thisavrou_log | ( june event log )

Entry tags:

( june event log )

Who: Everyone
When: June 20th and on
Where: The Moira
What: Something seems to be internally wrong with the ship! Caducus Secondary seeks retribution for its sister Caducus Primary!
Warnings: None for now. Please label your content!

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doors to windows
"Follow, and the universe will open where there was once walls."

With the Collectives now behind them, the atmosphere of the Moira seems to have subsided into the general daily grind of ship living. Shifts pass, meals are served, and the occasional tiff continues to hum in the background. However, whether new or veteran, today is not like any other day the crew have seen or experienced so far. The thrum of the ship is a normal one. Those aboard feel it, know it. In fact, whether you realize it or not, the pulse of the engine, its wings, and that of the Ingress is a constant, consistent buzz in the back of your mind and under your feet. Even during planet excursions, it’s almost like a pull to draw you back to the ship and ground you to the present moment. It’s familiar.

It’s late, in the early hours of twilight, that everything begins to feel off. The Moira suddenly begins to drift, tipping gently to one side and resulting in everything on board beginning to roll and tip over. So those in their beds may abruptly find themselves thrown onto the floor. Those walking from a shift back to their rooms or elsewhere on the ship will likely be thrown against a wall. The movement is drastic, but the ship’s systems realign the Moira within several minutes of the event. Anyone near the Ingress room will hear the Captains arguing with one another, and those that go closer will see that Captain Manessah is standing in the middle of a non-functioning Ingress.

It’s off, with no swirling light, and they can’t seem to get it to come back on. It’s clear to anyone that comes by that the Captains are worried, bordering on frightened by the fact that it doesn’t seem to want to restart itself—if that was even a possibility of the Ingress at all. They begin to disagree with each other on the best way to fix it, their spoken language changing to something that the MID can’t translate. Captain Thán exits the room in a rush, not stopping to speak to anyone, and the other two continue to try and find a solution to this problem. Not long after, they send out a ship-wide message informing crew that they are relieved of their duties for the rest of the week except for basic cleaning and cooking. Any personnel with experience in technology and matters relating to the Ingress are asked to come to the Ingress room.

☄ Turn It Off, Turn It On

Anyone who comes to the Ingress room will be asked to clean, repair, and examine the Ingress. The Captains don’t say why it’s urgent that it be fixed, but it’s obvious that they want it to be done immediately. Crew members can assist one another in taking the coolant systems apart to maintenance them or to suggest ways to fix the machine. After a few hours of steady work, that familiar thrum will be felt under everyone’s feet and the Ingress machine will power back on. However, both the Captains and the crew will notice one startlingly obvious difference: the moving blue light and energy has darkened around the edges. There appears to be a person standing just on either side but can’t come through. The shadow remains there no matter what anyone does, and the colors flicker and alter depending upon which crew member is the closest.

And like most things, they always come in pairs. Later that evening, a broadcast is received via Navigation that’s translated across the entirety of the Moira, both over an intercom and over the MID. While it is received as a text, a nondescript voice announces it promptly:

Greetings. We are sending this as a formality on behalf of our sister, Caducus Primary and its survivors. In accordance with our beliefs, the travesty that has occurred in the past must be made equal. That equality means lives given for those taken. While terms are unlikely to be made and agreed upon, they will be heard. A decision to flee will be seen as an act of guilt and cowardice. This is the only warning that will be made. You will be given time to prepare for our approach, People of the Vessel Moira.

With this message received, Navigation also informs the Captains, who then relay to the crew, that a ship bound from Caducus Secondary are within range and have made it clear they are here to settle a “debt” by attacking. Members of the crew are being divided into randomly assigned teams - which can be found temporarily listed in the MID under the directory - and encouraged to discuss plans to help prevent and preserve the lives of those aboard. Reporting these ideas will be the responsibility of elected team leaders, and a final decision will be made shortly thereafter by the Captains.

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[She nods in agreement, not caring at all about his getting right up and into her personal space. Curling her fingers up near her mouth, she bites at her thumb as she thinks over what he's just said and tries to align it with what she's already assuming.]

It was dark. The room felt too quiet and still. I don't think anything is going to be able to get in until it's at least back at a malfunctioning but still working level. They could have been arguing over what caused the shift in gravity and then took out the Ingress, though. If I were them, I'd be caught up in being worried about that exact thing.

It's hard to say whether we lost gravity or tipped, although I strongly suspect the latter. So what could have tipped us? What's big enough? Something to do with the sails, maybe, but they must be very stable... if not, why wouldn't something like that have happened before?

[He notices what she's doing, and his mouth twists fractionally to the side in mild amusement: the passing hint of a smile.]

If I were them, I'd be worried about both. They can't be unrelated. Was anyone getting the upper hand in the argument?

They weren't speaking in a language I recognized. It was one my MID couldn't pick up on to translate, either. I thought to record what they were saying, to try and identify the language later, but I didn't want to stay long enough to get caught watching.

[Which is probably the most interesting thing out of all of it to her, which shows in the way she grins while biting at her thumb a bit more. She drops her hand down relatively quickly after that though, and uses that hand to motion for him to follow her as she creeps along toward the Ingress so they can peek inside.]

[He's inclined to agree with her.] It is a hell of a time for traffic violations.

[His back hits the wall and he shouts, rolls over, and holds his feet out to stop a large plastic crate that's scraping across the ground towards them. He winces when it hits. Fucker's heavy and that slam into the side of the ship wasn't exactly a soft one.]

[The efforts to hold it back are rewarded by the thing tipping and them finding themselves covered in a small avalanche of shoes, all of which seem to have lost their friends somewhere in the crowd. No single one anywhere near its mate.]

[Before he creeps along with her, that causes his head to tilt almost like that of a curious owl. He whispers,]

I may be able to translate more than the MID can, but it's hard to say.

[Then he's following along: urging him is completely unnecessary, but maybe it's the schoolteacher in her, or maybe she's spent time around people who had to be convinced to go along with her plans... he's not sure.

All of this means that the Captains consciously choose when they want to be understood, and may have a language of their own that the MID isn't capable of translating. Why? By their design? It would have to be, wouldn't it?

What happens if he and Clara are caught?]

[Niko closes his eyes and listens to Deacon's story. But then, shakes his head.]

That is the thing...

I don't want a planet destroyed. I don't want to ever see dead children again. But this Johnny guy? Still a better man than me in the end.

Because I would still take a baseball bat to someone who barely deserved it. I just have some standards. Here, though... this isn't about me being a good man. I got people I care about on this ship, and I want them alive. I don't want the universe chasing after them as threats.

If we go after those people? We're going to either destroy them, or their dignity.

[He nods with his chin at the window.] In this case. My standards pay off for everyone I guess.

Are you good at working with languages, then?

[She stops walking just long enough to glance over her shoulder at him, curiosity obviously piqued. She's about to open her mouth to say that she finds it highly suspicious that they were speaking something that wasn't translated by the device given to the entire crew, when a message comes up over both of their devices.

The captains' message about needing help with the Ingress and about regular job duties being cancelled for the week make both of her eyebrows arch, and she offers him an inquisitive glance once the message ends.]

If you're wanting to get a peek at things before a rush of people, we better hurry.

I am, but -- the ship I was on before this had its own translation methods.

Now that they know we're coming, we're not likely to catch as much.

[Still, he's silent as they approach. His steps don't make any noise.

The arguing voices can still be heard; he cocks his ear, then cups it, trying to make out syllables and give the nanites a go at them. It's hard to say whether they'll even work anymore, and if they do, whether or not their apparent hive mind needs to have been exposed to the language in the past via the body of a speaker.

If he and Clara get caught at this, he's going to point out to the captains that they're completely aware that this is part of his job.]

Don't go saying nice things about Johnny. Even reformed he was a total loser, just not, like, evil any more. I couldn't stand the guy.

"Some standards" are still way better than a lot of people's standards. But hey, I've been told I have a kind of skewed opinion of morality and stuff. If you don't support slavery, murder random innocents, or eat the flesh of your enemies, you're good by me.

You asked to be a diplomat, so that means you're interested in talk first when talk might get somewhere. And other times...hell, some people do actually need a baseball bat to the face.

[With as hard as she's working, as dedicated to coming up with a decent plan as she is, the toll of not sleeping or taking care of herself eventually starts to weigh on Clara. She doesn't do anything to remedy this, of course, apart from drinking entirely too much coffee and eating small snacks. Telling herself there's plenty of time to take care of basic necessities after everyone's survived the upcoming encounter, she thinks about how much easier this would be with an assistant. Thinking of assistant makes her think of Sans, since she's supposedly his assistant.

And really, there's nothing wrong with a little role reversal every now and then, is there?

So she seeks him out, making sure to load herself down with an impossible amount of books and supplies. The more loaded down she looks, the more likely he'll be to offer his assistance up front, right? When she spots him in the hall, she makes sure that the books are stacked high enough that they cover her face, so she stumbles "aimlessly" and bumps right into him. Her stacking skills are good enough that the tower doesn't go toppling over. She does a good job of acting like she fears it might, though.]

Think I'd be able to see you, if you could take some of this off my hands.

[She watches him observe the captains, taking note of the way he turns his head and cups his ear. Almost as if he's actually able to translate things on cue. Her eyes go from observing him to looking over at the men heatedly discussing things, and she takes notice of something. Quietly, she moves in closer to him so she can whisper into his ear,]

Thán was here earlier. He isn't now.

[That's curious, to her, but she could just be needlessly suspicious at this point. She doesn't trust the captains and the more things here happen, the less inclined she is to want to try and form some sort of trust.]

[He turns his head slightly towards her, and his eyebrows go up. He whispers back -- the words are almost totally unvoiced.]

So... he lost the argument, or there's something he needs to do. If he'd won it, I don't think they'd still be arguing. Were any of them doing anything in particular earlier?

[Sans, to his credit, was actually doing something akin to working when Clara enacted her Happenstance Encounter. Thumbing through a small notebook, he looks up just in time to get knocked slightly off balance. Thankfully for both of them, he had a low center of gravity.

And an impressive bullshit detector.

He has to hand it to her, really. It's a pretty impressive dance and she performs it flawlessly. If she were barking up a different tree it would almost assuredly work -- too bad she picked a mark with a severe allergy to effort.]

'Zat you, Clara? I barely recognized you. [From the top of the stack he floats exactly one book down to his level, tucking it under his arm.] Help any?

Talking.

[She's a little distracted as she answers him, too focused on watching the captains that remain in the room. Luckily, she's also paying close attention to what he's saying, or else she wouldn't have heard the question.]

They all looked close to panic. Whatever's going on, I think they're divided on how to figure it out and take care of it.

[Which makes her a little more bold, and she creeps in a little closer to peek out around the corner. As long as they stay quiet, she doubts they'll be noticed at this point.]

[He stands on his toes and cranes his neck over her head, also peeking into the room for a long moment, then withdraws quickly from that position.]

At least one of them must not have wanted to ask for our help. What are the other options? Fix it themselves, call in visiting techs?

[A quick shake of his head.]

The important thing is how worried they are that it's stopped.

[Only one book? Is he serious right now? Huffing a little, Clara leans forward so that at least four more go falling at him. If he doesn't catch them, they'll likely hit him.]

Think that ought to do it, yeah.

[Whether she's referring to the one book he's grabbed or the four more she's just sent flying at him, she doesn't make clear. What does matter is the fact that now her face is visible, and she flashes him a bright smile.]

Hopefully you weren't too busy. [Because clearly, she plans on his walking along with her while he carries her books. Books that she doesn't even technically need right now, but she has to have some reason for him to come along with her.]

[Nodding in agreement, she studies the captains for a few moments longer before pulling away. Turning to leave, her fingers curl into the fabric of his sleeve and she tugs him along after her. They just go to the hallway, close enough to still hear anything too loud, and to also see who all shows up to help with the Ingress itself.]

They're definitely worried. Do you think it could be because it not working at all has the potential for the crew to mutiny?

[She can't say that she hasn't had the thought of taking over. Kindly, of course, with an explanation that she has everyone's best interest at heart. Since she does, she just also greatly values having total control over any situation that involves her life.]

Or do you think it's because they're afraid of what caused this to happen? If I were them, I wouldn't want to own up to the fact that the ship I've got contracted workers on is vulnerable.

[He allows himself to be tugged along like a puppy. It's a good idea to get away from the door, both so they can stop mouthing words at each other and so they don't seem to be eavesdropping quite as obviously. Still, his words come out rushed and in hushed tones.]

No. To a great extent, we would be lost without them... in the literal, physical sense. Right now, we don't have any choice but to trust them.

I don't mean "wholeheartedly": only in terms of allowing them to continue to lead. Anyone who supported a mutiny would be thinking only of the immediate future and not about how the captains have a huge amount of environmental information and experience that we don't. Aside from that, we don't know if they have friends, or who their friends are, or how often they check in with each other. They'd have to know that at least some of us would consider these factors.

Your second guess is better. But what both tilts the ship and breaks the Ingress, and if either was intentional, which? We don't know if anything else is broken. You would think it might be.

I don't know that I'd go so far as to say I'm inclined to trust them. Just because I signed my contract and am working here doesn't mean I trust them. It means they're currently only as useful to me as they make themselves out to be.

[She gives him a look that says she's going to be stubborn about trusting them, cheeks puffing up slightly as she gives a quick shake of her head.]

We don't know that the captains actually have any environmental information or what their experience is. All we know is that they need us. And that if we're going to see what else is broken, we might want to check navigation and see how they're fairing.

[She can only smile a little and nod, because she doesn't understand what that sort of life must be like. She doesn't want to try and act like she understands, but she wants him to know that she's listening and understands that he wants to make a difference here because of his background.]

You mentioned someone earlier. Benjamin Link? Who is he, exactly? And why wouldn't you be allowed to speak with him?

I think we're using different definitions of "trust." I certainly don't mean to imply belief or admiration -- only that they're currently our best option. Statistically and logically more likely to have environmental information, or good access to it, than any of the rest of us.

[He nods once, sharply, and begins to move towards a lift that will take them to Navigation... without being dragged, this time.]

Although it isn't comforting that they don't know how to fix the Ingress. I couldn't understand a word of what they were saying, by the way. I don't think the system I have access to has ever been exposed to that language... but that's really neither here nor there.

[He stops before the lift.]

It may not be a good idea to use this.

Yes, I'm fine. My body is mostly made of metal, and I've survived much longer falls with minimal damage.

Snow is a rather peculiar skill to have.

[ Tony needs it in his life.

As for the man's comment, Adrien just rolled his eyes but he had stopped talking for the time being. What he was listening too on the ear bud was more important than trading barbs with his roommate.

That could come later.

For now ... well, the more he listened the more concerned his expression grew. ]

Am I hearing that right?

[Head...tilt. Does the user not know what an admin is?]

Probability: low.
User-title 'Captain.'

[User ID: Manasseh is one of the people running this place. (Also a female, not that Rinzler sees that as worth clarifying.) In the program's experience, admins do the letting go.

The black mask meets Clara's examination directly, and if there's no facial expression to observe, she might be able to catch the slight skip in the rumbling sound that answers her inquiry. Amusement. Rinzler's nod is only a little exaggerated. Yes, user. He's fine.]

[Boone is always up for a chance to train, so it's not really a problem. He nods, and heads back inside his room. He comes back out with his rifle slung over his back and Maria and his machete at his hip. Well, he might as well bring all of them.]

Let's go.

[He's quiet as they start walking, but after a few moments he speaks up again.]

You read something you didn't like?

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( june event log )

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