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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
Seeing her in the midst of a task doesn't take him by surprise; nor does he make the mistake of buying it for a second. She wouldn't dare seem so casual if she wasn't on guard, but there's nothing new about that. Leaning against the wall as the door shuts, he crosses his arms.
"Too bad 'm dead broke."
no subject
"How's yours?" His room, she means. Down the hall with his own pack of strangers, away from each other and all the comforts they're used to, that she came to rely on to keep her from screeching off the rails. She's not as worried about Daryl as about herself slipping and reverting back to things she wants nothing to do with, and nothing about this is sitting comfortably.
Quite frankly, knowing he's all right will do a lot toward calming her nerves, and of course he knows that, so she'll have to try and decide how honest his answer is once she hears it. At least he's probably not sleeping in the corridor like he told her about that first night in the Temple.
no subject
"Ain't so bad," he reasons, crossing to stand before her, too restless yet to think of sitting. "Real live aliens an' everything."
No, he's not sleeping in the hallway. He's not really sleeping well, either, but it could be a lot worse. All that time in Teleios-- he hates to think of it as going soft, but he's gotten a little better at coping with strangers. Straight out of home he'd probably have locked himself in a closet somewhere already.
"You holdin' up all right?"
no subject
When he asks the question she knew was coming, she almost says it: Sure I am. The words are right there, along with a smile as fake as it is convincing. Being in this new, strange place has all her old instincts fighting their way to the surface. So far she's been mostly successful at holding them back by remembering all the reasons she shoved them aside in the first place, with a few slips here and there. Looking at Daryl makes it easier, since she can still feel the heavy thud of that falling tree and it's strong enough to overcome the paralyzing what ifs that took her over.
Instead, she looks down, at her folded hands which are resting in her lap. "About as you'd expect." He knows her, especially after watching her those years in Teleios as she battled back her impulse to block everyone out and finally found a place she could call home, but even before that he'd have known she wasn't fine. That she takes the loss too hard, that she can't stand the newness of everything and everyone, that if she were allowed she'd have made a stack of baked goods a mile high. But, after those years in Teleios, she at least admits the truth instead of skillfully dodging the question. Logically, she knows there's no use regretting making their choice to leave, and if there was a chance of getting back home to support their people then she's glad they took it, no matter what private hell she'd be reverting back to. Knowing how things ended up, though...
Everything here reminding her of Beverly really isn't helping, either. It wasn't just a goodbye, it was Carol volunteering to toss aside all the memories they made, all the effort it took to become so close not once, but twice. She had always wished she could say a proper goodbye to someone just once, but it was horrible. There's just no good way to lose what they lost, she knows that, doesn't need reminders or consolation; what she needs, she has learned, is time, and unfortunately it's not much of a comfort just yet.
no subject
But that doesn't mean it comes easy, and when she pauses, he gets what it means. It's some comfort that she doesn't lie for his benefit. After all this time, maybe that's fair. They ought to be honest with themselves, with each other. Leaning against the upper bunk, he fixes her with a long look, then nods.
"We'll be all right."
For a moment the old, aggressive optimism that used to come so much easier shines through. He believes it. Knows having faith-- that they'll adjust, same as always, they ain't ashes yet-- is the only way it's going to be true.
no subject
But being okay and being happy aren't even a little the same, so there's also that. There's no pretending this place is anything like the farmhouse or the penthouse she dreamed into existence, the first places she ever felt safe in her whole life. Somehow she thinks of when Daryl returned to Teleios after that short absence -- short, from her perspective, but over a year (she's guessing, eight months at the prison plus whatever came after) for him. How he didn't want to settle in, at first, didn't even want to stay in the house to sleep. She never got to see how he reacted to losing the prison, but she doesn't imagine it'd be too different. And that's how she's feeling now: out of place, like she wants to crawl out of her skin... but, she's used to that feeling, or she was once, so she just handles it. What she probably needs is to go cry for a while, but there never seems to be time, at least not in her head which is crammed full of checklists and escape routes and contingency plans.
She's not trying to push Daryl away, she can only hope after all they've come through that he realizes it. It's just difficult to knock herself out of survival mode and into being an actual, feeling human being right now.
no subject
If they take too long to wallow, he thinks, it's gonna ruin them. They've lost a lot, but they're good at rebuilding.
After another moment he stands straight and ducks down to sit beside her on the bunk. They can lean on each other a minute, right? Not safe to do much more, but there's no reason not to.
"'M supposed to fix shit," he says conversationally. Work here is not nearly as appealing as it was in Teleios, which had the advantage of being much like work at home. "'Cept most of it, I dunno what it is."
no subject
"You didn't bring your hammer?" she asks, playful. That was the thing the Agents gave him when he asked for help fixing shit, right? The visual of him banging at sensitive computing machines randomly with a hammer does wonders for her mood, so long as she imagines said machines to be non-life-support oriented.
no subject
"Too bad," he muses.