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old but unfamiliar faces
"We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once."
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 nothing is familiar. Shortly after, you are led out and toward the medbay.
Inside this room, you are given a physical scan and offered a contract to sign that states you are now part of the crew of the Moira with a specific job. Any questions you might have would be answered in a straightforward manner as well as an explanation about how the Ingress, the thing that has pulled you onto the Moira, is broken and bringing people here unintentionally. This process also 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 or wrist with only the slightest pinch. From there, you are guided out of the medbay and to your living quarters.
At first, this month seems no more unusual than the previous one for those who have been aboard the Moira for any amount of time. The crew who had landed on the slaver outpost were rescued, and with everyone aboard, the ship has pushed forward into the darker parts of the Runoff. Anyone arriving through the Ingress follows the same routine—moving from the Ingress room into the Medbay for their physical and contract before being assisted by seasoned crew members and helped to their assigned decks. But all familiar things must eventually come to an end: two final travelers come through the Ingress. The first, and most noticeable difference between them and all the others, is their clothing. Both are dressed in standard Moira uniforms, though they bear the insignia of one sharing the same rank as Captains Cúrre and Thán. After a moment to take in all the people on the platform ahead of them, one of the two latest arrivals approaches one of the Ingress panels and begins to manipulate the controls. The Ingress completely shuts down. Unlike before, however, there isn’t an imbalance felt across the ship; everything remains normal and stable.
Utilizing the computer systems located in the Ingress room, they send out the following message to the crew via the MID:To all those aboard this vessel: I am Ira Phirun, assigned captain of the Moira. First Mate Egan and I will be commandeering all rights to the ship as soon as word is sent to those currently in charge. Expect a more detailed report as soon as all records and logs in Navigation have been reviewed by myself and the First Mate. All questions will be answered in a timely matter. For now, there will be no interruption of daily routine or reprimand if conduct among ranks is broken. Thanks for your time. Heading to Navigation, the Captain and First Mate, for seemingly unknown reasons, approach Navigator Manasseh and have her show them all records and logs of the Moira. Those working in Navigation when the Captain and First Mate arrive will see Mana greet them in a professional manner. Oddly, the Captain and First Mate act very familiar with the Navigator. They review all documents, but when they come upon news that the Ploiatos is on board, their mostly friendly demeanor shifts quickly. The Captain issues a sharp order, unintelligible to those who are close enough to overhear parts of their conversation, and without any warning at all, Mana loses consciousness and collapses right there on the bridge. Within minutes of this happening, the ship as a whole falls into a low power state with basic functions only. Mana’s MID alerts Medbay, and without hesitation, Captain Cúrre places her in cryo with strict orders to those who work there not to disturb the unit.
As promised, the Captain and First Mate soon address the crew.☄ lights down low The lighting has dimmed in all the rooms and halls, the normally crisp air that is pumped from the vents low, and all machines and tech are running at half-speed. These effects can be found throughout the ship. Water in the showers remain hot for only a few minutes before reverting to cold. Recreational equipment powers off not long after it has been turned on. The sanitation and water filtration systems require an hourly manual reboot, and all unused areas of the ship have no power allotted to them until a crew member steps inside. Even then, most functions are not optimal. It’s as if the Moira has been transformed into a dark house with only a candle flickering on the window sill. ☄ reuse & recycle The Captain and First Mate are quick to establish that this is a new regime and go about making the ship and its crew more efficient in the wake of their change in course and the low power state of the ship itself. This means they will systematically inspect each occupied barracks room and leave notes for what needs to be disposed of or stowed away. Unlike before, this is no longer a pleasure cruise, and each member of the crew is a guest on board; they will not tolerate useless clutter. Anything seen as unnecessary will be either placed into storage in the Cargo Bay or disposed of through the airlock. This new need for efficiency also extends to the need to conserve resources until they reach their destination. The showers are set to an automatic timer to minimize water waste. Those few minutes of hot water are all a crew member is now given. Meals are smaller, bordering on ration sizes, and luxuries are done away with entirely in order to preserve supplies so that the ship can go longer before needing to dock at a planet. ☄ new jobs, same faces The Captain and his First Mate, as expressed in their addressing of the Moira, explain that work efficiency is a priority. Applications for a head of the following departments will be accepted for a short period: Navigation, the Tower, Medbay, Defense, the Hold, Sanitation, Ingress work, and the Galley/Mess Hall. (Here.) After reviewing what they receive, one head of department will be chosen and tasked with helping crew find positions relevant to those departments and their own skillsets. They will be allowed to retain any positions that they held before that aren’t ship-functional jobs, but they will have to be done in leisure time. In two weeks time, they’ll be accepting department position applications which will be approved, and all those that do not apply will be assigned in accordance with their initial work application. They will also choose three individuals to act as guards of Ploiatos to ensure that there is a rotation available at all times. Will you choose to follow this new decision and promote yourself into a position of responsibility? Or will you simply wait for a reassignment?
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hownkai) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2016-08-01 12:13 am
cargo bay
In fact, he's just noticing that someone is handing a very familiar pile of junk. It may look like a pile of scrap metal and other useless things, but it is in fact a pile of crude weapons fashioned out of said junk.]
Ah, there it is.
[He stalks over towards the man who's currently got his things. Sure, he doesn't really need a bunch of weapons fashioned out of sharpened metal wedged into hunks of plastic and the like when he has proper knives and a nice collection of guns, but he wants them.
It's simply being prepared, as far as he's concerned. Besides, they took some effort to make.]
How angry do you think they'd get if I smuggled those out?
no subject
Probably not as angry as they'd be at me for letting someone smuggle these out. [Not that…He really cares. Honestly, he wouldn't mind seeing them back with their owner – how the hell is he supposed to categorize these, anyway? They're kind of like weapons, but so's half the junk here if he's going to be that broad with the definition.
He sets down the thing he's holding, placing it back with its companions, and folds his arms.] Why? Is there a modern art gallery around here that's missing them, or something?
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No, but there's a weapons collection around here that's a bit incomplete. And to think, they considered them rubbish.
[Because they are, and he knows that. But he likes to have some sort of fully rounded arsenal, and that means anything he can get his hands on, and what's the point of having them if he can't get his hands on them?]
Didn't think they'd have someone inspecting everything so thoroughly. Suppose they really want to make sure everything's by the book around here.
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Yeah. "By the book" is a good way to describe it. [And from what he's been told, it's a far cry from the previous captains' styles. Probably why everyone's upset, but any takeover – hostile or otherwise – is usually met with at least a little bit of concern.
For his part, he's going to need a bit more time to be able to formulate his own opinion. He gestures down at the pile of metal and plastic.]
Look, I really couldn't care less if these things are in storage or in your "collection," but something tells me you aren't going to get away with a slap on the wrist if they find you with them again. [A jerk of his head in the guy's direction.] Your choice.
no subject
Ugh. Fine, fine, keep them. But if something happens on the ship that requires a little more of a handmade touch, just tell them I tried.
[Yeah, he's just kind of dramatic about everything, unfortunately.]
At least they didn't take as much as I'd expected them to. Suppose it'd result in a lot more backlash than they'd like.
[They can take his shitty weapons, but they can't take his other stuff. And he's not going to lie, revolution's been on his mind once or twice. But maybe it sort of always is.]
Just get in, then? You look like it.
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[Stepping back and folding his arms again, Adam prepares for what's looking to be a conversation. He snorts.] Is it that obvious?
[Putting up with the uniform, complying with this new regime– maybe it is. People'd be mistaken to think him some sort of lapdog, but they can think what they like. Either way, he's eventually going to get to the bottom of things (sooner rather than later, if he can help it.)]
no subject
Deep breaths, Liquid, at least your high quality weapons are alright.
He can be more Twisted Sister in a "we're not gonna take it" sorta sense, but he's not going to complain about it too much. This time. Even if it hurts him not to.
But he's already complained plenty.]
Haven't seen you before, and even though the crew's big you can usually tell who's new. Ingress likes to spit out a fresh group every now and then. Well. Not anymore. But it did.
[It's merely some genius detective work.]
no subject
[His tone's deadpan, but free of bitterness despite his sarcastic choice of words. Adam's recollection of the events leading up to being brought here is fuzzier than he'd like to admit, but… Some deep, instinctual part of him says that there are worse places he could've woken up. As the holes in his memory fill themselves in piecemeal, the rest of him is inclined to agree.
But although the ship strikes him as a bit beyond the reach of his enemies – those people that work from the shadows – he's learning very quickly that not everything is as it seems here, either. This whole situation…]
How about you– you been here a long time? [Adam keeps his tone detached, neutral... But deliberate, with intent behind it.] Long enough to get used to life under the old captains, from the sound of it.
no subject
[They like to bill it as a choice, but when the choice is between 'work on the ship or get stuck on some weird alien planet and either learn to live there or hope they have technology that could get you back,' it's a no-brainer which one most people are going to go with.
Still, in a lot of cases it's better than the alternative. Liquid knows that one for sure.]
At this point it's been... about five months, I think. [He pauses.] It really has been that long.
[Five months alive again, with his own body, and he's only really lost part of an arm. He's still at a pretty big gain from how things were.]
But yeah, long enough for that. I'm never calling any captain incompetent again.
[The previous captains were incompetent, sure, but he should have expected wanting competence meant the new management'd be too competent. Or, well, at the very least, their leadership styles do not mesh at all.]
no subject
Adam shakes himself mentally – no point thinking about what he can't affect. What matters is what he knows he can change.]
Everyone I talk to gives the previous captains a hard time. But no one seems to be happy with the new regime, either.
[He tilts his head.] At a certain point, you gotta wonder who it is that's the problem here.
[It's deliberately inflammatory of him to say, and not even something he necessarily believes – but he's hoping to get some honest, choice words from it. Something besides yet another voice caught in this echo chamber.]
no subject
Really? Can't say I've heard it like that yet.
[That's a new one. But he supposes someone who hasn't been through the past few months wouldn't really get all the weird... whiplash sort of things going on.]
The previous captains didn't seem to have any bloody idea what they were doing, but they did at least seem to try. It could be frustrating at times, but...
[He shrugs. He just can't see himself getting along too well with the new management.]
Well, you never really know what you've got until it gets worse, right?
no subject
But if the worst thing you've got to put up with is having your toys taken away… Is it really all that bad? [An arched brow is visible over one dark eye shield. He shrugs his shoulders lightly.] Anything else you think we should be worried about?
[The power-saving rules put into effect, the rationing, the confiscation of possessions – of course anything like that's going to rub people the wrong way. The thing that itches at the back of his brain is the scene back at the Ingress, with the Navigator. Then what had amounted to PR control over the network directly after…
Well. He's certain he's not the only one that's being careful about putting their trust in the new leadership.]
no subject
[Paranoid? That's how it might sound, but Liquid seems pretty convinced. He wouldn't get along with the changes easily to start with, but it's hard to be anything like optimistic here.]
Honestly? I don't trust them one bit, I don't care if they were supposedly here first or not. Feels off. Whatever they do, if we want out of here we can't do much about it, and they can easily use that to their advantage.
[Liquid does sort of have experience on both sides of slightly similar cases, after all.]
I'm going to find out, though. As long as they don't change anything on my end, I'm counterintelligence. I have some methods.
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When they start locking people up for thoughtcrime, you'd better be prepared. [His tone's wry. This guy certainly talks a big talk, comes off as someone who's used to being listened to (and not without reason – Adam's listening, isn't he?)
The talk's of interest to him, at least– and that's pretty much the one reason he's even bothering to give this guy the time of day. The info practically gathers itself.]
Kind of ambitious for a one-man operation, isn't it? [And, almost as an afterthought:] Even with your resources.
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[He seems fine with the tone, anyway. Obviously the guy's listening, which he can appreciate, certainly.]
I'm an ambitious person. Maybe I can get my coworkers in on it. Maybe I'll put a team together. But even if I've got to do it myself, I'm going to at least figure out something.
[Or he could maybe ask his psychic friend for assistance.]
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Adam frowns.] Your buddies in counterintelligence.
[It's less a question and more of a confirmation. Should be easy enough to look them up. If he's going to do any investigating of his own, it doesn't hurt to know with whom he could eventually be crossing paths.]
What makes you so willing to trust the other crew members over the captains? [Because it's gotta take some level of trust to be telling all this to Adam, a complete stranger. Not that he's complaining.]
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We're the ones with something to lose. Besides, secrets aren't so easy to keep around here. Might as well not bother in the first place.
[A smart idea? Maybe, maybe not. He doesn't seem to care too much, and he seems confident about it too. Maybe he knows something.]
I guess I'll find out if they start with the thoughtcrime stuff, hm?
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Not that he's going to turn the guy in or anything, of course – if he weren't so careful about who he trusts, he might even offer his assistance in this crusade of his. Not entirely out of the question yet, as a matter of fact.
But sometimes? He can't help but be a smartass.]
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'Former' as in the Ingress swept you away from your job, or 'former' as in there's a sordid tale behind it?
[He spreads his arms out in a theatrical shrug.]
Perhaps former military shouldn't be talking about that sort of thing in front of anyone, and yet here I am. But I've done nothing so far beyond air a few frustrations. There's nothing to worry about.
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Military, though? That earns an arched brow. He'd pegged him as some sort of radical– but then, that speaks to the "former" part, doesn't it?] Given what I've heard so far, I'm willing to bet there's a sordid tale behind your former occupation.
[A long look and an equally long silence follows, eventually broken by a sigh. Adam unfolds his arms and leans back on them, on the table behind him.]
I think you've got a right to be suspicious. Or "frustrated," whatever you want to call it. [A pause.] I'd be lying if I said I wasn't.
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Liquid isn't going too far into his own past, though, right now. While he doesn't necessarily hide it, sometimes it's better if people don't know all the details.]
Isn't there always? It's particularly sordid, even, the stuff of the gossip pages. [Or a whole book. He hadn't read it cover to cover, hadn't had the time, but he knew of its existence.] It's an interesting sort of career, I suppose.
[He seems pleased by the fact that the guy's sort of agreeing with him, too.] Thought so. They don't exactly ooze trustworthiness.
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Thankfully, he manages to squash most of his annoyance down but – not trusting himself to not reply badly – he has to settle for a grunt of vague assent.
At length, he finally asks:] Got a name, soldier?
[There may be a hint of irony, a little bit of emphasis on the way he says "soldier," but it could just be one's imagination.]
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Liquid Snake.
[He tends to say this like it means something, despite the fact that most people aren't exactly going to know of him (or care), and those that do will probably know him as a terrorist.
He's just dramatic like that.]
And yourself?
no subject
But for now he just kind of... Quirks a brow (because really – "Liquid Snake?") and shrugs internally. Codenames are a thing, and if Liquid here is really the strange mix of paranoia and openness (or arrogance) that he seems to be, then it's not particularly surprising that he might want to use one.
For his part, he's got no such compulsion.]
Adam Jensen. [Someone more concerned about social mores might offer to shake hands here– but he is not that someone. It's also why it doesn't take him much more preamble than that to add:] If you see or hear anything... Unusual from here on out, I'd be interested in hearing about it.
[There's an unspoken "and doing something about it," in there somewhere.]
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Liquid is, of course, pretty used to people finding his name weird. It's never surprising that they do, after all. But he refuses to go by any other name so everyone is just going to have to deal with it.]
Good to meet you.
[He's not concerned on there being a handshake or not, but since he isn't doing so, Liquid isn't going to bother trying either. It isn't necessary.]
I'll certainly be on the lookout. I'll keep you posted.
[Any little thing that seems out of place, Liquid's probably going to pounce on it. He'll figure this thing out.]
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