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

[goty]

She stares at her bad hand. She stares at the doctor. "You gonna fix me up after I'm done being... scanned?"

She still can't believe something this high tech can actually work. It's just a reflex.

[nineteenfortyfive]

"Not me. The machine. If you prefer I do it, I don't mind." And she can already see the worst of the damage, and it's matching up with the readings on the screen. "Whatever you're most comfortable with."

Though Claire is a little curious as to how the auto doc will handle such wounds. A little experiment. As a treat.

[goty]

"I guess- oh." She looks down, and there it is. The machine's tiny instruments begin removing the stitches in her bad hand, which feels numb and warm thanks to whatever it already dumped in her system. She feels distanced from it all, like it's happening to someone else. Poor them. "There it goes..."

[nineteenfortyfive]

Claire's own little tests on herself didn't hurt, but she was nowhere near as bad off as this young woman. So, she watches with open interest and the machine does it's magic. Or science, really.

"How's it feeling?"

[goty]

"Fuckin' weird," she answers, swiftly and truthfully. It takes her a moment to understand why-- "we don't got painkillers this good, where I'm from."

[nineteenfortyfive]

"And where are you from?"

An innocent enough question, but maybe it'll give her a clue as to why she's this injured.

[goty]

[She frowns. Where isn't quite the right question, but she's not sure how she'd phrase it, on the other side. What situation did you come from? It sounds anemic.]

Boston...?

[nineteenfortyfive]

[That gets a thoughtful noise from Claire. Plenty people from the right continent, but never really the right city.]

Boston? So am I. Well, not originally [English accent and all], but... lived there twenty years.

[When not hundreds of years in the past.]

[goty]

[Yeah, she's got an English accent. Or as Ellie thinks of it, Claire sounds like the bad guy in Die Hard.]

I was there for fourteen years. [She shrugs.] Yours and mine are probably different.

[nineteenfortyfive]

Probably. Different versions, different times. I latch on to what familiarity I can find.

[Fourteen years, though...]

You're what? Eighteen? Nineteen?

[goty]

Twenty, [Ellie says, barely able to keep a petulant sniff out of her voice.] I lived in Wyoming for, uh- [She does the math, forgetting not to twitch her fingers in the process-- oops, but she's not in any evident pain. These painkillers are awesome.]

I was in Wyoming for six years. And now I'm here.

[The year spent as a vengeful nomad drifting between between Seattle, Wyoming again, and eventually California-- better left unsaid, she thinks. Explaining that is... a lot of things, a headache, a heartache, too complex and too stupid to bring up so soon. But most importantly, it's none of Claire's fucking business.]

[nineteenfortyfive]

Twenty, [She says, correcting herself now that she knows.] Boston to Wyoming to space. Across the country and then across the stars.

[Some people find that amazing. Some find it to be as mundane as driving down the street to the store.]

I've been here for months and sometimes it still catches me by surprise. Being in space.

[goty]

Yeah. [Hehhh. The scrape of a laugh over a sore throat.] The space part still doesn't feel real... Are there space walks?

[nineteenfortyfive]

No walking about in space, but we have walked on other planets. The one we've visited so far had little fish people and strange plants none of us had ever seen before.

[And, like, maybe the auto doc is strange in itself, but...]

It really does sound mad when I say that aloud.