MISSION: THE AI AND THE COMMANDER

[ximilian]

● ● ● M I S S I O N   1 4 . 0

SOMEWHEN • PRESENT DAY • FYI

// SOMEWHEN  

The hum of the teleportation platform is familiar, filling your ears as the bright light dissipates enough to safely open your eyes. You feel something solid beneath your feet, and the lack of scent from the asphalt and dirt in Nuhiri and Deumia marks a departure from anything resembling a planet, the space around you giving you no reason to think anything of it. You're on the Ximilia once again — finally. Another mission successfully accomplished, for whatever other hardships you and the rest of the team have endured. Hot food and hot showers await, and Newt will surely be scurrying off to prepare for the team’s usual post-mission movie night.

You’re back and you can’t wait for Viveca to greet you, and for Degar to take the orb away, back to the North Wing to join the other ones.

Except … the station’s walls appear to be peeling, and some of the equipment looks a little older and unpolished. There’s even a layer of space-dust on one of the control boards. And most importantly: no one is here to greet you. As you turn and look to your fellow crewmates in confusion, even now some of you might start to wonder at the change of routine. Ivy, who had just been handling the orb, will be empty-handed, but surely there’s nothing to worry about. The station is peaceful and still. Nothing feels amiss … yet. And then:

// 0-L1V-14

Oh, hello. You are not the team I know. Yet you are here for the orb … Good.

The sound of 0-L1V-14 — or 'Olivia' as many have come to call her — voice springs to life around you. She almost seems to sound confused for a moment, clearly recalibrating her systems for this strange occurrence, before the gentle tenor of her voice regains its composure and she recalls her mission directive. The lights in the teleportation platform seem to glow just a little brighter, as though the arrival of the crew has buoyed the AI's spirits.

// 0-L1V-14

I've located one within the station, but it seems to have fractured. The air around them appears to have some sort of temporal disturbance that I can't quite pin down. Be cautious, but bring them to me before anything happens.

Well? You heard the AI. Best to start looking.

1.0   The first thing you might think to do is return to the sleeping quarters, either to clean up and change into another set of clothes; or to take a much-deserved nap; or maybe you just need a moment to yourself to collect your thoughts. The doors to the sleeping quarters seem to stick for a moment, which isn’t worrying in and of itself, but as the doors slide open you realize that you’re looking into a dark and empty carved out space that resembles a place for storage more than anything else. The walls and doors that used to make up your individual rooms are absent, and the floors are stripped bare, with rows of perforated grates allowing the cavernous space to remain relatively well-ventilated. It’s clear that no one has visited this room in quite some time, and perhaps there had once been plans for it, now abandoned to hold a stock of random items in its place.

There are boxes stacked against the wall, and a shelving unit that holds miscellaneous supplies: cans and boxes, batteries and wires, old bound notebooks made of paper. Rolls of rough tarp are haphazardly leaning against the wall to one corner, and thermal blankets are scattered amongst scraps of loose-leaf, a sketch of a cluster of spherical shapes in different colours, and other foreign knick-knacks that seem to have no place on a space station. If you decide to explore this space you’ll have to provide your own source of light as none of the lighting above seem to work though the row of fixtures that you’re used to seem, at least, to have been installed. They’re just not currently online.

Investigating the room a little deeper might draw you to a simple metal box sitting in the middle shelf next to what looks like a half-broken lute, its strings missing. There is no lock on this box, as though it wants to be opened, and lifting the lid will reveal a bright rosy-coloured light. Reaching out towards the small sliver of light in the shape of an elongated teardrop will recall a memory of your childhood so vivid, you’ll think you were back in that time, in that exact moment, to relive it again. Whether it's a good memory or a tragic one is left up to random chance. Only someone entering the room to talk you through your memory will remind you that you aren’t actually a child any longer.

2.0   Perhaps you decide to forgo the sleeping quarters entirely, and want to revisit one of your favourite simulations in the simulation room. Familiar oceans, the futuristic bar, or the room filled with adorable puppies might be your first choice — but every preset you’re used to scrolling through seems to be different now. There are the standard, familiar pre-mission training simulations, and even the Lodgen Mountain Mines mission appears to be here, but everything else has either been deleted … or it was never here to begin with.

You might decide to go ahead with one of the already existing simulations anyway, or you might want to start rewriting the one you’d come here for in the first place. It will depend on your luck, and it will depend on the success of your mission-training, but a small shard of bright, silvery coloured light may suddenly reveal itself to you. It appears like a thin tear-shape that hangs suspended in the air. The faintest whisper beckons you close; it’s familiar. Will you reach out to touch it? Doing so will colour the simulation room around you with a memory so real it might as well be — suddenly you might recall a happy moment in your life, or perhaps your greatest victory or adventure. This can be shared with whoever enters the simulation room with you or after you, and will fade when you manage to locate the right door and leave the room.

3.0   The sunlight room that you may have walked through on countless occasions is missing the familiar bridge, the river that runs beneath it, and trees that surround it. Instead, the vegetation around you appears to be far more deliberate and practical, thick foliage like bushes planted in rows, their large leaves covering most of the ground and soil. Several small metal boxes with wires and buttons can be found planted across the space, each with a thin rotating disc that whirs and spins quietly. Each of these boxes appears to give off readings, each screen displaying a continuous green wavy line scrolling across it and text that displays the quality of the air with a percentile grade, the amount of it being produced, and that particular box’s designation zone: Mess Hall, Storage, Living Quarters, and Teleportation Platform among others. This isn’t just a room that simulates nature, but if you were to approach any of the small bushes and saplings here, it’s clear that the plants here are real and they’re currently working to provide the rest of the station with oxygen.

Further to the back of the sunlight room, a bright sliver of colourful green light seems to glitter and glint between the leaves. It feels familiar in the way that it whispers faintly, and if you concentrate you can make out the sound of your name in a voice like that of someone from your past: a friend, perhaps, or a family member. Maybe a loved one or an enemy. Or perhaps it’s a voice you can’t actually recognize. It might compel you to reach out for the light, but will you listen? Or will you turn away?

If you embrace the light and call out in answer to the voice, you will re-experience the action, the conversation, or the thought that you attribute as being the reason you are who you are today with that most important person being the key piece in your memory.

4.0   Looking for your usual snacks? Feeling peckish for that bowl of instant spicy space-ramen you saved for post-mission? You might head into the kitchen expecting the familiar foodstuffs that you’re used to only to find that the room has been rearranged, with far fewer cupboards and appliances, and more of what looks like typical space-fare: freeze-fried items and nutrition-focused meals sealed into silver foiled bags. What ‘fresh’ ingredients exist are even less, and there are a stack of dirty plates and cutlery in the sink that don’t look like anything you or your crewmates might have used. You may already suspect that this whole station isn’t the one you’re used to, or you might still be in denial. Either way, you may find through your rummaging the call to a little sliver of coppery-coloured light located behind the freezer door.

If you decide to touch the fragment of light here, you’ll feel a ghostly burning as though the glint of the light has cut your skin, almost cold enough to feel sharp — but it’s just your imagination, isn’t it? What you remember now as it comes back to life around you (and the team member or members who may have joined you) is the best meal you’ve ever eaten, whether it is something you made for yourself, something made by your loved one, or the meal that leaves your heart feeling empty and aching.

5.0   You may have become so accustomed to seeing the North Wing doors sealed that it’s your curiosity that draws you forward to the wide expanse beyond the now open wing, your feet testing the threshold as if you’re expecting an invisible wall to keep you out. Nothing happens when you step into the North Wing, though you might immediately notice the large tank that holds all of the team’s successfully captured orbs is very clearly missing. And not only that but the space appears to be well lived in, a small cluster of worn chairs and a table set to one side, and data pads and drawings on white-boards in plain view. They don’t seem to be much more than a couple of crude strategy diagrams (and a couple of silly stick figures in one corner) and as you move towards the crew quarters, some of you might instantly recognize the familiar room with its rows of beds and a scattering of personal effects assigned to each bunk. Photos are pinned to walls of a twenty-person crew, pillows and blankets are left in disarray by unfinished knitting projects, a diary written in a language you can’t quite translate, and a stuffed elephant-shaped plush doll lies at the head of one of the beds in the middle of the room. By the door is a neatly made bed. An analogue paperback novel sits on the nightstand, a bookmark set in the middle to note its progress. On top of it is a well-kept watch stopped a little after the sixth hour and a medal of service in the now recognizable insignia of the Ndiera Complex’s Federation.

By the far wall of these sleeping quarters is a bright golden starlight that seems to illuminate that side of the room as though someone had turned on a torchlight to the highest setting; it’s almost blinding. Moving closer to it, you’ll find that it’s like all the other slivers of light scattered across the station — a broken shard, like a piece of a large puzzle. Touching it may pull you — and whoever might be in the room with you — into a memory from your time with the Ximilia crew, whether it happened over a year ago, or it happened only on the last mission. It might be a happy memory, or it might be something you regret, which is poignant considering your initial raison d’etre for being here at all. It’s a vision that appears from your perspective and while you relive it, you feel outside of yourself.

6.0   The rest of the station still appears to be intact, with the infirmary, the training room, and the armoury in the same locations that you remember. Those of you who have been here for quite some time, you’ll find your way around by muscle memory alone; but even if you’re a newer member of the crew you’ll have wandered the halls enough to know what feels familiar to you … and what doesn’t.

The infirmary looks to be a little out of date, though it looks as if it’s seen its fair share of use. And it’s smaller too, the more recent addition and surgical area missing from the cozy space. The training room and the armoury share similar qualities of seeming a little older, a little more lived in, and with well-used equipment and weapons to boot. The training room is still padded with firm padded flooring and benches for sitting. Some of the racks and hooks (all empty) that had been against the wall have fallen now, and similar to the teleportation room, you’ll find that some of the paneling in this room has since peeled away, revealing some of the bare structure behind them. In the armoury, you won’t find your favourite knife or preferred staff but there are still a few choices in weaponry to arm yourself with.

Wherever you decide to explore, you might once more happen upon a bright bluish light that seems to whisper and call to you in soft, hushed tones. No specific words can be picked out through the murmurs but the feeling is all the same — it draws you forward like a moth to flame, but whether you decide to reach a hand out to touch the sliver of light that hangs suspended in the air is entirely your choice. If you do, you might succumb to a vivid memory of a significant injury you or someone important to you had suffered once, reliving that moment with too sharp clarity. Those feelings of fear or threat or maybe even satisfaction seem to come to you again as though you were there again — only this time you may not be alone as you witness this memory, and someone else has entered the room with you.

● ● ●

Present Day.

The teleportation platform hums quietly in a clean, well-maintained room. No walls or floors appear to be even the least bit dented, and now the Commander of the Ximilia stands behind the control board, staring at the screen as though doing so will bring their crew back by some wild form of magic. Degar knows magic — he’d come from a world so full of it. This, however, is something different.

Beside him, Viveca scans through the data that had sent the crew into the Ndiera Complex, as it should have brought them back the same way, with the orb in tow.

// VIVECA

“I don’t know how it happened… they should have arrived here. Everything seemed normal! But I’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out.”

// DEGAR

“They could be anywhere, right? Except we can’t even help them if we don’t know where that might be.”

// VIVECA

“I know. The strange thing is that it seems that we’ve located another orb… only, it states that it’s here. On the station. So even if the platform sent them straight to it… why aren’t they here?”

The Commander and the AI both turn their gaze towards the still empty teleportation platform before exchanging worried glances with each other. Degar finally heaves an exhale but the frown in his features deepens.

// DEGAR

“Keep working at it. I’m going to see what I can figure out in the station’s systems. Maybe we can trace back to the team somewhere. Or somewhen.”

Viveca nods, her voice sounding complicated when she responds next.

// VIVECA

“Yeah. We’ll find them.”

TOP

F Y I

• The events in this log take place during the first two weeks of June.

• For this mission, we have decided to run the search request mechanic a little differently. Depending on whether your character decides to touch or grasp one or any of the slivers of coloured light that can be found throughout the station, you will have the opportunity to participate in a search request. More on this is explained HERE.

• If you have questions about any of the prompts or the mission in general, please direct them HERE.

• Any in-character questions to 0-L1V-14 can be asked HERE.

• And finally, your soundtrack for this log: ♪ ♪ ♪

TOP

▶ NAV

Comments

Kitchen

[recklessenough]

[ Someone had been headed into the kitchen in search of tea. Instead, he'd found himself pausing in the doorway and bearing silent witness to what Lockwood had learned was probably someone's memory. He'd had a few encounters so far and knew well enough to stay put and let the memory run its course.

At first he couldn't place who was the owner of the memory until the moment he saw Zhao come into view carrying the duck. It was an image that was incongruous with what Lockwood had experienced so far with the other man, but it made the youth smile. Initially it the smile of a wee gremlin gathering additional trolling material, but as he continued to watch the exchange, in position to see the expression on the unknown man's face, Lockwood sobered.

He couldn't know exactly what was going on between the two men, but he was good enough at reading people to be able to understand that he was witnessing something special between them. Not romantic, precisely but something that made the well prepared Peking duck more than simply a tasty meal.

Unless identified in the doorway, the young man would wait until the memory ran its course, before making his presence known. Stepping out of the shadowed doorframe and into the kitchen. ]

This is where I say something like 'I didn't know you could cook', but that is a ridiculous sentiment. The meal looked well made. George cooks like that, for Lucy and I back home. [ His tone hopefully conveys the unspoken meaning in his words. That George cooks with the love of family, that extra bit of ingredient. ] Its always so much better than anything we could get in a restaurant.

[essenceofdeadlybeasts]

[The memory wasn't too long all things considered. There was another moment of merriment as the group broke out into laughter over some silly antics, and an argument over who got to cut the duck, and who got what piece. Ridiculous conversation that only a true group of friends displayed.

The whole dinner probably played out something like that. As the memory faded, Zhao was left standing there gazing into the empty space left behind with a small smile on his lips, a bit of a wistfulness in his eyes. He sensed the presence of Lockwood more than saw or heard him, and eventually turned to meet the young man's eyes. His smile widened amicably.]

Joke's kinda make reality easier to swallow, you know. It's not gonna hurt me if you use them. [He reassured the youth. He rolled his eyes at the sentiment but there was a reluctance to the animation as if he really wasn't bothered by it either. Like he really was soft beneath the hard shell he displayed.] I grew up in one actually so I cook as if I were part of the kitchen crew. My grandma though... her recipes were the best.

[Perhaps admitted at the end to agree with the sentiment after all.]

[recklessenough]

Wouldn't have been meant as a joke. I just figured we could do without the redundant statement. [ Lockwood's tone is warm, though direct. ] Cooking, especially for other people, is a gift. I can manage cheese on toast and boiled eggs, but it's George who cooks the real meals; usually after a difficult night.

[ He won't say it directly, but the inference is there. Food was a universal comfort, and cooking it -especially for others- was a comforting act. At least in Lockwood's experience. Perhaps people who sat at Lucrezia Borgia's table might have felt differently. ]

The man. Is he your family, or a friend? [ Lockwood's tone tries to make it clear that he doesn't set any higher significance on one relation over the other. Friends are just as important as blood relatives, in his experience, and he's not trying to pigeonhole Kasuga one way or another. Just asking about him and who he is to Zhao. ]

[essenceofdeadlybeasts]

[Zhao ducks his head and then shakes it. He really did hate this emotional stuff. It made him uncomfortable. He let it slide though and looked back up at Lockwood with a comfortable smirk across his face--his usual facade.]

That a good friend of yours?

[Zhao tipped his head slightly to one side.]

A good friend. There's...a story behind the Peking duck. But it's not mine to tell.

[recklessenough]

An associate. [ Lockwood replies in a breezy manner that suggests he's used that term a little too often and a little too loosely in the past. There is something that passes across his dark eyes, a brief twinge as inwardly -at least- he acknowledges that he just did George a bad turn. George was his friend.

Seems it was still easier to acknowledge that within the safety of the company of his two friends, rather than to others. Lockwood was going to have to work on that. Later Lockwood was going to have to work on that.

Returning his full focus to what Zhao was saying, the younger man smiled warmly and nodded. ]

Of course. [ Respect and understanding about the story not being Zhao's to share. ] I apologize for intruding.

I was just going to make myself a bit of tea. Would you like some?

[essenceofdeadlybeasts]

Uh-huh. [Funny how a two-tone noise could carry so much underlying message to it. That being 'yeah, sure, I believe you, one hundred percent' of the very sarcastic variety.] The kind of associate that you appreciate more when they're gone?

[Zhao shifted his form and shook his head, again denying Lockwood's attempt to be overly polite.]

No intrusion. It was a good memory to share! I can't complain.

[He paused to consider. Mostly if it was worth making anything left on this station when there....wasn't much to chose from. Not much that was decent anyway. It all looked like preserved food for the apocalypse or early astronaut days or something. Which was kinda ironic and funny when he thought about it. He then shrugged.]

Sure, why not. If there's tea here to drink, I'd go for some.

[recklessenough]

[ Lockwood decided Zhao's question could easily fall under the label of 'rhetorical' and so he decided to leave it alone and focus on making tea. ]

Glad yours was a good experience. I've encountered a couple of folks who haven't been so lucky. [ Lockwood included. Though he's not about to open that door.

After his experience with Natasha, the first time Lockwood ferreted out a box of loose tea leaves, he knew which cupboard to raid. A little pot found it's way to the stove, water set to heat as Lockwood pulled down two mugs and then began to makeshift a tea strainer. ]

Have you spoken to Aleksander since we got back? [ Speaking of tea. The question is asked with all the subtlety of a younger brother being a pest. ]

[essenceofdeadlybeasts]

Yeah, I bet.

[Him, too. He had encountered quite a few unlucky ones. He hoped to avoid any of his own...but there was no guarantee he wouldn't walk right into one and bring someone along with him down a less pleasant memory lane. He definitely had some.

Lockwood's question brought him out of his thoughts. His eyes narrowed but a small smirk danced on the edges of his lips. A little feral. Nothing too serious. For the moment.

Cheeky little bastard.]

...Actually, I saw him back in the hallway a bit ago. [He turned away like a cat pretending not to seek attention.] We didn't talk much. Maybe we'll bump into each other later.

[Preferably not to share some horrible memory with each other but there was no real telling right now.]

[recklessenough]

[ If asked, point blank, why he felt the need to be a little gremlin at Zhao about the man's obvious crush on Aleksander, Lockwood would be hard pressed to give a good answer. The romantic attachments of the people around him weren't something Lockwood usually spent a lot of time considering, outside the stuff that got printed in the gossip magazines. Romantic attachments in general were something Lockwood tried not to think about; especially in regards to himself.

But perhaps there was something in the façade that Zhao put up that invited a bit of childishness from the otherwise uptight youth. Whatever it was, Lockwood didn't dissect it too deeply. He just ... needled. ]

You should cook something for him. [ Lockwood suggested, all innocence and butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. ] It might not be the lavish meal you were able to share with your friend, but I'm sure that a man of your talents could put together something, comforting, from what's available.

[ 'And it would be such a romantic gesture.' ]