( november intro log )

[hownkai]

Who: Everyone
When: November 1st and on
Where: The ship and on planet
What: Exploration + new arrivals
Warnings: Please label any warnings you have on your threads

THE INFLUX

"It is not so much about beginnings and endings; it is about muddling through the middle."

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.

Welcome to Caducus Primary

Shortly after your arrival, you are met by one of the captains and any of the crew of the Moira who might have accompanied him. You are given a brief physical scan and are asked to sign a contract that states you are now part 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. Much like the Moira's own Ingress, C-Primary's Ingress seems to be malfunctioning, and nothing can return through it. If you choose to disregard this offer, you will be detained indefinitely by the natives of Caducus Primary. (Joining the Moira is really the only choice you have.)

DESCENSION

"I am the keeper of fragile things."

From a distance, Caducus Primary doesn't look like much. The weather on the planet is extremely stable, and the vegetation is neat, almost pristine. What stands out about C-Primary, however, is the fact that there are hundreds of VERY TALL buildings packed together in many of the cities. They are elevated about the ground on what appear to be stilts and sway almost gracefully in the gentle breeze that is always present. Their stability never wavers; they don't fall down. The streets are lined with beautiful sculptures that are placed wherever light is needed. Many other designs can be found outside as well as in. This planet is rather wealthy, and the abundance of their natural resources reflect in everything. The world glitters just as glass would in the sunlight.

Native Details
● They have darker skin tones, but their hair styles and colors are all as unique as they can make them. This can be seen as influence from other travelers.
● Friendly, welcoming, and encouraging to the crew to trade with them for what they need.
● There are no visible "poor" areas.
● Calm and organized. If lost or in need of directions, they will offer to take you where you are going.
● Vey strict when it comes to rules. (Trade what you say you're going to trade.)

☄CITY PROPER

There are many things to do once on planet. In the city proper, stepping into one of the multiple shops reveals workers crafting glass figurines, jewelry, cups, and other items to your specifications. Trading is the same as on all other planets—there is no one accepted monetary unit. Yet, any unsavory cargo (such as weapons, explosives, alcohol, and drugs) will not be found anywhere in the vicinity of these areas. Other travelers have set up places outside the cities near transporter zones for these particular necessities. Trade at your discretion. At night, if you catch your reflection in a surface that isn't quite as transparent (on a sculpture, the side of a building, anything made of glass), there will be a momentary glimpse of your past or future self. A blink, and then, it will be gone.

Staying on the Moira isn't required during time spent on Caducus Primary. Visit one of its many fine hotels with its beautiful accomodations. The price is remarkably inexpensive: it's free.

( OOC: For any and all questions and to see new rank privileges, go here. Please comment to activity check to receive new ranks (if applicable)! 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

[stompadour]

Jasper doesn't thank him, just gives him a curt nod and follows.

"And what do you do?" She sounds skeptical, but this is the problem with humans – can't tell what they're for just by looking, and in Jasper's limited experience they don't seem to be made for anything. Extremely inefficient.

[forwardmomentum]

Miles is used to the skepticism, albeit from a totally different angle. He keeps up a surprisingly brisk pace for a man so small, although he couldn't match Jasper's stride if he tried. "Me? Well, back home I'm an officer in the Barrayaran Imperial Service. But my current post on the ship," he says, and clears his throat, "is, uh, Beverage Dissemination Officer."

At least it sounds less stupid than ship's bartender, but only by a hair. He'd like a real job now, thanks. He cranes his neck to glance up at Jasper curiously. "And you?"

[stompadour]

Beverage dissemination officer makes more sense to Jasper than bartender would have, so he's saved them both some trouble, at least. She isn't any more impressed by the title than she would have been if she knew what a bartender was, though; she arches one immaculate eyebrow at that reply, and then snorts. For all she knows that's normal for humans, honestly. Disseminating beverages sounds about their speed.

"I'm a Quartz," she says. "A soldier." She peers down at him, frowning. "There a lot of demand for beverages on this ship?"

[forwardmomentum]

"Everyone needs their entertainments," Miles responds with a half-shrug, giving her a once-over that he tries his best to make discreet, but that's pretty difficult considering he has to crane his neck to look up at her. He's not surprised she's a soldier -- hell, probably an officer, with that commanding air. If she isn't, she ought to be.

"Quartz?" he inquires. "Is that some sort of rank where you're from?"

[stompadour]

Jasper doesn't really see how entertainment correlates with fluid nutrients – but plenty of what little she knows about humans is backwards and nonsensical, so she doesn't care to question it.

She snorts. "No." She taps the gem set into her face, where her nose should be. "It's my function. Quartzes are made for combat. And I have more important orders to be carrying out than teaching self defence to a bunch of weak organic lifeforms, so the sooner I can leave this planet the better."

[forwardmomentum]

"I'm afraid it won't make any difference when we leave the planet. If you're one of the self-defense officers, your post is on the ship. Didn't the captains explain that when you received your contract?" Miles peers up at her and the gem on her face -- he'd thought it some kind of ornamental jewelry, perhaps, but that is evidently not the case.

"Made for combat?" he repeats inquiringly. Another trait she shares with Taura, he reflects distantly, although those similarities all seem to lie on a surface level. Jasper is decidedly...less cuddly. He wisely decides not to voice this insight aloud. "Were you engineered? I suppose not genetically, if you're not organic yourself, as you suggest." Miles isn't sure what that would make her, as she seems decidedly...er, fleshy on the outside.

[stompadour]

"I wasn't planning on leaving this planet on this ship," she replies irritably. She doesn't really want to admit that she may have failed to pick up on some of the details of the contract due to the dual disorientation whammy dealt her by the Ingress and her separation from Malachite, and her subsequent distraction searching for Lapis Lazuli – but the fact remains she needs those gaps filled in, and perhaps it would be better to get them from this human than present herself as an inattentive fool to the people in charge here.

His questions are starting to get on her nerves, though; her response is a flat, "Yes."

[forwardmomentum]

"If you're looking to get back to wherever you came from, the Moira's your best bet. That's what the captains tell us, anyway, but I don't see any other transuniversal phenomena occurring anywhere else, so we might as well go along for the ride until something better comes up. Engineered by whom?" Miles doesn't skip a beat, talking fast and intently. He's more than just curious now -- he's interested, so sorry, Jasper, he's not about to stop with the questions any time soon. "Are Quartzes something akin to a military caste, then?"

[stompadour]

Hmm. This is sounding familiar, to Jasper's inward dismay – some of the initial explanation is coming back to her. "Transuniversal phenomena," she repeats in a scornful mutter, but her disdain is less out of disbelief than just irritation that this is something she has to deal with. Still – she has to admit this is infinitely better than being held prisoner as part of Malachite...

She wouldn't admit it, but if she really does have no other option whatsoever... it's sort of... a relief, the prospect of perhaps being kept away from Earth – and Lapis Lazuli – indefinitely...

She dismisses the thought as soon as she realises she's thinking it. She has orders to carry out, even if she doesn't like them, and any obstruction to them is an inconvenience, nothing more.

And speaking of inconveniences... she shoots Miles an irritated look at his continuing questions. "Something like that," she says, an unimpressed scowl on her face. "How long is this voyage supposed to take? Don't humans have limited lifespans?"

[forwardmomentum]

"You've got me," Miles admits, lips twisting. "I've only been here two months. I can't imagine it's going to take that long, but I get the sense the captains don't have much of an ETA, either."

But Miles is way more interested in hearing about Jasper and where she comes from, and he clings determinedly to that thread of conversation, eyes alight with intent curiosity. "Ah, so Quartzes are like the Vor, then. There's a ruling military caste on my planet as well -- even the Emperor is Vor. I've got soldier's blood going back, oh, nine generations or so." He flashes her a wild grin, apparently unselfconscious. Look at that, Jasper, you've got something in common. "You still haven't told me who engineered you. Do you not age?"

[stompadour]

"Ruling–? Hah – no. Quartzes are exclusively for combat. I was grown in the Crystal System to fight our wars." She looks him up and down, eyes narrowed slightly. "No Gems on this ship, huh?"

[forwardmomentum]

So...not very much like the Vor, then. Not at all, really, the more he listens, except on a surface level. Miles frowns in thought, looking up at Jasper's face again. The nose, right. Goes with the name. He doesn't know a lot about precious stones himself -- all of them are synthetically grown by now where he's from, effectively robbing them of any significant monetary value -- but it clicks, belatedly, that jasper must be some type of quartz.

"Ah, so that's what you're called. A little on the nose, isn't it?" The comment tumbles from his mouth before he can stop himself, totally unable to suppress a grin, but he doesn't pause. "Do you all have gemstones on your faces, then?"

[stompadour]

The look she gives him for that remark is... stony.

"... No," she says. "They can manifest anywhere on our physical forms." Her eyes are still fixed on his diminutive frame – after a moment or two, she nods to him. "Your Vor can't be very impressive soldiers."

[forwardmomentum]

Miles returns that look with a grin more manic than it is nervous. Peridot must be a Gem too, then. But any information he was about to offer on that subject gets put abruptly on hold by Jasper's comment. He knows that look. He's been getting one kind of it or another his entire life.

He shoves his good hand in his pocket, baring his teeth in a tight grin. "Oh?" he says, his tone deceptively mild.

[stompadour]

"If that's what nine generations of soldier's blood looks like." Jasper doesn't seem concerned about the grin he's giving her. She puts a large hand on her large hip. "How does that work, anyway? Humans reproduce by... mating, don't they?" She wrinkles her nose – or rather, her face around her nose – in disdain. "How do you isolate the traits you want to cultivate in the new humans?"

[forwardmomentum]

That smile that isn't really a smile stays plastered in place, though Miles' eyes have gone flat. "Partner selection. Uterine replicators, if you use them," he says in a tone of fixed casualness that's about as sincere as his smile. "The political benefits play into it, too, since the Vor status is hereditary. Oh, but don't get me wrong. Most Vor are quite healthy and fully formed. In fact, most of them are quite concerned with passing on only the most robust genes. God forbid you give birth to a mutant. That is what you meant, isn't it?"

Miles' fixed expression chills, his lips tightening over his bared teeth. "This isn't what nine generations of soldier's blood looks like. This," he says, gesturing at the length of his short body with one hand, "is what nine generations of soldier's blood looks like when you hurl a toxic gas attack at a woman carrying a five-month-old fetus, and he lives to tell the tale."

[stompadour]

She raises an eyebrow, unmoved. "So you're defective, then."

[forwardmomentum]

Miles' eyes go cold, but that fixed grin doesn't move. No, being defensive has never worked in his favor, and he doesn't even really believe in the denial anyway. You can't use to your advantage what you disavow entirely.

"Oh, yes," Miles agrees emphatically, bordering on cheerfulness. "Defective as all hell, if you ask just about anyone. You'd be astonished at how many people were offended just by my being born, and how many are still offended at my continued existence. My own grandfather tried to kill me -- twice, even -- but he's just one on a list." Miles waves a hand dismissively. "Defective enough that I failed the physical exams to get into the Imperial Service Academy. Got in anyway. Of course, my first commanding officer tried to have me killed, too. And yet," he says, with a grand, sweeping gesture of his good arm, "I am still here."

[stompadour]

Jasper raises the other eyebrow, too, but she doesn't seem particularly interested in this little speech. She looks at him for a moment, considering. "Hmh. Defective gems are harvested, but I suppose humans haven't developed a way to recycle themselves yet."

[forwardmomentum]

"Our corpses make for excellent fertilizer, actually." Miles' face is starting to hurt from all that forced smiling. "On my planet it used to be common practice to kill infants with any apparent birth defects. Keep the genetic pool nice and clean, so to speak. Thankfully, we've outgrown such barbarism."

He peers up at her, looking a little less wildly flippant, and raises his eyebrows. "So brute strength and hefty constitution are the most important things in a soldier, is that it? The sum of all physical combat ability?"

[stompadour]

Jasper laughs, not particularly pleasantly. "I've met gems who think so, but I wouldn't have lasted six thousand years if I'd been grown that way. Still... I'd consider not breaking in half if you're stepped on a good starting point, and in my experience humans are... flimsy." She smiles, showing teeth. "Even the full-sized ones."

[forwardmomentum]

"Six...thousand years?" Miles says before he can catch himself, boggling. He knew the Gems don't age very quickly or perhaps at all, as she'd suggested, but that is a much steeper figure than he was counting on. Miles clears his throat quickly, regaining his composure.

"A good start, perhaps, yes, but not the only start." It would be laughable to claim he could withstand such a test, and frankly, he doesn't want to tempt Jasper to try it. "One of the greatest soldiers in my time once told me that the mind is the first and last battlefield of any war -- that a weapon is a device for changing your enemy's mind. Sometimes you can circumvent the whole mess entirely."

[stompadour]

Jasper snorts. "I wouldn't call someone who talks me out of flattening her because she wouldn't be able to fight back a soldier," she says.

[forwardmomentum]

Miles blinks in momentary confusion, jerking his chin in an aborted look around the corridor for anyone else -- until he realizes she's talking about him. He frowns slightly.

"Your wars must be very straightforward, then," Miles concludes, "and boring, at that. What would you suggest, that I challenge you to a fight I have no hope of winning? Against an opponent with such a significant advantage? That isn't bravery, madam, that's just plain stupidity."

He snorts. "I wouldn't be much of a strategist, in that case. It's about playing to your strengths. If you can't be seven feet tall, be seven feet smart." He half-grins, then cocks his head at her. "Er -- did you just call me 'she'?"

[stompadour]

"I wouldn't send a soldier to do a strategist's job," says Jasper, folding her arms. A pause. Then, one eyebrow raised: "What else would I call you?"