I
N
T
R
O
L
O
G
|
old but unfamiliar faces
"We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once."
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. Shortly after, you are led out and toward the medbay.
Inside this room, you are given a physical scan and offered a contract to sign that states you are now part of the crew of the Moira with a specific job. Any questions you might have would be answered in a straightforward manner as well as an explanation about how the Ingress, the thing that has pulled you onto the Moira, is broken and bringing people here unintentionally. This process also 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 or wrist with only the slightest pinch. From there, you are guided out of the medbay and to your living quarters.
At first, this month seems no more unusual than the previous one for those who have been aboard the Moira for any amount of time. The crew who had landed on the slaver outpost were rescued, and with everyone aboard, the ship has pushed forward into the darker parts of the Runoff. Anyone arriving through the Ingress follows the same routine—moving from the Ingress room into the Medbay for their physical and contract before being assisted by seasoned crew members and helped to their assigned decks. But all familiar things must eventually come to an end: two final travelers come through the Ingress. The first, and most noticeable difference between them and all the others, is their clothing. Both are dressed in standard Moira uniforms, though they bear the insignia of one sharing the same rank as Captains Cúrre and Thán. After a moment to take in all the people on the platform ahead of them, one of the two latest arrivals approaches one of the Ingress panels and begins to manipulate the controls. The Ingress completely shuts down. Unlike before, however, there isn’t an imbalance felt across the ship; everything remains normal and stable.
Utilizing the computer systems located in the Ingress room, they send out the following message to the crew via the MID:To all those aboard this vessel: I am Ira Phirun, assigned captain of the Moira. First Mate Egan and I will be commandeering all rights to the ship as soon as word is sent to those currently in charge. Expect a more detailed report as soon as all records and logs in Navigation have been reviewed by myself and the First Mate. All questions will be answered in a timely matter. For now, there will be no interruption of daily routine or reprimand if conduct among ranks is broken. Thanks for your time. Heading to Navigation, the Captain and First Mate, for seemingly unknown reasons, approach Navigator Manasseh and have her show them all records and logs of the Moira. Those working in Navigation when the Captain and First Mate arrive will see Mana greet them in a professional manner. Oddly, the Captain and First Mate act very familiar with the Navigator. They review all documents, but when they come upon news that the Ploiatos is on board, their mostly friendly demeanor shifts quickly. The Captain issues a sharp order, unintelligible to those who are close enough to overhear parts of their conversation, and without any warning at all, Mana loses consciousness and collapses right there on the bridge. Within minutes of this happening, the ship as a whole falls into a low power state with basic functions only. Mana’s MID alerts Medbay, and without hesitation, Captain Cúrre places her in cryo with strict orders to those who work there not to disturb the unit.
As promised, the Captain and First Mate soon address the crew.☄ lights down low The lighting has dimmed in all the rooms and halls, the normally crisp air that is pumped from the vents low, and all machines and tech are running at half-speed. These effects can be found throughout the ship. Water in the showers remain hot for only a few minutes before reverting to cold. Recreational equipment powers off not long after it has been turned on. The sanitation and water filtration systems require an hourly manual reboot, and all unused areas of the ship have no power allotted to them until a crew member steps inside. Even then, most functions are not optimal. It’s as if the Moira has been transformed into a dark house with only a candle flickering on the window sill. ☄ reuse & recycle The Captain and First Mate are quick to establish that this is a new regime and go about making the ship and its crew more efficient in the wake of their change in course and the low power state of the ship itself. This means they will systematically inspect each occupied barracks room and leave notes for what needs to be disposed of or stowed away. Unlike before, this is no longer a pleasure cruise, and each member of the crew is a guest on board; they will not tolerate useless clutter. Anything seen as unnecessary will be either placed into storage in the Cargo Bay or disposed of through the airlock. This new need for efficiency also extends to the need to conserve resources until they reach their destination. The showers are set to an automatic timer to minimize water waste. Those few minutes of hot water are all a crew member is now given. Meals are smaller, bordering on ration sizes, and luxuries are done away with entirely in order to preserve supplies so that the ship can go longer before needing to dock at a planet. ☄ new jobs, same faces The Captain and his First Mate, as expressed in their addressing of the Moira, explain that work efficiency is a priority. Applications for a head of the following departments will be accepted for a short period: Navigation, the Tower, Medbay, Defense, the Hold, Sanitation, Ingress work, and the Galley/Mess Hall. (Here.) After reviewing what they receive, one head of department will be chosen and tasked with helping crew find positions relevant to those departments and their own skillsets. They will be allowed to retain any positions that they held before that aren’t ship-functional jobs, but they will have to be done in leisure time. In two weeks time, they’ll be accepting department position applications which will be approved, and all those that do not apply will be assigned in accordance with their initial work application. They will also choose three individuals to act as guards of Ploiatos to ensure that there is a rotation available at all times. Will you choose to follow this new decision and promote yourself into a position of responsibility? Or will you simply wait for a reassignment?
|
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hownkai) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2016-08-01 12:13 am
observation deck
Still, for Tony's part, he already knows he likes this guy. They'd worked seamlessly as a team during the Caducan invasion, even overlayed it with some patented obnoxious snark. It had been almost like working with an Avenger. ]
Pretty sure somebody should be asking you that.
[ Which is sort of like the Tony Stark way of asking, while artfully not answering any question originally posed to him. ]
You look tense. You should try pilates or something.
no subject
The secret sits heavy in his chest, and when Tony looks at him like he could have a friend, he's more than tempted to tear it down, to tell him what really happened to his parents. It would be a kindness, better than the charade he puts up. A better man, perhaps, would have told Tony already. Maybe. They work very well together, and in between working together to kick out invaders and watching those Star Trek episodes, there are moments when he can almost forget the cold, painful truth that catches in his throat whenever he tries.
Tony's observation makes him wonder for a second -- does he already know? Is he really that transparent? He probably is; the guilt will eat him alive, all written across his face.
But that discovery will be on another day, and Bucky realizes that when he talks about pilates, and he snorts, feeling something wind tight in the pit of his stomach. ]
Why, it worked for you?
no subject
The only saving grace is that he's in plenty of good company on this hellship. ]
Please. [ He snorts. ] Do I look like a guy who does pilates?
[ (The answer is 'no', because he looks stressed as fuck.) ]
no subject
[ Bucky responds blandly, because there's nothing quite like returning that ridiculous recommendation in kind. But it doesn't escape his notice that Tony's on edge, practically buzzing, and while good sense tells him that he should probably leave it alone and excuse himself (because associating with the son of the couple he'd brutally murdered is a very bad idea in all iterations, even if his reasoning had been to atone and make amends), his curiosity about Tony's state of mind wins out. ]
Penny for your thoughts.
[ One day. One day something is going to fuck this arrangement up -- he just knows it; he's probably going to be the one who fucks this up, considering karma -- and Tony will probably kill him for it. ]
no subject
[ He rolls his eyes, then rolls his shoulders. Bucky's not wrong, of course, and he knows it. Anyone who looks at him knows it. But he's far from the only person around here who looks like they need a gallon of herbal tea and a week of sleep, so he's fairly used to getting away with it. ]
So how does this work, I share and then you share?
[ Because he's never gonna talk without there being a catch. ]
no subject
You look like shit.
[ That's as polite as he can make it. He contemplates that offer, then nods. ]
Sure.
[ You're up. ]
no subject
Should we start with crushing existential dread or keep it at more mundane topics like inter-dimensional slave trade?
[ The message is loud and clear: everything is shit, Bucky. All of it. It's nothing but shit. Where do you even expect a conversation like this to begin, in the vastness of the shit-universe. ]
no subject
[ The inflection in Bucky's tone is akin to one talking about the weather -- it's a deliberate disconnect, however mild. He has a debt to Tony he can never repay; and he tries to make it up to him in little ways, help him in whatever way he needs. It's how he can start to atone, right? All those sins aren't going anywhere.
Everything is shit, the whole universe is shit, so might as well start with the shittiest. ]
What's the shittiest thing on your mind?
no subject
[ Incredibly, he doesn't need to think on it too long or too hard. The thing tormenting him the most right now is clear and present at the front of his mind. ]
Nearly having a heart attack, taking a mandatory nap on ice for several weeks, and waking up to everybody I know being beaten to hell. Little hard to top.