Lieutenant Ari Tayrey (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
astrogator) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
come_sailaway2023-10-29 01:46 pm
astrogator) wrote in come_sailaway2023-10-29 01:46 pm
I'll send an SOS to the world
Who: Everyone who wants to!
What: Messages for the outside, NOVEMBER PLOT
When: Mid-October onwards
Where: By Phil's signpost, the lounge, Ari's cabin
Warnings: None yet, will update as needed
Notes: Credit to Batya for the first prompt!
1. Hundred billion bottles washed up on the shore
A day or two after the signpost goes up, a small table shows up next to it, with a large blank notebook from Sundries. It has been labeled on the front, in careful printing: MAIL CALL.
A nearby note, in the same printing, reads:
2. Only hope can keep me together
In the second half of October, Ari will be in the lounge and other communal areas with her laptop. Anyone who passes by, whether she knows them well or not, will be asked to help her with a project. She doesn't want anyone to be forgotten, she says. She wants a record, because existence is so uncertain. Her injury made her value the people here on the ship more, she'll say, - and the bandage still around her head might speak to that. She encourages people to let her make a recording of them, talking about themselves.
'We can do it however you like,' she'll say. 'Flatvid, looking direct into the camera, or I can activate the holorecorders, give you your own holovid. If you don't know what to say, I'll ask questions. Please?' Are you really going to turn down the earnest young Tradeliner?
3. Sendin' out an SOS
Late in October, Ari calls a meeting of her co-conspirators. She gives them each a different time to arrive at her cabin, so the first arrivals will get to spend time helping with video editing or rocket construction while they await the others. There's time for private chat - but when everyone who decided to come along should be there, discussion begins in earnest.
[ooc: prompts divided up below for organisational purposes; contact me or Batya if you'd like to do something different!]
What: Messages for the outside, NOVEMBER PLOT
When: Mid-October onwards
Where: By Phil's signpost, the lounge, Ari's cabin
Warnings: None yet, will update as needed
Notes: Credit to Batya for the first prompt!
1. Hundred billion bottles washed up on the shore
A day or two after the signpost goes up, a small table shows up next to it, with a large blank notebook from Sundries. It has been labeled on the front, in careful printing: MAIL CALL.
A nearby note, in the same printing, reads:
If you could send a message back home, or onward to the next place you want to go, what would it say? Write it here for posterity.Pens and markers are available, in a tall cup scavenged from the buffet table.
2. Only hope can keep me together
In the second half of October, Ari will be in the lounge and other communal areas with her laptop. Anyone who passes by, whether she knows them well or not, will be asked to help her with a project. She doesn't want anyone to be forgotten, she says. She wants a record, because existence is so uncertain. Her injury made her value the people here on the ship more, she'll say, - and the bandage still around her head might speak to that. She encourages people to let her make a recording of them, talking about themselves.
'We can do it however you like,' she'll say. 'Flatvid, looking direct into the camera, or I can activate the holorecorders, give you your own holovid. If you don't know what to say, I'll ask questions. Please?' Are you really going to turn down the earnest young Tradeliner?
3. Sendin' out an SOS
Late in October, Ari calls a meeting of her co-conspirators. She gives them each a different time to arrive at her cabin, so the first arrivals will get to spend time helping with video editing or rocket construction while they await the others. There's time for private chat - but when everyone who decided to come along should be there, discussion begins in earnest.
[ooc: prompts divided up below for organisational purposes; contact me or Batya if you'd like to do something different!]
Video Messages
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Peace and prosperity to you.
I am Lieutenant Arilanna Tayrey of the Tradeline Starship Prosperity, astrogator flying the Keturah line, once Arilanna Kittredge of Cardalek, 284 of the Tower. My papers are appended.
This is an urgent all-channel call for assistance. The gravity of this situation cannot be overestimated. If you hear this, then whoever you are, I urge you to come to our rescue. Follow the trajectory.
I have been held captive for perhaps a standard year. There is no war. There is no conflict, no ransom demand, no path to negotiating my own freedom. All that my captor wants is my suffering, and that of my fellow prisoners. We are not people to him. We are fuel to sustain his bubble universe, and once we cease to be useful to him we suffer a fate so cruel that I can't speak of it.
[Very deliberate, because anyone understanding Ari's Company Standard is vanishingly unlikely to understand any talk of souls and ghosts and the like. Leave the horrors to the imagination.]
The being holding us here is powerful and has done this to thousands of others before us. We number maybe seventy now. Most are civilians. All are from different sectors, vast distances apart. You'll see some of these people on the other holovids. [See that some of them really are alien!] Come to us, help us escape - but approach with caution. We don't want anyone else to be trapped here.
I don't know how long I have left. None of us do. If I'm... if I'm gone before you reach us, speak to Cassandra de Rolo
or John Crichton,and if you can, tell the Tradelines of my fate.I was never a passenger.
Let probability smile on us both, let this message reach you, may you- [a pause, a quick breath, suppressed emotion] -may you fly through safe skies.
[Ari speaks four languages. Ari records this message four times, plus a shorter holovid in which she conveys similar sentiment purely through spacer hand signals.
EDIT: And Ari re-records these, just the same but with the omission of Crichton's name, because no matter how improbable she thinks it is that his enemies will be the ones to find the probe, she understands why he wants to minimise risk.]
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Fio props up three stuffed animals on her lap, guests to be included within the frame of the recording: Judith the bear, Calcite the dragon, and Lepus the rabbit. (There may be a few more in her tote bag, but she sticks to the three.) Though she stares curiously at Ari's bandages, she saves the inquiries for perhaps sometime later. ]
Talk about myself? 'Kay... I can do that. [ The fear that she might be next to disappear returns and she tries to push it back. She doesn't want to be forgotten. A pause. ] Um... what do you want me to say besides my name and age?
[ Yeah, Ari is going to have to ask Fio questions for her video. ]
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Whatever you want! I'll turn the camera on, and we can just have a chat and I'll ask you things, alright? Maybe start with your name, yes, that's a good idea, and how old you are and how long you've been here on the ship. I never asked you that before! I know it's longer than me.
[Slowly, visibly, Ari presses the record button to capture Fio's answer.]
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[ Usually, she's a chatterbox. Maybe there's a bit of nerves, being this is her first time sitting in front of a camera where she isn't just taking simple snapshots on her phone. In her seat, she squirms a little, like she's trying to get more comfortable. ]
My name is Fio. I turned... eight, last December. [ She's not even sure if that's her real birthday. All she knows is that she was born in winter. ] I was seven when I came here. I've been here for um... a year and a half? A little more than that. Almost two years, I think. Not a lot of people from back then are left... [ From when she first arrived in March of last year. A slight grimace as she reminds herself out loud how long she's been living on the boat. The likelihood of her vanishing soon must be up there.
Her focus is less on the camera now, shifting over to Ari, quietly seeking guidance on what else she should follow up with. ]
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You've been here a long time. Even longer than me. [She manages to say that neutrally, because of all the people here, Fio isn't one that she's going to burden with her own troubles.]
Maybe tell me about your old friends? The ones who aren't here any longer?
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[ There are so many that she can name. Too many stories to tell. She can't possibly cover every single detail if Ari is going to record others for her project. It's what gets her talking at least. A pause to think, as far back to the very beginning of her voyage. ]
Flynn was my very first roommate. He didn't stay in our cabin very long 'cause he wanted to give me the bed to sleep on. Sometimes he'd visit to read me stories. He was a knight back home. He talked to Miss Jenny to calm her down when she was super upset.
And Jade... I told you 'bout him before! [ That was mostly towards Ari and not the camera. ] He was a crow-romancer. [ "Necromancer," she means. ] I called him Mister Specs 'cause of his glasses. He played a joke on me when I first visited the buffet. Told me that the food might be poisonous! But you know, he was the first grownup who didn't look at me with a scary face that said he wanted to hurt me. I used to be really afraid of everyone... 'cause there's lots of bullies back home. He gave me this "capacity core" after the battle royale. It makes me feel safe...
[ Fio holds up her wrist to the camera, revealing a bracelet with a gold disc, colorful gemstones embedded into it. A similar-looking one is worn on her other wrist. She shows it off for a few seconds, before moving on: ]
And, um... there's Blue. Her name's Jinx. I always called her "Blue" 'cause she had gorgeous long blue hair that I've never seen before! She used to stay up in the rafters in the theater. She tried to look after me like a big sister. [ "Tried" being a keyword. In the end, it didn't work out between them. But they managed to remain as friends. It was thanks to her party that she managed to first meet her skeleton father. ]
Mister Windy was here too. His actual name's Venti. He's... [ She trails off. Fine, she does like talking about everyone. A lot. But is she talking too much? She's not even done. A pause, directing attention towards Ari again. ] Is it okay to keep talking?
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It's for what...?
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It's to have a record of the people who are here now. Of us. Who we are, what we've suffered, what we hope for.
[In case we disappear is implied, she hopes.
She hates lying. It isn't something an upstanding Tradeliner ought to do. Yet this isn't truly a lie, she tells herself. She won't be using Ava's footage for the launch project, because she suspects Ava would disapprove heartily of it, and that's an ethical line she won't cross. So Ava's recording, should she make one, really is for posterity.]
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Sorry, it seems like a nice idea. [she doesn't want anyone to be forgotten. it's why she had set up the memorial at all, to honor those lost.]
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[She shakes her head.] I'm not going to push anyone who doesn't want to do it. I just thought it would be good, having a record. There are people I'll never see again that I wish I had a little holovid of, to look at.
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But. Maybe I can make one for my husband too? In case I don't make it.
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Still, he struggles a little on where to start, so he asks Ari to prompt him with questions as he sits in front of the camera.]
My name's Siffleur. I'm a werecougar from Canada, on Earth, in the 21st century. I came here... a year ago. I am a cannibal, and I have killed and eaten fellow passengers on this ship, with their permission. This happened more before the ship's major fuel source was released from its enslavement, when the penalties paid for dying did not consistently happen. I'm happier here than I was at home, but my life in my world was not very good. ... I miss the forest very much, even if I have found a replacement in the infinite Tommy Bahamas.
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Would you go back to Earth, if you could? Not having the natural world around you must be difficult. Or perhaps another green planet...
[Somewhat of a leading question, but she doubts he'll mind.]
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[He scratches at his beard a little, even if it's not the same as before. And after a pause, he answers a question Ari didn't ask.] I think this place is bad for a lot of people, especially people like you. But I don't know if there would have been anyplace better than this for someone like me.
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Nowhere better? I'm sorry that Earth was so bad for you.
[That's genuine, and with it, she gives up on the idea of coaxing the sentiments she wants to hear out of him. Maybe she could do it, but he's been plain about where he stands, and so it'd cross an ethical line to go against it.]
Maybe tell me what you enjoy about this place, then. All the things that make you happy.
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[Talking about what he likes is surprisingly easy, and he relaxes the moment he starts going through things.]
The sushi conveyor belt. Dying and coming back. I spent my life afraid of the end, and then I come here and there's no end. I like that I never go hungry. Even now, there's plenty of food at the end of the week. It's always warm. I can sleep anywhere I want, no one bothers me. No cops. No bills. No taxes. Don't have to work. I've got friends who know all about me and they still like me. The people I eat come back. Sometimes they even like getting eaten. Got two boys I date, lots more people I flirt with, and nobody causes problems. Don't have to figure out tips anymore. Every day feels like a weekend. I like Friday a lot. I change shape and nobody gets scared. I can talk when I'm a cat, so I don't have to be a man to have a conversation.
[He lapses into silence, a dozen more items coming to mind, but they're all just smaller versions of what he already said.]
... if Earth had let me live there the way I live here, I could have been a better parent for my kids.
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See OOC Note At Bottom
God fucking damn it.
Eventually she settles down, hands in her pockets, 'looking' a little away from the camera. Her voice is low, and gentle, but still firm.
"This message is intended for Erin Peters, sworn to the Freehold of New Avalon, but I can't promise it gets to her, so to whatever fucking Valk or Lord Unbidden is hearing this first: fuck you, pay me." She sighs, ruffling her wings. "I've had what the Valks would call an 'ultraterrestrial abduction'; a being from another dimension goddamn Xerox'd me. For Erin, when you hear this? You're fine. I'm not coming back, this isn't fuckin' Invasion of the Body Snatchers, I want no part in your life. That branch of the tree...it's not the one I'm on. I'm not jealous, and I'm not mad."
"Assuming you pricks get me to Erin, hey. It's you. Can't imagine you're happy to meet yourself, I wouldn't be. We've got that in common, yeah? In the midst of everything getting better, when you're locked up in your head with yourself, you realize you're living with a fuckin' prick. Sucks, don't it? But...it does get better, if you let it. I've got advice that's going to sound stupid and off-topic and selfish. Try to trust me on this one, though. I know it's gonna be hard."
"Step one: get someone who's not fucking blind to describe my outfit to you. This style's called 'military lolita', and you're gonna love it. It's also probably not cheap. Try not to suck too many dicks to afford it, we don't need those flashbacks."
"Step two: just fucking ask Colors out. Do it. Pull the goddamn trigger. Death or glory, Peters, fucking suck it up."
"And, step three...go see Mom's grave. I won't ever get the chance to. Don't make that two of us, alright?"
"I'm rooting for you, from wherever I go, and whenever I am. We can't expect people to believe in us if we won't believe in ourselves. It's gonna hurt. You're gonna wish you could knock yourself out like you punched the shit out of Ramona, but you can't, so eat me and then love yourself. Good luck, Erin. And goodbye."
Erin signals to cut the feed, and then just flops down onto the floor, ass-first and overwhelmed, burying her head in her hands.
[OOC: So I had to burn a shitload of my threads to the ground to fight the writer's block and I'm quite sorry about that. I would like a thread here if you're up for it, and if possible to handwave Ari getting her packages from Erin in the infirmary. The report there is pretty straightfoward - Harvey didn't die from a dream attack, but Crichton was able to take advantage of his weakness and restrain him, eventually leading to his death at the hands of Tiamat]
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Almost instantly she realises that the footage will be useless for her true purpose. Erin is addressing herself, and in a very specific way that means it can't be passed off as dear flatvid diary reflections.
She will be omitting any mention of other selves from the material she sends outside. At best, it's confusing, and at worst, their potential rescuers will take the stance that Ari detests - that everyone here is some copy with no history, no home, whose life is worthless except as a source of fuel. Then there will be no rescue.
Nonetheless, Tayrey doesn't interrupt. Yes, this project is a cover to gather material for her the distress call she'll be sending out, but she is beginning to feel a sense of duty over it, too. That the other prisoners will have the records that they were promised, intact, to look back on, regardless of what else she does with it. Witnessing Erin's heartfelt, very personal message only reinforces that.
When it's done, she switches off the camera, and squats down next to Erin. 'It must have been tough, saying all that. I've got it now. I'll put it on disc, and you'll know it's there.' She's resisting the temptation to ask about some of the things Erin said, because her message, like many of the others, seems intensely private somehow.
[ooc: as discussed, I'm good with all this! <3]
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She pauses for a moment. 'I guess it's harder for you, not being able to read what everyone else wrote. It's... it's really something, all put together like that.'
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"Would a holovid not mind whether I look into the camera or not?" It's half-humorous, but it's also a genuine question.
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She's grateful that Arthur is willing to contribute, even if she can't predict what he'll say. The more people that she records, the more she realises that she needs to do what she said she would. Yes, there's an ulterior motive - but that doesn't mean that she can't create the full record too, keep it safe on her slate computer.
'You can say whatever you like...or I can prompt you. Whichever you'd prefer.'
For simplicity's sake, this is before the Oct excursion
[ Bastion pings the recording equipment, checking to make sure it's a valid recipient for omnicode. It wouldn't do to have the camera only pick up the audio channel and record their statement as a long string of unintelligible beeps and whistles. ] // Are you receiving?
[ Upon an affirmative answer, they continue. Ari may prompt them further. ]
// I'm a SST Laboratories Siege Automaton E54 Bastion model omnic, serial number D4C730AA78AD. I go by Bastion, E54, EFB, or Bash. I'm from Germany, on Earth, in March 2077. I arrived in August on the local calendar and have been aboard for 15 months. My best friend, Ganymede, didn't appear with me. He's a bird. My coping strategies for exiting my combat programming relied on him, but so far I've prevented those protocols from fully activating in non-combat situations and haven't been forced into combat.
[ That's a very load-bearing "so far". How long is it going to be before their luck runs out? They have no confidence that their humanoid friends - even Security, who's mostly inorganic - would even register to their combat protocols as anything other than an enemy, let alone be able to bring them out of that state. The only thing that gives them any hope at all is that several of those friends can shapeshift into animals. ]
// I was built in 2046 to fight in a then-ongoing global war against humans. We lost; the humans mandated the destruction of all Bastion units and banned manufacturing more. A few already-deactivated Bastions, including me, reactivated months or years afterwards. Most resumed attacking and were destroyed by human military forces. I would have, if Ganymede hadn't intervened. I spent the next 14 years exploring the region's low-population forested areas with him. Then I accidentally entered a human town, triggered a hostile response, and was rescued by a member of the disbanded peacekeeping organization Overwatch. He inducted me into a vigilante version of Overwatch afterwards as an auxiliary member.
// I miss nature. With the exception of last month's large quantity of dangerous magically generated plants, nothing grows here. I brought live plants from another world on board last September and they've remained static. The only animal that isn't a shapeshifted person is an evil crab the Captain made. However, here I'm friends with non-omnics who aren't afraid of me or interested in killing me for my participation in the war, some of whom have antagonistic relationships with humans themselves. There are a few humans with poor judgment who think it's cool that I've killed other humans. I was developing similar friendships with my coworkers in Overwatch, but I've been here much longer than I knew Tracer, Torbjörn, Winston, and Athena.
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There, girl, see? Will you sit still now? Yeah? [ The piano grumbles in response, retracting its splintery wooden teeth. ] Good. Thanks, Yamaha.
[ He gives it a few pats on the lid, then puts the platter aside and sits on the bench. His feathers are straight, his clothes are neat, and he looks into the camera with all the easy confidence of someone who made it his entire career to be in front of one. ]
Hello! My name is Phil Connors. I'm a human from the state of Pennsylvania in the United States, on Earth, early twenty-first century. I'm a weatherman by trade. I didn't look like this when I left. [ He flexes his wings slightly. ] I've been stranded in this pocket dimension aboard the Serena Eterna for almost a year and a half. I’ve been stranded before. Since I've come here, I've become a widower from my wife on Earth, Rita Connors. I have two adopted kids, Darcy LeJeune and Security.
Everything I could want to say is already in some letters somewhere, so… here’s a tune. This one here is, uh, "Ruby, My Dear" by Thelonius Monk.
[ And the music it ends on is lovely indeed. ]