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

[smugreport]

He gives a loud snort, followed by a once over.

Yeah, and you're someone who clearly doesn't care about appearances.

[ No one gets that many tattoos just for fun, that's a statement. ]

Dunno why they don't switch it out for a newer model, whoever runs this program is probably flush to the gills with cash.

[n0ught]

[Jack's tattoos are indeed a statement; she has them for a reason, and that reason is so that people will look at them and ignore everything else fucked up about her. So when Rhys mentions them directly, she holds her arms out to the sides like she's challenging him to get an eyeful.]

Some people are sentimental about shit. [Again, ignore that she's a hypocrite. People who have tattoos are by definition sentimental.]

Maybe their "Navarch" is afraid of new tech.

[smugreport]

[ He only looks for a second more before averting his gaze back to the big window, he's not a perv. ]

Sentimentality is...stupid.

[ It comes out slow and forced, like he doesn't really mean it. Probably because he doesn't think that at all, he's just trying to manifest his brain to that kind of thought pattern. He was stupidly sentimental before everything happened happened, and look where it got him. ]

Adapt or die or whatever. If their Navarch is afraid of change they're probably in the wrong business.

[n0ught]

[That makes Jack laugh, and she drops her arms to her sides.]

This your first time in prison? They're always draconian fucks.

[smugreport]

Uh, yeah. First time. But not yours, right?

[n0ught]

Pfft. Is it that obvious? [This is sarcasm. She knows what she looks like. She's still wearing the jumpsuit from her most recent incarceration.]

This is a piece of cake, though. If "solitary confinement" is the worst they can think of.

[smugreport]

That doesn't make it suck any less.

[ She looks like someone who'd fit right in on Pandora, he thinks. Shaved and tatted up with orange jingo jeans. Prettier than the majority of the psycho's he'd had the misfortune of running into, his stupidly unhelpful brain supplies. In like, a scary way. ]

So where were you last, planet-side jail or space?

[n0ught]

Prison ship. It's called Purgatory.

[She slips into a small, private smile at that, like she is recalling a fond memory.]

Well, it was called that, anyway. It's gone now.

[smugreport]

Sooo that's why you're here? I mean I know the whole "wooo we're dead" thing is part of it too, but they really just took you from one prison ship and stuck you on this one instead?

[ Talk about a bad deal to get. ]

I mean, at least it's something you're familiar with I guess.

[n0ught]

[That wipes the smile off her face, and she frowns a little instead. Oh, yeah. She is dead, huh?]

What? No. I was part of this... team, I guess. After I killed my way out of prison. High-stakes, save-the-galaxy shit.

[smugreport]

Wow, somehow that's even worse?

[ She doesn't look like the galaxy saving type, when Rhys thinks of that he thinks of....something more polished?

Okay he thinks of literal superheroes in capes and shit. Which he knows is unrealistic but... her??? ]

You were going to save your galaxy and they put you in jail for it? Pretty bogus deal.

[n0ught]

[She shrugs, having come to peace with how bogus this all is awhile ago. Well, not really. But she is playing it cool to look cool.]

What about you? What bullshit reason landed you here?

[smugreport]

[ He shifts back and forth on his feet momentarily before returning her shrug. ]

I still don't really know. I get that I'm supposed to be grateful that I'm not just dead I guess, but I'm no worse than the next guy working for some psychopathic weapons mogul and just trying to make my mark in a pre existing system, y'know?

[ Very normal things. ]

So I don't really know what they want from me.