( september intro log )

[hownkai]

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. )

Comments

Howard Stark

[innovention]

9.01; mess hall, evening

[innovention]

[Howard likes to think he's adaptable. He's no stranger to oddity or weirdness or strange technology by a long shot, but this? This is straight out of a dime pulp magazine from the corner newsstand. Astounding Science Fiction, maybe. One minute, he's elbow-deep in the engine of a Twin Beech, then next he's standing on a ramp in a space ship, sick with vertigo. The rest had been a brisk, efficient blur: a little too detailed of a medical history, some perfunctory explanations, and a contract - a contract that, for all their hosts' reassurances, didn't seem very optional at all to him.

So he'd signed. Signed, been fitted with a (frankly amazing, and frankly uncomfortable) 'MID', and firmly ushered into the same room as the rest of the arrivals. It was - is crazy, and he still doesn't know exactly what he's seeing.

But not knowing isn't an excuse for not learning, so it's only a few hours later that he finds himself in the mess, scribbling down his notes and observations and ideas in a beat-up leather journal. He has a MRE by his side, but it's unopened - Howard's focus is, for the moment, on his fellow crew members. And while he may look relaxed, there's something sharp and thoughtful in the way he watches everyone else.]

[innovention]

[The faint alert of a new message is enough to draw Howard's momentary attention. The MID's technology is still foreign to him, but the interface is intuitive and he's spent enough time exploring it that messages are easy enough to navigate.

(Wireless text transmission. How about that?)

Still, the reply comes a little slower than it might from someone actually used to text messaging.]

never hurts to have a little knowledge.

[innovention]

[There's nothing so fancy in his time. A typewriter and a heavy sheaf of paper is standard for reports and files; a journal, by contrast, is about as secure as it comes as long as he keeps it on his person.]

never have before. rewriting wouldn't be difficult if something happened to it.

[There's a pause, and then another message, a little after the first.]

no journals where you're from?

[innovention]

[Ah. Well, as someone who'd just come off wartime rationing himself not even six months ago, he can relate a little. It might not be from war, could very well be a scarcity of resources all together, but whatever it was, it's evidently hard-hitting. No paper, after all, means no trees.]

that bad?

[narcissistictendencies]

[It has definitely been a day. MRE in hand, he moves across the Mess Hall to one of the tables, glancing around at everyone and everything subtly. If curiosity killed the cat, he'd be dead. So he was very fortunate he wasn't a cat. Meanwhile, he did find a few interesting faces that he wanted to poke at, until one form in particular catches his eye. He has to move closer to the table to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Nightmares realised. Ghosts from the past. That small, itty bitty, very tiny, minute hint of guilt... yeah, all that. It sort of rushes at him as he gets closer and sets his MRE down on the table across from the man.]

People-watching? Interesting bunch. From all over the galaxy, I'd wager. Maybe even across time. This seat taken?

[Why in the hell was he doing this again? Why? Because he wanted to be sure it was or to make sure it wasn't? He really didn't know which option he preferred. Face-twin or time-travel? Yeah, he was definitely in a coma having twisted morphine-induced nightmares in some hospital hopefully in the US with a doctor that knows his medical history and won't accidentally kill him...]

[innovention]

[No suck luck, Tony. Howard glances up from his scribbling and-- pauses, because huh. You look vaguely familiar, stranger. Not quite enough to earn more than a double-take, though, and Howard shakes off the feeling of deja vu. Other times? Sure, he could buy that; everyone else seems a hell of a lot more familiar with this kind of technology than he is. He shrugs, offering up a smile.]

Be my guest. [And wow, is that a New York accent.] Well, unless it's 1946 where everyone else is from, solid money is on that Ingress of theirs not being too picky about when it grabs people.

[Which was simultaneously fascinating and a little alarming. Their portal-- Ingress-- whichever is almost painfully reminiscent of that HYDRA power sourced he'd scooped off the ocean floor months ago. If they have something like that harnessed, then he doesn't doubt that things could have gotten a little... unpredictable.]

[narcissistictendencies]

[Those three words. That's all it took and Tony inwardly groaned, dropping down into the chair. He studies Howard for a good long time as he speaks, almost so intently he nearly misses the words spoken. Nearly.]

Twenty-fifteen, for me. You look familiar. You're from Earth, right? [Oh, he's playing dumb. So very dumb, trying to remember what his dad was up to in 1946.] Yeah, I'm getting that feeling pretty strongly too. I mean, it doesn't seem to respect any boundaries. It's a pretty impressive piece of tech, isn't it? The Ingress. Hell, the ship herself is pretty spectacular. I'd wager she's got some pretty interesting systems, wouldn't you?

[Hello carefully worded small talk.]

[innovention]

That's right. New York. [...as if it wasn't obvious. Howard notes the inspection and raises an eyebrow, but whatever the other man is looking for, he must have found it, because he starts up a rapid-fire patter of conversation immediately after. Howard can work with that.]

No spaceships in twenty-fifteen? I'm disappointed. [But his voice is light and there's an easy grin on his face.] They hustled me out of there pretty quick, but from what I saw, it's something else alright.

[ He flips back a couple pages in the journal, stopping at a highly accurate, if technical, sketch of the Ingress room. A few details are off, he's sure - but in his defense, he'd arrived with a case of vertigo that made his last hangover look like a stroll in the park.]

[narcissistictendencies]

Yeah? You've got a good old fashioned New York accent. It's refreshing. [It was incredible that this was the longest conversation they'd had and he'd only just started it.]

Not like this. Shuttles. Manned space flight was a bit before my time. But this? We're not here yet. It's unfortunate, really. [When he flips to the sketch of the Ingress room, he raises an eyebrow and smirks. He'd been so woosey and trying to not be naked that he hadn't been able to get a good look around him.] Impressive. Yeah, they don't seem too keen on letting me back in there. I think they're afraid I'll take it apart. Seriously, who do they think I am, anyway? I have more tact than--wait, no I don't. They're right. But I'd put it back together safe and sound.

[He leans back in his chair, opening his MRE and staring at it with disdain. He picks at the crackers included and the packet of spread. Wonderful.]

You might want to eat your delicious five-star meal, there Howard. After a portal trip like that, your first meal is critical. This would be my second trip through a gaping hole in space. I'm practically a veteran. [He's also an idiot sometimes, not paying attention to his wording...]

[innovention]

[He's got to admit, these MREs look a hell of a lot more edible than wartime C-rations. He'd smuggled in what food he could - real coffee, non-canned meats, fruit, rare chocolate - and slipped it to the Commandos on the sly, but even his money couldn't buy what didn't exist. He'd been just a limited as the rest of them, at the height of it all, and had spent more than a few months with tinned meat and biscuits. These are nothing by comparison.]

I've had worse. [He shrugs a little.] My butler would have a fit over it-- [ As much of a fit as Jarvis is capable of expressing, which means the MRE dinner would rate a dismayed look and some deadpan commentary.] --but it sure as hell beats chicory coffee and spam.

[Howard leans back in his chair, letting the man's words wind down, but starts a little at his own name. Hadn't he just said...?] Think you've got me at a disadvantage, friend, since you recognize me enough to know my name.

[forcefulgift]

[Ade noticed the stranger the first time his eyes brushed past. Mostly because he had a knack for telling the right moment when someone started watching him. At first he didn't mind much, but then there was the fact that the stranger was both watching and taking notes in a small journal.

He didn't like it, it reminded him of the doctors and scientists at the facility, how they watched him without speaking for hours on end, making their annotations and observations. It was just enough to make his skin crawl. He recognized that look, after all... and it wasn't just a man admiring his surroundings.

Ade was close enough to him that he didn't even bother being loud. He just sucks a tongue along his teeth in a tch noise.] Got a problem there mate?

[innovention]

[Admiring, no. Analyzing... well, that was a different story. It was what he did - usually with machines rather than people, and there were more than a few technical sketches already littering the pages of his journal, but at that moment he was more concerned with the other arrivals. Call him crazy, but Howard liked to know who he'd be working with on the ship.]

Should I? [A question for a question, but his tone was mild enough. Looking up from his notes, Howard spun the pen absently between his fingers, raising an eyebrow at the other man.]

[forcefulgift]

[He makes another one of those teeth sucking noises like the little thug that he was.]

You might if you don't stop staring at me. One, its proper unnerving, two there's no reason to look at me. Probably a shit load of more interesting blokes out there.

[innovention]

[Yeah, sorry Adrian - Howard was a New Yorker, born and bred. It'd take a hell of a lot more than that to intimidate him.]

Thirty people just got pulled through a portal into space, and you think there's someone more interesting out there? [If he sounded incredulous, it was because he was.] Don't flatter yourself, kid - I don't care about you, I care about us.

[forcefulgift]

So what? Thirty people got pulled into space, don't mean those thirty people are interesting. Christ, mate, we could probably be more boring than everyone else- make it so nobody misses us back home. [He shrugs.] Not much of an us to care 'bout neither. Its clearly just random.

[innovention]

You seem pretty sure that no one here is important or interesting without knowing any of them. [In other words, you are suspiciously defensive, kiddo.] 'It's clearly random'? Forming a conclusion before you even investigate the question is just poor science.

[anotheroldsoldier]

[Bucky has been checking up on the directory. His entry is listed as "James", which suits him fine for now, and he wishes like hell there were last names as well, because he's finding two Tonys, a Matt, a Steve, a Howard. It's the last one he can't really put his finger on, the one he's unsure about, because he barely knew Howard Stark as more than a celebrity that he and Steve had taken some publicity photos with during the war. Doesn't mean he doesn't know of the man, though, Tony's father.

Bucky has changed into thermals and the pants of his given uniform by now, because it's either that or full tactical gear, which seems... unnecessary at the moment. He doesn't know it, but he doesn't really resemble the Bucky Howard knows all that much, a few similarities here and there, but this one is older, brown eyed instead of blue, and- yes, his visible left hand is made of metal.

With his list in mind, he sets to wandering, and he finds the man with a journal, taking notes and keeping an eye on the rest of them. He doesn't get too close at first, just remarks with raised brows,] Paper and pen? I think that's what they call 'old school' these days.

[innovention]

[It's enough of a difference that Howard doesn't immediately recognize him - James Barnes, after all, has been dead longer than even Steve Rogers, and there are plenty of men who fit the same general description. It's the man's hand that really catches his attention: judging from what little he can see of it, it's quality work, finer than any prosthetic he's seen.]

Starting to realize that 'these days' means something a lot different to everyone else here. [His tone is light, though. He's gotten used to the idea that most everyone here is either from somewhere or somewhen more advanced than 1946. It should be humbling, but all Howard is feeling is excitement. He's never been one to back down from a good challenge.

Leaning back, he nods at Barnes' arm, tapping his pen against the notebook absently.] You included, I'm guessing?

[Because that's not any kind of '40s craftsmanship he's ever seen.]

[anotheroldsoldier]

[He's right about that, as far as prosthetics go, it's top notch bionics, moves just like his other, flesh and blood hand, as thoughtless as the other one even.]

That depends, really. What's it mean to you? [God, if he does say something in the 40s, it's going to be a real blast from the past. He does remember what it was like then, knows what it's like now. It's a pretty wild contrast.]

It was the two-thousands for me. Twenty-first century. [616: what the fuck are specific years.]

[innovention]

Seems pretty common around here. [Steve, Tony, a handful of others... The twenty-first century's a popular place. Did the Ingress have a type? It certainly looked like it preferred clusters of people.]

It's nineteen forty-six for me. Earth. [Since apparently there were people from other planets - other planets! - here as well.] War ended a year ago.