crux_fleet | 0004: NEW ARRIVAL BRIEFING

Entry tags:

0004: NEW ARRIVAL BRIEFING

Who: New Arrivals, Graham Baker
Where: Briefing Room
When: Late afternoon, Februaro 30th
Warnings: None

When awakening, you'll find the area you're in to be very busy. The people in the medical ward are polite and understanding, but firmly refuse to answer questions until the briefing. The same goes for the robots in the hangars. Either given hospital outfits resembling very comfortable pajamas, drone bodies, or their own bodies, they are escorted by polite, unyielding people in red and black uniforms to the briefing room.

The Briefing room is large. Not enough to accommodate a Cybertronian, but spacious enough for several dozen people. The chairs are high-backed and well-cushioned, more like comforting eggs floating a foot or so off the ground than anything else. A half completed, but still functional, holographic display is settled into the floor, showing a slowly rotating pyramid.

A few Security personnel, dressed in their red and black uniforms, stand at ease in the rooms in strategic areas. They seem fairly relaxed. One man stands at the head. Graham Baker, a middle-aged man, showing the first signs of balding and wearing a rumpled business suit perhaps a size too large, nervously clasps his hands together and smiles.

[Questions to the NPCs will go in the briefing thread. The rest of the post is there for people to mill about and do whatever with. The mods will not be doing hangar/medical awakenings unless it's specifically asked for.]

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Baker holds both hands up to ward off any early questions. "Please, hold your questions until we're done. I'm going to go through this once, but I'll go over something again if you need me to. I ask that you pay attention to what everyone else is asking, to keep us from hearing a lot of repeats. I'm sure you all want to know what's going on, so we'll just get down to business." He sounds confident, or at least as confident as he can when he's practiced this in front of a mirror fifteen times a night since the last group came through.

"We, being myself and our Security personnel, represent the Confederacy of Inhabited Systems. We are the 43rd Scutum-Crux Fleet, consisting of a science vessel, two agricultural ships, and seven battleships. Our mission is to explore and found a new colony. This vessel is the Teuberg, a colony-ready city-ship that is home to some five hundred thousand beings. And, though freakishly bad luck, you and many others." He holds up a hand. "Let me finish, please. Over one hundred years ago, we ran afoul of a sixth-dimensional being who felt it would be amusing if it helped us 'explore' on the opposite side of the galaxy, dropping us into the territory claimed by the Wadjit Empire. The Wadjit thought of us as thieves trying to steal their territory and declared war soon after. We've yet to make peace." He clasps his hands behind his back, mainly so that no one could see his hands trembling.

"Over a month ago, we attempted a radical new method for faster than light travel by means of folding space through manipulation of subspace and hyperspace. The experiment failed rather horribly. Five hundred people died and you were dragged here from beyond space, time, and dimensional barriers. For which, we cannot apologize enough. Some of our greatest minds are working on a way to restore you to your rightful homes."

He paces a bit. "However, we don't have enough resources to support everyone if they aren't working. Fleet Admiral Bulsara has, therefore, ordered that all 'New Arrivals' have two months, which is sixty days, to adjust and find either employment, training, or registration for school. In return, you will be granted citizenship into the Confederacy until you can go home." Here, he pauses and wrings his hands nervously. "I-if you don't do so, he has ordered anyone who has not started work by the deadline to be, ah. Marooned on the nearest neutral space station or habitable planet. But I hope it won't come to that."

He coughs nervously and adjusts his tie. "We will supply you with temporary housing, fabricators to make food and clothing, a comm device, some money to get you started, while any training you need to perform in your chosen field will be provided for free. Again, you can find work in the civilian sector, join our civilian-run militia, enlist in the military, or go to school. Any of these works. If you were military in your own world, we will accept you as a 'transfer', allowing you to keep your rank. However, you'll still need some training to familiarize yourselves with our tactics and weapons."

"Whatever your choice, you'll be able to register at the Renaissance Center. When you choose your communications device, it will have a map of the city, as well as instructions on how to get anywhere you want to go, and some information on public transportation. For paperwork's sake, the legal age for adulthood is the racial equivalent of sixteen years old. Until then, education is mandatory, whether it's in school or part of an apprenticeship somewhere. You'll have the option to test out of basic courses if you like, but you'll still need some kind of classes."

He smooths his jacket and coughs nervously. "When you leave this room, your personal possessions can be signed for at the left. Any weapons will require a registration and signing for a permit. You can find comm devices of several makes and models a little further down. These devices contact anyone on the Fleet, providing you have their communications code, supply you with maps and information, access our infonet and other information networks broadcast, and other functions that will be explained in a brief tutorial when you first activate and register your devices. They have a range of several hundred miles and can be in nearly any design you like." He pulls out an orb with several glowing lights. "I prefer the spherical models, but it's your choice."

He pockets the device and folds his hands behind his back again. "In addition, we've already had several people wake up. We've included them on your commlinks, so you can skim through that to see if any of your friends were brought over with you. Mind you, some of them are currently on the Eye of Sharef, a trading hub, so they aren't in range of our communicators at the moment."

He clasps the lapels of his jacket and beams, pleased with himself for not stumbling too much this time around. "Now! Any questions? I'll be glad to give what answers I can."

Hardly comfortable despite the cushion her chair provides, Chloe's half-tucked away at awkward angles (mostly elbows and knees) when she scoffs out a mild dose of skepticism. Far from anything harsh, it's been a long bloody morning far from anything even remotely familiar; she's not a happy camper.

"Sorry, I just-- you're in the middle of a war, yeah?" Her hand's raised, index finger crooked just slightly as if calling dibs on talking time during class. "So what you really mean is your greatest minds are busy working on getting your travel problem working as intended while our trips home get the knockoff teams."

"Not quite." He crosses his arms. "Yes, we're working on perfecting the fold-space engine. However, the problem of getting us home also needs to answer the problem of how we managed to drag you into our mess, so that it doesn't happen again. Once we figure out why we managed to bring all of you in, I'm assured that we can reverse it easily enough."

Graham spreads his hands apologetically. "Unfortunately, I'm not a science man, so I can't exactly give you an explanation as to how that might work."

"All right." Not exactly, but it's a segue at least as she slouches back against the rear curve of the seat, edge of her mouth pulling slightly. Regardless of how she might feel at the moment, she's not here to piss on his parade.

Much.

"What sort of man are you, then?"

"Balding." He gives a weak smile, then tries in vain to tug the wrinkles out of his jacket once more.

In all seriousness, I'm the official liaison for you New Arrivals. I used to be a diplomat but, well..." He coughs nervously. "I lost my interest in meeting new and interesting new species after a, ah. Bad first encounter with the Flesh Mongers."

It wins him an earnest grin before there's a sharp drop off into-- "Flesh mongers." and the appropriately bothered expression that comes along with it. Naturally. Jesus Christ.

He nods and fidgets with his hands a bit, still trying to keep up a nervous smile. "Yes, well. We put them out of business rather, ah. Vigorously. After that, I decided that perhaps boldly going where no human has gone before was... not for me?" Graham waves his hands vaguely at the small crowd. "And now I get to meet all of you whenever you wake up! Much less stressful, let me tell you."

"Mm, I can imagine given how civilized we all are." Diplomacy: easily managed via digs at oneself. But it's apparent that's as much of a nuisance as she cares to be for the moment before she's tucked one ankle under her other leg, settling in to grant him a bit of freedom from the conversation they've been having if he feels like taking it.

Spared sympathy for anxiety and all that.

A great deal more civilized than they'd expected. Why, he'd even managed to convince Fleet Command to remove the hidden flamethrower turrets from the room last week!

He gives her another shaky smile and, when it seemed like she wasn't going to ask anything else, nods thankfully and moves on.

Jonathan just looked lost. But he was trying!

"I gather from your explanation, sir, that we are not in Tokyo any longer. But I do not comprehend how we can be on a "ship", as you say. And what is a "galaxy"?"

Was thing being who had brought them here actually the White? Was this yet another world they wanted him to see?

Edited 2014-03-02 13:49 (UTC)

Oh, to have hair like that again.

Tokyo? Oh. Oh, this was one of those cases. Graham licks his lips and wrings his hands a bit. "Right. Well, ah. If you're from a pre-stellar society, it only makes sense. What do you know about the stars?"

This would, at least, give Graham an idea of where to start explaining.

~~Maybe it's Maybelline~~

Jonathan wasn't quite sure where this was going, but he answered gamely enough. "If it is the stars you seek, they are plain for all to see on a cloudless night. Though it has been a while since I gazed on them myself."

Ah, memories of fonder times. Had it really been such a short time since he'd looked out on his own country from the castle walls?

"Ah. Hm. Well." He pulled the orb out of his pocket again and swiped across it a few times before circling his thumb over part of it. The rotating pyramid vanished, replaced by an approximation of Earth's night sky, taken from archived footage.

"The stars are indeed beautiful. But, if you were to get closer to them, you'd see that they're not just twinkling white dots, but..." He swiped to a picture of a blue supergiant, a recording they'd taken several weeks ago. "They are gigantic, greater than the size of a planet. Millions of miles separate them, but our vessels can travel between them in a matter of weeks. Days, sometimes."

He circled his thumb in an opposite direction and the picture zoomed out, the star vanishing into a pinprick, joined by hundreds, thousands of other pinpricks, until the rotating Milky Way was all that was displayed. "All of the stars that you could see from Earth are probably from the galaxy that we live in. A galaxy, as you asked, is a massive collection of stars, planets, and other celestial bodies. It is many, many millions of miles across. Are you following me?"

"You are saying that the stars are not really stars." Honestly, this all sounded crazier and crazier to Jonathan. And he could barely wrap his head over even a million miles.

"Then according to you, we are some insurmountable distance from 'Earth'? Do no Terminals exist here?"

"They're still stars. They're just so much more than beautiful decorations in the skies." He looked down at something, then back up at Jonathan. "We'll be passing near one in a few days, if you'd like to see."

Graham nodded firmly. "I'm sorry, but yes. And while we have terminals, I doubt that they're the kind you mean. I'm so sorry."

"Thank you for you apology," said Jonathan (who still didn't really get it, lbr). He gave Graham an earnest smile.

"But you did nothing wrong. You were merely trying to protect your home. It is unfortunate that things did not go as planned, of course. But if there is any way I might assist you in speeding along the process of our return, please let me know."

Graham beamed at him, happy to get a positive outcome from one of these meetings. "I'm not sure what you can do, but if you're willing to ask around, I'm sure you'll find something that fits your particular idiom."

...Wait, was he using that word right? Too late now.

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law_and_order - 2014-03-11 13:55 (UTC) - Expand

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crux_npcs - 2014-03-17 19:49 (UTC) - Expand

Yumemi could barely make it through the entire orientation without wanting to roll her eyes or take a nap, though a few select portions of the briefing managed to catch her attention enough. When the man finished she took some time to consider the drastic situation and formulate her first question.

Then, rather than raise her hand, or otherwise try to get his attention, Yumemi simply stood up and raised her voice so as to be heard.

"How many of your greatest minds perished during that experiment?" There was no mocking therein, but it's still a morbid question. She crosses her arms, feeling not entire comfortable in the given clothes. The white robe just makes her long, blazing red hair and matching eyes stand out all the more.

It wasn't the first time he'd been asked. Or the first someone implied incompetence on their parts.

"Ah... The Intrepid had a skeleton crew at the time of the accident. Volunteers, mostly from Science and Engineering." He adjusted his tie and let out a long sigh. "Five hundred people."

Luckily, the one who had dreamt up the system wasn't among them. But, then, he hadn't been allowed to be on board, just in case.

She just wants information. Sadly for others, she often ends up trampling on people's feelings to get that information. "Five hundred is a lot of people to trust with ensuring a breakthrough happens without a hitch. What was the small-scale test like? What went wrong?"

While she asked, she took a look around the room to see if there were any familiar faces. It's both convenient that she found none, and extremely disappointing. Where is Chiyuri when things needed fetching?

"That was the small-scale test." He held up a hand to ward off the objection he's sure is coming. "On paper, it worked. In computer simulations, it worked. In practice, we needed the kind of power that only a Juggernaut-class warship's hypermatter generators would... um. Generate. Nothing smaller would have worked, and we don't have the resources to just build another power source on that scale."

Graham tugged his comm device out of his pocket, pointed is at the hologram, and swept his thumb over its surface in a complex pattern. "I'm not a science man, so bear with me. I'm simply repeating what I've been told. But, as we understand it, there are three ways to go faster than light. One is by simply building extraordinarily powerful thrusters. Another is to travel through either subspace or hyperspace. Picture our universe as... As a pizza. We are the sauce. The cheese is hyperspace, which is a dimension that exists 'above' our own. The crust is sub-space, which is a dimension 'underneath' ours."

As he finishes the pattern, a very complex map with math covering the dimensional variables appears in the holographic display. "Hyperspace is fairly easy to travel in. It has a much lower speed of light, allowing vessels capable of entering it to travel far faster than it ever could in real space. However, gravimetric forces are an even greater danger there. A stray exoplanet or an uncharted star would rip your ship to pieces almost before you could react. Now, what we use for FTL is subspace. It's actually a bit slower than real space, but by surrounding our vessels in a subspace bubble, we're capable of pushing aside realspace to move through it much more swiftly."

He turned to his desk and picked up a bottle. A nice, refreshing sip of water later and he's ready to get back to business. "Now, Science Captain McEngineer theorized that if we could enter subspace completely, surrounding our vessels in a realspace bubble, then warped it by creating an artificial black hole and forcing a hyperspace tunnel open... Well." He tapped the orb twice and the image shifted into another detailed image. "He figured that we could travel through the tunnel, reach the other side, dissipate the black hole, and sub-space would 'unsink' and fill in behind us, pushing us to our destination within seconds rather than centuries. Unfortunately..."

He tapped the orb a few more times and a massive hulk of a ship appeared in the display. Something rippled around it and it vanished for a moment. Then it reappeared. However, debris surrounded it, including smaller ships, parts of the vessel were rusted through, while other parts were polished and seemingly brand-new. And still more of it was exactly as it had seemed earlier.

"...We're not sure what went wrong. Or, rather, I think some of the Science officers know, but they haven't explained it very well to me. The best I've gathered is that they think that the realspace 'bubble' the ship was in collapsed under the strain."

He paused and looked at her, coughing nervously. "Did you follow that, Miss?"

"Professor," she corrected, though she did not take her eyes off of the hologram. There's a lot going on behind her eyes so her words come out distracted; kind of like telling someone that yes, popcorn would be fine, but please shut up this is the good part!!

—and then she plants the palm of her hand firmly against her forehead, her next words starting as a mumble up until the point she actually faces him properly once more. "This is a mess what year is it?"

"My apologies, Professor." Well, then maybe she can decipher this mess.

"It's 458 AC." He pauses, then closes his eyes. "I'm sorry. It's 458 After Confederation. We started a new calendar after forming the Confederation, and we'd changed a few times since then. By the old Earth reckonings, we would be in the 27th Century. I'm sorry, but I couldn't tell you the exact year." Again, too many calendar changes.

"That tells me enough." Enough to give her a small headache. It's one thing to land herself mostly-accidentally in a magical land where technology did not flourish because that happened to be precisely what she had wanted to happen all along!

But in this place, with this level of scientific development, and with supposedly no way out...

Wait.

"Since no one sought me out specifically when I regained consciousness, I'm guessing none of you have taken a look inside my ship just yet. Normally I'd like say this was a good thing, but since it would be answer to your dilemma I'm actually disappointed."

Of course, Yumemi has no idea that she arrived with nothing more than what was on her person.

And, all of a sudden, she's got the attention of everyone in the room. Or, at least, the fleet personnel. Graham licks his lips nervously and fiddles with his hands. "N-no. We just made sure no one was in the ships, or that they weren't about to explode, and then clamped them onto ours."

He pauses and swallows, looking far too much like an eager puppy than a man with rapidly thinning hair really should. "...You can send us home?"

Unfortunately for the both of them, Graham doesn't have a list of who came in with what.

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strawberry_science - 2014-03-12 00:00 (UTC) - Expand

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0004: NEW ARRIVAL BRIEFING

THE BRIEFING

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