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."

Not one to sit around, Arcee's time during the briefing can easily be described as "get in and get out". Oh, she listened, of course, and it kept everything inside her to keep her from exploding. Greatest minds her aft, if these really were the best and brightest working on a way back home, it'd be done already. Which, in turn, really made her question the entire fleet. Perhaps it's the whole uncontrollable rage that's making her unreasonably judgmental, but considering all the mistakes listed to her during the briefing, she thinks it's safe to assume she's dealing with a lot of inexperienced space goers.

Unfortunately, it's not the time to rant, as Arcee needs to find a place where she can actually stand comfortably. She never doubted the usefulness of her size, but the compactness of her alt mode has proven itself once again. At least a bike can fit into rooms. Granted, it's bizarre, but Arcee's stubborn. She'd rather waddle around on her wheels than take up a drone. Can anyone blame her? When you're seething with rage, it's kind of difficult to use common sense.

So there she was, a wee little bike doing its best to go walking-pace so she doesn't run anyone over, all the way towards the hangar. Needless to say, it only proves to further frustrate her because it'd just be SO much easier to race through without regard. A riderless motorcycle occasionally muttering "scrap" to itself, yup, that's happening right now. That's what her life has become. Thank you, magical space mishap. This is EXACTLY what she needed right now.

But boy, what a reward it is for her to finally make it to her destination. Is it even possible for motorcycles to look cheerful? That's the looks she's going for, anyway.

Trailcutter had been spending his days in the hangar--it's not like he had anywhere else to go. After having the transport to the nearest space station take off without him (not that he should be surprised), he noticed the emptiness of the place--no one to drive around, no one to really...talk to. Shockwave had taken to fixing up Sentinel, and he didn't want to bother him unless it was necessary.

Lo and behold he finds himself here, practicing his forcefields. With his mentor now in the building, 'rusty' was a polite word for his talent.

But he didn't expect company--sure, he heard over the speakers that new arrivals were here, but he thought the Cybertronian train had ended. And when the motorcycle arrives, an eyebrow perks from behind that visor. Not a familiar one by any means, she was.

But who's he to be unfriendly?

"Hey!"

Might as well call out to...whoever it was. They didn't have a driver so he could only assume--

"Cybertronian?"

"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?"

You know, Arcee probably shouldn't be surprised anymore to see other Autobots. Her team was just so small, though, that a new friendly face was just that much of a big deal. ...In war, anyway. She can't recall the last time she ever ran into someone and small talk was the best course of action. Although they sent out the call for Cybertronians to return to the planet, it didn't exactly happen instantly. She's not sure what to feel right now.

But there's something...off about this guy. The friendliness she can handle, in fact she even welcomes it considering the situation. But his shape was...well, not wrong. Just...different? Hrm... she can't really put her finger on it.

Transforming on the spot, Arcee walks closer to the forcefield-making bot, eyebrow raised. Just who are you, big guy?

"Yeah," she sees no point in hiding it. In fact, she's awfully proud of it. "...Are you?"

"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 stands up when she transforms, although feeling a bit awkward towering over her like he does. He wasn't the largest bot, by any means...although probably a lot bulkier. Her frame, however, wasn't familiar to him. I think the word you're looking for is 'blocky', Arcee.

But have just as intrigued of a face in return. Although it's not nearly as obvious with that visor.

"You bet. Wouldn't want to be anything else."

But her affirmation earns a smile. "Name's Trailcutter, can't say I've seen you before, from the war or after."

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."

Blocky. Blocky works. Why would anyone choose to be so blocky? She supposes she shouldn't judge one's blockiness, but it's just so very odd.

"Well, you try not be seen during war. What can I say? I was good at it," a stealth mission joke. If he doesn't laugh, Arcee's going to be crushed.

She continues to stare at him, not at all ashamed that it might be considered rude at this point. It finally dawns on her what's so out of place and she finds herself tapping the middle of her face.

"Why...do you have a nose?" she taps again for emphasis.

Well, he gives a soft chuckle. That definitely sounds like something Mirage would say. It's best he makes a good impression, anyway.

"Not so much for me. I'm built for endurance, not speed."

The staring gets a little glance to the side, attempting to think up conversation--that is, until that comment comes to light.

"Uhh--" his hand instinctively taps it as well. "I guess the same reason why you don't, am I right?"

A hand is placed on her hip. Yeah, that doesn't even make sense, Trailcutter. ...At least he laughed at her joke.

"I don't have one because it's kind of unnecessary," except by kind of, she means completely. "What could you possibly need a nose for?"

Cybertronians don't need to breathe. It...it just looks silly.

"Unless you were trying to fit in on Earth. FYI? Their body parts weren't fashion statements."

"Hey, it's not like I comm'd the guys while I was being created and specifically asked for a nose. It's just how I came, alright?"

His shoulders roll uncomfortably--out of everything this one could have chosen, she chose the nose? Forcefields were usually first, if not that, then his bulky frame. She's definitely original, at least.

"Nice to meet you too."

It's just weird, okay?! She's never seen it before. The closest being the center of someone's helm poking just far enough to look like a nose. This...this is a straight up human nose.

Woah, wait a minute, what did he just say?

"Created. Am I hearing this right? Created?"

Thaaaaat's not a thing Cybertronians should be. Arcee's really starting to doubt this guy's credibility.

"I wasn't being serious. Figure of speech, you know?"

He'll try to save this conversation as quickly as he can, though. "Okay, point is, don't know why I have a nose, but it doesn't really matter. Or at least...I'd hope not."

He figured Cybertronians had more important things to worry about.

Either way, he'll hold out a hand, a small smile soon to follow.

"Now, guess I should give you a PROPER welcome."

Oh... A joke. Well, that's good to know. For a minute there she thought she was talking to some kind of human-made Cybertronian. Those...those don't usually go so well. And let me tell you, the idea of one that can talk was pretty frightening for her.

Rolling her shoulders, it's almost like she's rolling off this whole mess. He has a weird nose, she can deal. It just means she gets to come up with cute nose-related nicknames now.

The hand throws her off, though. Here she is being a pain, and with little remorse, and he can still find it within himself to shake her hand. Very well, she'll take it. Seems like a good time to finally tell him her name.

"Arcee."

He won't complain or question. She seemed to be pretty easy going, at least from his perspective. Then again, he's not one to really hold people against things if they don't really bother him. In a strange space station with maybe 3% Cybertronian population, you don't really hold a grudge over a nose.

The smile remains as he shakes it, optics and visor shining a little brighter. That is...until she introduces herself.

"Arcee? I heard you correct, right?"

There's almost...slight fear in that tone.

Why do handshakes always have to turn into something awkward?

"Yeah...?"

It's not like it's a difficult name to remember, or even very long. She was a fan of it, personally.

"Promise, wasn't trying to trick you there."

Okay, just...play it cool. Arcee was a complicated situation, for sure, but she'd never harmed an Autobot as far as he knew. Just a little off her rocker.

This one...seemed in control of herself. Heck, they had a whole civil conversation despite the nose jabs.

"Sorry, it's just...you're very different back home. My universe, I mean." That won't stop him from trying to make it into something positive, though. "Already like you better."

"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.

Um, sorry, excuse her? Universe? What universe? They're all in one universe, it's huge. She's still certain she's the only Arcee in it.

"What?"

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)

Jonathan somehow managed to wander his way down to the city after the briefing, where he promptly almost got run over by a passenger trolley. He scrambled out of the way, his face pale. "What sort of mystic relics are these?" he asked, mostly of himself.

Though he longed for the comforting presence of his friends, it appeared that he was on his own out here, stranded in yet another city of Unclean Ones. By exploring this place, could he somehow make his way back to his home soil?

"Pardon me," he asked of someone who might be in the know, "Have you any knowledge of the Yamato Perpetual Reactor?"

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0004: NEW ARRIVAL BRIEFING

THE BRIEFING

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Arcee | Transformers Prime | Post-Briefing

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Re: THE BRIEFING

Jonathan / Shin Megami Tensei IV