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

[Of all the possible replies the program had anticipated, somehow that one hadn't made the list. He stares for a beat, half-expecting the request to be rhetorical, but when the user fails to continue, Rinzler's helmet ducks in a short nod.]

[ miles laces his fingers together and leans forward, gray eyes burning into rinzler's...well, he doesn't know if rinzler has much of a face, but he's boring into that visor as if he can see through it. he wishes he could. ]

What's a single life worth to you? All other things being equal, what value do you assign to the life of just one person?

[...value? Rinzler stares back, unmoving. Only the slight uptick of his noise betrays the annoyance. Is this one of those resource token things the users do? Or just a leadup to explaining why they should die trying to spare the threats? He's not sure which possibility is more irritating.]

'Value': not relevant.

Ah. That's what I thought.

[ miles's mouth quirks up into a thin smile. ]

But surely you must assign some value to your own life. We all must, if we are willing to fight back to save them. [ he leans forward on one elbow. ] A bit of a conundrum, isn't it?

[A conundrum? Not really. Deleting threats was a function in and of itself, regardless of what 'value' was or wasn't placed on anyone. More, it's Rinzler's function. Not that this user would know anything about that.

The program stares back, making no effort to respond. Get to the point.]

[ miles leans back, studying rinzler. he really wishes rinzler had an actual face he could read. he taps his fingers to his lips. ]

Let's say we take the offensive route. No-holds-barred self-defense. Of course, aggressive campaigns like that almost always result in casualties on both sides. What would you consider acceptable loss in order for that strategy to remain the most viable one?

[The program stares for a beat before reaching for his MID. With a direct inquiry, he can't really pretend the user isn't looking for an answer... even if odds are climbing to near-certainty that it's just so he can wipe the option.]

Deletion (allies): not 'acceptable'.

[Unavoidable, yes. But Rinzler's fairly sure that has more to do with the ship full of people trying to kill them than it does with any offensive or defensive plan. The purpose of prioritizing defense at any cost was to minimize that.

...well, the main purpose. After a moment, Rinzler adds another line.]

Deletion (threats): the point.

[ that only earns an ironic quirk of miles's mouth. ]

Of course it's the point. To you. Has it ever considered that it might not be so simple for others? Or that they might not, at least, have the same basic objective? The point, for most of us, is not elimination of threats, Rinzler. It is survival.

[ and though miles has been perfectly civil, if sardonic, his smile goes somewhat savage at that, his eyes lighting up in manic energy. oh, yes. he knows a thing or two about survival. he doesn't relent. ]

You didn't answer my question. At what point would projected loss in a direct confrontation result in escape as a more viable strategy? Nothing short of total obliteration?

[Oh, so it is saying they shouldn't fight the threats. Of course. Rinzler would be disappointed, if he weren't so utterly, completely angry. That it's wasted his time. That it's going to get all of them killed, and tout itself as superior for doing so.]

Total deletion: their goal.
Won't stop.
Won't leave.
Found us already.
Won't warn us next time.

Escape: not viable. Results in full 'obliteration' or repeated combat with disadvantage.
Best result: higher losses on delay.

[The ticking rumble is all but seething now, a quick, rolling staccato of sheer rage. He's not some glitching animal trying to kill for no reason. These are threats. That means they're harming everyone. Was it really this stupid? Or was that delay all the user wanted? The ship wouldn't escape, but maybe one or two users could. If they weren't a part of the system, why would the threats bother to pursue?]

Threat deletion: my function. Protects system. Necessary.
Your survival: yours.

[ well, you can't say it's not a thorough answer. miles considers that for a moment, tilting his head to the side. ]

Hm. Logic accepted.

[ and it is logic, in its consistency. certainly can't fault rinzler for that. miles blinks slowly at him, considering further, and his eyebrows twitch up. ]

So, by your logic, mine is flawed. Does your logic then follow that something is wrong with me?

[ now he's just curious. ]

[The growl abates, but Rinzler's noise is still ticking out just a little quicker than it should. He's not sure if he's being patronized or taunted. Or why it's wasting any of their time with glitching tests.

Either way, he's not lying for its comfort.]

Yes.

[ miles seems to take that into consideration, his only real reaction a slight narrowing of the eyes, a brief tightening of the jaw. but then he gives rinzler another slow blink, like some kind of hunched cat, and his mouth stretches into a tight but not altogether unamused smile. ]

Mm. [ one corner of his mouth twitches up a little further in some unspoken irony. ] Thank you. You can move along now.

[ he gives rinzler a shooing wave of his hand, a clear dismissal. ]

[Rinzler's helmet locks in irritation, and if the slight flex of light-lined hands at either side is any hint, he's tempted to do more than glare offense. He's not some animal to be shooed off. And he came here for a reason.]

Maintaining flawed directives?

[ miles's smile turns icy. ]

Well, what do you expect?

[ he leans forward, hands laced together, and his eyes harden, though his smile is still there, looking strange on his face. ]

I said I'd take it under consideration. But to be honest, I don't put much stock in advice on saving lives from killers.

[ his gaze flattens, the smile disappearing without a trace. ]

You can go.

[He could. He hasn't, and the repeated dismissal only sets that stubborn irritation grinding louder through his sound. He doesn't need this user's permission, and if it's stupid and selfish enough to get them all deleted anyway, there's no point to accepting its commands.

Really, that's all he needs to know.]

Majority of ship: killers.

[It's an impressive amount of collected skill, and certainly more use in saving them than anything this user's said. No, whatever dislike it's sitting on is personal. See also: stupid, especially now.]

Confirm/deny: ignoring advice, maintaining previous plan?

[ miles gives rinzler a why are you still standing there? look, but he hasn't turned away yet. he taps his fingers on the bartop. ]

See, that's your flaw. Everything is so black-and-white to you. [ he eyes rinzler contemplatively. ] But I imagine that was the intent of whoever it was that designed you. It must make your job much easier.

[The enforcer bristles visibly, but he makes no effort to deny it. There isn't any point, and he's certainly not admitting to this glitch just how many ways he's violating his function now.]

Not an answer.

Well, I don't have to give you one.

[ miles refrains from following that up with a so there, sounding downright petulant. now he's being stubborn and flippant just because he can. ]

Now, unless you're going to order a drink, I think it's time for you to leave.

[Rinzler stares for a long moment, noise ticking out in harsh, clipped beats. How utterly useless. Not only did the admins put a tactically stupid user in charge of defense planning, they picked one so selfish and petty as to prioritize scoring points above carrying out its role. If there's a worse choice for leader, he certainly can't process it. All of this has been a colossal waste of time.

The text display vanishes without another word, and Rinzler turns to walk away. He'll be taking his team and reporting to Peridot for all further defense coordination. At least she's actually trying to protect the ship.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( june event log )

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