station72 | ( hella open, hatch log )

Entry tags:

( hella open, hatch log )

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/ ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ 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.

[ 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. ]

[ 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?

[ 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. ]

Edited (stupid repetition) 2016-04-28 19:18 (UTC)

[ Unlike the others he's met so far - Steve, Ren, Ilde - Sam practically seems to bleed into the link between them, with a kind of ease, like this is something that's natural to him. He doesn't mean to, and will likely learn how to rein it in better in the weeks to come, but so much else has been going on in his mind since waking. ]

Took poorly? Did it hurt him? [ healing sleep, he assumes that's what he'd been in for the last week or so. However long it took to piece the scatter portions of his mind back together, repair what both the bullet and the datastream had done to him. ] Jessica and Anakin, those are the two I'm missing. Met Steve on the Flight Deck.

[ while he was caught petting a ship like it was a horse. it's been a weird several hours. and the comment about it not making much sense to him is answered with a soft, short laugh, wry. ]

More that you'd think. The mental thing. [ pointing at his head, like that's any kind of indicator. Anyway, let's not talk about it. The things that he's more confused about than anything else - ] But, uh. The ship-- is it a ship? Station?

[ The newly awakened all feed in far too much to the connection, for now Ilde does not assume to think he is different and purposefully ignores the excess. She had done the same for Jessica when she had awoken, calm and quiet and not prying too deep even though she could feel everything that passed through the woman's mind. At least one new host is easy to manage, when it had been such a large group of them, it had been painful, overwhelming. Though that shared pain has helped stitch her quite deeply to both Steven and Ren. ]

He seems well now.

[ Her understanding of the situation came second-hand from other parts of the brood, so she is not certain. As for the other question... that is also something she is uncertain of and she gazes off at nothing for a moment. She does not fully grasp technology on a personal level, but there is also something not quite technology about the Station. It had a heartbeat. ]

The station, yes.

[ Seems well now. Which isn't so direct an answer, but he accepts it for now. After all, if the symbiote is likely to damage them at all, it doesn't seem like there's a damn thing he could do about it otherwise. Least of all when it might be the only thing holding his mind together for now. ]

Glad to hear it.

[ Station. Space station? Maybe. But even a space station needs people to run it, to manage the engines, the power source, the communications, the orbit, the oxygen and gravity. Unless--

Unless it's as much like a Cylon basestar as he was expecting, and there's something like a Hybrid here, powering the entire thing. Being the entire thing. Huh. ]

Do you know anything else about it? Who runs it, or how? Where the hell it actually is?

Edited 2016-04-28 19:45 (UTC)

[ Ilde shakes her head. ]

I do not, I apologize. I am learning... but the world from which I was rescued had none of this. The workings of the Station are beyond me.

[ This doesn't really seem to bother her, and there is a reason she is in the garden all the time. ]

Cathaway may be inclined to answer you. Angel is quite knowledgeable as well, but I would not trouble her.

[ Not right now. ]

[ He nods, blinking a moment, and for a time, he's quiet, not sure if he wants to say this, but in the end, deciding it's worth it. He's careful, as he starts, lips moving to form words that don't come out, before he settles on what he means to say. ]

It seems a lot like something I know. [ Voice a bit distant, eyes in the middle distance, before snapping back to hers. ] The organic and inorganic, living technology. The hivemind.

[ Starting to understand why it was him they came for. But he makes a note to file it away - Cathaway, maybe Angel, later. If he can't get answers from Cathaway. ]

Got it. I'll check with Cathaway. [ giving a small, tight smile. ] How long ago did you wake up?

[ She listens to his uncomfortable explanation, wondering why it makes him so distant, but still keeping her distance, not prying into him though his thoughts are quite bare to her. ]

There are others within the Station who have taken well to these powers, from their experiences.

[ He would find others who would understand it all better than her. ]

I believe it has been somewhere near to fifteen days?

[ Absorbing that, he considers it. What's the story? Different worlds? Right. Hard to believe, but between everything else that's happened of late, it's hard to be skeptical. ]

Thanks. I'll see about finding them.

[ at least for the sake of 'how close is this to what you know'. ]

So not too long. What'd I miss?

[ Hm. What has he missed... Something irritable crawls up from the depth of her thoughts, the first change from her reserved chill thus far. ]

The hosts have been becoming acquainted, training. We went on a scavenging mission, which the Prince was quite displeased in.

[ And she was the cause of his displeasure. ]

There was a death among the hosts.

[ That's interesting. Apparently time here hasn't been as peachy keen as one might think, at least, not for Ilde. He's wondering if it's the same for everyone else, or just her.

of course, that's revealed a moment later. a death. ]

What? How?

[ She's not thrilled to explain this, but she is also too stubborn to lie about it or skirt the issue. ]

Several of the hosts were attacked in retaliation. I had an unpleasant exchange with a trader, and reacted harshly to his antagonism. His gang was not pleased by his death.

[ Annoyed as she is, she still just... isn't that moved by any of this. Such is life. She is quite numb to death. ]

[ For a long moment, Sam's staring, silent. Processing that. They'd gone for supplies, ran into a trader. The trader made Ilde mad, she killed him, his allies attack. As you do when someone kills one of yours. And because of it, one of the hosts didn't make it back. ]

Were your orders to engage if pressed? Or do whatever's necessary to get the supplies?

[ He's trying to gauge here if she was just trying to complete the mission, or if she just got a person killed because she couldn't hold her temper. ]

[ Her orders. Her brows pinch. That whole idea offends her, she was not here to be ordered around. She was not a dog, she was not a soldier. Her ire simmers. ]

We are not given orders.

[ Semantics, perhaps? But she is quite serious about her disapproval. ]

[ Welp, that pissed her off. Good to know. Sam files that away somewhere in his mind - issue with command and authority, don't bring that up in the future. But if that's not what this is, then what the hell? ]

Then why bring us here? Why the training rooms and the flight deck and the powers? I thought you said it was a mission.

[ you don't just give those to people, and you don't just train up people for no reason. Mission is something you're sent on with an objective issued to you. Unless it's just a personal mission, but it'd apparently pissed Prince off. ]

[ Her response is simple and sour, ]

Indeed.

[ He waits a moment, expecting her to say more than that, but it becomes clear she's done with that topic. ]

Okay. Good talk. [ Said with brows raised and a flat kind of WELP smile. Let's move on. ]

So, you've been here as long as the others, and you seem like you have a handle on things. What do you guys need me to do to help you?

[ To that, her eyebrows raise. My goodness, what an eager beaver. She hesitates for a moment. ]

You should decide that for yourself, as should you decide for yourself what our purpose here is.

[ Just because she was displeased did not mean he had to be as well, as much as she is stitched into the fabric of her brood, she sees each as a unique facet, not as some component to a singular whole. ]

[ He's here to get something done and move on. That's the objective, that's what he's doing. He has an afterlife to get to, and wife waiting for him there.

If whatever was coming for him is heading towards the new Earth as well, they need to be warned, and they need help. Everything they did, everything they died for would be pointless otherwise. ]

I'm here to take care of this shit and get on with it. [ not said harshly, just direct. he knows that, that's already decided. what he needs to know is what it is he's supposed to be doing here to begin with. ]

I get that we're supposed to be a team. You people are all I really got left to worry about, so that's what I'm doing.

[ She honestly has no comprehension of what he means by that. As far as she can imagine her world is destroyed, that was imminent even before the creatures came for her, before the emissaries of the Hive took her away. She has nothing to get on with, this is her new life. This is her new home. For all her displeasure, this is what she must now devote herself to. ]

Get on with what?

[ For Sam, he'd been on the Galactica, taking the fleet into the sun, light years away from Earth, when the thing had come for him. But there shouldn't have been anyone else in the star system, and he hadn't picked up and ships making a Jump in nearby. Hooked into the battlestar and prone, there was nothing he could do against a physical attack, and nothing left in the CIC to command to fight with.

But the more real concern was if there were more. He's already lost two civilizations. He couldn't let the one he'd just started be annihilated. so he'd taken the option to live, so he could find a way to warn them, to send something to help, anything.

And then, back to what he'd been in the middle of, before all of this started - ]

Dying.

[ said after a long pause, but with no hint of a lie in it. and no sorrow or fear either. longing, in fact, deep and constant. ]

[ She takes in that statement with a remarkable calm. She had worshipped a man's whose great and terrible destiny as he saw it was to destroy every last living thing in their world, a cleansing bath of fire to free them all from the pain of life, the the ugly stain that was mortality.

But she had been offered a chance to escape that destiny, and it had seemed to her as if perhaps her own fortunes had reached out to guide her. Sometimes she thinks Dreus might forgive her for not dying in a ashes with the rest of their kind... Sometimes she thinks she is a sinner, a witch now corrupted by false promises of power that will ultimately poison her soul.

She lowers her eyes, the silhouette of a man in her thoughts, a man's hypnotic voice softly whispering in her ear... ]

I do not know if our purpose here is so simple. You will have to inquire with Cathaway or Prince.

[ Watching her, the voice filters in slowly, and Sam's brows draw together. No features to the image of him other than the silhouette, and the voice, whispering, in a mesmerizing kind of way. Dark. That's what he gets from it. Dark. ]

Who is he?

[ Sam blurts out, before he really takes in what she'd said. Blinking rapidly a few times, he comes back to himself and amends - ] Sorry. You don't have to answer that.

[ he does still want to know, but his wanting to know doesn't give him the right to it, and she'd been relatively closed off to begin with, so it's likely she'd have rather not shared that. Moving on. ]

Right. I was planning on talking with Cathaway anyway. See if I can score a transdimensional phone call. [ the wry lift of his brows tells that he's thinking probably not, but it's worth the shot. anything is worth the shot. ]

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