( hella open, hatch log )

[frakkincylons]

Who: Sam Anders and yooooou
Where: Nesting deck, Flight deck, Circle Gardens, Life Support/Telepathy
When: Day 165
Summary: Hatch log, delivery for Castor brood + wandering the station
Warnings: Sam's fuzzy little coma head, n/a



[A] wakey wakey eggs and bacey;

--on the other side. [ there's distant, monotone muttering just before sam gasps in a deep breath, eyes snapping open wide - too wide, like he can see to the end of the universe, through the walls of the pod and the station and all the endless void of space through to the moment of the big bang. for a moment that seems like an eternity, there's silence in his mind, a deafening kind of silence after hearing so, so much, and he just breathes. it's been months since he's moved his limbs, but the fingers of his right hand curl, holding a necklace on a chain, pressing the edges of it into the soft flesh of his palm, eyes blank and wide, but mind scrambling, chest heaving, like he's mid-panic attack. it's hard to go from what he was, back to this, but something's reaching out to him, soothing and spreading warmth through his mind, and soon, he knows he's safe here. healthy and well, repaired, pieced back together, and safe. eventually, his limbs twitch, muscles in his shoulders flex and contract, and he raises a hand up slowly to the base of his skill, and the thick cable plugged into it. a deep breath, and sam yanks it free. ]

Frak! [ ow, headache. not an incredibly fierce one, but sudden, along with a wave of sensation, both familiar and entirely foreigner, causing him to squeeze eyes shut, blinking them rapidly open, and yet, he knows this. memories flash, the cold of a viscous he's lowered into, sparks of electricity felt somewhere far away, and then, everything. he's had more in his head than this, before, and while Sam can't quite place his finger on the details of it, like a word you've forgotten. but he'd been there. he knows that much. ] When...

[ there was a rescue. the light of New Earth's sun had filled up the CIC, blinding him, and for a moment, Sam knew perfection. but something had come, and this he has such a clear picture of - someone had reached out for him. live. and then, here. he must have been in this pod for some time, the datastream liquid no longer clinging to him, his hair having grown slightly back, though there's still an ache at the base of his skull, where the bullet had been removed, a couple fingertips touching tenderly to a healed scar there now. carefully, cautiously, Sam starts to move, shimmying down the length of the pod, until his bare feet touch the bars of a ladder below, some weird medical space pajama being all that's keeping him decent for the moment. pulling himself free, Sam looks out, over the nesting pods lining the vast open deck, and feels like he's forgotten how to breathe. ]

The hell... [ how many times can his world be completely turned on its head? how many times can Sam Anders feel lost beyond any kind of retrieval? clinging at the edge of the ladder, breathing coming heavy and staggered, there's a singular longing for stability, for assurance, and a single name that comes from his lips in vain hope, right hand squeezing tight around the necklace there. ] ...Kara?

[B] flight deck, that's not a viper;

[ kara's necklace lays heavy on his chest, heavier than it should be. a chain, with a dogtag, a simple silver ring, and a bullet. ] Bullet that killed me. [ sam murmurs, as he paces through the flight deck, letting out a humorless snort. it's both very touching and very sad to know she attached it with the rest. and very telling, where she laid blame. always, where she laid blame. these clothes feel odd on his frame, the silence of the ship disquieting, and he's practically bald, which he hates. there's some fuzz there, like a very buzzed buzzcut, but it still feels like being a hospital patient. note - find a hat later.

simple shoes tapping against the smooth, flawless floors of the station, he's still not really sure if it's a building or a craft or something much stranger, but through the whispers and blurred passing emotions streaming through his mind, he gets the feeling of something immense. but he'll take that one room at a time. right now - flight deck. pacing in, he doesn't immediately see anyone else, which feels so bizarre to him. an empty deck. no engineers scrambling, no pilots shouting as they drop into their planes. just quiet. too much quiet, and, of course, the hum of so many consciousnesses in his head. foreign, and still the same. ] And still frakking confusing.

[ letting out a begrudging exhale, hand on the tag of Kara's necklace with his thumb passing over the engraved letters, sam lets his feet carry him to one of the ships, the other hand reaching up to smooth over the hull, before he stops, blinking at that hand. he's petting it like it's an animal - a dog or a horse. like it's a damn Cylon Raider. gods, this never stops being weird. ]

[C] wandering/circle gardens;

[ hours, it seems like, sam's been wandering the station. he'd met with some people, had some questions answered, but this place still mystifies him. not to mention, in the life support room, and the rec wing, there'd been things left around. belonging to who, the other hosts? where was the crew for this thing? why have such a massive thing with nobody in it? and the most striking thing he's noticing, as he paces through, is that it seems so, so much like a Cylon basestar. chrome and white walls, bare, and the organic spliced in here and there. and yet, it isn't.

turning a corner to wander aimlessly down another hall, sam finds himself facing the circle gardens. for the first time since waking up, something that isn't completely weird. grass. halleloo.

his shuffled walking towards to power walking, and then to jogging, and then to running, before sam's flopping himself bodily against the lawn of the gardens. not only had it been an eternity since he'd touched grass this green and alive, since Caprica's fall (the New Caprican grass was just never the same), but this station has seemed so empty and lifeless, aside from the other hosts. chest against the grass (close probably stained), and cheek turned against it as he lays there, sprawled, he spots another person some distance away, feels the vague pull of their connection again, and calls out. ]

Hey! This place is empty. Why's it empty?

[D] telepathy, sam would like some pants pls;

[ eventually, he settles in the room he'd found for himself in life support, staring down at the grass stains on his white space pajamas. which feel entirely too loose and too thin on him. like pajamas, imagine that. he's heard a few other snippets of thoughts and conversation here and there, in the mush of his mind, and he decides to give it a shot himself. he'd operated the entire frakking Galactica with just his brain, how hard is chatting? ]

( Anyone have any normal pants to spare around here? Or a hat? Feels like I'm shuffling around an old peoples' home. )

[ a really high tech old peoples' home. but that's it, that's all he has for now. did it work? sam's sitting still on the edge of his mattress, head tilted, like it'll make him hear the voices any better, waiting for something to come back. ]

[E] wildcard;

[ idk man choose your own adventure, slap sam anywhere you need him /o/ ]

Comments

C;

[narcissithstic]

[Between spaces, he knows the draw of his own kind. The shape of their memories, their thoughts— even the newest addition carries with her a distinct gravity— and yet this one is different. Familiar in that he sensed its stirring and unfamiliar in how it is so raw. Vastly different from the rest of his brood.

Kylo Ren stops. The stark white of his nest-given ensemble a contrast to dark hair where he stands some distance off, shadowed by verdant green. Part of him, dull and distant, is hesitant to accept yet another bond that might eventually weigh him down.]

It's just us now.

[For all the vastness Cathaway's mind forced on him in those brief moments when they'd first met (when he so foolishly lashed out to wound her) he saw nothing of those that had come before. And yet they must have existed. Like the bond Cathaway shares with Prince, or the clustered pods within the nesting chamber, all of it is evidence there should be more than what remains.] Too few hosts exist to keep this station's decks populated.

[frakkincylons]

I know you.

[ and yet, he doesn't. he's never seen this man before, and there's both a coldness and a chaos to him that's foreign to Sam. a wave of too loud feedback, overloaded sensory input, harsh emotion flooding, a kind of loud, angry static to him. if Sam hadn't been used to this, on the grand scale of an entire battlestar, he might have physically flinched, but instead tilts his head some, watching him with a curious squint. out of the mental soup that is the nest, he sticks out, the same pull Sam's felt to a few others. brood is the word that comes to mind. after a moment, though, Sam realizes he's been staring blankly at him for a few seconds, and blinks rapidly a few times, before staring to push himself up from the grass, sitting with legs bent in front of him instead, forearms rested on knees. he's not quite ready to completely get up from the grass. ]

This place had to be built to house hundreds, thousands maybe.

[ so, at some point, there had to be that many here. otherwise, that's a complete waste of resources. why build something so huge for just a few people? it's strange, out of place. like walking down the streets of Caprica after the attack. people should have been there, sounds and movement and lights. nothing. like a phantom pain from a missing limb. ]

Where'd they go?

[narcissithstic]

We're of the same brood.

[Said without any particular inflection - it's a statement of fact, nothing more. Cathaway's lessons still cling to his mind (as does her presence), but Avera 9 had been a potent experience in and of itself: Rogers' disdain, his brittle, permeating weakness acting as a damper for Ren's own prowess and what it had cost the Nest entirely. That he could blame Ilde for their collective failure is a thought that has occurred to him, but if his broodmate was not so...fragile, perhaps Karlon would not have thought to seize an advantage against them.

Steve Rogers was a walking pressure point; only time would prove whether or not the final addition to their brood is the same. Ren hopes not.

He makes no move to come closer.]

I don't know. [For a beat, Kylo Ren glances away - light catching across the bridge of his nose where the shadows break, revealing a harsh expanse of scorched skin.] Perhaps they outgrew their nest.

Perhaps they're dead.

[A beat, and then:] Either way, it doesn't matter: they're gone, we're not.

[frakkincylons]

Right.

[ Ok, bro, let's not go overboard with the cheery brain-family affections or anything. Not that Sam was expecting it, but this guy is distinctly removed. The kind of removed that has intention.

Well, whatever, that's not exactly new in the spectrum of weird crap people do, so you do you, man. Sam figures he'll just give him, and his excessively staticy, too intense brain, a wide breadth. He's fine with Ren keeping himself to himself. Though, Sam interest spikes some, when his broodmate glances to the side, and he's given a view of a nasty scar straight across his face.

Ouch, is the first thing that comes to mind. And then 'don't freakin stare at it, Sam', followed up by 'well where the frak else am I supposed to look, it's in the middle of his face'. Sam, shut up.

Anyway, about that question he had. About the former occupants. That's important. However, Kylo Ren doesn't seem to think so, which Sam can't even fathom. In what world does it not matter, when they replace a bunch of mysteriously vanished people?]

It matters because what happened to them could happen to us. [ History, repetition, all that shit. You know. It matters. ]

Ignorance never did anyone any favors.

[narcissithstic]

[And in that brief second, Ren's attention snaps up— hawkish. There's no rage behind the gesture (he squints only for a beat), but it's a clear sign of incredulity on his part.]

Of course it could. [The distance between them hardly seeming small until at last Ren strides forward to narrow it down with a cutting brand of decisiveness, far from passive even with his hands hanging both empty and idle at his sides. There's a heaviness to his presence that infects an otherwise peaceful landscape: the weight of something vast and intangible, dragged along in his wake as if he were an amplifier for the hum of the symbiote in their veins.

Stare harder, Sam. Go on.] Do you truly need to know the lives of those that came before you to know not to let fire touch your skin? To keep your enemies from narrowing their focus?

Ignorance is pretending knowledge alone will save you. [To map the fall of his predecessor and yet still suffer for striving to tread a different path. A better one. He stops no more than a foot away, chin dipping low as he cants his head towards his shoulder.] Guard yourself, treat your every move with anything but carelessness, and you'll have nothing to fear.

[data mining is for babies]

C; After

[erbier]

[ She politely does not eavesdrop when Ren goes to introduce himself. It would please her if the broodmates could interact peaceably, please her if Ren remembered what she asked him for: Show patience. But... in the end, it will be what it will be, and so while they talk she busies herself. Coming to the gardens is almost inevitably a meeting with her, she is always there, sleeps and eats amongst plants that she has already decided are hers now.

Ilde is the pretty twenty year old, her long blonde hair braided back, her white clothes stained with dirt and grass, up the sleeves, across the knees. She looks up when Sam actually comes into range of her sight, she was clearly waiting for him. ]

Hello. How are you feeling.

[frakkincylons]

[ so. kylo ren is fun. dude needs to take a vacation, or like seven vacations. but okay, man, whatever floats your boat. or sinks your boat, as that seems something he'd be more a fan of. he leaves the conversation feeling a bit walled, but dealing. there's another of the same pull nearby, and sam's following it now, knowing what he can identify that as, now. brood, the others directly connected to him. he might say your personal unit within a larger military, but it's more than that, isn't it? deeper. like family. weird.

either way, he find Ilde after some roaming in the gardens, sitting like she was waiting, in the grass and plants, with stains from dirt all over the white pajama things they'd been given in a way that has same smiling. it's refreshing, and he comes to plop himself down in front of her, letting out a tired exhale. ]

Like I slept a few centuries too long. [ said as he rubs a hand over his head, and the annoyingly short, post-coma hair, before reaching out the other to offer a shake. ] I'm Sam.

[erbier]

[ She finds his mannerisms curious, a personality type she has never encountered before, and he is remarkably composed for the situation. She hesitates for a moment, not really used to the gesture of shaking hands, but it's obvious enough what the expectation is. She offers out her own dirt-streaked palm, shakes his loosely and quickly returns her hands to her lap. ]

Hello, Sam. My name is Ilde. I'm pleased you've joined us. Our brood is finally complete.

[ A good feeling. Like the subsiding of a persistent ache. ]

[frakkincylons]

[ There's a calm and stillness to her, and the hesitation tells him this isn't something she's used to. He'll try to be more careful with her, but he doesn't mind the dirt streaking her palm at all. Honestly, it's nice. He's missed things like dirt - how sad is that? It's a small, friendly smile he offers her, but keeps to himself otherwise, folding his hands in his lap as his shoulders slouch some, relaxing. ]

Good to meet you. Were you missing someone before? [ Sam's head tilts, curious. Maybe a bit concerned. ]

Did you lose someone?

[erbier]

[ She is very reserved, purposefully so, keeping herself under tight control. It is an act she has put on for so long that she hardly notices herself doing it, there is no strain, no sense of fracture in her. Not until you hold a light up to her and suddenly the many hairline fractures of her short and brutal life glow like spider webs. ]

We have been missing several... Steven, Ren, Anakin, and I awoke together, but Anakin's symbiote took poorly. He has been in a healing sleep until recently. You and Jessica have also awoken. This is the first time all six of us have been in contact.

[ She considers for a moment, ]

That must not make much sense to you, having just joined us.

[ He hadn't felt what was missing. Not having gotten a chance to grow into their web yet, his new powers. ]

B;

[decommission]

[ The new connection coils through the Station, registering on Steve's periphary no matter how occupied his attention is. Exploring, probably. He leaves it alone at first, finishing his last lap in the Training Wing. However curious he is about a sudden arrival, he doesn't attempt to probe their link from a distance.

He follows it with his own two feet. The sweat's dried from his brow by the time he reaches the flight deck. He doesn't often visit this part of the Station, but he carefully plots a course through the rows of ships to where the new link ends. Proximity doesn't make much of a difference as far as what's projected. Even knowing that, Steve strengthens his walls as he approaches, attempting to let as little as possible pass between them. ]

Familiar with these? [ He inclines his chin at the ship Sam's petting. ]

[frakkincylons]

[ sam hasn't quite learned how to keep himself quiet, yet, and by nature of both what he is, and what he'd most recently been, he's unfortunately very adept at this being connected to a bunch of other things deal. so there's a vague hum of feedback that comes from him - the Galactica, being in the cockpit of a viper, watching the Raider scan him through the front of his ship. things flooding his mind while he's looking over the ships, and, especially, when his gaze turns towards one of the Nest grown ships, parked not far away, a mix of organic and inorganic.

it's the pull of another broodmate that has Sam turning his head back, just before Steve speaks up to him, Sam's hand still resting on the hull of the ship in front of him, like he'd spaced out a moment, slowly retracting it as he looks back with Steve's question. ]

Not these ones exactly, but starfighters, yeah. [ glancing back to Steve. ] You're one of ours, right? The, uh, cluster? Brood?

[decommission]

[ So much of what was once considered science fiction to Steve is old hat for a lot of the Nest. Works out for him. More people to learn from.

Sam's projections wash over him, close enough to touch and inspect if he were just to reach out a little more. He doesn't, making the assumption that Sam's experiencing the same awakening effect they all did at the start. If Sam's thoughts are a stream, Steve's a rock. ]

Brood's what they call it. [ The word still doesn't feel natural to him. He gives a half nod and extends his hand. ] The name's Steve.

[ They could pass all the necessary information between them in an instant if they wanted to (and probably by accident). Steve definitely has a new appreciation for regular chitchat since coming here. ]

[frakkincylons]

[ There's just a careful silence coming from Steve, and that either means this guy has nothing in his head, or he's purposefully withholding it. He can't say he blames him. Sam, before and the other Four were all drawn together, before the beach on Earth, and before the memories, would've been all kinds of freaked by this thing. As it is now, not so much. ]

Sam Anders. Good to meet you, Steve. [ He takes the offered hand, giving a firm shake and a friendly smile. Steve's seems decent enough so far. Relatively normal, at least. ]

Hey, Steve, you got any idea what those ones over there are? [ Releasing Steve's hand, he turns out to point at the grown Nest ships. ]

These are all standard mechanical. [ a handwaves at the ships they'd been standing near, and Sam steps out, pacing towards the Nest ships. ] That one looks organic.

[decommission]

[ The connections make it too easy to bleed into one another sometimes. Makes you start to question what comes from you and what doesn't. He might be part of a whole these days, but Steve is still stubbornly himself. His gaze shifts to the ships, giving a frown before shaking his head. ]

I'm the last person you'll wanna ask about these. [ A faint, wry humor colors his tone. Sorry, Sam. ] The Prince could tell you more. He's one of the two people that run this place.

[ Guardians, that's what they called themselves. He tilt his head to glance at him again. ] You a pilot?

( b. )

[apoptotic]

[ for a group that, as a whole, anakin himself would have been hard pressed to trust, they are given remarkable freedoms. by now, he has intuited the reason — the walls respond to those no longer differentiated from the nest — but he can appreciate it, nonetheless.

case in point: where anakin ( and ahsoka – not a part of his brood, but a part of his family and he emphasizes that over obligated ties ) have chosen to make their beds. literally.

the connection to the nest makes it near impossible for anyone to sneak. the brood ties make it worse. not only is the other man loud, he is present in a way anakin cannot easily ignore. so he doesn't, getting up from his bed and strolling to the stranger that will, undoubtedly, become all too familiar in the subsequent days. close enough to catch the last he says, the corner of anakin's mouth lifts. ]

Give it a few more days. [ it might get better. it might only become worse.

by then, his droid has two dissimilar arms attached to a squat body. it follows anakin by virtue of the only sensors he could equip — meaning it rolls past anakin and smack into the ship's landing gear. and rolls into it again on the second try. anakin has half a mind to turn it back to scrap.

( the droid can thank its continued existence entirely on ahsoka's finding it cute. ) ]

[frakkincylons]

[ he'd felt the mental pull of a few of them, this way and that. maybe that's how he'd ended up here. but it becomes resoundingly loud when Anakin starts to approach. Not like the others - connected. Brood, it'd been called.

this one seems to have chaos rolling all through him, all intensity and anger. guy need's a massage or something. at the comment, though, sam snorts a short laugh, one corner of his lips quirking up, as he drops his hand away from the ship he'd been... petting. ]

It's okay. Kinda gotten used to being confused by now. It's comfortable. Like a security blanket. [ which is sarcasm, but wry, with humor, not any kind of sass. he doesn't have a reason, with this guy, and it generally takes something big for sam to start treating anyone with much hostility. like, you know, nuclear holocaust. or stealing his wife. anyway.

it seems redundant to mentioned 'you're in my brood'. sam knows he is, this guy probably knows he is too. so he'll just move on from that part, for the sake of not sounding like an idiot. ]

Are you a pilot? Mechanic? [ he's guessing, since he's on the flight deck. or maybe the brood thing pulls both ways and this was just the middle point. who knows. ]

[apoptotic]

[ if there is one thing anakin understands it's assholes trying to steal wives. "fuck those guys" is the healthiest response there.

speaking of healthy, sam's attitude is among the better to take. speaks more, perhaps, to the other's past experiences than his character. not a bad thing, either. particularly in light of how many others had never even been off their planet before, did not know it was a possibility. two of his, their, brood are such. ]

Both. [ coming closer, his foot nudges the droid into free space, which it promptly takes advantage of to wheel in circles. anakin lets it be with a sigh. ]

You?

fjdksla gdi forgot to mention the droid last tag, durr

[frakkincylons]

[ with you there, bro, so with you there. fuck those guys and also maybe bomb their shit.

His eyes draw down to the little droid, though, seeing it whirl around in circles like an excited puppy chasing it's tail, and Sam lets out a short, sputtered laugh. Crouching down, Sam watches it do a few more orbits around... nothing, really. ] Having some trouble there, buddy?

[ which is actually sam talking to the droid and not Anakin. maybe someone from Galactica would be freaked out by any kind of self managing machinery, even as simple as this droid, but given history always reaches this point, without fail - creating synthetic life - you can't really hold it against them. Besides, Sam's essentially the most advanced form of AI you can get, before it's just another route to Human. So maybe there's some fondness there. Gods, his life is freaking weird now.

Glancing back up, he smiles, happy to find someone with at least the one thing in common with him. Aside from the whole brain bond thing. ] Pilot.

And, sort of mechanic. [ uh. well once he'd been a lot of things. not that he remembers much of them anymore, either from 2,000 years ago, or the datastream tank. fresh from the coma, and all of that, his mind's still trying to piece together what the hell he is now. ] Sort of some other things. It's complicated, we'll stick with pilot.

You get to fly any of these yet?

[apoptotic]

[ oh, new bff, where have you been all his life. ]

Not yet. I've been…indisposed. [ someone inform webster's: indisposed has been redefined as a two week coma. anakin does not linger. ]

Mostly, I've been familiarizing myself with the ships. The ones I can access, at least. [ a beat. ] He's a side project.

[ the droid by then has stopped turning. anakin programmed it to respond to the sound of a voice. he wanted something to help him in his tasks. long grown accustomed to r2-d2's company, being without a droid has been odd. not that any he made could replace the blue-and-silver astromech. r2 is his friend.

but for want of something to fetch his tools, anakin ended up with a droid with an intelligence level somewhere between a bucket of nails and a gungan. ]

D

[whowhatnow]

You're on the quest for pants? A noble goal! A goal that I could certainly help you with.

[Says a cheerful mental voice in reply, suddenly, even though its speaker is nowhere around to be seen. It's still weird for Nathaniel to communicate like this - it's a little too open for his tastes - but still, he can't say it isn't useful.]

Which is to say, that yes, I have a free pair. Don't know if it'll fit you, but it's worth a try. Where are you?

[frakkincylons]

[ sweet lords, this is the first really personable, outwardly friendly person he's run into since waking up. thank frak. ]

( You might be my new hero, buddy. I'm 6'3", so hopefully you're not short, but I'm up to checking it out anyway. )

[ and then there's a handwaved room number in the life support deck here, because i'm not sure how they work, yolo. come chill, homie, bring your free pants. ]

[whowhatnow]

[Ooh, and there's a problem. He's only 5'8". Not that he couldn't be taller, but, well, the pants he has can't change size like he can.]

I'm here to save the day! With pants. [A pause.] They...might be a bit short? But hey, look at this way, maybe you'll rock them as sweet capris.

[Always good to stay positive. He knows where to go, and sure enough, in a couple of minutes he walks in, green pants draped over one arm.]

Pants delivery! [He says, with a wide grin as he tosses it over.] Here's hoping it fits.

[frakkincylons]

[ nathaniel enters with his exclamation of pants, and sam tosses his arms up, like they're celebrating a goal on a sports broadcast. ]

Praise the gods! [ said in the mildly sarcastic way someone might have said 'hallelujah'. come, friend, come sit here and give him your gift trousers. ] Come on in, man.

[ and, wow. those are... some pants. ] Well. Always did think green was a nice color. Thanks.

[whowhatnow]

Hey, at least they're forest green instead of eye-searing neon. They're the ones I came in with, but you can have them. [He says, moving over to sit by Sam's side casually like they're college roommates chatting it up after a long night partying.]

Not a problem, dude. [He gives him a salute.] You just woke up, huh? Good to know your priorities included pants, that's always high on the list.