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ximilialog2023-06-01 06:40 pm
- ! event log,
- adventure time: finn mertens,
- adventure time: jake the dog,
- fear street: ziggy berman,
- grishaverse: the darkling,
- gundam seed/destiny: yzak jule,
- lockwood & co: anthony lockwood,
- pacific rim: newton geiszler,
- red vs blue: felix,
- star trek aos: james t. kirk,
- star trek aos: leonard mccoy,
- the old guard: andromache,
- yakuza: zhao tianyou
MISSION: THE AI AND THE COMMANDER
● ● ● M I S S I O N 1 4 . 0
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:
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.
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.
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.
Viveca nods, her voice sounding complicated when she responds next.
F Y I
• 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: ♪ ♪ ♪
no subject
He murmurs back quizzically:]
My Lord...?
[Just as soon as he responds, that's when everything shifts. Their surroundings appear to warp, and whether they've been literally sent through time back into the moment, or this is merely an illusion, there's one thing for certain: the sunlight room, with its plants all arranged in their neat and orderly rows, are gone. Instead, they now stand in a grand courtroom, one that reeks of austerity and the gravity of justice.
Ryunosuke's eyes go huge, realizing he's standing behind an all too familiar bench. It takes him another moment to realize he's somehow dragged Minimus here too, finding the the Cybertronian at his right, where Susato Mikotoba would usually be.
The rest of the scene falls into place easily, because even with his minimal amount of actual courtroom experience, he could never forget the setup here.
It seems all eyes in the damn courtroom are on Ryunosuke and Minimus. Opposite them both, standing tall behind the bench for the prosecution, is a regally dressed man, who glares with an unmistakable hatred burning coldly in his eyes. He seems to be watching and waiting for something, covering his tension by swirling a glass of red wine in one hand. Meanwhile, in the witness stand, a peculiar purple haired gentleman is also glaring daggers, stomping his foot over and over and grinding his teeth so hard it frankly hurts to look at him. His behavior is certainly putting the other three witnesses stuck standing there with him on edge. The two men to his one side, and former Ximilia crew member Gina Lestrade on the other, are giving him a significant berth.
And on the fourth and final side of the courtroom, opposite the witness stand, sits a jury of six, lined up below the god-like roost of bespectacled bearded man.
The judge pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, clears his throat, and looks stern. He starts speaking with a note that indicates he's not pleased to have to repeat himself:]
'Counsel for the Defence...your closing statement, please.'
[Ryunosuke, who was happily helping Minimus search the room just a few moments ago, looks both petrified and furious, both hands firmly on the bench, sweat beading on his temple. He seems too stunned to answer.]
[[Game soundtrack for this scene.]]
no subject
He twists one way and the other in search for any sign of fear at this form. Fortunately - though strangely - they are solely focused on the strange, angry man at the podium. Minimus leans over Ryuunosuke and whispers:] Have we been sent on a mission involving a legal dispute?
no subject
Nonetheless, he hisses back:]
A mission? No, it... [He furrows his brow, one hand clutching at his forehead.] I can't discuss this right now! The judge... The judge is waiting for my opinion! Is Magnus McGilded truly innocent or not? The evidence says otherwise, but... But I'm his defense attorney! Doesn't that mean I'm supposed to fight for his freedom, no matter what?
no subject
He's your client? [Minimus is well aware that Ryunosuke is a lawyer, but he doesn't recognize the people in this room...save for Gina. She's not supposed to be on the ship anymore, he knows this. An illusion? A memory?] Then you have to continue defending him. It's your job, as terrible as it may be.
[He had to defend Megatron before he had reformed, it was terrible.]
If it helps, know that you were paid to fight for him, even if you know you will fail.
no subject
More to the point... Failure isn't really the problem here.
The memory around them seems to hiccup, and something in the very fabric of it shifts as further details resurface. Absent until this moment, the shape of Susato Mikotoba suddenly manifests in between Minimus and Ryunosuke. The grave expression she wears has nothing to do with the fact that there's a large metal man standing right behind her; like everyone else in this courtroom, she seems to be completely unaware that Minimus is there at all.
'As things stand at the moment, it would seem... That Mr McGilded will be found not guilty,' she says.
Ryunosuke's reply is faint, and devoid of enthusiasm:]
Yes.
['Which would mean... We've won.'
Yes. They'll have won. The trial will end, and Ryunosuke's first case as a defense attorney will officially be a success. He'll have passed Stronghart's test.
Magnus McGilded will walk free.
Reliving this moment, Ryunosuke isn't the seasoned and confident defense attorney that he's managed to become after all this time. Right now, he's a hapless rookie once more; someone who still hasn't figured out what it really means to be a lawyer. All of that old uncertainty comes rushing back in, and crashes over him like an incoming tidal wave. The horrible inner conflict he'd felt in that moment. There's clearly something they're not seeing here. The evidence is suspect, and there's still so much they haven't figured out, so many unanswered questions--!
'Counsel for the Defence...your closing statement, please,' the judge says again. Ryunosuke's attention snaps back up to him, and he stands up a little straighter, jerking his head in a small nod.]
...Yes, My Lord. The defence believes...
[His eyes flick about. He swallows thickly. He can barely breathe, barely get the words out. He tries again, tamping down on the slight tremor in his voice that threatens to make itself known.]
...As Mr McGilded's legal representative... I believe the defendant, Magnus McGilded--
[For Kazuma. He has to win this, he has to keep Kazuma's dream alive!]
--To be innocent of the allegations brought against him.
[A heavy silence falls over the courtroom as his words sink in. Even up in the public gallery, where the rowdiest commentary tends to manifest, not a single peep is uttered.
At length, the judge finally nods, and simply says, 'thank you, Counsel.'
With the silence broken, the courtroom starts to grind back to life. Voices start to murmur up in the gallery, soft whispers passing back and forth, steadily increasing in volume. Across the way, behind his bench, the prosecutor's expression is darker than ever. And the way he looks at Ryunosuke now? There is nothing but sheer disgust behind those cold blue eyes. He lifts his glass of wine high in the defense lawyer's direction, and intoning a mocking toast:
'...Here's to you, my Nipponese friend, and the most abject closing I have yet to hear in a court of law.'
At the witness stand, Magnus McGilded has begun to break down in fits of raucous laughter, clapping his hands over and in a broad, haphazard motion. In the gallery, people are starting to shout, throwing accusations and insults, working themselves up into a proper uproar.
'Ordaaar! Ordaaar!' roars the Judge, banging his gavel. McGilded, center stage, manages to speak over the crowd, through spasms of laughter. 'Oh, 'twas a grand decision to appoint you as my lawyer, so it was! A grand decision! You've saved one of London's most influential gentlemen, fella! Ye should be proud of yeself!'
The echoes of his laugh still ring in Ryunosuke's ears, even as the memory fades, and the two of them are standing in the Sunlight room once more.
For a moment, Ryunosuke cant' find his words. He can't do anything but stand there looking sick to his stomach, fingers knotted in his hair.]
no subject
His gaze switches to Ryunosuke as the vision fades, and the laughter is the last to disappear. They are alone in the same spot as they were before.]
...Is that what happened?
[He stands next to Ryunosuke and keeps his hands to his side.]
Who was that man?
no subject
...A monster.
[His tone is dark and bitter. But while he does firmly believe that to be an apt description of McGilded, he realizes that's not really a helpful answer to give Minimus, so he amends further explanation after a moment.]
...Magnus McGilded. He... Was an influential London business man. And he was also a loan shark, and a con artist, and a murderer, who hid his wicked deeds behind the facade of philanthropy. And, unfortunately... He was also the very first client I ever had to defend in a British court of law.
[He shifts uncomfortably, realizing he's a bit worried about what Minimus will think of him now.]
For what it's worth, I tried to make it my policy to stop defending monsters, after all that. Lesson learned.
no subject
Then how do you select defendants? It can be difficult to discern who is guilty and who is not.
[Apart from very obvious tells.]
If it helps, I had a similar experience, but this was well after I became an established Speaker for the Defense - this was for the person responsible starting the war that nearly doomed my kind. It's not easy, and it never is, no matter how many years you have been practicing.
no subject
You defended someone... From charges of warmongering? Good heavens! I can't even begin to imagine...! How did you even get through something like that?
[He's willing to talk about his own process for deciding which clients he ultimately takes on, but this tidbit of Minimus's is far more arresting to his attention, at the moment.]
no subject
I don't think you met him, Megatron, while he was on this ship, but due to a loophole in the laws and process, he was temporarily deemed not guilty until a retrial. It was...a stressful spectacle.
[It was a complete shitshow, starring hours and hours of testimony, Decepticons attacking the court, livestreamed ratings, and Starscream.]
He was...well-behaved, during the trial.
no subject
Clearly the worst part of all of that is Starscream.Blinking owlishly, Ryunosuke's face starts going through a whole cascade of emotions in just a few short seconds.]
Hold on, you're saying he was HERE? Your war criminal client... Was on the Ximilia?
[He has to sort through his thoughts on that information in rapid succession: the shock, and the confusion, and then the acceptance leading into simply deciding not to fret about it, because Minimus had spoken in the past tense just now, which means it's probably a non-issue anyway.]
I... I had no idea. I'd expect I'd remember meeting someone like that...
[Although, at least he had good behavior to his credit...? Which is more than Ryunosuke can say for McGilded.
All that said, Ryunosuke sighs, gingerly rubbing the spot between his eyebrows, trying to bring himself back around to answering the original question.]
So how exactly did you wind up being the one to represent this 'Megatron' fellow, anyway?
no subject
He prays that Rodimus or Drift or anyone else from the Lost Light doesn't show up and drop this information.]
I was a prominent lawyer in an important position, so they picked me. Despite my Autobot leanings, I was the enforcer of the Code of Interplanetary Conduct - a neutral office. Seeing me arresting war criminals despite their alliance fostered a sense of trust from the organic societies in our galaxy, and if there was any Cybertronian the Galactic Council could trust, it was Ultra Magnus.
[He pauses.] That was...the identity by which I went while I worked there.
But I was well-known, trusted to defend Megatron thoroughly, and remain unclouded by my beliefs.
no subject
Ryunosuke is canny enough to suspect there's some significant weight behind that word, but he doesn't press Minimus on the matter for the time being. Though, his face does twitch slightly at the mention of the name 'Magnus'. That's... An unfortunate coincidence, isn't it?]
Ultra Magnus...? It sounds like you're quite a big deal back in your world. [He cocks his head.] But... How do you even go about defending someone you know to be guilty of something so serious? Surely you can't advocate for strict innocence, in that kind of scenario...?
[It's been some time since he last felt the weight of his lack of formal training, as keenly as he does asking this question. There's still so much he has left to learn... And he's supposed to go back and help reform Japan's legal system? Is that REALLY a good idea?]
no subject
[Lawyers aren't people, in a sense. They're tools.]
If we deny certain people of basic rights, how will be ensure that we are fair to all citizens?
no subject
No no, everyone deserves representation in court, of course! I do believe that. What I really mean to ask is... Literally, how do you form an argument in order to advocate for someone like that? How do you defend someone you know to be guilty, without outright lying?
sorry for losing this!
NO WORRIES I've been on vacation anyway
I just don't think I could do it. I don't think I could defend someone who I didn't fully believe in with all of my soul.
[He sighs.]
You asked me before, how I choose who I defend... And I'm afraid I don't really have a concrete answer. I just have to rely on my instincts. I speak with the client, and with people who know them, and I have to decide for myself, based on what I feel in my heart.
no subject
What sort of instincts?
no subject
[He's a bit thrown? And not sure how to answer that, actually. He's pretty sure he's never had to explain his instincts before, usually he just says that he trusts his gut, and people just kind of Get It. Hm. Maybe it's less intuitive to Minimus because he's mechanical...?]
It's hard to explain, but they're just... Feelings, that I get? Someone kind of explained the science behind it to me once before... I don't always realize I'm doing it, but when I'm talking to someone, if I'm really honed in, I can sort of... Subconsciously register things like body language, and tone of voice, and then draw up impressions of a person based on how those things interact.
[He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.]
...I mean, I say "I", but it's not something that's unique to me, of course... Anyone can do it. I just try to trust my own intuition, and it has worked out for me so far.
no subject
That feels to be prone to inaccuracy. I look at one's actions to determine their character - how they behave when they are given the freedom to choose for themselves is more beneficial, in my mind.
...That does make sense, does it?
no subject
I mean, yes, of course! That's something I keep in mind as well. It's all part of the same process, I suppose you could say. There are some people whom I would have a very negative opinion of indeed, if I were to judge them merely on how they spoke and presented themselves.
[That's the reason he was able to come to trust and defend Van Zieks, in the end. The man was prickly, sharp of tongue, and openly hostile to Ryunosuke in nearly every interaction they ever had. But his actions... They were always honorable, and spoke clearly to his dedication to both truth and justice. Lo and behold, he'd found there was a good man in there, beneath all that xenophobic posturing.]
no subject
[It's too complex and risky for someone as socially inept as Minimus. People are difficult to understand fully, even after weeks of knowing them. It's a shocking lesson he learned after seeing them as written files for centuries.]
no subject
[This is the awkward bit. The part where he has to admit how brief his actual practical experience in court really is.]
Well I've only had a handful of clients, to be honest. [Mentally ticking the names off in his head: Natsume, Lestrade, Harebrayne, Van Zieks...] ...Four, to be precise. Minus Mr McGilded, who I never had the chance to meet with prior to the court date, and... That was at least part of the problem, in hindsight. But the other four...? I believed in them wholeheartedly, and that never lead me astray. The truth exonerated them all in the end.
no subject
I would say four is a small sample size, but you are fortunate that your first four clients were not so complicated as to be guilty. Often, court cases are not so cut-and-dry: that's why we have lawyers to sort out the legal ambiguities. Of course, you need detectives to do their job in criminal cases, but you mustn't be too biased regardless of the current evidence.
no subject
I don't know if I'd call the cases I've worked cut and dry... Usually they're a bit of a mess, actually. My assistant and I often find ourselves stuck untangling the mystery of what really happened right there in court.
(no subject)
(no subject)