MINI-EVENT: RENDEZVOUS

[returnjourney]

MINI-EVENT: RENDEZVOUS

March 9th, 2022
Tasked with picking up some emergency botanical supplies, the Peregrine stopped in Meodriotope in February and is now making haste towards another ship, for a rendezvous and hand-off of the supplies. In late morning, the view out of the windows on one side of the Peregrine will be blocked almost entirely by another ship — the Feather, also from the Admiralty's fleet. The hand-off will take place here, between two ships.

In the afternoon (local Peregrine time), a mini transport from the other ship docks in the Peregrine's loading bay. Three passengers disembark to assist in the loading, have some brief conversations, and then be on their way.

If you have any questions about the event, please ask here.

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1. Observing the Feather

The Feather is one of the oldest ships in the Admiralty's fleet, a fact that is perhaps less known than intuited, simply by looking at it. While the Peregrine's sleek helices and centre spire move through space like some deep-sea organism, the Feather is a great drifting whale, its broad and boxy body speckled with simple portholes. The sides are painted with murals — abstract swirls of colour, flowers the size of houses, massive birds flitting between them. There's text that must have taken quite the ladder to paint: "Hope is a thing with feathers!" The murals are patchy and worn, but there's a lot of love there.

But despite how massive it is, it floats weightless in space. It comes so close to the Peregrine's side that it almost seems like they could brush, and the ships' respective force-fields thrum as they "merge", blending into one large bubble. In the distance, one can see quite a number of passengers on an outside deck, gathered at the railings to watch. Too far to shout across, but certainly close enough to see tiny limbs waving hello!

In the observatory, the computer monologues:

"The Feather. Currently on the 18th year of its current mission. Current population consists of 295 wardens, 306 inmates, 5 graduates in-transition and 53 supporting staff. Most passengers are from Earth Variants. The Feather is currently headed by Navarch Margaret "Old Lady" Lloyd, a Navarch with 45 years of experience..."

2. Loading the Materials

Want to lend a hand? The more the merrier. The crates of Lover's Kiss must be brought to the loading bay, checked and then loaded into the waiting transport ship. Caution is a must; we can't have the flowers crushed or damaged when they're sorely needed for medicines at their final destination.

Helping, of course, are the representatives from the Feather: two wardens and an inmate. (They'll have their own top levels below!)

3. Rewards

Passengers identified to the Navarch as having assisted in the gathering efforts will have a delivery bot stop by with a clear plastic container fogged over by steam. The container is warm to the touch, and opening it reveals a lusciously greasy cheeseburger with all the fixings, a mound of thick-cut salted french fries, and the fattest, cheesiest, richest-looking slice of pizza known to mankind. The food is cradled by red food-wrapping sheets with a white PIZZA PLANET logo. Enjoy!

(Or kill someone for a french fry after weeks or months of eating processed food substitutes. You do you.)

4. Oops, Caught Red-Handed!

So there was that thing the Navarch said — the flowers are fragile and must be handled with care, as they are only useful intact. And sure enough, on the surface of Meodriotope, dutiful flower-pickers had discovered that if you plucked them too roughly, they'd explode, leaving red stains that take weeks to wear off skin, even with dutiful scrubbing. It's been weeks and they're just starting to fade, fortunately, but there's a second phase.

Passengers stained red might discover they're having trouble sleeping. The redder they are, the longer their minds refuse to rest. In severe cases, this results full-blown insomnia. In mild cases, the body may shut down while the mind remains completely alert. These effects could last anywhere between a few days to a full week.

Good luck!

Comments

THE REPRESENTATIVES

[returnjourney]

Walter White | Breaking Bad

[studyofchange]

The lone visiting inmate is a middle-aged man with a set jaw and a bald head damp with perspiration. He is dressed in a button-down and pressed trousers, and he moves the crates with increasing frustration. He straightens up the minute someone else approaches him, though, reaching out a hand to point.

"You. Move these crates in, but be careful about it! They can only be stacked three high before they become a collapse risk."

Or, obviously, you can ignore him entirely and do your own thing.

[goty]

Something familiar pangs in the distant recesses of Ellie's mind, and she snaps to attention. She cranes her neck to see over her stack of crates-- it's just some old guy, whatever-- before she realizes, oh. Her stack of crates is five tall.

"Okay, okay, sheesh," she murmurs, pulling two down. "Who died and put you in charge?"

[studyofchange]

Walter's eyes land on the stack and the exasperation on his face is as plain as day. Do people not think? It seems to him that it should be easy, just one simple thought to what makes sense. And the wardens here, sending this little girl to heft around boxes!

He marches towards her to take a crate from her hands. This is annoying and tedious, but if it's to be done right, maybe he needs to do it himself after all.

"Unlike a lot of the thugs and gangbangers they put on these ships, I have a sense of work ethic," he informs her. "I suggest you apply yourself if you'd like to be organizing things next time."

[goty]

"Hey, fuck you-" she tries to snatch the box back while balancing the other in one arm. Luckily, it's her good hand, so she won't buckle from the pain. Unluckily, it means her bad hand, red and sensitive and freshly sutured, is left flapping in the other guy's face. "I can manage fucking boxes, asshole."

[studyofchange]

Whatever Walter wanted to scold this young woman with dies at the sight of her hand. He's not so invested as to scuffle with anyone over a box of flowers, so he lets her have it –– if she falls from the sudden release, she falls.

He's more focused on wheeling around to announce to the area at large: "Really? Sending an inmate with a mangled hand? Could someone get over here and get this girl some medical attention?"

[oinks]

Amanda can't yet distinguish between warden and inmate- the Peregrine is a blur of people, all of them loud and stupid like livestock. She briefly considers sneaking onto the other ship... but if she's locked in with the cargo, she'll come out again fuck knows when. Dying in a small, cramped room is too ironic, even for her.

At first she thinks the man is John, back when he was healthy, before the goddamn cancer bound him to the wheelchair. It stops her in place for several, heart-stopping seconds before–

She shivers into action, hastening to obey in uneasy silence. She's wiry, and used to methodical busy work. Apprenticeship corded her arms. She glances at him every so often when she thinks he isn't paying attention.

[studyofchange]

For a time, he isn't paying attention at all. There's something to be done, and inmates are largely the same, whether it's this ship or another: there's little to be gained by violence in the open, surrounded by wardens. Far more common for cowards to creep around like rats, leaping for each others' throats the moment backs are turned, meaningless jabs at each others throats. Space travel used to be reserved for the best and the brightest. Sad, isn't it?

But he does see her, and when he abruptly turns and catches her gaze for an instant, he feels as though he's been stared at. A frown deepens the lines of his face.

"What?" he asks.

[oinks]

There's something about the self-importance of men that Amanda can't help responding to. "You look like somebody I used to know." Why not be truthful? John demanded that of her, and it's easy to replicate that, like slipping back into a worn groove.

She stacks another box. "What's your name?"

aranea highwind | final fantasy xv

[ramparts]

[The older of the vising wardens is a 30-year-old woman with ash-blonde hair and a swagger in her step. Her white officer's coat is easy to spot, whether she's supervising the crates with a hand on one hip or moving them from place to place herself.

Sometimes, she leaves the bay to accompany Peregrine passengers on their way to retrieve more crates, a quick clip to her step.]

Damn, they weren't kidding when they said the newer ships have all the bells and whistles.

[And, assuming she hasn't already gotten an answer out of you (or it isn't readily apparent):]

Hey, warden or inmate?

[rank1]

[Here's Travis, holding a crate of flowers in a bear hug. He is hardly a stranger to hard labour, so he largely hasn't complained about doing it here, but he's gotten a red smudge on his LOVE TITS shirt where a crate hadn't been closed properly. Who wouldn't be a little sour over that?

When she talks to him, he turns his head to look, coming to a stop.]

Inmate. Who the fuck are you?

[ramparts]

Aranea Highwind. Warden.

[She takes the attitude in stride. It matches with the rest of him.]

You got a name?

[rank1]

Travis Touchdown.

[He could make fun of her name for sounding like some JRPG shit, but stones, glass houses, etc.]

You bored as fuck? You don't look like someone built for middle-management.

[ramparts]

Can't say it's my preferred lifestyle, but a girl's gotta get her windfall somehow.

[Hell, one might even say she's good at it.]

How much of the ship are you locked out of?

[sanctus_dei]

[Okay, it's probably a little obvious with this one. This scarecrow of a kid is doing his damnedest to move crates and refusing any help. So when she approaches Theo, she gets a wary look and a raised eyebrow.]

What do you think.

[ramparts]

I think you need a hand, kiddo.

[Aranea is shorter than him without heels, but she's no stranger to hard work and raps a knuckle on the top of Theo's current crate.]

No good being stubborn if it puts you on your ass.

[sanctus_dei]

[Theo is as stubborn as they come, but he's also been brought here with one foot in the grave, so maybe too much physical labor isn't a great idea just yet.

He stops to catch his breath, and finally nods, not looking happy about it.]

Fine. Okay.

[He sets his current crate down.]

I just need a minute.

[kaijuice]

"Warden,"

Is automatic; disinterested. It isn't that Silco's been banned from attendance - but Grace indicated an absence presumed to be mutual. Well. It's nice to keep track of her for a bit.

"Though I'd prefer William," A crooked smile. He stands, extends a fallen flower - fallen from some crate, and half-crushed. It's a poor bouquet, and a far better stain for the bay floor. "Yourself?"

[ramparts]

Aranea cocks an eye at "William" and his flower, and snorts in amusement. But she does do him a favor by whisking it out of his hand, between the gloved parts of her fingers. No direct contact.

"Aranea," she says, holding the lopsided bloom more like a cigarette than a flower. "Not fazed by all the red, huh?"

[kaijuice]

Silco examines his stained fingers briefly — flicks them together as some invisible lighter, and away.

"Could do with a bit of colour around here." The dip of his chin to the high, plain walls; stark against the Feather's sprawl. "Nothing honest stays this clean."

Elizabeth Comstock | Bioshock Infinite

[leadastray]

[ The youngest of the three visitors is also the last to leave the ship, though she hurries ahead to keep up with Walter, attention flitting between him and the general surroundings as she takes them in to keep as a mental picture.

Once everything seems to be in order, the pickup being loaded smoothly, and her inmate focused on his task she'll turn to a passenger of the Peregrine, unconcerned if they're and inmate or a warden themselves. ]

I know now is not the ideal time, given the task at hand. But I would appreciate a short tour if you can spare a moment.

[shiftedshape]

[Loki's been sort of...especially distracted by the sight of the other ship. And of other people from another ship. It's surreal, after the barge, in a way he hadn't expected.

Possibly he's been waiting for the other shoe to drop and it's, instead, been carefully put back on.

He blinks a few times, coming back from that mental detour, then flashes a charming smile.]

It would be my pleasure. Is there anything in particular you were interested in?

[leadastray]

Thank you for the offer.

[ Knowing that they'd be docking on another ship some days before means that she's prepared a list ahead of time, and easily recites: ]

I'm especially interested in seeing your three dimensional smithery, and how your ship has handled the physics of your octagonal room. I imagine our libraries are much the same...oh! I'd like to see your greenhouse specimens as well, I've been told each ship has a different range of plants and eco systems.

[shiftedshape]

My, you might know the ship better than any of us do.

[He gives a courtly bow before turning to lead the way.]

My name is Loki. I take it you've been at this for a while?

[oinks]

There's nothing exciting to look at around here. Trust me.

(A lofty, unknowing answer provided by one of the ship's newest inmates, but what use would a guided tour be to a prison exactly. She points at the other ship, jerking her nose in its direction.) I'd rather know what it's like over there.