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frakkincylons) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
station722016-04-28 12:44 am
frakkincylons) wrote in station722016-04-28 12:44 am
( 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;
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. ][B] flight deck, that's not a viper;
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?
[ 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.[C] wandering/circle gardens;
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. ]
[ 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.[D] telepathy, sam would like some pants pls;
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?
[ 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? ][E] wildcard;
( 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. ]
[ idk man choose your own adventure, slap sam anywhere you need him /o/ ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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?
no subject
But all he wants to hold on to, right now, is Kara. Who he is when he's with Kara, and all the rest is detail. He's not planning on going anywhere else but to her, once this is taken care of. ]
Not big on planes? [ he hasn't really pulled up that 'old fashioned as hell' feature of Steve as of yet, so he's guessing he's just not a tech guy. ] Yeah, I used to fly a Viper in the Colonial fleet. Starfighter, like these. Older, though.
[ which was their saving grace, really. the fact they weren't networked with newer tech meant the weren't susceptible to Cylon hijacking. making it over to the organic looking ship, he reaches a hand out, carefully, touching fingers to the outside lightly. ]
One of the two, you said? There's seriously only two people running this huge ass thing?
no subject
His gaze follows Sam's hand as it runs along the hull. ]
That's what it seems like. Wasn't anyone else here when we woke up. [ Unsettling as that is for such a huge place. ]
no subject
Or maybe it's a Cylon thing. Which is much more unsettling to think about. So we're not going to. Instead, he's peering closely at the material the ship is made from, thinking it looks a lot like the exterior of the Raiders - sleek, consistent, not crevices where panels meet. Reaching a hand up again, his palm presses to it, wanting to see if it feels the same.
Sam's mouth opens, about to ask another question about their guardians, but that's when he hears it. A hum, something he'd almost missed, different from the static he'd been getting from the nest so far. Brows drawing together, he moves his hand a but further over the side of the ship ] Do you hear that?
no subject
Hear what?
[ His eyebrows knit together, eyes sweeping across the hangar for - what? Most noise in the Station wasn't the sort you could turn your gaze on. When Steve concentrates on the noise in the back of his head he can't center on anything different than the usual white noise. ]
no subject
It's when he steps out, to peer around, consequently taking his hand off the ship, that it stops. ] It's gone. What the--
[ Jerking back around, his eyes fall on the ship again, head slowly tilting to the side. Slowly, cautiously, he makes his way back to it's side, closer now, and lifts both palms to place lightly against the hull. After a still moment, his head leans in as well, an ear pressed against the metal, like trying to listen to a whisper through a wall. ]
It's the ship...
no subject
But then it turns out his lacking ability isn't the problem. He raises his eyebrows, stepping toward the ship. Presses his ear to the hull - and slowly pulls away. ]
Maybe some kind of mechanism? [ His frown deepens. ]
no subject
silence, it's gone again. ] No... No, it's only when you touch it.
[ pulling back, he stares at the sleek surface of the ship curiously. ] Think about it. Do you hear it out loud, or in your head?
no subject
It's real faint. [ But Sam's right, it's not his ears that are hearing it. He rubs his hand. ] Not all of them do that.
[ The ship he'd seen Anakin work on hadn't, anyway. ]
no subject
maybe a bit of both. ]
The others are just simple machines. This isn't. [ he's not sure what it is, if he could call it alive or sentient, like the Raiders, but it's definitely something different. ]