crux_fleet | 0003: NEW ARRIVALS

Entry tags:

0003: NEW ARRIVALS

Who: New Arrivals, Captain Jack Hollis, Science Captain Urist McEngineer, Graham Baker
Where: Briefing Room
When: Late afternoon
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 room is large, but not quite large enough for some of the bigger Cybertronians. They've been given drone bodies at least, skinny little things with no real features beyond primitive masks made of paper plates. There's seats for everyone, at least, well-cushioned and comfortable, and the room is pleasantly lit.

A few Security personnel, dressed in their red and black uniforms, stand at ease in the rooms in strategic areas. Three men stand at the head. One is Graham Baker, a slightly nervous-seeming middle-aged man wearing a multi-layered business suit that seems rumpled and oversized. The other two men are dressed in military uniforms, one with the blue undershirt and piping of Command, while the other wears the gold of Science.

[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.]

Threaded | Flat

The Command officer is introduced as Captain Jack Hollis, commander of the Invincible. Square-jawed, handsome, and oozing with charisma and charm, he seems more like a pulp fiction space hero that's stepped out of a drawing than someone who should be real.

The man of Science is Science Captain Urist McEngineer. A dorf, he stands at four and a half feet tall, with a dark and, frankly, very handsome beard being the most eye-catching thing about him. He looks rather like he'd rather be anywhere than here, and only Captain Hollis' firm hand on his shoulder keeps the dorf from sidling towards the door.

The nervous man clears his throat after introductions are made and holds his hands up. "Okay, so we're trying to get through this once. Please wait until we're finished until you ask your questions, and pay attention to what other people are asking. If we have a lot of repeat questions, we're going to be here all day, and I'm sure that no one wants that." He clasps his hands behind his back and tries for a smile, but it just ends up sort of wobbly and insufficient. The other two don't offer any sort of support, so he sucks it up and plows on.

"Erm. Right. So, ah. We 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 gigantic city-ship that is home to some five hundred thousand beings. And now, by accident, you. You see, decades 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. We've been at war with them for over a hundred years now." He licks his lips and shuffles his feet.

"Recently, several weeks ago, we attempted a radical new method for faster than light travel, that is... Well, trying to fold space itself. Science Captain McEngineer here can explain it better than I, and he'll be happy to do so after we're done. But in any event, 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. Believe us, getting you all home is one of our highest priorities."

He shuts up and steps back as Captain Hollis holds up a hand. The Captain smiles and the light actually gleams off of his teeth for a second. "Which is where we come in. We will turn some of our resources towards finding a way to reverse the process that brought you here, but that will take some time. Unfortunately, you're stuck here until we do so, and we don't have the resources to support everyone indefinitely. So what this means for you is that you have two months." He holds up two fingers. "Two months granted by Fleet Admiral Bulsara to get a job. It could be in the civilian or military sectors, or you could be a student, we don't mind either way. Just so long as you're helping us while we're trying to help you. We will supply you with temporary housing, fabricators to make food and clothing, a comm device, a supply of credits to get you started, and any and all training you need to perform in your chosen field. You are to be considered citizens of the Confederacy from here on out."

He stops, then clears his throat. "Also, by a majority agreement from the Captain's Table, granted recognition by Admiral Bailey, and ratified by Fleet Admiral Bulsara, current and former military personnel who have arrived here may sign up as 'guest transfers'. We will allow them to keep their equivalent ranks, provide them with training on our technology, and allow them to serve without having to start from the first step all over again. Of course, you could also join the militia, rather than earn a commission or enlist in the Confederate Spacy, but the militia is purely funded, run, and trained by civilians. They deploy when we tell them to, but they are responsible for themselves."

Graham coughs and Captain Hollis bows, sweeping an arm as a signal for the man to step forward and take control again. "Either way, whatever your choice, you'll be able to sign up for it in 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. I should note, 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, our education system is a bit free with what you can sign up for, but you'll still have to work at it."

He coughs again and flounders about with his hands a bit, glancing from Captain Hollis' reassuring grin and Science Captain McEngineer's baleful scowl, and shrugs. "I. Um. Well. I-I think that's everything I wrote down to talk about. 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." He smiles a little and holds up his own, a small orb that flickers with lights and holographic displays when he thumbs it. The Science Captain pulls his sleeve back to reveal one wrapped around his wrist. Captain Hollis pulls an old flip-model from his pocket and pops it open with a chirp sound. "The comm devices can 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."

Captain Hollis clears his throat. "Oh!" Graham jumps a bit and swipes a hand over his head. "S-sorry. I forgot to mention, we've already had several people wake up, so once you leave, maybe you can skim a list of other new arrivals, one that will be included on your comm codes, for familiar faces."

He fiddles with his hands again before tucking them behind his back. "U-um. If you have any questions, now would be the time to ask. There are no stupid questions here, just ones left unasked."

Edited 2014-02-15 21:53 (UTC)

Zouichi was used to waking up in strange places, and while he still wasn't too crazy about the experience, at least this ship wasn't an eldritch abomination monitoring their every move and thought. So that was good.

He listened to McEngineer's speech with some interest, but the instant the briefing ended, he was on his way to collect his things: a small sidearm; a large, bulky-looking silver object that vaguely resembled a suitcase; some sort of short, flat-bladed weapon that looked none too sharp; a black metallic axe.

And finally, a large black motorcycle in which to put aforementioned things. He loaded his effects onto his bike and then, looking around to make sure he wasn't going to bowl into anyone, simply picked the quarter-ton motorcycle up by its built-in handle and hauled it up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Hey," he said to the first person he saw who didn't look like they were native to the fleet. "Kanoe Zouichi; nice to meet you. Have you been here for a while?"

Unfortunately all the hover carts are spoken for. So Cassie is struggling along with some kind of tube that appears to be as thick as her torso, in a canvas bag. Those familiar with such things might recognize the outline of a (barely) portable anti-vehicle/mech missile launcher. A rifle hangs off her side (safety on, of course) from a sling. A backpack also bulges with stuff. Given her small size, it's remarkable that she can lift any of this stuff, let alone move with it.

Help her out or Nelson guffaw?

Waking up in space wasn't really at the top of his list of expected things, especially not after getting his ass kicked by Caleb. If he was in space, he sure as hell couldn't go back for round two and teach them not to fuck with Chase Collins. On the other hand, assuming that he would get back home eventually, maybe he could pick up some new tricks.

The briefing reminded him of the boring speeches that he had to sit through in high school, so when it was done with, he quickly made for the door. With as grumpy as he was, the only thing that he was really looking forward to was picking up a comm device. Since the other options he would have preferred were out of the question right now.

After a while of talking and getting him back to his body, as well as making sure everything was connected properly, a human in an all black uniform clears his throat. "Ah, Senator Proteus? Sorry about this, but our briefing room isn't modeled for someone of your... Stature. We do have an array of remote-controlled drones that you could use?"

He seems properly apologetic enough, though that could be the politeness of someone staring down a robot taller than a house. Even if there were armed guards in Model Ts standing about, they could only react so swiftly.

If Garrus 9 was a thing in pre-war Cybertron, Senator Shockwave no longer needs to wonder what it felt like. With his spark held in a containment grid, he at least has a way to respond in place, with a simple text interface. Once they've noticed activity in Shockwave's container, they moved to use that and start the standard line of questioning for robotic arrivals.

"You are currently being contained in a secure database. Before we return you to your bodies, we have a series of questions to ask of you. Please answer truthfully, as we can tell if you are lying. Will you comply?"

Well, it was certainly blunt enough.

In a moderately open area, Lina can be found adjusting her clothes and equipment after having put them on in private. There's a final tug on her gloves and boots, then she makes sure her belts are on right, and finally ties on a black headband under her hair. With that done, she tosses her hair to let it fall into place properly, and starts murmuring to herself and making hand-motions - watching her for a few moments, it becomes obvious to those with any magical capability that she's casting spells and dissipating them shortly after. First an orb of light, then a ground-based gust of wind that makes her look particularly showy for a few seconds, and lastly, summoning a whip of pure energy - which she looks particularly delighted by. She grins and laughs, cracking it once against the floor, then dismisses it.

"Looks like I'm in business!"

[West had remained passive and sedate when he woke up. Cooperative despite the strange situation, he had not interrupted the briefing either. Maybe it was because he was still out of it when McEngineer was giving his talk, maybe he was not happy from being parted from everyone he loved (Which amounted to only his darling hand built gynoid Elsa - who on a side note, barely even tolerates him).]

...

[One would think at first, despite his crazy hairdo, piercings and face tatoos, he was just a mild mannered dude. Then the moment he got all of his things, His guitar and bike specifically... a loud and obnoxious guitar riff can be heard as he rode his bike, putting it to a screeching halt as once more the riff filled the air.]

DOCTAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

WEEEEEEEEEEEEST!

[He points dramatically upwards with the biggest damn grin on his face.]

Ah, so this is the final frontier! The sea of stars in which mankind has stretched its hands towards to grasp its future and bring a brilliant shine of its own among the multitude of lights that dot its bleak chill!

FINALLY! This century's greatest genius... DOCTOR WEST has found a place truly worthy of his presence! REJOICE LOWER LIFE FORMS! For my genius will illuminate our path along the stars!!

[With another guitar riff, one can only say... who the hell is this guy and what is WRONG with him?]

Edited 2014-02-16 01:11 (UTC)

There's nothing overly remarkable about the teenager standing outside the new arrival apartment buildings. A little on the short side of average, purple hair, clothing that's far more plain than his pierced ears would suggest.

The laptop under his arm screams twenty-first century, but he has few problems shifting and zooming his comm's holographic map, confirming the location before flicking it away.

"So this is it? How many people are they expecting, anyway?"

[ there is definitely a robot off to one side after the briefing, sorting out his comm device. he's a scrawny little thing, about human height now, with thin, almost fragile-looking limbs and a face that is set into faintly distressed lines. he-- appears to be trying to find anyone he knows.

.. rung's not happy when he actually does. 'deadlock'? proteus? sentinel prime? proteus and sentinel have been dead for millions of years, and drift hasn't gone by the name deadlock in quite some time. and then there's shockwave, and for a moment, rung isn't certain how he should feel. logic says that if it's him, he'll be the monster he became. but then, logic hasn't had much to do with his day thus far, so he may as well hope for something better.

he lifts one thin hand, rubbing his forehelm absently, before glancing up, away from his comm device. perhaps there's someone who knows where to find the others and--just perhaps--already knows them in person. ]

--After the Briefing--

Well, that briefing sure was long, drawn out briefing. Rodimus's were usually never that long...nor were they ever that informative. To sum it up, it consisted of a lot of hyped yelling, a casual speech Drift probably wrote, and sealed and delivered with 'Til all are One.'

We were 0/3 right now.

Not that it was a bad thing.

Trailcutter's drone is hanging out among the people after the briefing, trying to keep things on the down low. His isn't anything overly special, its rather blank face kept him out of the spotlight.

It was safe to say he was looking for familiar faces (haha pun. Since drones), but he wasn't overly unfriendly towards other species either. There's an 'excuse me' here or there, at least.

--Hangar--

Well, this wasn't exactly what he expected to wake up to. Being hauled aboard a ship against its crew's (and your's) will wasn't exactly the ideal vacation Trailcutter had dreamed of. To be honest, this was the exact opposite of fun vacation times.

After having his spark forcibly removed from his body, he wasn't really up for chitchat, keeping himself huddled in the hangar, visor peeled for anyone who might look familiar. Just some kind of familiarity.

It's safe to say he's visibly shaken by the whole experience, but he'll try not to let it get to him, focusing more on trying to figure out what he should be doing.

Violence is definitely out of the question, even if he could.

"What I would give for some Nightmare Fuel right now..."

Great. Just great. Going from one Pit to another. At least the last one had been Cybertron -- albeit a lot more beat up and bug infested than he remembered it being. This one...

This one ripped out your spark and shoved it into a dark hole for a while. Tch, that boded well. Really well. He'd rather have faced down the Swarm again with nothing more than an empty energon cube. Needless to say, the big, red soldier stood with his back to a wall, scowling at the general goings-on around him. He didn't recognize any of these species. Most, if not all, were organic, too.

Apparently there were other Cybertronians here, but he hadn't run into them yet. Maybe he would. Eventually. Once he got used to his surroundings, and the natives stopped looking at him like he was going to intentionally step on them.

For now, he was content to stand against his wall, arms folded over a broad chest, and give the world around him an evil eye.

For anyone who sees a certain teenage girl wandering around the space shortly after the briefing, there's a poorly disguised panic in the way she moves, looking around the room fervently. Her breath comes slightly too quick and rushed, and there's a clear nervousness on her face. She stops in her tracks several times and turns in another direction, as though searching for something. Her movements are frenzied and clumsy.

Her thoughts aren't far from that, either; she can't keep control of the various things racing through her mind. Thoughts of war, of friends and what they'll do when they realize she isn't around, and worries about returning home all linger there as she continues wandering around hurriedly.

In her haste, she bumps into several people along the way, promptly apologizing and moving out of their way the second she does. After several minutes of this behavior, she turns to the nearest person and begins to speak.

"Um, I'm really sorry to take up your time, but can you help me with something? I'm looking for somebody. Er, a few people. I mean, I just need to find out if they're - yeah, I'm sure you get it! Sorry. Wait, no, not sorry, thank you! That's what I meant."

i. briefing
( Shockwave's drone blends in with the numerous others at the meeting, his set apart from the others thanks to the simple smiling face drawn on it. It isn't something he's particularly interested in using - it's clumsy and antiquated and he has a perfectly good holoform that he plans on using when he can. But he can upgrade it given time and equipment, he knows he can. There's a list forming in his head of things he'll need even as he listens to the briefing.

But he does move around the meeting - apologizing when he brushes into something or responding to questions when asked. His voice is cheerful at the least, although there's a wavering something behind it that he doesn't bother to try and hide. Give him more than a minute of your time and the drone will become far more animated - noodle arms and all.

He's still himself, and that is going to take time getting used to. At least he's a good conversational partner. )

ii. hangar
( It takes a moment or two for Shockwave to recover being placed back in his body, relief at it being his body and whole and unharmed aside. But rather than huddling in a corner, he jumps to his feet - flexing hands and legs and rotating his shoulders until he's satisfied and the technicians are convinced he's not going to trample them all.

He'd been told that there were other Cybertronians around, and that as they were too big to leave the hangar, he could find them there. And while Shockwave was doubtful that he'd find anyone he desperately wanted to see - the faces of Orion and Dai Atlas appearing in his mind and he unwilling to squash the sense of regret associated with them - any Cybertronian at this point wouldn't be unwelcome.

Which means that as soon as the technicians clear from under his feet he's wandering around looking for anyone he recognizes, or at least recognizes him. Shockwave's made a name for himself, after all, and he's certain there has to be someone around. )

Edited 2014-02-17 21:09 (UTC)

briefing.
[they took out his spark. they took out his god damn spark and gave him no choice other than to use the primitive drone for the briefing. size limits be damned, he's a prime - sentinel could not care less about everyone else on the ship, he was being treated like a lower caste worker. pushed about, sitting in a cramped room and having to listen to disgusting organics talk at him.

despite all the rage bubbling around inside him, the drone sat patiently through the briefing then left with everyone else. he wants to get back to his body, and doesn't care for anyone that might want to interact with him. too bad the drone's ... noodle-ness makes it hard to be intimidating and to shove anyone out the way.

if someone could draw some angry eyebrows on the paper plate with a marker, that would be fantastic.]

hangar.
[back in his body. his barely functioning body that's been roughly patched up and pumped full of synthetic energon so he wouldn't go offline about ten minutes after he'd been pulled into the ship. like hell was he going back to the drone, though.

he feels sick and pissed off. there's no-one he particularly wants to see, despite being told there were a few other cybertronians aboard the vessel. the hangar being the biggest area suited for them, however, made it obvious he wouldn't be able to avoid catching one of their attentions anyway.

or at any rate, the energon spattered around him certainly would. maybe he'll luck out and see an autobot medic.]

Briefing
[Proteus didn't really consider the noodlebot drone anything more than a primitive set of eyes and possible supply carrier. He most definitely didn't want his face associated with it. Would you put your face on a toaster?]

[It did have a hastily scribbled attempt at the Senate insignia that was later blocked out at his request. Go figure, none of the engineers in charge of plate design were very good at drawing, and he wasn't about to have the Cybertronian Senate associated with a barely functional, hastily assorted jumble of metal rods and wires.]

[What did that leave? A big, empty, scribbly chasm of black. For a face. It was a pretty accurate representation of his spark, let's be real here. But hey, if you make a habit of talking to what essentially equates to a camera, go ahead and interact with it. Proteus might even reply if you're insistent enough.]

Hangar Bay
[Proteus was on the move as soon as the briefing was over. He'd made notes of details of the situation, of the people who spoke, and of the other Cybertronians he'd shared his company with. Most of the names meant nothing to him, until he scrolled down to the word 'Shockwave'. Of Course. Of all the individuals he could be trapped with.]

[He stewed irritably a bit over the revelation of who his "fellow" Cybertronians crewmates would be. Barring Sentinel Prime, they were political enemies or low-class, faceless denizens. And here he'd be attempting to defend them. Nonetheless, he kept in mind that he had a dinner date with the Captain of the Rasputin, and he didn't plan on making them (or himself) wait. There was a small window of opportunity here to launch a more favorable relationship with someone who had influence over their lives, and he fully intended on taking it.]

[So that's thirty feet of jet robot with a single goal of reaching the shuttle docks. Probably not going to stop unless there's a particularly good reason and/or another jet robot-sized individual decides to make themselves a physical wall.]

All this time he'd been fighting to uncage the human race. To broaden their horizons. But surely there had to be a happy medium. This was not what he signed up for.

Of course, he hadn't exactly signed up in the first place, but what did any of that matter anymore? He woke up in some kind of hospital, and to say it was on the wrong side of the bed would have been a pretty massive understatement. From there he was shooed into a room full of strange people (some of them weren't even people, but he didn't know what the hell else to call them), and then had to stand there and listen to a few guys give a borderline-incomprehensible spiel about how they were part of some fleet at war with some empire and oh, by the way, someone fucked up and now he's in another dimension. That was probably the point when he came to grips with the fact that this wasn't some stupidly-elaborate fever dream. He was a long, long way from home.

But he'd seen the technology these people possessed and come to the obvious conclusion that trying to fight his way out wouldn't get him very far. Even if he could, what then? He'd gone from one enclosed space to another. At least this one was a hell of a lot cleaner. At that point, the clear choice was to try to reclaim his gear, find somewhere at least somewhat private to put it on, and then begin tentatively exploring. Thus there was now a small, irritable man wearing an odd belted contraption stalking around not far from the briefing room.

Because while back home humanity teetered on the brink of extinction, what he really wanted to be doing was hanging around with his thumb up his ass in outer goddamn space.

What a joke.

"Well that was a wordy way of saying we're drafted."

Eddie's a little bit grouchy after finding himself on a ship in some unknown star system in deep space. He's not much into the cosmic side of things, and the explanation he got from the briefing isn't making him feel much better about it. But, hey, at least they aren't kicking him out into the vacuum, right? There's a plus.

"Look, the least we can do is materialize a burger. I'm not eating any space food from a tube."

It doesn't really matter if people want to listen to the old man gripe. He's griping anyway.

Edited 2014-02-17 06:56 (UTC)

As soon as the meeting was finished, Selphie had beelined out of the room toward the area where she could reclaim her belongings. She was feeling desperate for a little bit of home, something familiar and before anything else, she was taking an inventory of her belongings. There was something about the feel of her nunchaku in her hands and the familiar flow of Carbuncle's protection into her very being that made her feel more comfortable. Her shoulders became less rigid and a small, genuine smile crept at the corners of her mouth.

After pulling on her customary yellow jumper, she can be seen looking perplexed then thoughtful about where she should go to get by in this place. She opted for this communication device which is tucked into one of the pouches on her belt. The corners of a permit for her weapon are tucked into a crumpled ball behind it. Her right is tapping against the floor in boredom.

She should really just pick one but she's so uncertain about which route to go. It should be obvious given her background, but something inside of Selphie is just itching to try something else.

Threaded | Flat

THE BRIEFING

Kanoe Zouichi | Biomega

Cassiopia Suthorn | Battletech

Chase Collins | The Covenant

LOCKED TO SENATOR PROTEUS

LOCKED TO SHOCKWAVE