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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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thisavrou_log2016-11-15 09:40 pm
2. here we go again
Still. Finding nobody is better than finding parts of anybody.
"Water?" He doesn't need it, but that means other supplies. Head up, eager, bright, and--oh. Oh. Now the voice places, data ticking over past the task.
Have a very, long, look.
"You're sure there's nothing stronger in that kit?"
no subject
Despite her desperate fear and several chances aboard ship, he hasn't taken Rinzler from her yet, or tracked her down either. She really doesn't want to renew hostilities now, on a crash site with everyone who might defend her very distracted.
Yori's private stash of small items with batteries or halfway compatible power sources never leaves her bag, which is useful now that they've evacuated twice and lost just about everything left aboard. The admin has identified her; no use pretending she doesn't know what he means. "Different energy for you?" She digs out a half-empty battery, once part of a toy. "No generators set up yet, but that might help."
Unwilling to get too close, Yori tosses the small cylinder with a polite, gentle underhand.
no subject
He can tell perfectly when someone doesn't want to be found, and other than a constant, choking envy of everyone who seems to be reaching Rinzler in ways he hasn't managed--oh, what difference does that make now, with crew trapped under the stones?
Besides, she's making herself very useful, and that calm demeanor will only become more valuable as they locate the rest.
"Water's good for the dust," small talk, easy from the jawbone, waiting to see if she'll spring--less than eight percent chance--or flee and leave him empty-handed. "Bad for the rest of it, though--!"
Well that was downright elegant, a soft decorous arc that he interrupts with a sharp and eager flicker of fingers.
Alas. Double A, and partially depleted. (The remnants of his kingdom for a twelve-volt DC...)
Still, it's much, much nicer than going hungry, and it's a smoother draw than some of the near-mystical fusion-stuff they'd had before.
"...Thank you," earnestly enough, surprising himself. Then, a little arch: "Assuming I can catch them, do I bring the survivors to you?"
no subject
She can't forgive him for what he's done to Rinzler...but she doesn't need to think about that while they're all trying to salvage what they can. Rinzler wouldn't want her to provoke anything. Still, Yori needs a calming moment before she can respond. "You're welcome." It's a little flat with disbelief, but not angry, which is all she can ask.
"Medical is set up over there." She points out the distant gleam of a makeshift tent by the escape pods. "The crew count is still in progress, but if you find someone badly hurt, shout and they'll come handle transport. If I'm here I can run a message, but so can anyone else. I'm just working on supply inventory myself." She jerks her head toward her cargo of food and water.
Most of the Users are safe by now, but it's so hard to be certain how many are missing. "Have you found anyone? My MID has been flickering so much I wouldn't be sure where to start, even if I were any use at digging."
no subject
The distinction is thin, is semantic, and will not stop him long now that they're without a ship. His real priorities are already reasserting themselves, choices narrowing in neat inescapable loops: it is not ideal, he has to fix it, and it had better be perfect when he's done.
But even if they can't be crew anymore, she herself is no User.
"Well, that's good." It's sudden praise, harsh with disuse; he coughs to cover it. "Isolating the remainders is important. Besides, there were life-signs this way and if they're lucky, they'll be thirsty or whatever else, instead of hurt."
A grotesque inference flits to the top of the queue: he may be digging for empty MIDs, unattached devices still crying for help.
...Impossible to be certain, when others aren't finished running the comparison against the official roster. Whatever cannot be verified cannot be analysed, therefore: irrelevant. He must continue--they are crew. Can't lose even one, not if he can prevent it.
But Yori's next words whip his head around and bring a practiced, deliberate genial grin to his face. A subsidiary function, self-chosen and small, and a salve against the relentless grind of directive:
"No kidding? That's what I actually do here--assess and repair crew-to-ship interactivity platforms and devices, MIDs in particular."
Pause.
"Uh--" wave of the hand like a visual question mark, "May I?"
If the asking is weird, it's in no small part because it's so new to him.
no subject
"Thank you..." Polite. Yori's fighting hard not to acknowledge the sheer terror at the idea, she can't quite manage any sort of title. "But I don't think mine should be a priority, it's far from the only one broken."
She hopes he'll accept the thin excuse; can't help edging a step back, in case he's really after the evidence of her messages to Rinzler. Or something worse.
Could she run fast enough if she had to? Probably not. But with luck he doesn't think she's much of a priority right now either.
"Which way are the signals you're seeing?" Distraction, quick.
no subject
"Oh." When in doubt, grin wider. "Sure, no problem. You're welcome."
After all, he could review all of Rinzler's logs any time he cared to call for them. No sense scaring her away for redundant data.
And the critical objective at this moment is: "There are two here, nearly straight down--and another one, point-oh-four klicks that way," jerk of the head, jut of the chin, "but it's moving toward the shelter you mentioned."
Stepping sideways, twisting to his task without giving ground, he flips over what calculations tell him is the most impressively large of the available sediment chunks. He nudges it aside, pushing with a grimace, teeth showing in effort and distaste: "These aren't moving, and the debris is interfering with scan specifics."