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meet head-on
"Here I am at the end of the road and at the top of the heap.."
So far, things have been sort of normal for those aboard the Moira. Some of the crew have begun researching the Ingress, which has produced some interesting things as a result. There has also been the incident with Navigator Mana being separated from the ship while others have been deal with something worse as well as the on-going problem with Ploiatos. However, all of this isn't the problem.
The Ingress begins to work as it should after combined efforts from the crew and is honed in on the Midway Hub’s specific signature, but traveling there isn’t exactly easy. Since the Ingress hasn’t been working properly for so long, as the energy of it surrounds the ship, it enters the Moira into what the creators had called a “timeslip”. Looking outside the ship, this can be described as a multitude of different things. Inside the ship is a completely different story. Effects from Ploiatos have not disappeared, and some of them have even amplified due to the timeslip. Pieces of the ship are beginning to rot away and entire sections of the floor might just disappear from underfoot. Also, one other thing: ALL rooms have been unlocked, including a space that holds all of the missing shoes “taken” by the Ingress. ☄ LET’S DO THE TIMEWARP (AGAIN) The timeslip is not kind to those riding it through to its destination. Looking out any window will reveal worlds growing, thriving and dying in the blink of an eye. One may even glimpse faces of those they know in various states, perhaps even fragments of events that have not happened or maybe never will. Time is weird like that. But there are other things to be wary of in the time slip. Insomnia strikes without warning, and sanity will begin to trickle away as well. Some may even fall prey to body alterations as they travel through more damaged areas of the ship. Bodies may be altered by the energy of the slip, aging rapidly or changing in strange and uncomfortable ways that can’t be properly explained. These changes will happen suddenly and fade away without warning, but there is no getting used to it. People are not meant to be caught unprotected within a timeslip like this, and with the ship falling apart, there is nothing to keep them insulated from the side effects of the vortex.
They say if you stare too long into the abyss that the abyss begins to stare back, but in this case, even averting your eyes may not keep you safe from the dangers on all sides. ☄ HE ATE MY HEART Inside the timeslip, one thing is clear: anything and everything can happen. First Mate Egan will tell anyone who asks that this isn’t typical, which prompts Ira to tell the crew to exercise caution until they reach the Midway Hub. What should take seconds feels like weeks inside the slip, and packing for departure is encouraged. Outside the ship, time flits by, passing disorientingly fast, and for the first few days, it is the only notable malfunction.
Three days in, the crew encounter the first slip monsters. They come within hours of each other in two waves, and when they’ve boarded the Moira, they won’t go until killed or the ship has reached the Hub. The pool will have a new guest, the hallways are over run with small creatures, and the vents are swarming with massive foreign things. The slip is a dangerous place, and all crew are allowed to use any means necessary to stay safe. (All slip monsters can be used by any players; the monsters can attack each other, crew, themselves, the ship. It’s a literal monster throw-down.) ☄ ISN'T IT IRONIC? DON'T YOU THINK? As the Moira reaches the Midway Hub, the ship shudders out of the timeslip‐what should be a graceful stop is anything but. The ship shakes, the vibrations unending and splitting metal. The Ingress machine thrums, a heartbeat felt in every inch of the Moira as the energy crests out of the boundaries the creators had fashioned for it. Blue swirls of light curl up and out, breaking open the ship from the inside out. It begins to plummet, and evacuation measures are, once again, initiated.
Crew are instructed to get to transporters and crafts, leaving nothing and no one behind. The ship is breaking, falling fast and rough through the atmosphere surrounding the Hub. Evacuation pods are primed, anyone in cryo will be taken to the Cargo Bay for transport (unless alternate arrangements were already made), and the hatch in the Bay is opened for crew to escape through. The coordinates for meeting are sent to all crew, not far from where the Moira should touch down, and all medical staff are asked to be ready and waiting for when the ship lands. ☄ GROUND CONTROL TO MAJOR TOM Those who have already evacuated and have landed on the foggy, dark expanse of terrain that the coordinates have guided them to will see nothing around them except for the bright light of the Moira as it breaches the atmosphere and crashes into the rocky surface of the Midway Hub. One of the Captains, Thán, chose to stay on the ship until the last moment to make sure all crew were evacuated and was injured in the process. His reading on the IC Directory blips in and out, signaling that he’s somewhere in the ship’s rubble in need of immediate assistance. The MIDs stop functioning after the initial crash and other than reading vital signs, won’t come back on for a few hours (the network won’t work correctly in that time frame, sending videos and messages that it shouldn’t or not posting at all). The other Captains will ask for someone to take a head count and to report anyone who might be missing while all others will be directed to carefully seek out crew in the rubble and to gather any cargo that they can. Take inventory, set up a medical tent, check transporters and crafts, help crew, and stay together until everyone is accounted for.
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hohnkai) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2016-11-15 09:40 pm
3. closed to Rinzler
That's never a good sign.
She lurks near the transports whenever she can manage to make an excuse for working there, hoping Rinzler will come to check the ships--his responsibility. If he doesn't, he's even worse off than she suspects. Is he avoiding her?
Everything has been crazy, but there's time now; no telling what will happen next. She's determined to talk to him while she can.
no subject
Considering their current predicament, it might not be hard to guess which. He stills as Yori enters scan-range, hesitating just a beat too long to be casual before he turns to face her. The black helmet ducks, acknowledging, but Rinzler doesn't reach for his MID yet.
no subject
She moves closer at a slow pace, not wanting to crowd Rinzler. The harsh sound and the delay hint that he's upset. There are so many things to be upset or angry about she can't begin to list them. He doesn't look like he wants to talk. No surprise. She'd better try her best, though, or she will never figure out if she could have helped.
"I hope they tell you how sorry they are for ignoring your warnings," she comments with a sigh. This crash is far worse than the last one. If the ship captains don't at least acknowledge that Rinzler had warned them about that danger...
They all have to work together for now, without distractions. Yori might have some words to say later.
no subject
They're users. Fair was never a consideration.
He doesn't want to think about that though. Especially not now. The enforcer's helmet turns back toward Yori before angling a fraction to the side. Status?
no subject
She's not sure Rinzler ever got the alert she tried to send earlier when Clu spoke to her, but since they're both here now with no sign Clu is going to interfere, that isn't urgent. Unsettling, but not urgent. It certainly won't help Rinzler relax at all. She can tell him before he leaves.
"I've been working on inventory since then," she glosses over the post-crash events. "But I'd rather rest in the transport than in a tent." Power supply if necessary, defensible walls, a way to lock Clu out or escape if she really had to...along with a good chance Rinzler would show up at some point. Plenty of reasons.
She shakes her head to clear out the question of what Clu is doing. Rinzler is here. That's more important.
Yori reaches out to brush his elbow, hoping he'll let her have the reassurance. They've lost so much all over again--she appreciates Rinzler as a constant. "What have you been doing?" she asks, in hope of getting a little more detail than whether he believes he's functional.
no subject
Rest might not be high on Rinzler's list of preferred activities, but it's a sensible enough priority for Yori. He's about to step aside and let her get to it... when fingers brush lightly against his arm. He freezes, startled, glancing down.
Not done, then. The helmet rises, stills again for an uncertain pause. But the query is too much to dismiss with a binary, and as sharp as Clu's admonitions against users had been recently... he hadn't said anything about this. (He shouldn't need to. Even putting function entirely aside, Rinzler knows what Yori's looking for, and it's not him.)
He wants to loop that process even less. Redirect: data request. The enforcer reaches for his MID, faintly surprised when it turns on this time. The glitch on impact hadn't been a welcome one.
Monitoring transport ships.
Assessing for needed repair or maintenance.
Brief patrol.
More simply put: keeping busy.
no subject
No surprises in that list. Yori nods at it, lifts an uncertain glance up. "If there's anything I can do to help with the transports, let me know--I've been assigning myself tasks, but nothing more important than keeping your ships in good shape."
Navigation is not an active task while crashed, it goes without saying.
She's not sure he wants to hear about Tron...more accurately, she's certain he doesn't ever want to be reminded about Tron. Is it an important report? Rinzler's not likely to ask anyone. "I saw Tron safe on the ground." Minimal detail, but she can't tell if Rinzler might be at all worried about his other version, since he'd never admit it. "And Alan-One and Clu were on the crew count. Not damaged. I don't know if you've had a chance to look at that."
He could have made a chance. But whether he'd admit to wanting to know, let anyone see him looking...
They're a complicated mess, but they are all connected whether they want to be or not.
Retconning the MID use as TAB use, considering the update!
They had no purpose left, together.
Rinzler's not sure what he wanted to hear. Tron's status certainly wasn't expected, though the uptick of the enforcer's noise isn't quite as aggressive as it could have been. Alan-one makes slightly more sense, but he wouldn't have expected Yori to know about Clu's state. Unless, perhaps, she'd needed to avoid him. Fingers curl around the unfamiliar keys of the communicator, lagging a moment before he types out the confirmation.
Clu, user: known.
He hadn't checked up on his double.
no subject
Different subject, then.
"If you're not working on anything this moment, maybe you could sit with me and rest a few minutes?" she suggests, half hopeful. No doubt Rinzler has all kinds of things to do. Also no doubt he won't let himself stop and rest until the whole crew is safe, days or weeks from now, however long it takes.
Asking is worth a try.
no subject
The system he'd decided to safeguard is dead. Crew is a nonapplicable value, and where that leaves all of them, he doesn't want to consider. Yori might still come and talk and want to sit together, but that, too, feels like just a new deception. She's looking for Tron. Waiting for him to remember.
But he does, and he knows, and he isn't rolling back.
Fingers hover over the keys, patterns of excuses mapping out without quite coming to expression. He's been out of tasks for a while, and rejecting Yori without offering a reason feels too cowardly to be permitted. He lags just long enough for the holographic display to fade, and Rinzler stares down at the blank space before nodding once, and stepping aside. There's a rocky outcropping just a few paces away at about the right height.
no subject
She takes him up on the suggestion of place, settling onto the hard edges of rock in silence. Better to let Rinzler choose his distance. Amid the pull of fear, uncertainty, and disorientation, her calculations are all for taking comfort in closeness. Yori doesn't want to take more than he's willing to offer.
The list of things she needs to discuss with Rinzler gets longer all the time, but none of them are worth spooking him off from a moment's peace. They could both use that, Yori estimates. Her hand lifts toward his in half-aware encouragement.
no subject
The slight shift of Yori's hand draws a dip of the helmet, but for all that Rinzler doesn't pull away, he won't reach out, either. It wouldn't be fair. She should know this, but he hasn't told her, and even with the opportunity, Rinzler doesn't know how. The enforcer's stare flicks back up to her face, searching for any chance of comprehension... only to stall, sound quieting.
Yori is so very beautiful.
To look at. To feel, a bright singing warmth in his periphery. He isn't right, he doesn't match, he should never have come this close—but he wants to freeze the moment and keep looping. To never let go.
He wants to break it to a thousand pieces. To run, to shove her back. To make her see. Because it won't last. It can't. Because pretending hurts. She's breaking him apart already.
Fingers curl around nothing at his side before he reaches for the communicator. New as it might be, the prompt is familiar enough, and the text display calls up in seconds, hovering in front. Rinzler's hands hover over the projected keys, stalling for long moments as his noise rattles louder, useless and incomprehensible.
He doesn't know what to say.
no subject
He doesn't reach back, but there's no flinch in his posture. If she tries to ask if she can hug him would it make him more comfortable at the moment or less? Can she be sure he'd answer in line with his own needs?
Yori breaks her own indecision by reaching to brush the edge of her hand against Rinzler's elbow. Any contact helps her racing calculations settle. If Rinzler doesn't seem to be comfortable with more, it's sufficient.
In this empty place, she has trouble believing anything exists when she closes her eyes. At least the ship felt functional, the distant sound of power she can't sense. Here on the rock, no matter how tired she is, the sense of isolation reminds her all over again that she's a program cut off from her system.
If Rinzler is near, it doesn't matter that she has no right to be alive; she'll fight for every stolen moment. He deserves more happiness than Yori knows how to make him accept.
She glances across at the rising sound. Rinzler's hesitation provokes a crooked smile. Of course neither of them know what they're doing. Might as well ask something, then. "May I put my head on your shoulder?"
There's probably a better way to put that, but she's too tired to rephrase.
no subject
Yori is different. Her touch is fleeting, careful, and enough to leave the ghost-sensation looping after for the better part of a full shift. He stares back as she smiles. Did Tron feel this way, too?
The memories are there, in reach, but Rinzler doesn't look. He doesn't want to.
(He wants something to be his.)
Fingers twitch, still paused just over the keys. Words are still too hard, but Yori isn't asking for them, and after a moment, Rinzler's mask ducks in a nod. She can.
no subject
Rinzler's armored shoulder isn't designed for its cushioning effects. Yori settles her weight there with a faint sigh of contentment anyway, one hand rising to support her weight against his arm.
The unyielding edges have nothing in common with her memories of leaning on Tron--except that she feels safe in the same way.
She has absolute faith that Rinzler will let her know if anything she needs to worry about turns up. Her eyes close almost without permission, and as much as she wants to value every moment of this, the passing time blurs into weary relief.