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[ISS] Messages (Tab 1.3, Our 1.2, Mar 1.4)
Tabitha and Ourania,
After class concludes, you're released to return to your rooms, thirdmeal scheduled in an hour. Your Navis beep with the notification that Beacon 654812328-AJO45 communication has been established.
What does your side of the room look like, Ourania? What do you do between classes and meals to pass the time? Do you have anyone you spend time with?
Tabitha, your Navi notifies you that there is a video message at your home terminal waiting. It appears to be from someone off the ship, a message that was cued for contact to be delivered as soon as possible.
Do either of you shower or change? What's the most interesting part of your shared room?
Comments
I've also got a pending auto-psych session, where a program leads me through questions about how I'm feeling and so on. I'm inclined to ignore both messages, forever.
I put it off by taking a shower, dumping my clothes into the auto-cleaner. Being next to those pipes in school does me no favors.
Our room is a corner layout, so we have about twelve more square feet and our beds aren't layered over each other in a perpendicular bunk setup. The walls meet at tight angles, though.
I peel off my jacket laying it neatly it on my perfectly made bed. My portion of the room is orderly. Things line up. Nothing is messy. Out of habit I reach out and carefully straighten the picture of the Commandant I have on the bulkhead near my desk. It's her official record image. It always falls crooked over time, the vibration of the ship is enough to do it. I look at her a minute in her spotless, precise uniform.
I glance at Tabitha readying for a shower and when she enters the small fresher, I open the lower drawer of my desk and paw through the chaos within. I come across the picture of Mark as a kid with his parents and Ioanna... they look happy. I tuck the picture back into the mass of miscellany.
I rummage a little more before finally finding the locket. Gwen's locket. I felt like such a shit when she "lost" it. She was really upset. I almost planted it back in her room. Almost.
I'm in the common spaces more often than not. I hang out with the others. Most of them tolerate it. I won't say I'm really close to any of them, though, for obvious reasons. I read a lot. I draw. I go through other peoples things when they're not in their rooms. I compile my reports.
The fresher turns off. I let out a breath. I put Gwen's locket around my neck, tuck it into my shirt. I put my hand over it a moment, then pick up my Navi again as Tabitha comes back in the room.
"You going to ignore the message?" I nod at the little message light on her terminal.
Tabitha,
You've got speedball practice in a few minutes. Why did you join the speedball team, anyway?
I let out a frustrated breath and change into my speedball skinsuit. "Somebody I don't know. Do you have one?" It could be some generic message. But I suspect it isn't for me. I watch Ourania for a reaction; sometimes I open up to her prying and sometimes I play the part of someone who doesn't want to be monitored. Usually for things like this, that might have to do with Ioanna..I don't leave myself open.
With the legs of my suit on, I sit on my bed and tap my Navi to play the message, then swing my arms into the sleeves. If this makes me upset, I can let it out at practice.
I don't know if I enjoy speedball as speedball, but. It helps me feel connected to my body. It's very satisfying in that way. My first month I would either move slowly or jerk around like someone testing a VR game character until I found a useful motion.
The Navi sounds the tones of an incoming message start, a seven note ascending set of tones that thrill most people on Beacon Day. Connection to the outside, a sense of community, communication with people planetside!
In this case, a message to a dead woman.
A picture comes up on the screen:
"Ioanna, it's me..." he begins, looking at the camera, then away. "I'm on board a ship in an undisclosed location. Our messages are are all censored from now on so there is no use wasting my time and the censor's trying to tell you some things."
He offers a bit of a smile as he starts off a little story, "I took in a little of New Triton before we shipped out. I went into the city by the way of the tube under the Hector River. I got out at Shelly station and spent the rest of the night to one thirty in the morning just looking around. There wasn't any chance to go to a good show because you know how the advance sales take everything."
"I saw where "The Beast of Berlin" was being shown and right across the street was "Over the Top." The city is full of soldiers and sailors all the time, I guess. Anyway... there were a good many last night."
His eyes seem dreamy for a moment, "The city is an easy place to get lost because of the irregularity of the streets. Most all streets cross each other at angles but in New Triton they may take any direction. I walked down one street and when I took a notion to turn and go back, I wasn't on the same street at all and I couldn't tell where I made any turn." He laughs at that, a familiar laugh. Feels familiar, somehow.
"I got a good look at the city from the waterfront today. It was a bright clear day and we could see quite a distance. I have seen holos of New Triton and I can say that the real thing was just a picture laid before you. I would like to have stayed at Camp Mills until I had seen more of the city but the powers that be see otherwise. I can scarcely realize we are going. Everything moves off without any trouble or delay that it might just as well be a trip up the river."
"Well, I must close so as to send this right away so, goodbye for a time at least.... if you could send me a message back when you hit a Beacon, I'd appreciate it. I hate how we left things."
The message is from Gaius Mar-Holtron. It's dated two months before Ioanna passed.
"Good? Bad?" I ask as the message queues up.
When it's done I immediately snarl in disgust. He isn't my age, he says Ioanna's name. It would be hard for Ourania to find something to say that could cut through the fog of anger I feel that this message reached me. A lonely, ignorant man reaches out. To nobody. He could have at least shaved!
I turn off the message and pace the room. Too short. I make just two turns and spit out, "Someone has to tell him! He's drokked forever!"
The message plays and I wince behind Tab's back. She's agitated afterwards.
"Seems like he already knows, that. But it's pretty drokking dumb that they sent it to you, Tab. I mean he's not messaging you. I'll see if I can get them to fix it... stop sending you her personal stomm, okay?" I glance at the chrono. "Aren't you late for practice?"
"Rrrrr." I push a breath through my nostrils. Everyone. Expecting me to pick up the pieces of her life. "Yeah. Thank you. If you can get them to stop.." Could she make that happen? "..please."
Oh. I'm never late for practice! "Drokk! See you!" I run down the halls to the practice chamber. I push it. Warm-ups are over.
Tabitha,
At the first turn, you nearly run into Rys. He pivots on the ball of one foot once it's clear you're headed to practice, and the two of you jog to the gym. Please go here.
Ourania,
You're alone again. You know there are a few Beacon Day parties going on in rooms, you received sort-of invites, where folks acknowledge that you probably already know about them and "ask you to come". Pax is having a few people over. Jace and Mi Sun are hosting a get-together. Priscilla invited you personally.
Olivar was a total shit today. He needs to learn manners. So first things... with all the parties and stuff he's probably not going to be in his room. I need to find something personal that I can use on him.
As for the parties. After the reminders today I... well I pretty much have to go to Priscilla's for a while at least. Maybe I'll stop in at Jace and Mi Sun's too, we'll see.
I get up and change into my casual clothes, all of it simple black, then head down to scout Olivar's room.
Ourania,
You head down past Bea's room, then Pax's, turn the corner and come to Olivar's. The door is closed, looks like the light is off. How do you normally get into rooms?
I walk carefully up to the room looking up and down the hallway. Then pause a moment to listen for sound. If it seems clear I’ll quickly jack the lock.
Ourania,
You run that program, no problem. In seconds, the lock pops open, and you're inside. The lights start popping on, unless you wave them off. Do you? Have you been in Olivar's room before? Who shares it with him?
I wave them off.
I have been in the room before. Not for long as the place is something of a pit. Boys. Olivar is worse than Lucas but neither of them are exemplars of orderliness.
I pick my way amongst the dark piles of random stomm everywhere, over to Olivars nightstand and desk, the light of my navi screen is serving as my flashlight as I look for something that seems important to him.
Ourania,
Lots of bric-à-brac and tchotchke, from holocubes of classmates and parents, to stolen food cubes, some tools, even some duct tape. How are you trying to figure out what seems important? Are you Gazing into the Abyss here?
(Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 3, 4. Total: 8)
+1 xp
Ourania,
Images rise up from the items as you open yourself up to find something that really matters to Olivar.
- a baseball, handed down five generations, hidden in a pocket inside a trophy, forgotten
- a belt covered with Jace's spittle, he bit down on it during a moment of passion
- one lost sock, left behind by Aiden one night, mingled with all of Olivar's, he doesn't know where it came from, Aiden's been looking for it for months, he thinks Mark threw it out
- the cool metal surface of the wall his bed sits against, which he'll rest his bruised and broken face against later tonight
- the spliced datachip he uses in his Navi to tweak his eval scores with, handed down through channels
- the small cup he stole from the cafeteria he'll use to wash out his mouth out with, spitting blood from the abcess
And the thing that seems important to him? Of all the stuff in here? His drokking comb.
I shudder for a moment, gripping the edge of the nightstand and breathe, shaking my head, getting some distance from the images.
When I feel steadier, I grab the comb, slip it into my pocket and make my way out again.
Ourania,
You head out of Olivar's room and make your way back towards what, your own room? When you pass by Priscilla's, you hear her coughing, the kind of coughing that comes through the walls, where she can't quite catch her breath. It sounds horrid.
What did you have to do with that, Ourania?
I stop just past Priscilla's door, listening to the sound of her coughing, something twisting in my gut. So she didn't start with major symptoms until after I added the medicine to her breakfast juice a month ago, so what? It's coincidence. The symptoms were coming anyway.
I got the phial in a package from the Commandant the day after med the bi-monthly med screening. It contained clear liquid and instructions that it be slipped to Pris. So I followed orders. I don't know what it was for, okay? Probably some kind of anti-viral to head off the disease, because the idea that they would give one of us the plague on purpose is ludicrous. And of course I haven't been able to ask the Commandant about it.
Anyway, It doesn't seem to have worked.
I take a breath, then I knock tentatively on her door.
"Pris?"
Ourania,
The coughing subsides, then burbles out weakly again, muffled by a hand. The chime sounds and her door unseals. Opens. You see her sitting on her bed, bare feet on the floor, she has on a soft pink top that's damp from sweat, her body hunched over, a small trash receptacle between her feet sitting on the floor. She looks up at you with bloodshot eyes, her face wet. She coughs again, then draws in a little to herself.
I stand there a moment looking at her. I think the first thing out of my mouth was going to be "are you okay", but I stopped because... duh.
I go over to her bathroom and get a washcloth, run it under cold water, grab whatever meds I can find, looking at the labels, and fill up the little glass. I bring it all back over to the bed and sit down next to her. I set the glass on the nightstand and I take the cloth in my hand.
"Hey. Bad one, huh?"
I reach out and start wiping the washcloth over her face.
"I don't want to die, Ourania. I don't." Her words aren't defiant, though. They're pleading. Controlled on the surface with an underlying desperation.
Ourania,
There's a chime at the door. The vidscreen shows Mark's handsome face. Priscilla sees it, and her shoulders sink. She shakes her head "no" slightly, silently asking you to... to do something.
"Shh, now, you're not going to die, Pris." I say, gently.
Her door chime rings and we see Mark. She shakes her head. I compress my lips and get up to answer. I'll open the door partially. It's not enough for him to see Priscilla.
"Hi. She's not feeling good."
Ourania. There is no way she is here out of the kindness of her heart. I try to spot Pris but I can't see her.
"What are you doing here? Is Pris in there?"
Probably sneaking in trying to go through Pris's stuff.
What, like I don't give a stomm about anyone? Jerk.
I move through the door, close it behind me quickly. I fold my arms across my chest, looking way up at him.
"I just said she wasn't feeling good, platehead," I hiss. " and keep your drokking voice down. I just got her to try to sleep. Come back later."
So the class spy is on Pris's case now.
I back away, hands out at my sides. Now's not the time.
"I don't know what your game is, Ourania. But I'm going to find out."
I raise a sardonic eyebrow.
"Oh, that should be entertaining." I snap. "With both your brain cells working together maybe you'll figure it out by Arrival." I lean back on a leg, contemplating him."I don't know why you still pretend to give a stomm about her anyway."
She doesn’t deny having ulterior motives toward Pris, I notice.
"There's a lot of things you don't know, Ourania. And you never will, no matter how many sock drawers you go through."
Mark, you idiot. Pris sent her out here to make you go away. Get the message. You can't do anything for her. She doesn't want you.
"That so?"
I walk up close to him, eyes narrowed, in his space. He smells... good.
"Well here' s one thing I do know. Pris needs someone who really cares about her right now." I study his face. "Not someone who just pretends to."
I look calmly at Ourania's upturned face.
"In that case, like I said. What are you doing here? Because we both know you don't really care about anyone except yourself, Ourania the spy. Everyone in the class knows that."
(Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 4, 1. Total: 6)
(+xp)
You hear coughing, well hacking really, start up from inside Priscilla's room. The metal of the room causes it to echo, and maybe a foot or so down the hall nobody would hear it, but right here, you both do. A few moments later, you hear retching.
(Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 4, 1. Total: 7)
I had no idea it had gotten this bad.
No wonder people started to whisper about the plague. Never when they thought I could hear, of course.
And what are you going to do about it, Mark? Magic up a cure?
My gaze flicks from Ourania to Pris's door and back again.
I'm supposed to be the one at her bedside. I remember.
The hiss of a closing door. The air sucked out of my lungs. Two divergent roads, one closed off forever, and the stars glowing strangely.
"Make sure she visits medical," I say, "before curfew."
"Oh Drokk... I never thought of that! Oh, you're definitely leadership material aren't you." I snark at his back, going back to the door.
The comment about me not caring stings. I do what I do because I care about everybody. Well, except him. Right now. And Lucas. And Rys. And... well I care about us as a group, okay? Get off my case.
Looks like you're walking away. Where are you headed? You've still got some time before curfew to, you know, visit others if you want. You did promise Nadja you'd come over after visiting Pris and well, you technically did that thing.
I turn on my heel and stalk away down the corridor. There's an empty room next door to Bea's. I know it's not locked, so I just palm the door open and go in and stand in the gloom of the back-up lights.
Not much in here. One bed with a thin mattress. A desk with a Navi slot, a printed picture frame - empty - shaped like a heart, left behind by some previous occupant.
I scratch at my jaw on the left side until the skin turns red. Then I pick up the picture frame and methodically smash it against the desk, over and over until it's in pieces.
By the time I'm on the vidscreen at Nadja's door, my usual placid demeanour has returned.
Mark,
Please go here.
Ourania,
Pris is hacking up a lung, she probably needs to go to the Med Bay at this point, as if they can do anything for her. Or, you could just, you know, go.
What do you do?
No, there's still a chance that they could at least make her feel better. I open the door again and move over to her.
"He's gone. Come on Pris, we need to see the doctor."
Ourania,
She's on the floor now, and she got sick again, didn't entirely hit the trash receptacle. She looks up with the most pitiful eyes, mouths an apology, but she's afraid to speak or she'll start coughing again.
My face softens.
"Shh...It's okay, sweetie. I'm right here. I'll get it later." I say soothingly. I get the cloth again, do any necessary cleanup on her face. I get some shoes on her and help her up and towards the med bay.
Ourania,
You help Priscilla to her feet after cleaning her up, helping her put her shoes on. She murmurs apologies softly, trying to avoid another coughing fit. When you come out into the hall, Mark is long gone, but you see across the hall, Bea is standing by her door, still in her room, but watching.
As you both start heading for the Med Bay, Bea asks uncertainly, "Do you, like... do you want some help, Ourania?" Hard to tell if the offer's genuine, but she hasn't stepped out of her room yet.
I consider Bea a moment. I sort of want to tell her to buzz off, but I think of Pris sitting all alone in that room. It couldn't hurt. I look at Pris making sure she doesn't object."Sure, Bea. If you want."
Bea blinks, waits a beat, then grabs her shoes from the area just inside her door and comes out to the hall. Together, you help Pris walk to the Med Bay. Pris is weak, and needs to move slowly.
Oh for drokk's sake, really, Bea? Let's talk about what we do with dead people's stuff while helping Pris to the med bay?
I give Bea a look and shift my eyes to Pris.
Let's see you Shut her Down. Because that look so fits.
Right.
What do you do?
I roll my eyes at Bea.
Then Rys comes around the corner and pulls the caveman routine. I suppose it's easier to carry her, but fireman? Pris is small enough, he could carry her cradle instead. I'm even more annoyed now.
"Bea can get back on her own. I'm going with you." I go ahead and wave Bea off to go back to her room.
He looks at you as he's walking. I assume you're walking beside him. "I don't want her to die, either. Just make sure they don't freak out." He looks back towards Bea, towards the others.
I stop watching him walk away with Pris. By the rules I know he’s right, I don’t have any authority. It still makes me mad and feel horrible for Pris.
“Fine. Take care of her, Rys.” My voice has an edge of warning to it, before I turn back to quarters to make sure everyone is buttoned in.
End Scene.