( february event log )

[hownkai]

Who: Everyone
When: February 16th and on
Where: Throughout the Moira
What: After an exhausting month and a half, the crew tries to relax.
Warnings: Please label accordingly!

E V E N T

move & lull "Sometimes, the thing that brings us together also pulls us apart. " The beginning of the month was a whirlwind of confusion—for both seasoned and new members of the crew. Link’d Inc’s unsavory methods for obtaining information were revealed, the company’s front runner was murdered and planted on the ship, and with the help of Benjamin Link, the crew was able to free the kidnapped children and unlock the ship so that the Moira could get as far away as possible. It was a mess, but after the refugees were taken to a nearby by planet to start over, things have finally begun to settle down. The ship also has more crew than it’s ever had, and that can only mean one thing: more work. An unfortunate side effect of having so many bodies in one place, everyone is being asked to contribute; the captains implore everyone to chip in and do their share. Clean up after yourselves, don’t miss your shifts, and give fellow crew members a hand with their tasks if they can’t get them done on time. ☄ SPACEWALK ( 02.16 - 02.23 ) Eventually, Manasseh comes to the crew with a training opportunity. The captains are well aware that not everyone on board have learned essential skills for surviving and working in space. To remedy that, she has offered to take a week to train groups in the skill of performing space walks on the hull. Those who already have experience are welcomed as assistant instructors. Those willing will learn how to safely don a spacesuit and secure oxygen lines and tethers—for both themselves and others. All skills that will come in handy in case there is a need for emergency repairs, or if the crew encounters a low-atmosphere environment they wish to explore. Mysteriously, there is also a promise of something interesting on the horizon for those willing to learn. ☄ TREATS N' SWEETS ( 02.16 - EVENING ) As a way of extending an olive branch to the crew, the captains have cleared out the kitchen and mess hall early in the afternoon. Later that evening, the crew is asked to come down - via their MIDs - as the captains have a surprise for them. The tables are lined with finger foods, sandwiches, pretzels and chips, but the table in the very back is where the captains are lingering. They’ve made desserts for the crew, but they aren’t just any typical sweet concoction. They are each unique, and there are small, hand-written signs in front of each: •JUST RELAX: Mint chocolate chip ice cream scooped out into bowls and is the most sweet of the three. The first bite does little to the person eating it, but each subsequent taste results in an increasingly relaxed state. The more that is consumed, the more mellow the person becomes. •BE HONEST: A delicate concoction of science and the culinary arts, this dessert is refreshing and semi-sweet. The fruity flavors burst in your mouth, loosening your tongue, and result in a brief period of honesty. The reactions vary from person to person—anywhere from being more blunt than normal to answering any question that is asked without a filter. The effects wear off after an hour. •YOU'RE SWEET: A selection of small chocolate cheesecakes offer something rich and decadent to enjoy. Each one brings something a little different in terms of flavor, the taste lingering for some time after you’re done. Some make you feel indulgent, some make you feel romantic; this makes you feel both. Those that sample this dessert will feel lighter, happier, and more likely to indulge in romantic endeavors. The effects last for only one night, dissipating after a good night’s sleep. Those that do not require sleep will suffer the effects for two days. ☄ LANTERNS IN THE BLACK ( 02.23 ) The day starts out differently than most. The captains send a message saying that everyone has been granted light duty for the day, and once they finish their necessary chores, they are given the remainder of it to themselves. Around midday, an announcement will be made. The pilgrim fleet of Librae Prime will be performing their yearly Celebration of Life. They are on their way to a system decades away, and each year, they celebrate the lives gained and lost within their ranks by releasing a multitude of brightly colored lanterns out into space. The Pilgrims make a habit of inviting ships within range to participate as it is a joyful event for them. The entire crew is welcome to watch from the observation deck, the lights dimmed so the view can be properly appreciated, but those members of the crew who have participated in the space walk lessons or have previous experience have a special opportunity all their own. Manasseh invites them to the airlock with a supply of flying lanterns and an offer to put their new-found skills to use by releasing the Moira’s own lanterns. The morning after the flight of the lanterns a special surprise will await everyone in their mailboxes. A small lantern sits waiting for each member of the crew. It casts a soft light comparable to a simple nightlight and will hover in a stationary position when activated.

( OOC: Please label any material with content warnings. All events are dated for those that need them, but you don’t have to wait until those dates OOCly to do the prompts. For questions, go here! )

Comments

[backsassin]

[It’s hard to read the program without the benefit of a face or voice, but the falter in that rattle of his suggests surprise, possibly even confusion. Zam also gets the distinct impression that the program is staring at him.]

What? Don’t you recognize me? [Zam teases, knowing full well this wasn’t the face they’d been wearing when they had met Rinzler in the hold. He clears his throat and when he speaks again, his voice is an octave or two higher, the same one Rinzler will remember as associated with their female form.]

How about now?

[notglitching]

[Yes to the surprise. Definitely to the confusion. The still-active scan continues to not help, registering no deviation in the slightest at the vocal shifts. Whatever's modulating the user's appearance, it isn't digital or electronic. Rinzler's stare narrows suspiciously behind that mask, and he completes the stalled reach for his MID.]

Trojan.

[backsassin]

[The word is unfamiliar, but Zam guesses that it’s supposed to be an insult of some sort. Which means the best way to respond is to not be insulted by it. When he speaks again, his voice has returned to its previous pitch.]

Is that a yes or a no?

[notglitching]

[Classification more than insult, though for most security functions, the difference is functionally null. Trojans exist to cause trouble. Rinzler's stare lingers for a long moment, noise grumbling out irritatedly, but this isn't Clu's system, and whatever problems it creates aren't his concern.

The helmet jerks down in an affirmative. Yes, he recognizes Zam.]

[backsassin]

[Zam smiles in satisfaction at the answer.]

Tro-jan, [he repeats. The foreign word feels strange on his tongue and Zam can’t think of any similar cognates that could be used to figure out the meaning. It doesn’t seem to bother him, though.]

You know, I kind of like the sound of that. [Then again, dosed as he is, Zam pretty much likes the sound of everything.] What does it mean?

[notglitching]

[Better hope he likes the sound of dissatisfied rumbling, because he'll be hearing a lot of it right now.]

Malware subtype.
Liar.

[Not that Rinzler has feelings about this.]

Pretends at standard function to bypass scans, install protocol. Alternate programming activates later. Source of system sabotage. Disruption.

[At least this user was only changing its surface render. So far.]

[backsassin]

Sounds about right. [Under normal circumstances, some of those words might actually get an eyeroll out of Zam, perhaps even a verbal retort, but blissed out as he is, it doesn’t really occur to him to take offense. Instead, he only feels the benign urge to provide more information -- if he happens to correct one or two of Rinzler’s misapprehensions along the way, then all the better.]

I’m a bounty hunter, so it’s not like sabotage and disruption are the point really, but they come in handy sometimes. [He laughs to himself.] Well, a lot of the time, to be honest. [And he’s feeling very honest right now.] Don’t worry though, no one’s put a bounty out on anyone on the ship, so you’re safe. [He gives Rinzler a teasing, almost affectionate smile.] And as you know, I landed a new job, so you won’t even have to worry about me carrying you off again.

[notglitching]

[Bounty is a new term for Rinzler, and one he flags for later investigation. But the context-meaning isn't hard to parse, and Zam will be getting a very nonplussed stare. Does he/she/it really expect he enforcer to be scared of them? The door had been what kept him in.]

No change.

[He'd have to have been worried in the first place for that. Still, if the user's feeling like data-sharing...]

Hunting: primary function?

[Or as close as users came.]

[backsassin]

It was. But there’s not much place for a bounty hunter on a ship where people don’t stay dead, so I wouldn’t call it “primary” anymore. And I think I’ve more or less lost all my functions back home. [Zam smiles distantly, trying to ignore the faint feeling of melancholy that somehow manages to seep through his contented haze.

He opts to change the subject.] What about you? I don’t think you’ve ever told me about your function.

[notglitching]

[The lack of permanency to derezz is definitely a problem. Still, Rinzler has to repress a twitch at the thought of losing one's function entirely. Users might be able to reset their own, but not being able to do what you were for...

...well, that topic change isn't entirely unwelcome.]

Threat deletion.

[The user probably remembers. Rinzler shrugs, shoulders tightening a little.]

Serve Clu.

[backsassin]

[Zam tilts his head] That’s a little vague, [he points out.] I mean, anybody could be a threat. One of the kittens from the garden could be a threat if someone threw ‘em fast enough. [Probably not the best line of philosophy to espouse to someone who just stated they worked in threat “deletion,” but such apprehensions fail to occur to Zam.]

Clu? Are they your employer or something?

[notglitching]

[It really is a shame Rinzler got his helmet back so soon after learning how to eyeroll. So many derisive expressions, wasted.]

Thrower: potential threat.
Cats: bug-cleaning subroutines.

[See also: Rinzler likes them. And would probably handle that threat with some prejudice.]

System administrator.

[backsassin]

[Zam shrugs.] Fair point. [Remind Zam not to mishandle any cats while Rinzler is around. (Not that they make a habit of it, but they’ve been known to at least threaten the creatures to get their way.]

System administrator? [When Zam hears the word “system,” they tend to think “star system.” Given what he knows about programs though, he’s not sure Rinzler’s thinking of the same thing. In either case, it sounds important.] Is this administrator on the ship?

[notglitching]

[The enforcer's helmet shakes immediately. Clu had followed him to the user school, but only briefly, and Rinzler hasn't seen any sign of his programmer since his import to this ship. All data points to Clu having returned to their world unaffected.

No other conclusion is acceptable, after all.]

Administrator: system of origin.

[backsassin]

Mm. Well, at least they’re not here to boss you around, right? [Zam supposes they have the captains for that, but the captains are still preferable to most of the clients he’s had in the past. People who pay for death may be good sources of income, but they’re rarely good company.]

What exactly is your system of origin anyways?

[notglitching]

[The rumbling sound builds faintly, but there's no answer to the first. Rinzler exists to carry out Clu's orders. It's been far too long since he had any, and nearly a half-cycle since his code was last checked over. His admin should be here—or Rinzler should be there, ready to serve whatever use was needed, and accept whatever correction he had earned. It's what he's for.

(Because Clu broke him.)

The mask twitches slightly, not quite a flinch, and Rinzler gladly accepts the redirect at hand.]

Designation: the Grid.

[Probably not what the user was after. Rinzler glances over, hesitating a moment. How much did Zam learn from his duplicate?]

Computer system.

[backsassin]

[Zam knows the programs are AI beings of some sort, so the fact that Rinzler answers with “computer system” is unsurprising to the point of being kind of funny. Like asking an organic being where they’re from and having them answer “the womb.”]

And what planet was this computer on? [Zam asks, amused.]

[notglitching]

[The amusement is obvious, and Rinzler offers an irritated glance back. If the trojan knew where they came from, why is it asking about a place no program has ever seen? The enforcer shrugs. Until his own export, he hadn't even known there were more user worlds than one.]

High probability: 'Earth'.

[He's heard the word enough around here. It seems to be where all the human-users are.]

[backsassin]

[Zam rolls his eyes.] Everybody on this ship says they’re from Earth. Almost everybody. [He’d never heard of it before coming here, but with the amount of people who say they hail from the planet, you’d think it was at least as bustling a metropolis as Coruscant. Except...]

Except everyone who’s said they’re from Earth is human. You’re not human. [Stream-of-consciousness rambling pauses for a moment for Zam to tilt his head, regarding Rinzler thoughtfully.] Probably not a Near, either. You were made by a human, weren’t you? It would explain why Tron looks like one...

[notglitching]

[Near is added to the list of terms to research. Still, Rinzler doubts it applies. He's a program. Tron's a program, and if the rattling noise still rises slightly at the name, Rinzler's past denying their similarities. Still, that doesn't mean he wants to reprocess them in so much depth.]

Tron was.

Purpose (queries)?

[backsassin]

[Zam manages a put out look.] Is it really so hard to believe that I’m curious about you? People like you and Tron don’t even exist in my home galaxy. And that helmet of yours doesn’t help. Maybe I wouldn’t be so inquisitive if I knew what was under there.

[Saying this, he almost seems to come out of his euphoriant-induced haze for a moment, blinking as if surprised by something he’s said. It doesn’t last. But when he laughs this time, it sounds almost rueful and the humor in his words seems to be for somebody else.] You’d think I would’ve learned my lesson about mysterious men hiding behind their masks, wouldn’t you?

[notglitching]

[Helmeted glower continues. Rinzler's fairly sure there are millions of 'people like them' in the trojan's galaxy: just none it sees and acknowledges. As for what's behind the helmet...]

Seen it.

[Along with 'some other parts', by its own words. Rinzler's still opting not to think about that. But if the entry lines aren't to his liking, the trojan seems to have successfully distracted itself, and Rinzler takes the opportunity, helmet tilting in sharp question.

Learned its lesson?]

[backsassin]

I’ve seen what you probably look like. Doesn’t mean I know for sure. [Changelings aren’t the only ones who can change their faces after all; scarring and other marks can make even the faces of genetic clones look distinctive. Zam’s assuming it works the same way for programs.

Zam returns the headtilt slowly.] Mm. Right. I haven’t told anyone this... [Is that a sign that he should continue not to tell anyone about it?

…

Nah.]

I had a friend back in my own galaxy. He was a little bit like you, actually. Wore a helmet, didn’t speak much. [Zam smirks.] Well, still more than you. And I could get him to talk a lot more than other people. [There’s a hint of pride in that statement. Jango was notoriously cold, so the fact that Zam could break through that frigid veneer and sometimes even talk with him as a friend… Well, it felt pretty damn special at the time.]

Didn’t help any. After… [Zam thinks for a moment.] Let’s see, Boba is ten, and I met Jango two years before that, so… After twelve years of knowing each other, he killed me during a mission. [The drugs in his system greatly soften the impact of those words, but Zam still frowns nonetheless.] Murishani kung…

[notglitching]

[Another indecipherable language. Still, Rinzler's fairly sure he catches the meaning this time. As betrayals go, the program's heard worse, but he listens without comment, noise ticking out quietly. So the trojan had been derezzed. And returned to life... here? Considering what the Ingress did for him, it doesn't seem too unlikely.]

Assigned to delete you?

[backsassin]

[Zam actually laughs at that.] Assigned? He wasn’t even supposed to be be there. He assigned me to take out the mark and then followed along anyways. I thought he was there to give me backup… [Zam sighs, expression more perplexed and irritated than properly upset, but the fact that he’s able to feel even that much through his haze of drug-induced contentment is impressive in itself.] He was just waiting for me to screw up. And after that, I guess it was more convenient for him to kill me instead of the Jedi…

[He smiles again, but it’s rather more hesitant this time around.] You know someone for that long, you’d hope that if they had to kill you, it would be for something a little more meaningful than “convenience,” right?