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

[peasant]

[ she pops the lollipop into her mouth, crammed up against the side of her cheek, to free up her hands for searching. it turns out — he's right. she doesn't make any thrilling discoveries by rummaging around, though she does sift through it with the same curiosity of a raccoon pawing at trash. one by one, she plucks out her find, offering out his equipment — that seems integral to have in this place, even if she can't figure out the oximeter's function — until she reaches the crisp, folded edges of his paper stars.

from him, it's an unexpected demonstration of artisticness. she holds one up, turning it around in the light, to make a point. ]

These are cute. [ then, with a huff, ] You were holding out on me during arts and crafts.

[ rare a participant as he'd been — and often by alina's cajoling, if not the pestering of a child. sometimes both, for a combined force. ]

[dispassioned]

[He takes back the oximeter and the penlight, though an eyebrow goes up when she holds up the star.]

…Ah.

[He may have forgotten those were there, actually.]

Only a little. I hadn’t done origami in a long time. There’s not a lot to do between looking for orb fragments. I guess I wanted a distraction.

[And figuring out how to fold paper stars again wasn’t a bad one. At least not for the first night or so.]

[peasant]

[ they vanish back into her (his) pocket, not unlike a genuine star blinking out. seems she's keen to steal those next, sentimental in their value as all tiny keepsakes are. ]

You know things aren't going well when Newt isn't the one arranging a distraction.

[ only a rusty space station could stop movie night from occurring. it might've been nice, in hindsight, to return to — living through someone else's life and story, for a brief change. she considers him for a moment longer, can't bring herself to joke that it's an inconvenient time for him to find new hobbies — or dust off old ones, in this case.

instead, she considers the expanse of him, then — ] Have you been sleeping?

[dispassioned]

[He's only experienced one movie night so far, so he’s not entirely aware of how much of a regular occurrence it is. Still, some movies would be nice, actually. Fictional movies where no one real has their privacy invaded.

At her question tilts his head and sighs.]

Not as much as I’d like.

[This is why his favorite hobby on Naephus was sleeping. Being stuck in survival mode is bad for napping. He's done his best to doze when he can, but relaxation doesn’t come easy at the moment.]

Our sleeping quarters aren’t our sleeping quarters here. It’s just storage space. The sleeping situation is…communal.

[An ongoing station wide slumber party made more awkward by people being forced to view each other’s memories.]

[peasant]

Oh.

[ said with all of the intonation that oh should carry, like she's touched some unfortunate goopy chewed gum on the underside of a table. oh. there couldn't be a worse idea on a station so prone to violating privacy, much as self-preservation instincts might say otherwise.

she, for one, would rather take her chances. bunking in the first army had had its own pitfalls, but it had been decent. asking her to sleep in the same shared space as kirigan and every blind fool charmed by him is decidedly indecent. ]

No, thank you. I think I'll find a nice spot on the floor where everyone else isn't.

[ her back will suffer and her blanket will be covered in dust, but at least her sanity might stay intact. ]

[dispassioned]

I don’t blame you.

[He's been inclined to do the same thing. As much as he likes people watching, he doesn’t actually want to share the same sleeping space with the entire crew, even if he has decided they aren’t all bad.]

The infirmary has beds, at least, but you’d have to tolerate the medical staff coming and going.

[It's where he’s been most successful at dozing so far, but then again it’s an atmosphere that’s somewhat familiar to him.]

[peasant]

It's better than bunking with the entire ship.

[ fortune would have it that their medical staff is composed of people she does trust. bones, marta — compassionate, level-headed, and not prone to infringing on another person. it's the most she could ask for, in these pressing circumstances.

not having to contend with interrupted sleep, and the overwhelming sensation of dark and drilling eyes, is a bonus.

a thoughtful tip of her head brings it to one side, in her regard of him. ]

Is that where you're staying?

[dispassioned]

It's where I've managed to get some sleep.

[Saying he's "staying" there doesn't seem quite right. He's offered his services there and managed a couple of naps, but this whole situation has him a little too restless to commit to staying in any one place for too long.

However:]

And it's where the rest of the lollipops are.

[peasant]

So you're resorting to bribery now?

[ as though her mind hadn't already been made up the moment she'd snared him in admitting to how little rest he's gotten. a tellingly amused twitch of her mouth slants it to one side. she doesn't need more incentive than that, truly, but it certainly doesn't fail to sweeten the deal. ]

I hope you haven't suddenly developed a habit of snoring while I've been away.

[ which is, in alina's language, as good as committing them both to sharing space in the medbay. no takebacks. ]

[dispassioned]

[He blinks a little, surprised by her easy (albeit sassy) acceptance. He wouldn't have blamed her if she was uncomfortable with the medical atmosphere of the infirmary.

It is more comfortable than a dusty floor, though.]

I meant it as more of a perk.

[The most simplistic amenity imaginable: free candy. But then again maybe perks are a form of bribery.

He huffs a little, his lips twitching in amusement at the joke about snoring.]

Not that I know of. You'll have to let me know.

[The air in the station now might be a little stale but he's pretty sure he hasn't developed sleep apnea.]

[peasant]

A pillow to the face should be informative enough.

[ he can't be any worse than having to listen to soldiers grappling with one another through labored breaths in the dark, eager to distract themselves from the looming threat of death ahead of them. or the cramped spaces they had inhabited, more than that — snoring and late-night chatter alina had been excluded from among the list.

her teeth chip off a shard of lollipop, fingertips fiddling with folding up the overhanging fabric of his sleeve where it dwarfs her hands. ]

Actually ... [ she smiles, faint. rueful. ] A rendezvous with a pillow sounds appealing right now, if I'm honest.

[dispassioned]

[He smiles faintly.]

Your turn to enjoy a nap, hm?

[Or maybe she's just keen to smack him with a pillow.

He's not too worried about that possibility, though, considering he offers her his hand.]

Want me to escort you?

[peasant]

[ she smiles, the perfect picture of innocuous. he doesn't need to know it's a purposeful ploy to coax him into resting. ]

I'm not going to get lost on the way there.

[ but she isn't discounting that it's become a latent fear of his, nor his eagerness to be in her company. that amusement is gently delivered, as a result, half-mired in reassurance. her hand stretches out, extended for him to take. ]

But I wouldn't say no to some company.

[dispassioned]

[He takes her hand and leads her out of the room.]

You never know. The layout could have changed.

[He's kidding. Though she did get lost somehow during the teleportation process so you never know.]

You want to stop for some freeze dried ice cream or mystery protein on the way?

[peasant]

[ """mystery protein""". he makes it sound so appetizing. alina expression wrenches into a distasteful wrinkle as her hand squeezes around his, easily falling into step beside him. ]

Does the freeze-dried ice cream taste like anything?

[ she's wagering on a big, fat, resounding no. ]

[dispassioned]

[Look there's no way to make those sound appetizing. They are a valid source of protein but they taste like cardboard and the protein in question is from god knows where. It is what it is.

He hums a bit at the question.]

Well, it definitely doesn't taste like ice cream.

[So it tastes like something just not what it's supposed to.]

It's a little like vanilla flavored chalk.

[peasant]

[ ergh. the disappointment is palpable as her face scrunches up impossibly further, creased into a thousand tiny lines. mystery protein is one thing. but chalky ice cream is a masochist's delight. doubtlessly indigestible as far as any nourishment must go, at any rate. ]

I think my stomach will stick with going for a nap. [ dryly, ] Difficult as you've made my decision.

[dispassioned]

[He huffs a little, almost apologetic.]

It seemed cruel to try to convince you it might taste good. You'd only be disappointed.

[He might be a troll but he also knows how much she likes good food. Getting her hopes up would just be mean, honestly.]

[peasant]

Suppose I'll stick with the mystery protein, next time.

[ if his description is any indication, it likely has the texture of a beef slurry. it's illuminating, these unanticipated consequences of viveca and degar's absence. she feels it more deeply over such a trivial loss like a decent meal, or a clean bed to lounge in. more evidence that they had taken viveca's assistance for granted.

a long breath billows out of her just as they turn a corner. ]

Olivia's hospitality feels lacking. [ but, wryness aside: ] It makes one wonder how Viveca ever gained access to all of our supplies.

[dispassioned]

At least it has some nutritional value.

[So even if it tastes bad, she's still getting something out of it. The freeze dried ice cream is mostly only good for satisfying curiosity about what freeze dried ice cream would taste like.

And she has a point about the supplies Viveca and Daegar have access to. Not to mention the technology and general comforts.]

You're right. It's an interesting contrast. If this is an accurate representation of what the Ximilia was generally like, then it might be partially Emerton's influence. Apparently, he was the commander of their crew. A military man might be inclined to be more spartan about amenities than someone like Degar.

[He's never spoken to Degar but based on what others have said about him and what he's read on the network, Degar seems like the type to want to make people comfortable.]

[peasant]

That might be true.

[ it only takes one change in leadership to topple old traditions, like a brick shifting an entire foundation. nikolai, for one, would rather brighten ravka than stand under his father's hedonistic shadow. but even as chishiya's theory seems to slide neatly into place, perfectly seamless in its logic —

something still nags at her. the sensation of overlooking what she knows must be beneath her nose. she chews on the inside of her cheek, pensive; the divot forming beneath her brows speaks to the effort she's trying to invest in sliding around the few puzzle pieces of information they do have. ]

Don't you think they would have been less kind in their opinion of him, then? Viveca and Degar both seem to regard him with some sort of respect. Loyalty — true loyalty — is rarely earned by denying your people basic comforts. That's an easy method for breeding resentment.

[ the first army hadn't differed, in that regard. and what had been left? soldiers desperate to live. defectors unwilling to lay themselves down for a country that had shown them no consideration in return, as anything beyond another mouth to feed and another body to absorb bullets.

any one of them might have run from that, if the punishments for desertion weren't so grave. ]

Maybe ... what we see are the only resources they had available to them. For whatever reason that may be.

[dispassioned]

[He hums a little.]

It might not have been viewed as actively denying them anything, but just...practicality.

[Still, she has a point. If Emerton had it in him to be a doting dog parent, he probably would have been inclined to spoil his crew occasionally, it not often.]

But if this is all they had, it might be worth asking Viveca and Degar what changed. How is it possible that we can live so much more comfortably now? Assuming they'd be inclined to answer.

[peasant]

They might.

[ it rings more non-committal than she had intended. a direct line of questioning is the only avenue they have, really, even if alina isn't fully subscribed to the faith that any leaders will answer with full transparency. but that aside — ]

Someone else would be better suited to it. I'm not really ... [ she waffles, settles on: ] On familiar terms with either of them.

[ one would think time would breed familiarity, but she's learned her lesson where growing too close to commanders and authority figures is involved. ]

[dispassioned]

[He takes a breath and sighs, tilting his head to the side slightly.]

Neither am I. I've never spoken to either of them.

[Maybe he should consider changing that. Though he's not sure asking those types of questions is the best way to go about it.

Oh well, he'll figure it out later. For now...he heads into the infirmary with Alina.]

A little different than what we're used to.

[Less advanced and not as fully stocked medicine and supplies, but better than nothing.]

[peasant]

[ of anyone here, she would have thought his curiosity might have him sniffing around viveca and degar. he likes to be well-equipped with knowledge as though it were armor, after all. that much she had gleaned from that first fateful meeting.

but rather than issue any teasing, she stops short, surveying the infirmary status with an owlish rotation of her gaze. it's not terrible, all things considered. that it even exists is nothing short of a blessing. ]

Let's hope we won't have a reason to need it.

[ knowing their odds, it doesn't seem likely. but she injects it with as much helpless optimism as she can presently muster as she draws back a curtain, trying to assess whether the medical beds aren't rife with lumps. ]

Two people might make for a cramped fit. [ a beat. time to enact her strategy. ] But I'm having trouble staying warm by myself. It's a bit chilly in here.

[ things that tend to happen when you're wearing an oversized hoodie with no pants. ]