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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Clara glances over in the middle of smoothing out her clothes, a huffy look on her face as she reads the text presented to her.]

Yeah, well, sounds like he needs to be let go.

[As pissy as she is about the fact that she's just been tossed around, her anger is short lived, and all too soon she's crossing her arms over her chest as she looks him over.]

What about you, then? Are you alright?

[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.]

[Unfortunately for her, she has no trouble voicing her opinion on when they should be let go or overthrown. Her discomfort calls for such an occasion, as is evidenced by the look of distaste on her face. Of course, that look doesn't last there long, as the fact that he's most definitely curious captivates her attention. So she steps in a little closer, keeping enough of a distance that she's not in his personal space. Her head tips off to the side as she regards him, smiling in response to the words she sees in the holographic pop up.]

I don't care if they're one of the captains. They should be held responsible for failing at their job! [She pauses, taking a breath.] That sound you're making, though. The rumbling? Is that how you speak where you're from?

[Without giving him time to properly respond, she adds on,] It's lovely.

[The distortion persists, a huff of static behind the mechanical sound. Still, Rinzler's helmet quirks back to normal, only a small shrug answering her indignation. If the user wants to take it up with the admins, he won't get in the way.

It's the next topic that has Rinzler stiffening, a twitch of fingers and coiled tension in his spine as amusement wipes clear to something much more edged. And bitter. On the Grid, programs knew better than to mention the Enforcer's sound (or any implications it might have), but Rinzler's learned the hard way that users here have much less hesitation. And how he speaks? He's not sure if the question is a taunt or a genuine assumption that he's no more than one of their animal-creatures. Neither would be particularly new.

Calculations are still running when the user speaks again. Rinzler stalls. Stares. The shake of the head that follows is small, but more confused than wary.]

Error output.

Not written for communication.

[She observes the way he stiffens after she asks about the speaking, and realizes that she's gone and said the wrong thing.]

Sorry. [She's quick to apologize to him, reaching out a little as if it's going to close the distance between them.] My mouth has a mind of its own sometimes. It's definitely trying to go solo. Runs away from me all the time. I was only trying to say I liked the sounds, that's all.

[Smiling a little, her hand drops down to her side. She finds him to be incredibly interesting and sparks her curiosity, but she doesn't want to offend him by acting on that.]

When you say you're not written for communication, though, what does that mean?

[Come to think of it, the sounds he's been emitting sound very technical, almost digital in nature. And his using error output...

He couldn't be made of coding, could he?]

[The program doesn't back away, not fully, but that reach will earn a very pointed stare until it disappears. No touching. He looks up after, watching for a long moment before the helmet dips slightly. It's acknowledgement, if a reluctant one.

...which doesn't stop that noise from catching with a slightly more clipped beat at the requested clarification. Really? Rinzler's fairly certain he was clear.]

Not my function.

[Definitely some sort of program or something, then. The urge to ask if he can take off his helmet is nearly overwhelming, but she bites at her lip because she knows that's rude and she has more tact than that.]

Okay, that's not your function. Do you mind telling me what your function is?

[There's a pause, as she rocks back on her heels then forward onto her tiptoes, leaning a bit at the waist.]

And can you tell me what you prefer to be called?

[Getting that out of him is probably the most important thing, she figures.]

Threat deletion.

[So, murderbot! Rinzler's attention lingers on the MID a little longer than the typing shows, and if Clara's quick enough, she can catch him running a scan of network traffic, though the textbox projected to his side doesn't change. No public alarms yet, which means low probability of any immediate threats now. He'd been wondering when the gravity failed.]

ID: Rinzler.

[Her face lights up as she sees what his function in, and she winds up clapping her hands together in excitement. She even gives a little bounce. She did indeed catch that he was looking over the network, but that fact seems to pale in comparison to the fact that he could be exactly what she's looking for.]

So you're good at guarding things, then. That's a coincidence because I'm looking for someone to be an...enforcer, of sorts.

[It's a nice way of putting it. She really wants an intimidator.]

[That... is exactly his place in the system at home. For Clu. (Would Clu mind him running a task for this user?) It's probably a nonissue, but Rinzler's half-suspicious of the coincidence as he angles his helmet to the side, falling back to nonverbals by reflex. It's a silent question, but not one that's particularly hard to read.

What for?]

You never know when you might need to intimidate someone into giving you information.

[She says it so casually that it's almost out of place on someone with such a sweet voice. Her words are accompanied by an innocent smile and a shrug of her shoulders. ]

[Static crackles briefly behind the mask, distinctly reminiscent of someone snorting into an audio feed. You never know, except she does, and he needs more data if he's going to be useful.

Rinzler thinks he likes this user.]

Target?

No one specific yet.

[She makes sure to emphasize that point, giving him a look that says she doesn't have a fully formed plan in her head at the moment.]

But if I can't get information about what's just happened to cause the ship to tip like that, we may have to press against higher authority to figure things out.

[No targets. The ticking noise skips a beat, though he's willing to let that yet play out. It's the line after that really catches Rinzler's focus, and the program stills. Higher authority. Was she proposing to take on the admins?

It's possible. In theory. But in Rinzler's experience, threatening system administrators is a quick route to deletion or repurpose, and if these ones have shown almost bizarre leniency for punishing more casual infractions, it's hard to say what repercussions a direct challenge might bring. Rinzler knows he doesn't have the standing or protection of the users here, and if the admins hadn't participated in the earlier effort to recode his unwanted behavior, they certainly hadn't seemed to disapprove.

None of that pertains to the user in front of him, though, and after a pause, Rinzler responds with a slight incline of his mask. Acknowledgement, if not a promise of support.

Hopefully, she'll find out another way.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( june event log )

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