thisavrou_log | November Miniplot: Clever Pests

Entry tags:

November Miniplot: Clever Pests

Who: Anyone and everyone
When: Around and after November 17
Where: Avagi
What: A small-scale reunion

Escalation

In the last week, the opening portals have brought a range of opportunities to Avagi. Some station-dwellers have leapt at the chance to be outside, exploring the gardens or the Forest of Renewal. Others chose to test themselves in the Temples. Still more have met with the Kaittans, trading knowledge and training for resources they could bring back home.

Among these items? Fresh, delicious food.

Those residing in _______ Suites were already familiar with the occasional skittering sounds. Recently, those noises have increased abruptly—in volume, and in the areas they can be heard. Strange odors and paste-like droppings have turned up throughout the station, and breakable materials may be torn, gnawed on, or otherwise despoiled. Actual edibles left out are stolen, or devoured on the spot. Whatever creatures are responsible leave a variety of small bite-marks, and seem to target both plants and meat.

Emergence

Many may be motivated by the current crisis. A few have been making efforts from the start. A partnership self-dubbed Extermination Squad Alpha (

araignee_du_soir and

squadgoals) has faced continued frustrations against the creatures in the walls, attempting traps, cages, mines, and tracking tech, and finding themselves repeatedly outmaneuvered. In light of the new incursions, they redoubled their efforts, comparing salvaged feathers against the Kaittan's repository of knowledge, and diving headfirst into the ventilation system to pursue the vermin to their lair.

On Nomber 17, success will be found... of a sort.

While Avagi has neither day nor night, it's a quiet shift for those still on the station. Many occupants are off attempting the trials or otherwise exploring Kaittos. Others are occupied with rest or repair. Those who are conscious may note a slower, bulkier scrape making its way through ceilings and walls. Vent maintenance?

Persisting for several hours, it seems innocuous enough. Until, suddenly, it isn't. A loud explosion can be heard over the animal nursery: metal and insulation crunching and giving way, followed by loud shots. Those close enough may spot the bright blue flares of biotic energy, or even the larger figure that hits the floor amidst collapsing ceiling, damaged machinery, and a spatter of what were probably once eggs.

As for the smaller shapes that flood out across the station? Everyone will have ample time to get a look at them.

Coffee mug included for scale.

Those present for Thisavrou's collapse may have reason to remember Region Six. The creatures nesting above the Animal Nursery include all of those species, and several more. However, the escapees of the former Ingress Complex research labs differ from your previous encounters in one highly significant way:

Adults range from the size of rats to no bigger than a small chicken.

With their nesting site wrecked, the mini dinos will stampede throughout the station. Aggression levels vary highly, and while some of the herbivorous species will avoid encounters, others will charge (or swarm) anyone who gets in their way. What these creatures have lost in size, they've gained in intelligence, and they will show several adaptive behaviors well outside what might be expected of a natural breed. Pack behavior is common, as is teamwork between even unrelated species. While predation does occur, most of these creatures have moved to a scavenging model of survival: and you and yours have recently laid out a full buffet of treats.

Velociraptors can open doors—though biolocks may offer more delay.

Over the next few days, the chaos will settle as the pests that do escape find new retreats to nest in. They will, however, be seen more commonly throughout the station after. Those who are able to catch, kill, or calm one long enough to examine it will find the creatures aren't merely small, but shrunken, and all to a close scale at their adult growth.

[[ooc: For questions, please hit up our latest mod update!]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Erik's grimace deepends. Biology is such a messy, squishy science. ]

Speaking as the former subject of a scientist, killing them is kinder.

[ He lifts one of the dented ceiling panels onto a countertop and splays his hand over it, feeling out the full extent of the dents, the invisible tears and warped metal. Carefully, he reaches into it and begins tugging the molecules back into shape.

Metal is much cleaner than anything found in a bio lab.

His eyebrows raise a bit at her suggestion of eating the things. ]

These creatures have been subsisting on garbage for a few centuries. Probably cannibalizing each other as well. It's possible they're edible but unlikely they will taste like anything a non-starving person would want to eat.

Fair point. Still—like you said, non-starving.

[She's listening, absolutely—even nodding along—but her attention is almost wholly drawn to the metallurgical magic being worked on the panels. There's a pause after she answers, watching a dent suddenly pop back into place.]

So, when you said you had unparalleled skill in metal working...

[It's not a doubtful tone—completely free of surprise or fear, it's simply unabashed curiosity.]

[ Erik had been keeping his powers to himself and those who already knew for some time, but the initial fear has not been proven justified. He is still cautious, one can never be entirely sure how humans will react when first presented with the reality. But if he is to express solidarity with his kind, especially those who cannot hide their mutations, he is going to have to do more than just use the name. His response is nonchalant. There's nothing he has left to prove to himself about his powers, and if they are fortunate the others will never have to learn just how unparalleled he is. ]

It's the sort of thing that's easier to express with a demonstration.

[ He raises his hand, and the panel lifts up to its original position. There is a soft clunking sound as it is bolted back into place, and the next panel is lowered to the table. ]

[She nods in response, watching the panels drift gently, affixing and unhooking themselves, one after another. Despite the nod, there's an air of bemusement in her features, as if she's working out which of the jostling questions in her mind she wants to approach with first.]

So that's all to do with metal? Or is it a combination of energy manipulation, too?

[ Erik notices her interest and can't help but feel a bit cocky about it. ]

Manipulation of electro-magnetic energy. And ferrous metals as part of that. [ He flashes a half-smile and gives the panel a little spin. ] Stronger than gravity, you know.

I do. [She watches the panel spin, in the lazy way that metal does on a magnet with a half-turn, ideas plinking together, expression thoughtful.]

What's the mental strain like? Do you have a mass load of metals you can carry or manipulate?

[ Erik cleans the panel with the disinfectant solution as he thinks on how to answer this question. ]

The mental strain is... variable. This ability is tied into my emotions. When I'm able to reach a sort of transcendent meditative state, for lack of a better term. A friend of mine used to call it the point between rage and serenity where I could reach true peace. Once I'm in that state, it's really just a matter of time. The more my powers affect the magnetic fields, the more I'm able to magnetize even elemental traces, the more of the same follow it. It actually becomes easier the further I go.

Of course, if I get distracted, things can fall apart rather quickly.

[ A memory of the nuclear missile strike. Charles screaming in pain. The missiles, forgotten, falling into the sea.

He repairs the now-clean panel, just as he did the last one. ]

If I'm angry or upset or even particularly happy, things are a bit more difficult if I'm trying to work on a massive scale. Things like this aren't complicated enough for it to make a difference.

Makes sense that the mental focus is key—that would have a lot of tie-in with your emotions and mental state, too. The less you're able to stay centered on a big task, the less effective it is—just like with any job.

If you've had the ability your whole life, I'm sure some things are like second nature, but if someone asked you to levitate a satellite, you might strain a muscle—so to speak.

[She watches the panel raise, float itself away, nodding appreciation.]

Erik, do you think I could ask you a favor?

[ He frowns in thought. ]

Satellites are rather variable. Are we talking, ground to orbit? Or just off the ground? Or is it already in orbit, and the goal is to move it into a different orbit?? These change the answer significantly.

[ Twenty years ago these questions wouldn't have mattered. He wouldn't have been able to do it. Now, after Charles, and Apocalypse, he has yet to find what his new limits are.

He gives her a skeptical look. ]

You can ask.

[ Whether or not he'll actually do/i> it depends on what the favor is, but that goes unsaid. ]

[Despite herself, she almost laughs.] Think I meant more just "in general", but let's go for "just off the ground", in an Earth-level gravity system.

[Still staring at the plating, she hums a thought, considering her wording.]

For someone who's naturally gifted at slinging metal without a middleman, it might sound a little strange, come to think of it—but I'm looking to construct a shooting range. Lot of people on board are trained in firearms, and considering what we've been through in the past few months, it's a skill I'm sure they'd like to keep in practice.

It's not a one-person job—I, and I'm sure others would certainly help—but your raw force of movement would make it go a lot quicker.

[ His eyebrows raise. ] Just off the ground? As in, a few feet? [ He scoffs. ] No, that would not be terribly difficult.

[ His expression grows somber as she describes what she would like him to do. ]

Is using firearms on a space station really the wisest course of action?

[ Homo sapiens and their guns. ]

It's not the unwisest. [That would be weaponized laser beams. Despite the somber expression, her tone is still relatively light—albeit not without an iron-clad core of belief.]

But I've been doing it all my life with the correct safety procedures to ensure that nothing goes amiss—and I'd like to keep it that way. People are going to want to practice their skills. Better to provide a safe way to do so than to end up with someone in the gym shooting rounds into a spare mattress.

[ Erik crosses his arms and leans his hip against the table. He keeps his expression as even as possible, despite the deep misgivings he feels about this. How many of these people are armed, anyway? And with what? ]

You really think our fellow residents would be so reckless?

I trust them—but I'm not green enough to think that accidents don't happen, or that all people and weapons across all universes are made equally. Reckless? Maybe not. Inexperienced with living on a space station, getting a little touch of cabin fever, and doing something that seemed like a good idea at the time? Maybe.

We can't be around everywhere always. Giving people a safe place to practice their expertise—whatever that may be—is a good place to start. I'd like to see if we can't adapt an area for sparring, too. Let people blow off some steam, if that's what they need.

[So to speak.]

You just used a lot of words to describe what can be summed up as "Stupid and reckless". [ He huffs a sigh. ] Instead of a shooting range, we'd do better to build a weapons locker. Nobody needs to be armed to the teeth at all times anyway.

Why not both?

[If she disagrees, she's not causing a fuss. But there's something in her tone—an amusement, of a kind. A distant sing-song suggestion that, like it or not, it will happen. Whether or not he's involved remained to be seen.]

Because firearms are ranged weapons, and there's nowhere on the station where we will need to use ranged weapons. Because with the total absence of any way for an intruder to enter the station, we are far more likely to shoot each other than actually use them for defense. Because with the increasing number of children on the station, they are most at risk.

[ He lets out a frustrated breath. Why are humans always so obsessed with guns? ]

There are any number recreation opportunities we already have or could make. This obsession with guns diminishes you.

[There's a pause of silence—or, at least, busy digestion, as she takes in his words. For a moment, a tension seems to hum in the air—and break, as if it never existed. In fact, rather than anger, her expression is cool, intrigued. There was more to it—something underneath all of this. It wasn't her—and that, at least, made it bearable—for now.]

Oh really? [Her voice is level, intense without heat, but not without a dark humor.] I'd say it's mostly kept me alive.

How are we able to go to Kaittos? Same way we've been doing it since the Moira—the Ingress, or now, shards of it. Nothing has ever needed a door to get on our ships. A reality slip brought in slavers, attacking forces had their own means of teleporting directly into our midst. And guess what every race we encountered had?

[Eternally at her side, she indicates the heavy pistol, without drawing it.]

Long-range projectile weaponry. Laser-based, projectile-based, energy-based—sometimes, all three. I can understand you not liking guns, and I can respect that—but here, things are different. They're not always what they seem, and we should always be prepared for that. I don't do target practice for recreation; I do it to stay ready.

[Inclining her head toward Erik's work, Shepard nods.]

I won't ask you to do things that are against your will, and I won't ask you to share my point of view—but I'd appreciate it if we could agree to disagree, and keep working together in the long run.

[ Erik was aware of her sidearm, of course. As a force of habit, he always noted what weapons were present in a room, whether by sight or by sensing the the metal in them. He could take it from her right now and prove just how illusionary that sense of security is. But he decides to keep it to words for now.

Her citing a need for readiness does little to his concern. The tension may be gone for her. It only increases for him. How many well-trained military officers with distinguished records has he encountered? He lost count a long time ago. The weapons they tried to use didn't end with guns, but it generally started there. ]

Threats don't always come from outside. My people will be safe here, no matter where the danger originates. Regardless, this isn't a military operation. You can ask whatever you'd like of me. If I want to do it, I will.

[ The other half of that equation goes unspoken. If he opposes strongly enough, he will prevent her from doing it. ]

At the moment, I don't have time to start a new project. I will let you know what I decide once that has changed.

Understood.

[His tone brooks little argument, and she's not in the mood to stir any pots. Instead, she simply nods once in confirmation.]

And in terms of danger? I'm not going to start drawing lines over who I do and don't protect. At the moment, we're all in this together—and I'll do what I can to help whoever I can, however I can.

[The statement, on its own, seems pointlessly bold, or perhaps remarkably stupid, or maybe just ignorant. Yet there's no hesitation in her voice, only a flex in her muscles that seems to promise on the follow-through.]

I'll see you around, Erik.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

November Miniplot: Clever Pests

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject