returnjourneylogs | MINI-EVENT: RENDEZVOUS

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.

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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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."

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?"

She manages to balance the boxes, but only just; Walter probably hears her cursing under her breath as she crab-walks them safely to another stack.

"I already got medical attention. Shove it and help, will you?"

The area at large serves up a man whose expression is on the scowling side of flat, and has been consistently so throughout his supervision. With deliberate effort, he smooths his gait for his approach—it's especially pronounced today, for some reason, not pointing any fingers, Ellie Williams who is right over there—

Each of them receives a portion of eye contact on the way, but he makes them wait until he's close enough that he doesn't have to raise his voice to reply.

"Is there a problem?"

(He heard it just fine the first time.)

And a foul mouth, too! Classy! Very classy! It's all too easy to imagine what walks of life the Admirals pull these people from, and expects them to change their ways when they can't even manage common courtesy.

Walter's attention snaps to Viktor the moment they make eye contact, and he traipses over to meet him halfway. His expression is just barely supplicating, and his hands gesture a plea for help, but his tone carries a note of obvious frustration.

"Wardens on your ship have sent a girl with a mangled hand to move crates, and she's jumped right into trying to pick a fight," he says, plainly. "On what planet is putting her on this work detail a good idea?""

"I'm not fucking mangled-" Ellie snaps back immediately. Though she is now cradling her bad hand out of some subconscious need for defense. Her sunburnt face begins to prickle with a deeper redness, anger snapping old synapses in her mind. If Ellie had hackles, they'd be raised. "And I don't fight fucking old people."

Unless they start it. But he hasn't, so whatever.

At once, briskly spoken past the shoulder of the alleged old people in question:

"That's enough."

His distinctly yellow eyes linger on Ellie in a fashion he hopes will be meaningful—the meaning being I am handling this, and also here is a personalized invitation to shut your trap for a minute—before shifting back to Walter.

"I noticed your attempt to take over. Has Ms Williams somehow failed in performing her duties?"

"Attempt?" he repeats, politely baffled, and between words, his mouth hangs open in disbelief at some perceived accusation. "I was assigned to this duty for a reason. Look at her –– she's stacking things wrong, showing this attitude at the slightest order."

He gestures at her.

"Does this look like someone with the decorum to get the job done?"

"Decor-" Ellie snaps back, before stopping short. Fighting this guy is fucking pointless; she's got nothing to prove to some no-name asshole on another ship. What's more interesting is seeing what Viktor will do about it. See if this place is all talk.

She takes half a step back, folding her arms, and peering over at Viktor. Well?

Viktor doesn't have to repeat that aloud, his face does enough creasing about it—briefly, and more or less in time with Ellie. A semantic argument would be meaningless (heh), so he only waits a moment, looking, and then,

"I take it you are a veteran passenger, Mister...?"

MINI-EVENT: RENDEZVOUS

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