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

[diplomaticsolutions]

I had heard that to, although not how that knowledge came to be.

[Not that she was planning on sitting outside at all. She might not like the means that were taken, but Padmé also wasn’t going to do something foolish. At least not yet.]

But by left behind, you mean died, or something else?

[forsometimenow]

My guess is someone discovered it in person. [This was said with a grimace.] But yeah, I hope nobody died during this jump- I'd think people would prepare for it no matter what, but from what I understand, there was some uncertainty whether or not we'd jump in the first place.

[diplomaticsolutions]

A valid point, and not something pleasant to prove, if the point is true. [She has only been here a short time to begin with, although there are people here that she does trust.] Padmé Amidala, by the way, before I forget to introduce myself.

[forsometimenow]

[Jennifer's expression softens.]

I'm Dr. Keller- but Jennifer's fine outside the infirmary. I'm guessing you haven't been here for very long, huh?

[diplomaticsolutions]

A pleasure. [But Padmé nods to the question, as she has gotten that right.] No. I arrived last jump, making this my second.

[forsometimenow]

Likewise. [Jennifer gives a lopsided smile in reply.] What a welcome to this ship, huh? Then again, people were honest with me when I first arrived and when my friend Colonel Shepard appeared to have disappeared... I try to pay it forward.

[diplomaticsolutions]

To date, people have been quite helpful. I can say that.

[They were all in the same situation, although Padmé knew well enough that there would always be some people who did prey on those who were weaker. She had been lucky so far.]

It certainly was a surprise, and not exactly a pleasant one either.

[forsometimenow]

I'll say. I don't think I'm ever going to get used to getting into and coming out of a tube every month, frankly. At least the medical equipment here is usable- some of it's similar to what I had back home.