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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
[ Ben watches the young boy too, and the vision seems to pause there — neither young man nor the young boy is doing anything more interesting than sleeping in their respective spots, but there's something strange and peaceful about just being in this room.
It had been such a different time. Despite the grief that he'd been working through, Ben sees the familiar bed, the familiar safe space he'd called his own, the temple in its golden era, when everything had still been at peace.
Ben watches Anakin when he responds. ]
But I'd learned what he was doing after the first handful of times. [ He exhales. ] I suppose I just didn't have the heart to tell him just yet. I wasn't going anywhere. I never planned to.
no subject
He always planned on being there for all of it; the highs and lows of parenthood. Only it was over in a blink and suddenly, the idea of being on call for problems bigger than sleepless nights terrified him back into the easy escapism of his little brother. The boy had been a kid for the entirety of Jake's life; a welcome balm against the grown up problems of his grown children.
He never planned to miss it.
Something in the way Ben spoke the words ached with the same regret, however amplified it was by circumstance. ]
No matter what happened, it's obvious how you feel about him. Kids pick up on that. They know when they're loved.
no subject
[ Ben could deny it even now, if he wanted to. The Jedi are taught to have as few attachments in their lives as possible because attachment led to deeper thoughts; it led to a bias. It could even, at its most desperate hour, lead to the dark side.
Of course, it was difficult not to love Anakin. The boy had lost so much in his short life, and the two of them instantly shared the bond of the loss of Qui-Gon Jinn. And beyond that, he was smart and funny and curious, and throughout the years he had become so unceasingly loyal. He would do anything for Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan — despite everything he'd learned, everything he had been taught, found it was easy to become loyal to Anakin too.
But after spending more than a month's time with the Ximilia crew, and with the memory laid bare before them, it seems a disservice to keep quiet. Worse to lie. ]
He was my student, what we call a padawan, and I was his teacher. I think I've told you that once before, that I used to teach.
But more than that, he ... became a brother to me.
no subject
The unsure man in his twenties, suddenly caring for a young child after the death of too many in both their lives. The lack of stability, the brittleness of every moment, it was suddenly so familiar Jake felt as if his heart might beat out of his own chest. ]
I know a few things about that. The whole big brother thing. [ He huffs out, swallowing thickly against his own memories and funneling the noise into a laugh. ] You gotta be mom, dad, playmate, teacher, personal chef, and worst of all? You kinda need them to take care of you as much as they need you to take care of them.
[ He paws at the ground, allowing himself to be briefly distracted by how the texture of it matched the floor of the alternate Ximilia instead of the smooth sleeping quarters that surrounded them. ]
Dunno who that's harder on, but let's be real... probably them.
no subject
The young man asleep in his bed, that is him but it isn't. That Obi-Wan doesn't know the pain of real loss, and of war, and of losing everything in a manner of months. He doesn't know yet what it means to lose your entire community, and then to become hunted like an animal, to be driven into hiding, to be forced to sever his tie to everything he'd given himself to. To break his connection to the Force.
Ben lifts a hand to rub at the spot between his eyes and then he glances down at the yellow dog standing next to him. His presence here is so impossible, it's the perfect cue to ground him back to who he really is.
He feels ... old. ]
I had some time to wonder whether I'd gone about teaching him all wrong. Perhaps I pushed him too hard, or perhaps I didn't push hard enough.
[ He lets his hand drop back down to his side. ]
I don't think I allowed him to take care of me. [ Not in so many ways, at least. And was that what had started to cause the rift between them? Some imbalance between their roles, perhaps? He could never be sure — and perhaps he'd never really know now. ] I suppose you speak of the boy, Finn? Did he take care of you too?
no subject
To choose to make someone a brother instead of a son, to seek a relationship defined by going through life together as comrades and allies and friends over the built in distance of a parent and child... perhaps it was the dualling of their cultures, but Jake found unable to buy what the man was selling him.
Not that he's eager to be so blunt. Not when the beginnings of that relationship sat in front of them, only a ghost of what it would one day become. ]
Of course he did. [ Jake nods, voice mild and unashamed. ] I mean, it's not like he made me dinner or tucked me in or anything, but nobody could make a bad day good like that kid clowning up to me with his goofy wooden sword. He made every day an adventure. Even when stuff was bad and I was totally outta my depth, he kept me going.
[ Jake caps it with a soft laugh, glancing back up at Ben -- the real one, lines marking his face with age. ]
You're saying this kid never did that for you?
no subject
(Even when he did act out? Even when he rebelled against something he'd tried to teach him?) ]
Is that what it means to be taken care of?
[ Maybe there really had been something wrong with the way the Jedi were educated if he can't even discern the difference between taking care of someone and teaching them, and being cared for in return.
Ben nods now and he feels that familiar pressure in his chest, like fingers wrapped around his heart, squeezing just a little tighter. ]
Well then, I think you must be right. [ He can admit that.
They were inseparable. They became known heroes as a pair; and neither one would be mentioned without the other. ] I suppose he did take care of me in his own way.
you are killing me with this man. i hope you're happy.
They try their best. Just like us, right? [ He elbows him gently, if a little ruefully. ] We're all just doing the best we can with the hand we're dealt.
[ He pauses a moment, breathing in and out with quiet weight as the world begins to blur further. ]
I don't know how things turned out for you two, man, but... from what I can see, you gave that kid what he needed back then. And it sounds like maybe he gave you what you needed, too.
it takes two to tango buddy!!!
He dips his head slightly.
For what he knew then and what he could give Anakin, he did. But as the years passed and Anakin grew up into a formidable Jedi Knight and a soldier and Master in his own right, there had been things he wishes now he could have changed, even though a Jedi should not cling to regrets, nor should they hold onto the past either. But Ben hasn't been a Jedi for a decade now. What meaning do these teachings really hold for him anymore?
The question of 'how things turned out' gives him pause, and now Ben wonders whether he could divulge in a little more. There are no memories to expose his secrets, allowing them to remain hidden deep in his heart.
But he hasn't spoken of any of this aloud, not with anyone but the ghost of his former Master. And even then ... being met with an empty cave or the endless desert sky, it had been unsuccessful. So now he speaks — as much as he's comfortable with, anyway. ]
I was too young then to be his Master. To be anyone's Master. But I did try. [ He'd taught Anakin differently from how Qui-Gon would have, to be sure, but there is no denying that he tried. ] We learned together, Anakin and I. But in the end, I didn't give him enough. I lost him.
no subject
Being too young and having to rise to the occasion anyway, for all the better and all the worse... it was all on a razor thin margin, wasn't it? This could be Jake's own memory, a thousand times over. Faces and circumstances changed, but the core the same.
Only, he'd been far more fortunate. ]
I don't believe that. [ Jake says, meaning it with a certainty that he wouldn't normally give away so freely, and with so little information. It didn't matter. No one was that good an actor. ] Don't believe that for a dang second, Ben.
no subject
He appreciates this kind canine's sentiments, truly, but the vivid memories — nightmares, really — of that final battle in Mustafar, the heat and the fire and the utter pain in his former student's body; the hatred in those eyes when he'd told Obi-Wan that he hated him ... it could knock the breath from his lungs all over again the same way it did then. That, to Ben, is the reality of what had happened.
That loss was not only losing a brother and friend, but a good man to the Dark Side.
And now ... ]
Well, then you give me more kindness and far more credit than I deserve. I suspect, for all that we must move with the flow of the Force, even the Jedi Council would have had their reservations, looking back.
[ Of course there was no council anymore. No Jedi. ]
no subject
[ Jake prompts him with a push of a cold nose against his hand, as the swirling memory fades further into so much fog. The faces of the young man and boy become little more than shining steam encircling the two. He glances at it with mild curiosity, unsure if another memory might form from the vapor. It wouldn't be the first time these orb shards behaved erratically. Memories were funny that way. ]
If you're so sure, then tell me what you would've done if you could do it all again.
no subject
He glances down at the dog, feeling the press of his cool, wet nose against the much warmer palm of his hand, and he lets it hover just a little above Jake's head as though seeking permission to pet him. Even if they're having one of the most serious conversations he'd had in a long, long time. ]
I would have listened to him better, I think. [ That much he knows for certain. Anakin had been in pain, and Obi-Wan had often thought he just needed to learn to let go of those feelings. To detach from them. Perhaps that hadn't been the right advice at all. ] I would have done what my Master would ... and maybe I shouldn't have held him up to every last rule in the book. Nor myself, really.
no subject
Heh... it's funny, isn't it? [ Jake's own mind had drifted away from his brother and towards his own children; their precious and fleeting childhood wasted by exactly the same obsessive rule following and fear of letting down the dead that came before him. His own mother, in Jake's case. Not unlike a Jedi Master, in the grand scheme of things. ] How important all that stuff seems until you realize that maybe your gut had it right all along.
I'd say there's no going back, but what are we both here for, right? [ He looks up, expression going briefly lopsided with curiosity. ] This is your regret, isn't it?
[ Whether Jake is right or wrong, the words are more statement than question. After all, it was Jake's regret as well. ]
no subject
Finally, Ben lets out the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been keeping. It feels a little like relief. ]
It is.
[ And that, too, is like letting something go. ]
If I could undo what I know now, I think I could better help him. [ Maybe even save him — and as such, perhaps even save the rest of the Council. The Jedi. His people. ] It's really all I can do.
time to fall in a heap and die thanks
It was a temptation. The kind of desire he'd spent an entire lifetime accumulating and then discarding. There was no perfect father, or brother, or life. Regret was as important to the foundation of being alive as breathing; a foundational tool to teach them the very lessons they now wanted to pass along to their past selves.
He shouldn't be here. Not really. He should be back on that rock in the middle of nowhere, breathing his last breath and thinking of his family. But Jake was here, chasing an equally tempting desire -- extra time. The chance to see a version of someone he cared about very deeply grow up into a young man that was, at least for now, okay.
Maybe it wasn't good for Ben to be chasing this kind of regret. Maybe Jake was right to feel an urge to warn him away from it. To advertise the dangers in hoping for something so impossibly uncertain.
Or maybe none of it really mattered at all. Maybe, if the stars aligned, he'd get the same opportunity Jake had been given. A little extra time with the person he loved.
Who was a little yellow dog to rob him of that chance? ]
Yeah, man. [ He agrees, voice warmed with a genuineness of feeling. ] That's all anybody can do.
[ How long they sit there in the now fully restored Ximilia is up to Ben. Jake will keep him in quiet, careful company as long as he needs. ]