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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?
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hownkai) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2016-08-01 12:13 am
no subject
But then, it's a bit too early to tell if the machine's operating under some sort of logic or not. From the sounds of it, not even the captains (old or new) know.]
Forty years ago, the furthest away humans had been was to our moon. Guess we just had enough going on down on Earth, that space stopped being as much of a priority.
[The augmentation industry had expanded so rapidly, so explosively, that it's almost as if all focus had gone into developing that to the exclusion of all other fields. Hard to imagine a world where that might've not been the case, where they could've been making contact with whole other civilizations. He curls the fingers of one hand, almost unconsciously.]
no subject
I have spoken with a few people here who are familiar with space travel, but overall I think you may be right. It also seems strange that a supposedly random process appears to pull mostly humans to this place.
[Nothing to be done about it, though. At least, not currently.]
Hm...Different timelines, different histories. This is bound to get confusing quickly. Where I'm from, the year as humans count it is 2185. I spoke with a gentleman earlier who told me it was 1984. What year is it for you?
no subject
The moment quickly passes, and he adds: 2027. So practically the dark ages.
[The statement's certainly an ironic one; the sophistication of his cybernetics (which still holds up even against some of the other people from the future he's met) speaks to that. But maybe there's a hint of… Bitterness, as well? The year had been the culmination of an age truly cast in gold, and not just gilded in it.
Lucky him – he'd gotten a first row seat to see exactly how it ends, just before coming here. No telling what comes next, now.]
no subject
That is something I've noticed about some of my closer human acquaintances.
[It's a harmless quirk in nearly every case, which he fully recognizes. It's dangerous in others, unfortunately, and that is where problems seem to spring from.]
Gaining access to your planet's moon is no small achievement. The drell hadn't even advanced that far before the hanar arrived.
[Baby steps are cool, Jensen; no one's judging humanity (well, Thane isn't, at least) for focusing on cool cybernetic upgrades instead of exploring Mars.]
no subject
[To be an active player, rather than a passive one. In control of one's future. Framed like that, he can't really call it vanity.
He shakes his head.] Either way, I can't say this is how I imagined my "first contact" to go. Less of a "take me to your leader" situation, and more casual conversation involved.
[Matter of fact, Adam can imagine a certain cybersecurity specialist freaking out over a conversation like this taking place at all. Mostly because he's probably not asking the right questions, or something. But honestly– screw it. This is alright, whatever this is.]
no subject
[Though it worked out quite comfortably for the drell. Or, at least, for the 375,000 who'd been lucky enough to be evacuated from their dying home world. So for a tiny minority of the drell, it had worked out.
Well, nothing's perfect.]
Oh? I hope that's not too much of a disappointment.
[If Thane had any interest in Jensen's leader, he'd just find that individual himself.
And Mr Francis "No Fun" Pritchard can suck an egg]sorry again for disappearing aaa