routine.

New arrivals will find messages spraypainted across their lockers telling them not to follow their tattoo numbers, and instead to find a room on Floors 001-010.


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ＹＯＵ͘ ̨ＷＡＫＥ̢ ̧ＵＰ ́ＩＮ ＤＡ̛ＲＫＮ̢Ｅ̕ＳＳ̶

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.

ＹＯ́Ｕ̴ ̧Ａ̨ＲＥ ＮＯＴ҉ ̷ＡＬＯ̨ＮＥ҉

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.

ＴＨ̀ＩＳ͜ ̶Ｉ͠Ｓ͡ ͘Ｙ̵Ｏ͝ＵＲ ̕Ｗ͝Ｅ̛Ｌ̨Ｃ͡Ｏ͝Ｍ͏Ｅ Ｐ̛ＡＲ̴ＴＹ͜

Comments

[bailedontheempire]

It's not like any spaceship I have experience with.

[Now and then, he thinks about how simple a matter it had been to travel through hyperspace with a newborn. He can't imagine trying to work this system.]

It seems to be something to do with moving between dimensions as it travels. Somehow, new people end up in the grav couches or previous passengers end up absent.

[It's not much of an explanation and he knows that]

[tectus]

Makes total sense.

[ it's only just bordering on a genuine response. she's doing her best to stay friendly and polite and snarky responses tend not to ease things along, octavia has found, but she can't help but raise her eyebrows a little as her arms fold over her chest. even by the standards set by her life this whole thing sounds far fetched, and she's spent the better half of the last year fighting a race of somehow radiation-immune humans and their twisted, cannibalistic counterparts.

this is a whole different ballpark, but she's desperate to take it in her stride (and more importantly, not fall apart again) so after a moment she huffs out a breath and nods. ]

Okay, so. Drive system, dimensions, jumps, those goo cases were the grav couches, random appearances and disappearances. Are there any other 'must know' pieces of info I should hear about?

[bailedontheempire]

The jumps occur monthly. It's important to be back in the grav couches in time, the G-forces involved will kill any creature larger than a small insect.

Also, people you recognize from home may not have been brought here from the same point in time you were.