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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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thisavrou_log2016-08-01 12:13 am
ingress!
She stops in front of the terminal, eyes moving from the screen (showing what might’ve once been a geometric image) to the keyboard. She glances around, looking for any other means of input. It looks like the computer might be able to pick up audio, but that’s not happening with her own current disability.
So instead, she reaches for the keyboard and inputs a simple command: system info.]
no subject
Warning: format interrupted, 13% complete. Some system files may be damaged.
Provide clearance code to reinitialize: _
Something to worry about? Probably not. Certainly the terminal seems responsive enough... if still a little glitchy in the audio. There's an audible hash of static as Zam begins to type, bleeding out to an oddly hollow tone.]
What are you...
[system info. The request completes on automatic, pulling up a long list of output. It starts with:
Domesticon recalibration depot #127: mainframe primary access panel. Do not utilize this terminal if you do not have override clearance.
...and continues from there, scrolling down with serial code, install dates, registry and much, much more. The word Domesticon repeats again and again, along with more than a few entries of [OFFLINE] or [DISCONNECTED]. Either the terminal's been left logged in or it was designed for hardware lockouts instead of software; Zam seems to have full access to at least basic operating controls.]
Arid? Don't-- just...
Please. Tell me that's you.
no subject
And then it's talking again, in that tone that certainly doesn’t sound like it should be coming from a computer. Zam hesitates, momentarily torn between the instinctive desire to respond in kind and the plain observation that the terminal seems programmed to respond to more rudimentary commands. She ends up settling somewhere in between. It wants to know who she is, right?
login.]
no subject
Oh no.
[The words are much too small. Input completes, a small prompt flashing up on the screen requesting a Domesticon employee number. It doesn't matter whose number is supplied-- what face he chooses to take on this time. It's not Arid, and there's only one other person it could be.]
...no, no, no, stop it, please--please don't--!
[Sharp. Frantic. Helpless, terrified, already choking in a wash of static.]
no subject
If it’s a familiar, it’s also unwelcome. Zam’s had decades of experience with people begging for their lives, but just ten days on the Runoff has made the sound sickening to her. She yanks her hands off the keys, glaring at the monitor as she tries to think of someway to make it stop. But the only other method of input is audio and Zam can’t--]
Okay. [Okay, she’s stopping, okay, she’s not going to touch it again, okay, it can stop panicking. The word is bitten out between glass teeth and the harsh, crystalline scrape is almost as loud as Zam’s voice, but it’s still understandable. She regards the screen uneasily in place of a face, waiting to see how it will respond. It still shows the earlier prompt and the text field beneath it, along with the one letter Zam had managed to input before the voice’s panic: z.]
no subject
You're not...
[Not the caretaker. Not Arid. The voice was sharp and scraping-- not static, quite, but something close. It was new. It's someone new, but there isn't anyone, there hasn't been for years, and for someone to have made it down through all the testing levels and the labs unnoticed... is he missing time, too?]
Who-- [what--?] ...who are you?
no subject
It’s difficult to ask permission when her words are so limited, but Zam can be creative. She reaches for the keyboard again, but instead of typing anything, she merely taps loudly at the edge of it as a means of indication, and then makes what she hopes reads as a questioning-sounding hum. With any luck, the voice will understand the question: can she reply with the keyboard?]
no subject
...
You can open a comment log. If that's what you're looking for.
[Please let that be what she's looking for.]
no subject
My name is Zam Wesell. You’re on a starship called the Moira, which you boarded through a portal called the Ingress. [It's the standard orientation spiel Zam's become used to giving, even in text, probably even more necessary than usual since the computer doesn't seem to have anything for visual input.. There's a pause, and then an addendum.]
Not interested in harming you. [Just in case that wasn’t already clear.]
no subject
...
[Zam Wesell. A starship. A portal?-- but... he hadn't boarded anything. Memory errors shouldn't cover that, unless the damage had been done separately from the format. Though considering how little of his systems he can feel, maybe that assumption isn't wholly wrong.]
What am I here for?
[Basic data request. Not too far outside parameters, he hopes. The vocal tone is as steady as he can make it--so, not completely, right now.]
no subject
I’m supposed to bring new arrivals to the medbay. [If she were speaking aloud, the dubiousness in her voice would be palpable. She’s not sure what they can do for the AI there, besides reading it the contract.] Can I move you?
no subject