thisavrou_log | ( september intro log )

Entry tags:

( september intro log )

Who: Everyone
When: September 1st and on
Where: The ship and on planet
What: Getting acclimated to ship life and exploring
Warnings: Please label any warnings you have on your threads

SHIP LIFE

"It is not the ship so much as skillful sailing that assures a prosperous voyage."

The Ingress has pulled you in. Your body experiences several sensations at once: being pushed forward as if a hand is resting on your back, momentary and startling blindness, a gentle ringing in your head. You have difficulty discerning whether it is hot or cold, but where you have been prodded is noticeably warmer than the rest of you. Some may suffer from dizziness while others are perfectly fine. Once equilibrium has been reestablished, you will notice you are standing on a long platform and that the room is filled with a soft cerulean light. It's slightly humid and dark despite the glow around you, and various machines line the walls on either side, though they are not accessible from where you stand. Shortly after, you are led out and toward the medbay.

Inside this room, you are given a physical scan and sign a contract that states you are now part of the crew of the Moira with a specific job. This process consists of a complete work-up of medical history and current health, and afterwards, you are given your MID, a device that is integrated into your hand with only the slightest pinch. From there, you are guided out of the medbay and into the main hall with specific instructions not to leave.

☄MAIN HALL ( 09.01 to 09.03 )

After everyone is gathered together, you learn that these are your accommodations for the night. The captains explain that the Moira is not readily suited for such a large influx of people, and that this is only temporary. Placed around the room are a variety of blankets, sheets, and mats in lieu of beds, and crates of MREs have been provided along with H₂O hydration kits. Some time in the “morning hours”, all MIDs will receive a message designating rooming assignments and areas of the ship that are open to exploration.

GALLEY ● MESS HALL ● REC AREA

All remaining areas accessible to crew members are open later in the “evening hours”. Crew are also informed that the Moira is approximately two days from their current destination.

DESCENSION

"A force of nature unto itself."

From a distance, the planet’s reddish atmosphere slowly becomes more transparent the closer the Moira ventures, and mountain ranges, volcanic fields, valleys, ice caps, canyons, deserts, and impact craters are visible in stark detail. The remnants of a lone moon hangs in its outer orbit and impedes the ship’s ability to dock close to the planet’s surface. As the crew prepares to disembark, there are noticeable changes in gravity as well as some disturbances in energy output.

☄EXPLORATORY EXCURSION I ( 09.04 to 09.11 )

Due to unstable atmospheric conditions, crew members must utilize the transporters located in the Cargo Bay to descend to the surface. Each craft holds upwards of six passengers and is piloted remotely via Navigation. Once it lands, orders will be sent to MIDs detailing mission directives. These include: scouting surrounding areas for potential threats, determining if the mile-long road from the transporter to the nearest inhabited area is free of hazards, and assessing local friendliness.

Planetary Environment Details
● The air is breathable. However, there is a pleasant sweetness to it that generates an overall invigoration.
● Vegetation is sparse due to dry and windy weather patterns. It’s dusty, and the ground itself is rather gritty in texture.
● The initial temperature feels hot and causes the skin to prickle with sweat. Yet, the longer one is exposed to the elements, the less you are inclined to notice.
● There is an overall lack of civilization, and what populace there is remains centralized in one area. Crew members may stumble across the occasional explorer returning to their own ship; they are friendly and welcoming but also eager to leave.
● The sun does not seem to set. Even in the “later” hours of the day, it is still as bright as it had been at “noon”.

☄EXPLORATORY EXCURSION II ( 09.12 to 09.17 )

A thriving marketplace that was found during the initial search has been deemed an appropriate place for trade and much needed supplies. Crew members are encouraged to engage in local customs while continuing to maintain their current duties aboard the Moira, and they must assist in the delivery of goods to the transporter. They are more than welcome to explore this new area.

The Marketplace
● There is no monetary system in place; if there is an item you want, trade for it. (Locals will accept anything as payment.)
● Booths, shops, and tents line both sides of the pathways weaving throughout the area. Signs with written language are not recognizable; however, MIDs will translate any spoken languages so they are understood. Vendors are an eclectic mix of species, and not all of them are humanoid in form as they are from varying parts of the universe.
● The smells of foreign foods are everywhere. Yet, that familiar sweetness seems to occasionally overpower it. It is also loud as others bustle about their business.
● Natives are not unkind, but they are not as overly welcoming as strangers in the market are. They are quiet, reserved, and helpful to some extent. They are easily recognizable by the plain masks and hoods worn over their faces.
●Seedy areas are found in the depths of the market. Drug and sex trades are not uncommon but not openly displayed.

( OOC: For any and all questions, go here. Check THIS to see your tag. They have already been added to the comms, but you'll have to tag them onto a post before they show up in the list. )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It'd be easy to look over Miles, if one didn't know what to expect. Ivan isn't even looking for his cousin -- he catches a flash of familiar green out of the corner of his eyes and simply puts one and one together and gets the hyperactive little git he'd known since birth. Sort of. A few months after his birth, although explaining how that works and why Miles is older than he is requires way more effort than Ivan is willing to put forth at this point in time. But really, Miles Naismith Vorkosigan. Here. Yeah, Ivan's not really surprised, and he doesn't even bother to hide his groan at the realization.

"Figures you'd be here," Ivan says, sliding smartly into the space behind Miles while automatically shortening his stride. Not that Miles isn't a quick walker when he wants to be, but Ivan's legs are longer. He figured out as a kid that it's just better if he didn't make Miles keep up with him. Miles will, Ivan's sure, fill him in with whatever's going on in a moment even if Ivan doesn't ask. Whatever it is that they haven't been filled in on, although Ivan hasn't been paying that much attention to it all.

Miles is preoccupied -- alright, maybe it's brooding, just a bit -- not only with the somewhat alarming situation, but with the sinking realization that his grandfather's dagger evidently didn't survive the trip through the Ingress. So the combination of the sudden voice behind him and the realization that it's Ivan's voice makes Miles jump, letting out a fierce curse, and he fumbles and drops his hydration kit. Here? Now? Oh, god. His mother believes in some sort of karma system, doesn't she? Miles wonders perhaps if he did something in a past life to deserve such long-term punishment.

"Ivan?" It comes out as more of a yelp than Miles would like to admit.

Do you know how many times in his life Ivan has been able to surprise Miles? Ivan doesn't, which is why his expression is decidedly sinfully smug as he looks down at his cousin.

"Hello cousin," he says, deceptively cheerful. "I thought you were done with vacations after Earth. Mind you, next time you want to drag me along how about you pick someplace with a beach and a less awful ratio of men to women." Does he know this is not Miles' fault? A little, yeah, but he also wouldn't put it past Miles to do something about it now that they're here.

Miles gives Ivan a sour look, his cousin's smug look only making him more irritated, and he stoops to pick up the MREs he's dropped. Thanks a lot, Ivan.

"What makes you think I'd drag you along at all?" Miles shoots back. "I didn't have anything to do with ending up here. I'm just as much of a victim of the circumstances here as you are -- and Earth was not what I'd call a vacation."

You're most welcome, Miles.

"You need someone to do all the heavy lifting," Ivan points out, slightly less cheerily now that he's had his fun, but still more brightly than is possibly required. "It was supposed to have been an easy embassy posting is what it should have been." And would have, if Miles'd stayed very far away from it and him.

"For you, maybe," Miles mutters, ready to mount a comeback, but then catches himself. Damn it, he can't let himself get sucked into a petty squabble with Ivan just now. There's too much happening, far more important things to pay attention to. Miles stops abruptly in front of an empty mat and unloads his armful of MREs and hydration kits onto it, giving Ivan a look over his shoulder.

"What are you doing-- " No. Wrong question. That won't get him anywhere. "What's your take on this place so far?" he asks instead, lowering himself to the mat. Ivan can join him or not, at this point it's not going to make much of a difference to Miles' mood. Now that the surprise has faded, he looks a little on the miserable side. "I suppose it's too much to ask if you've learned anything interesting."

Ivan doesn't even wait before he plops down onto the mat, dumping his own rations together with Miles's. There's a level of familiar assumption between them; he knows he's not getting rid of his cousin, and has decided to accept it with the amount of protest he usually gives to situations like this. "Unprepared," he offers, but opens up an MRE and cracks the heat pad without question. He's hungry, okay. "Big enough place, I guess. And at least they've got supplies."

Miles lets out a noncommittal murmur of an agreement, taking a weird kind of comfort in the familiarity of Ivan's presence. Well, at least he knows what he's getting with Ivan -- and any familiar face is better than none. Miles'd be fine on his own, but he knows Ivan'll have his back.

"Yeah, seems standard so far," Miles observes, thumbing through the MRE packs, judiciously selecting one labeled 'maple-walnut oatmeal'. "The mess isn't anything extraordinary, although there doesn't seem to be much in the way of a crew... And the trans-dimensional rift next to the engine room, that's not exactly standard." Miles' voice turns sarcastic as he tears open the MRE pack with his teeth. "You'd think they would be prepared."

"Gotta hand it to 'em, it's nice that they've held onto these," he lifts the parts of his MREs up for emphasis, "for who knows how long." Ivan is fully aware of the non expiration date of things like this, and doesn't really want to know how long they've possibly been stashed somewhere on this ship. There are some things that shouldn't need answering. This is one of them.

"Wonder what the expected with that whole... thing?" Ivan prods, looking purposefully non-invested as he starts eating... whatever it is. Prodding Miles into answering his questions isn't ever difficult, and she's had years of practice. "Mind you, written contracts?"

"Pretty standard, outside of Barrayar," Miles concedes, although he's a little dubious of it himself. But the Dendarii contracts are all written, and that's worked out alright so far. "Besides, it's not as though they can't be enforced, the situation being what it is."

He heats up his oatmeal and starts in on it -- it's a little bland, and he makes a slight face, ruffling through the MREs he'd gathered up for something to spice it up, but the only condiment he comes up with is blue cheese dressing. Eugh. Well, at least it isn't rat bars. "Dunno. That's what's really getting me, though. I read all the responses to that notice the captains put out -- Captain Cúrre mentioned that they came by this ship the same way. You'd think they'd be a little more up front about that, eh?" He frowns, stirring his oatmeal in idle thought instead of eating it. "So what would lead them to believe they'd be the only ones?"

"Mmm," Ivan says, encouragingly. "So they get to what? Claim the ship by right of being first?" Okay, that's not even fair. "Damn, wish we'd have gotten here earlier." He could be a captain before twenty-eight, take that Uncle Aral.

He chews his food contemplatively, ready for Miles to continue on with his one-sided conversation where he doesn't have to contribute anything but listen. "Wait, hang on. If they found it, how do they know that going wherever we're supposed to go actually gets us home?" He does not want to be stuck here on this ship with Miles for any longer than absolutely possible. He has things to do back home! He does! Sure, this place has the advantage of not having his mother, but that doesn't change much of his opinion about it.

"Good question," Miles sighs, leaning back against the wall. He isn't really hungry, if he's honest, but he knows he should probably eat. "I think it's safe to say the captains know something we don't. Even if just that they don't know anything at all. It's possible they're just making this all up as they go."

Not a totally heartening possibility, but -- put all new arrivals to good, honest work in order to keep them busy while the captains stumble their way toward some kind of plan or answer? It's what he would do.

"What would you even do with the captaincy of a ship like this, anyway?" Miles scoffs. "Skeleton crew, loads of work to be done at all times, a universe away from home? You know," he adds thoughtfully, "that'd probably be tantamount to desertion, come to think of it."

"Eugh, forget it then." Ivan's no wish to live Miles's seventeen year old life, and he was there for part of it. All of the horrifying treason accusations and possible death. Yeah, no thanks. "Right, so, making it up as they go--"

Come on, Miles, do his job for him.

"Is just one possibility," Miles finishes, rapidly tapping his spoon along the inside of the MRE packet instead of actually eating. He's forgotten all about eating right now. "Maybe they did have a plan at some point -- they had to have been expecting more people to come through the Ingress -- but maybe we jumped the gun. Came earlier than they were expecting. maybe -- "

He looks up then, giving Ivan a suddenly flat look. "Were you going to contribute at all, or should I just keep going?"

"No, no," Ivan replies, waving him on with a hand. "You're doing so good all by yourself. I've learned never to try and stop you."

Edited 2015-09-07 23:11 (UTC)

"You know, Miles," comes a soft voice from the side. "Softening that oatmeal up by beating it won't make it any more palatable, though it's certainly a new approach."

Gregor slides into a space on the mat next to Miles and folds his hands in his lap, his expression mild, though there's a bit of relief trickling through.

"I don't suppose either of you has an actual explanation as to where we are or what we're doing here?"

Edited 2015-09-08 00:36 (UTC)

Miles gives Ivan a withering look. "Show me one thing you have -- "

And then their new visitor drops himself right in between them, the sound of his voice freezing Miles in his tracks. He turns slowly, as though afraid to confirm what he already knows is true. Gregor. Emperor Gregor. Miles' mouth falls open but he manages to cycle through his own shock enough that all he says is, "Greg?"

Miles is thinking fast -- too fast. God, this isn't the Hegen Hub all over again. It can't be. Either way, the last thing they need to be doing is throwing around sires and Emperors in full earshot of a bunch of transdimensional strangers.

Ivan's mouth falls open the moment he hears Gregor speak, staring at their Emperor as if he can't believe he's actually here. Oh god. Miles can deal with Gregor, Ivan's busy scanning the area for any number of people. Illyan, anyone from ImpSec, worst case is his mother or Uncle Aral or, worst worst case, an angry Tante Cordelia.

He sees none of those people, and so firmly decides to announce his conclusion.

"Oh god, we're screwed." A beat. "Hi, Gregor."

"Your confidence in me is extremely heartening, Ivan, as ever," Gregor says dryly. "Hello. Miles, please don't have a heart attack, that would be extremely inconvenient, and premature in this stage of things, I think."

"I'm not," Miles retorts in protest, although he inwardly agrees with Ivan's statement. Well -- maybe not. This isn't the Hegen Hub, after all. This could be somewhat less of a disaster. "Just -- you sneaked up on me."

His face does go serious and thoughtful at that, though, and he sets down his MRE. He's really not hungry for oatmeal now. "This does change things, though." His mouth breaks into a slightly sardonic grin. "So, are you Greg here, then?"

"It's not a judgement on you, sire." God, why are they calling him Greg? Someone should probably fill him in on that particular detail of this thing. "Just a reflection on the situation as a whole."

They've got the Emperor of the Barrayaran Imperium. Next to them. Ivan thought he had a chance of escaping notice, but now he knows he's doomed to spend his time here making sure that nothing happens to Gregor. Because if something does, well. He and Miles are going to be blamed and then thrown onto the stupid camp stool. Great. Fantastic.

"Do not call me that here," Gregor says, his voice sharpening as he cuts his eyes at Ivan. "It's been less than an hour, let's hold off on breaking security for a bit, shall we? I did give the name Greg, because I had no idea where we were or what was happening. I still don't know, but at this point I'm fairly certain it's not a political kidnapping, or what would all these other people be doing here in the same situation?" He considers briefly. "What would Ivan be doing here, for that matter?"

Miles raises an eyebrow pointedly at his cousin. Come on, Ivan, get with the program. "Greg Bleakman?" Miles hazards with a grin, although his face quickly turns serious.

"No, this isn't a political kidnapping," Miles says decisively, shaking his head. "In fact, I'm not even sure it's really a kidnapping at all. I've been here a little longer, and -- how many people have you talked to here, Gregor? These people aren't even from our universe. Hell, I met an alien earlier." He rubs at his jaw thoughtfully. "I don't think we should break security, no, but I think we're facing a very different set of security concerns here. Here, it doesn't really matter where we're from, but..." An Emperor is an Emperor, is the unspoken rest of the sentence. Miles grins suddenly. "So here, you're not sitting on any camp stool. You're just my foster brother Gregor, eh?"

Ivan mouths Greg Bleakman to himself, face scrunching up as if he can't quite believe the name. Who comes up with something like that? Ivan waves away the look from Miles, but at least has the decency and sense of self preservation to look chastised at his reproach from Gregor. Who at least validates all of his hard work in a sentence. He's not mad, he's relieved.

"I'm being punished," he mutters instead, but brightens slightly at his next thought. "Could be worse, m'mother could be here."

Noticing that his input is no longer required to keep a conversation going, Ivan grins and settles back to watch. Just figure it out without him, he's fine.

"I was twenty-five, Miles," Gregor says, sounding deeply aggrieved, before his eyes widen very slightly and his whole face almost seems to melt, soften, his expression as open as it ever gets.

"Just your foster brother, huh?" he says softly, his whole unnerving attention focused sudden and warm on Miles' face. "...I can certainly learn to get used to that."

( september intro log )

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