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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: ♪ ♪ ♪
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Most notably, there's an over-sized steamer trunk laying open on the floor next to where Ryunosuke is standing. A large Daruma doll, a few changes of clothes, and a handful of other personal affects are stashed in there, but not much else. Not anywhere near enough to account for how large the container is, anyway.
Ryunosuke, caught up in the current of the memory, doesn't react to Yzak's question right away. He's grimacing lightly and stretching carefully, all the aches and pains of his experience that day coming back to him as if it had just happened.]
A stowaway... Yes. [An odd smile flickers across his face, with just a hint of triumph.] I still can't believe this plan actually worked. The absolute jackassery...
[He gives the memory of Kazuma an aggrieved look then, recalling what he'd imparted about the harrowing experience of being smuggled onto the ship.]
It was really something else when they brought your luggage in here earlier, though. The way that Russian crewman just tossed your travelling case onto the floor? I thought I was going to die!
[Kazuma grins and laughs again, the corners of his eyes crinkling in an extra adorable way. 'I still can't believe you were able to fit inside my trunk. You must be even less of a man than you look!']
not me,,,,,, LOSING THIS!!!!!!!
You shoved yourself in a box? [ He sounds incredulous. ] What the hell is so important that you need to do something like that?
LMAO OH NO, NO WORRIES!
It's... I had a good reason-- [An insane one but a good one, to his mind.] And YOU shut up-- [he's talking to Kazuma again now, and tries to swat him on the shoulder, which Kazuma deftly dodges with a laugh.] I swear, I thought I'd broken every bone in my body!
[Memory Kazuma chuckles again, shaking his head. 'Yes, well. Your diminutive build and frail bones aside... It's about fifty days until we dock in Great Britain. As long you confine yourself to my cabin here, I don't expect anyone will discover you. We'll just have to be careful.'
The memory at this point doesn't quite fade, but it does seem to lose some integrity, the shape of Kazuma becoming less distinct as he wanders off to go unpack some of his things. Ryunosuke and Yzak are still here in the cabin, though, directionless, the core of the memory done playing itself out. Ryunosuke glances away from his crewmate, and scratches the side of his head sheepishly. It's not even strictly because he's embarrassed that Yzak gets to see this rather personal moment; more pointedly, it feels a bit strange and sad, how much more effortless it is for him to joke around with Kazuma in this context, with his mind half in the past.]
...It was the only way I could get onto the ship. To be able to go with him to England. That's why.
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[ There's his bougie rich boy privilege coming through. But look, he's also trying to be logical here, surely there could be other options but shoving oneself into a box?
His eyes follow Kazuma as he laughs again and makes his way to get settled into the room. ]
What's waiting for you two in England?
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That second question... It's an understandable thing to ask, but Ryunosuke's expression darkens. It's a moment before he answers.]
For me, it was an opportunity to see the world... With the added benefit of not having to say goodbye to my best friend for the next several years. For Kazuma... A study tour. Learning the ins and outs of the most advanced judicial system in the world. At least... That's what he told me, at the time.
[He sighs, trying to divert.]
...Buying a ticket wasn't exactly an option. There were-- are-- restrictions about this sort of thing. A contract of peace and friendship was only recently forged between our Empire of Japan and the Great British Empire. People only go under special circumstances... They don't let just anyone go.
[He mutters under his breath, glancing around:]
Just how are we supposed to get out of here, anyway...?
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Just anyone, huh.
[ He says with one of those "I get that" tones. ] So right now only for optics. And ones that are assured to be strictly positive ones while those waters are still being tested. Those first steps toward an actual peace are on always on the most fragile of surfaces.
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...Yes. Well. It turned out it was never quite the peaceful mission I was initially lead to believe in at the start.
[It's one of those things he means to keep in his head, but it comes out as an audible mutter anyway. Kazuma had known from the very beginning that this was never meant to be a simple study abroad trip; Ryunosuke had just failed to question the signs.]
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What was the real reason, then?
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[His voice catches, and he trips up over his words. With his hands slack at his sides, his fingers clench and unclench a few times, momentarily at war with himself. Ryunosuke values the truth more than anything else, but... This is...]
...I'm not really sure that it's my secret to tell.
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He was fine with you going along with him, though. Did he expect you to find out?
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[The words tumble out, sharp, but without anger; he's interrupting both himself and Yzak's current line of questioning, doubling back a moment to the previous subject because he realizes Yzak is drawing some conclusions, and he can't bring himself to leave the wrong impression, to make it sound like Kazuma is some sort of secret violent warmonger.
...But hesitating on the point is enough to put a few more cracks in the dam, and before he can stop himself, grievances are spilling out of him as a miniature tirade:]
...At least as far as he could see, it was the only way to pursue a truth that he sought after so desperately. I understand that. But... Being here in this room... I can't shake this sense of resentment. Why didn't he just tell me from the beginning? He had to wait until we were already on the bloody steamship? Why? So he could be sure I wouldn't leave?
[Now there's an edge of anger creeping in, a bitterness that he's been bottling up for some time now threatening to come uncorked. He trusted Kazuma more than anyone, and he'd thought the feeling was mutual. It hurts him to look back at this moment and know it wasn't entirely true. But even more than that... It saddens him, knowing full well that Kazuma probably did trust him, at least as much as he had the capacity for at the time. And that still wasn't enough to make him be honest.
Shoulders that were just tensed in anger a few seconds ago now sag sadly, and Ryunosuke makes a weak, dismissive gesture, glancing at Yzak with an apologetic wince.]
...Sorry. You... You really didn't need to hear any of that. I just... [He shakes his head lightly, rubbing the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger in embarrassment.] Yes. We've talked about it a bit... He would have had to tell me, eventually. He just... Never got the chance.
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Even without this whole in-depth recollection we're being forced through, thinking of a memory that made you feel shitty doesn't make you immune to feeling it again just because you dealt with and moved on.
Though I'm sure this circumstance doesn't help that in the least.
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You're probably right...
[This is a moment of victory. It SHOULD be a happy memory. It was, once, before the truth came out and cast it all in an entirely different light. Ryunosuke wants to move past this, to walk forward in life able to say with full honesty that he and Kazuma have worked through what happened, that they've shored up the cracks in the foundation of their friendship. At very least, they should be able to say with confidence that they've mutually acknowledged the damage that was done, and the work that still needs doing.
Being here makes it difficult to feel like any of that's true. It's too raw. Too recent. He can remember all too keenly how excited he'd been, off on a whirlwind adventure in an exotic far off land, at the side of his best friend in the whole world. Utterly clueless of what was to come.]
...All the more reason to figure out which door will get us out of here, I suppose. Not that we have many options.
[The cabin door, the door to the washroom, or the the wardrobe doors. 1 in 3 chance.]
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[ That's all he says to start. Though he's unsure if this is as simple as just finding a door and freely exiting the memory.
But then he finds himself speaking again despite himself. Maybe because pieces of this feel familiar to him, because he can empathize with the frustration that Ryunosuke felt - still feels when he has to reflect on it like this. Because many of the questions he speaks aloud here are ones that there are an answer to. ]
It's difficult to know the feelings hidden inside someone's heart. [ It's spoken as if it's being quoted, though there's something to it that sounds particularly personal to him, too. ] Even if you think you know someone inside and out, short of being able to actually sense that kind of thing, there'll always be something you don't.
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...Maybe so. The thing is... I always had something of a hunch, that there were things he wasn't telling me. There were hints, glimpses of darkness, if you knew where to look... But I never pressed him on it.
[He has always had a pretty good sense of Kazuma's feelings, he thinks. What he was missing were the details, the history of pain and injustice suffered, which would have brought clarity to his understanding of the man.
Reaching for the cabin door now, his fingers pass through the handle and scatter the image of it like fog, only for it to reconstitute a second later. Ryunosuke frowns, vexed. So THAT isn't the way out...]
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Even asking, pressing, doesn't ensure you'll get an answer.
—not that I can speak for Kazuma there, obviously. But that's how that shit is, a lot of the time.
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With a sigh, Ryunosuke turns and makes his way over to the washroom door instead, intent on trying that door next.]
...Are you speaking from personal experience, Major?
[It's a neutral sounding question. Even if Yzak rejects the question, he still wants to try and divert, just for a bit.]
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When posed the question, blue eyes move back to the only other actual real thing here aside from himself. ]
Of course I am.
Back when I was still a soldier, I was assigned to Le Creuset Team, something considered an honor even among us elite. The Commander was well known even against our enemy for his talents and his feats on the battlefield. A cunning strategist with an amazing record, an air of mystery about him wrapped up in the charisma he could show just about anybody.
That's what he said to me, once. When something felt wrong about the circumstances surrounding various allies of ours breaking away from our military and simply being labeled as traitors. "It's difficult to know the feelings hidden inside someone's heart." An easy concept to accept. And a completely truthful one.
[ He frowns. ]
But he was essentially telling on himself, saying that. Because it was him who'd deceived his way into what became the rotting core of the bullshit that was really going on during the first war.
no subject
That's... Quite the unpleasant revelation.
[Putting it a bit lightly perhaps.]
I'm sorry to hear that. Were the two of you very close?
[While he talks, he reaches for the next door, and... The same thing happens here as with the last. The handle is immaterial, his hand simply fazing through the shape of it when he tries to get a grip. He frowns, mildly annoyed. So that just leaves them one option...]
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He was my commander for the majority of the first war. As a commander myself, now, I understand how important the position is. My life and my well being was in his hands - and his reputation gave the impression that he could be trusted completely. So that's exactly what I did. I trusted him with everything, and desperately wanted to make him proud.
But I learned later that I — that everyone around him — were just expendable pawns in his game of chess where rather than winning or losing, he wanted to wipe the entire board clean.
[ Yzak furrows his brow as he recollects. ] There were so many times where I just barely skirted death, barely made it out of a situation. That was probably more thanks to my teammates, or my own luck than anything else. I wonder now, how many of those times he could see how dangerous the situation was but simply chose to watch it unfold. He could always get a new team, after all, to get him where he wanted to be.
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That's... [he falters, making a defeated sounding little groan.] I don't even know what to say. That's just... Horrible!
[He shakes his head, at a loss.]
I'm not a soldier, so I can barely even begin to imagine... To put that much faith in someone, only to have it thrown back in your face...
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Looking back now, he didn't curb that sort of thing as harshly as he should. Which isn't surprising.
[ His mouth dips into a brief, small frown. ] Not that I'm putting the blame entirely on him for plenty of the shit I did back then. My actions in the end were still my own to carry. [ As horrific as at least one of them was. ]
In either case, you don't need to be a soldier or in a war to have that sort of thing happen. Trust in someone can always be exploited and ruined.
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True, but... If I think about it rationally... I am fairly confident, at least, that Kazuma didn't actually intend to exploit or manipulate my trust. I think... More than anything, he just has great difficulty putting his trust in others. Even in me...
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[ The type to do something like that intentionally. ]
Intention or not, I'm not sure that makes a great deal of difference when it comes to how you felt at the time. Even if you can rationalize it now. [ He finds himself scowling somewhat with the next admittance, because it holds just as true to him, still, too. ] It's fucking stupid, especially when things like this happen and you can't help thinking about it and then also can't help when you still feel some type of way about it...!
[ Part of him hates admitting that. But he's never been particularly good at talking about this sort of thing, either. Feelings. Maybe he's a touch better at it now than he once was, but...
But now sometimes that hurts in its own way, when he realizes it about himself.
Yzak gives his head a little shake. ]
That all aside, he has better trust in you now, I'd hope. [ Compared to back then. ] Where it really counts to. [ Because there is a difference between mistrust and stubbornness. Dearka still pleads with Yzak to let him help more with political matters back home, yet it's not that Yzak doesn't trust him so much as it's his own dumb stubborn ass that kicks in and wants to handle things himself because he is a big strong powerful man who can deal with congresspeople being stupid. By losing his temper and yelling at them a lot. ]
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That train of thought is interrupted by a sudden knock at the cabin door, which makes both Ryunosuke and the dream iteration of Kazuma jolt with surprise.
"Ryunosuke," Kazuma says quietly, eyes flicking towards the wardrobe meaningfully. Then he speaks up, calling to the person at the door: "Sorry, just a moment!" For his part, Ryunosuke sighs, turning towards the looming piece of furniture.]
Well, this is the last door to check, anyway... [He beckons to Yzak.] Come on. The way out must be through here... [Muttering:] My cozy little home away from home...
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