[MISSION LOG] BRAVE NEW WORLD

[onemind]

CHARACTERS: All
WHERE: The Station + Concordia
WHEN: Day :000 - ???
SUMMARY: Leaving the Station; the arrival and first days on Concordia. Concordia pt.1.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary.

IT'S EARLY IN THE DAY and something feels strange. It’s not unlike when a new Host - not one of your brood, but close enough to feel the tug - comes awake on the Nesting Deck. But it’s just the initial tug. There’s no noise, no hum of confusion or volume. Today, it’s just there: a sensation of presence that a moment ago wasn’t. Soon after follows a prickling awareness of urgency. A small electric bolt through the mind. Cathaway doesn’t use words in the mind, but her meaning is nonetheless easily understood: come to her on the hangar; your presence is required.

On the hangar there is a sleek, low profile transport ship. Before it stand Cathaway and Prince and in their company is a stranger: a short woman with warm skin and dark hair, wearing unfamiliar colorful clothes and a quick, pleasant smile. You’ve never seen her before, but you know she’s a Host.

“This is them?” Her voice is light and sweet. Prince, occupied by a databank, glances up at her then nods once. There’s a tension in his shoulder and through his jaw - a distinct contrast to Cathaway and the stranger who lack both.

“Lovely.” Her tone is breezy and easy, delighted. “Hello, it is so nice to meet you all! My name is Carata. My partner and I have been away on duty for a few months, but it’s become clear that we need backup on our assignment. We are hoping you can help.” Carata motions to the mission equipment in neat kits at her feet. There is one for each young Host.

Prince folds his pad down into its smallest form. His expression is set and serious.

“You will be joining Carata and Nirad on the planet below to assist them with their mission. Your datapbank will provide you with information about the planet and the city where you will be stationed. This mission is covert and the planet itself has no contact with other planetary races, so you will need to do your utmost to blend in.”

Cathaway sharpens slowly beside them: a dull pencil being sharpened to a point as her attention curves back to this place, this instance. She unfolds her hands. “You’ll be provided with an earpiece that should allow you to interface with the local technology and a fake identity for your cover on world. Please mind both carefully and be sure to keep your databanks offline. It would be inconvenient if they were networked while on planet.” From the way she says it, it sounds like ‘inconvenient’ might be an understatement. “This mission shouldn’t be inherently life threatening. Your primary goal is to investigate the anti-android movement. Carata and Nirad will be able to tell you what your databanks do not.”

“You should listen to them,” Prince adds. “Rely on their experience and knowledge to help you succeed in your task. Be mindful, and treat them with the respect they have earned.”

At this Carata laughs. It’s a bright, joyful sound, her hands coming up to clasp in front of her chest, “Please, teacher, you are too serious. I am sure they will do very well. Come along then! Gather your things; we must leave as soon as possible. I do hate to leave Nirad alone for too long.”

Turning her back to the Hosts, Carata takes Cathaway’s hand for a moment Nothing is said, but there’s the distinct impression of something passing between them. They release their grip, then Carata turns to Prince. She places her hands on his shoulders and goes up to her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. He doesn’t return the gesture, but those with sharp eyes will note he does lean down slightly to make her job easier.

Gather your gear, get anything from your rooms you might not want to leave behind. In two hours, everyone attending the mission will be buckled or strapped into the transport as Carata readies the ship for takeoff. She explains, neatly and concisely, what they believe the enemy to be doing in Concordia. Then, with a turning of the deck, the ship is freed from the embrace of Station 72.

It will be a long time before you see this place again.

     I. THE WHEELS ON THE BUS
The flight to Concordia is surprisingly short. By the time Carata's finished her explanation, you've passed into a new universe. It comes with a strange wave of something akin to nausea. Outside the transport's starboard viewports lays Opia in all it's glory: a beautiful blue marble speckled with sixteen landmasses and swathed in thing clouds like spun sugar. From this distance, clusters of light burn from specific points on the continents like a map of grounded constellations. As one of the great megacities of Opia comes curling from around the edge of the planet, the transport ship begins to descend.

Atmospheric entry is smooth. The transport drops at the outskirts of Concordia on what is, hilariously, some kind of large parking garage. It has engaged the most sophisticated of its cloaking technology to do this and Carata urged everyone to disembark quickly so the ship can return to orbiting the planet before it's detected.

"It will be back," she says flippantly. "When we've finished our job."

The ship departs. It's quiet and still for a handful of minutes; Carata seems unconcerned and gives little in the way of direction or instruction. The city flashes around them - bright lights and neon masking the fading of natural light - and nearby, a roadway hums. Eventually the sound of a car pitches louder. A set of headlamps shear from the long line of cars and in moments a long, squarish transport van pulls up and parks at the top of the garage. The side door slides open to admit everyone. In the driver's seat is an android - shining metal and cheerful as it greets every host by name. Beside the android in the van's passenger seat sits a tall, dark skinned man who - much like Carata - is obviously a host.

Welcome to Concordia.

     II. HOME SWEET HOME
It's a long drive into the city. The buildings get taller, the lights get brighter, the streets get busier. There are throngs of people on the street, dogged by endless rows of neon bright advertisements. Traffic is either miserable or flowing depending on the neighborhood and trams run on tracks fifty feet or more above the roadways. Streams of people files from the pavement to the subways, countless numbers of escalators leading down.

When the bus finally stops, it's in front of a building as tall as any others. The signs here mark this section of the city as BETA BLOCK and when you get out and into the building lobby you find that the door opens for you automatically. A chime rings through the interfacing ear piece and when you enter the elevators, the only floor accessible to you is NUMBER EIGHTEEN. When you disembark, a kind voice welcomes you by home in your ear. There are a large number of rooms here in Bearing - stake your claim, everyone! Nirad and Carata already have a couple of rooms in the Southwest corner of the building, but the rest are open. Time to settle in!

     III. FEET ON THE GROUND
You're given the rest of the night to sleep (or...whatever), but by 9AM the next morning everyone is awoken by Carata's voice in their head. She's clearly not shy of using her symbiotic connection.

( Good morning! I know this is quite a lot to get used to. I believe this is your first true assignment? But I have always believed that the best way to learn something new is to jump right in. ) The words are accompanied by the sensation of someone clapping their hands together, a cheerful kind of practicality. ( You’ve been given a credit card. I encourage you to go out today and learn what you can about this place. Talk to people. Listen to the news. Be sure to remember your cover identity, and don’t hesitate to call if you find yourself in trouble. )

There is nothing pressing to the suggestion, just the sensation- light. Airy. Fun. She switches track after a moment, a thoughtful addition: ( There is also a rally in town today. It’s being run by The True Children of Opia, some minor little hate group-- ) She seems to wave off the unsavory aspects as she forges ahead, ( They aren’t affiliated with Humans + Humans 1st, but they do have very similar ideologies and it is quite probable that there is overlap in their membership. If you would rather, it is also quite likely that there will be protestors there as well, both members of Mind Life and those who are adamant about pursuing digital resurrection. Please do be careful, though, sometimes those rallies can be a little... ) An image of an oily substance catching flame, quickly and hotly.

( Whatever you chose, simply do your best to get your bearings. ) She seems to realize the unintended joke there, given the name of their current residence, and a bright happy flash of color accompanies it. What a delightful surprise. ( Prepare yourself for what is to come. Nirad and I will continue our investigation in the meantime. )

---

((OOC Notes: This is the catchall log for the first stages of the Concordia mission. You'll notice there's no set ending date, so use this log however you like - alternatively, feel free to start your own logs in the setting! Don't worry; we'll be keeping a close eye on things, so if something big starts to happen that necessitates a new long, we'll make sure to keep our bases covered and all of y'all updated. Just be aware that dating forward farther than :010 may get a little dicey.

If you have any mission specific questions, direct them to the OOC post here.))

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( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

[frakkincylons]

[ Sam watches him as he thinks on it, brood link clear in his mind being occupied with turning the thought of all this over. ]

So you, at least, aren't in any danger if he triggers again. I wouldn't think. [ It's hard to say one way or another. He's not a psychologist, and he's not going digging in Bucky's head for proof. But from what they know, that seems like the only thing that would've triggered it. If Steve had been right there, along with the other attackers, and if Bucky was just in all out assault mode, Steve would've been a target too. But he wasn't. More than that, he's the only thing that would've brought Bucky out in the street to begin with.

His attention turns to Bucky, who's been quiet so far, watching him for a second or two, before speaking up. ] As far as memory goes, I don't know. Messing around with brain stuff gets screwy, so maybe it'll come back.

[ as for the question of whether he's safe to be at Bearings or not. Well. ]

Honestly? All I can think is, so long as no one starts threatening Steve, and no one starts threatening you, you should be fine at Bearings. [ you, being Bucky. ] And really, man, you're a hell of a lot safer there than you are out here. We've at least got plenty of people that can stop you.

[ and are less likely to get completely wrecked by him, is the other part of that. there's really no telling what else will happen with him, if he's fighting through something so deeply embedded like this, but better he do it among people that can keep him safe, and keep him from hurting anyone else on accident. ]

[bracchium]

[Bucky shakes his head slowly. Behind his eyelids, he can see all the times he did hurt Steve: on the bridge, in the gunship, in Berlin. The incident here on Concordia is the only one he can't seem to remember in full and the one he didn't hurt Steve. He doesn't know why, but he doesn't feel comfortable with Sam's explanation. In Berlin there was a number of people who thought they could stop him, Steve included.

That and they haven't addressed the bruising on Steve's face.

Something is missing from all this and he hates that he doesn't know what.]

[decommission]

You've gotta trust us. [ It's never been something he needed to ask before. ] Sam knows what he's talking about.

[ Understands it on some level, even if it's not exactly the same. He wants Sam's explanation to be enough for Bucky, another voice to try to convince him that staying here isn't the best option - no matter how dangerous Bucky may or may not be. Better that he's surrounded by friends - or at least allies, in case something goes wrong again.

The images of his own face, the one that Clint Barton and Sam Wilson had brought with them too, that gets every muscle in Steve's body going tense, his spine stiff. ]

[frakkincylons]

[ Steve is big. Steve is big and strong, insanely so, and that's not what Sam was expecting to see. For a moment he arches one brow and slowly turns his head to look at the tiny Steve he knows, with something that's bemusedly astounded. But that's not the biggest issue here, and he'll leave it to ask him about it another day. The thing is, Bucky's so damn terrified of himself (and not without good reason) that he can't trust them enough to go back. But staying here? He'll get killed here. Or he'll end up hurting another group of thugs looking to mess with him. It's almost certain to happen, and Sam doesn't want to leave him here any more than Steve does, after seeing all this. But he doesn't believe Steve knows well enough to say, and he doesn't trust Sam. Well.

With a heavy sigh, Sam stands, grabbing the back of his chair and dragging it around to sit in front of Bucky instead, where he leans forward, and holds out his hands, palms up. ]

Look, I know I'm just some asshole who talks too damn much to you, and I get that, okay, I do. But I am here to help. Whatever happened with you, it was frakked up. Even if it was just messing with your head, and I don't think it was, that's frakked up on its own, and believe me, I know what it's like to blink and realize you don't know anything about who you are, where you came from, what you are, and whether or not you're about to hurt all the people you love the most. [ he pauses a moment, swallowing dryly, before continuing. ] I think you're on the right track to figuring all that out, but I swear, this is not the place to do it, man. This area's a frakking minefield, for someone like you especially.

I also know you can't just take my word on that, so. Here. [ he wiggles his fingers some, palms outstretched and offered, because physical contact always makes the link much stronger. ]

Dig around all you want, go through whatever you need to to make sure I'm being honest. I won't dig in your head at all, and if I tried, I'm pretty sure Steve'd knock me out cold in a second.

[bracchium]

[The hollow in Bucky's chest grows at Steve's words; he can't remember a single occasion Steve ever had to ask for Bucky's trust. Even in Bucharest, Berlin, and Siberia, Steve hadn't outright asked for it. Bucky thinks he can remember a time or two- when his hair didn't hang in his face, when he didn't smell so goddamn ripe all the time- when he jokingly asked for Steve's, but never the other way around. The gulf between his present self and the past seems wider than ever; he might as well not be 'Bucky' any more. But, if he isn't Bucky, he doesn't know who else he could be. Maybe his memories of a heavy-jawed Steve are broken, too.

Sam moves toward him and Bucky's gaze snaps up. Sam reaches his hands out, fingers wiggling and this feels too much like a trap to ignore. He thinks of Pierce, of being denied his memories, of sitting in that chair with the thrum of the machine behind him. Do your part, soldier. Do your part and we'll do ours, which is lock him away in the dark and cold, take away every piece of him-

Bucky's on his feet in an instant, muscles tensed to strike, to defend.

He doesn't know how to say it- get out, he wants to say, but trying to wrap his mouth around the words is like trying to think backwards- so instead he goes with a deep, furious,] No I don't.

[frakkincylons]

[ welp, that went great.

but that was also the last thing Sam had to offer to gain trust. what more can he do other than give the guy everything in his head? for a moment, he's just watching him from where he is in the chair, with a sad sort of expression on his face. maybe a measure pitying, even if he doesn't mean to be. but it is what it is. there's too much in this guy's head to be reasoned with right now. not by him, at least. sighing, he turns, back facing bucky, to sit backwards in the chair and look to steve instead. ]

I'm sorry, Steve, I tried. [ he tells him with an apologetic smile. ] That's all I got.

[ and since he's not sure he really can trust bucky to take care of him at this point, with wherever his head is, he scoots his chair enough to reach for the bruise on Steve's cheek. ] Hold still a second and try not to be a stubborn shit about it. [ a thumb touches at the bruise, pushing at the bone some, trying to make sure everything's okay underneath it. if it's more than just an irritated flinch steve gives him, that might be cause for concern. ]

If you need us, you know we're not far, right? I'll come check on you again tomorrow.

[ because fuck whatever problem Bucky has with it, Sam's not going to just ignore that his broodmate is out here in danger. ]

[decommission]

[ For a split second he thinks Sam's offer is going to work, his thoughts naturally more attuned to his broodmate than his friend's, perspective askew.

His fist closes, knuckles white and his heart sinking to the floor. Sam's apology gets a short nod - it's fine, he appreciates Sam trying. The touch to his cheek however, that gets a bit of a look, but he doesn't pull away or even wince that much. He's no stranger to having his face busted up, and he can honestly say that he's luckier than the guy that got a face first meeting with the pavement.

He stands, briefly glancing at Bucky before turning to Sam again, jerking his chin at the door. ] I'll walk you out.

[ Down to the station, if that's where he's headed. ]

[bracchium]

[The moment after Bucky's anger has been expressed, his programming buzzes in his head. Calm. Submission. Obedience. It's like an electric shock of sorts, a collar that reins him back in until he's sitting down again. His temples throb with the aftershocks. Sam reaches out for Steve and Bucky's anger threatens to rise again, but it meets the electric fence of the programming.

Steve glances over at him and Bucky meets his gaze for a moment before looking down and away in a clear sign of submission.

A weapon isn't equal. A weapon is silent unless spoken to. A weapon doesn't have feelings.]

[frakkincylons]

[ Whatever's driving Bucky on a completely different rail than the two of them can see, Sam can't figure out in any way any of them are comfortable with. Maybe it would've been the smarter choice to try to force it, for the sake of knowing how to handle this, but that's not something Sam can make himself do. He's been too much at the mercy of other people screwing around with his head to do it to someone else. He's just hoping Steve won't be the one to suffer for it.

He gives a nod, agreeing with Steve's offer to walk him out, and rises, pacing for the door, and ends up facing Bucky again, sitting like a stone guard there. Like he's empty. He really should just go, but Sam's always been bad at keeping his thoughts to himself. ]

You and Steve? You don't know how lucky you are to have each other, here. The two of you are going to be the only thing around to remind each other who you are, when this Nest thing starts to creep too far in. [ He thinks of Kara, how he's been desperately clinging to the memory of her, how he'd inked it into his skin in hopes that would be enough to remind him to never let that part of himself go. But she isn't here, and she isn't going to be. ] I suggest you start trusting him, at least, if no one else. Because he needs you.

[ Ilde'd already voiced concern to him, about Steve taking too much influence from the others in their brood. He isn't weak, by any means, and his will is absurdly strong. But there's only so long you can hold off against a persistent and increasing force. ]

Good luck. [ With that, so long as Bucky moves his butt out of the way of the door, Sam will be exiting. ]

[bracchium]

[Bucky does indeed move his butt out of the way of the door, shifting just far enough out of the way to give them clearance. Sam's words come as an order, fit into the programming and he nods dully, not looking up at either of them. For now, he's back to silence.]

[decommission]

[ Bucky acts like he doesn't hear any of it, shutting down like Steve's seen him do before. Whatever guilt threatens to bubble back to the surface gets pushed back, buried with the rest. They'll try again tomorrow.

He steps outside with Sam, closing the door behind him. He doubts Bucky's going to go anywhere in that state, doesn't attempt even a thin tether to his friend's mind. Better that they only connect when necessary, and even then - he'd rather keep those times limited. ]

Thanks for trying. [ Spoken to Sam once they're back on the street, his eyes set forward as they walk. He didn't want anyone to worry like this. ]

[frakkincylons]

[ Nothing more to do here, and he can't figure Bucky out for the life of him, so back to the station, to head to Bearings it is.

Once he's out on the street again with Steve, he tilts a look down to him, at his thanks. He feels like he'd only made it worse, and he can feel that weight of sorrow in steve as they go. ] Just because I struck out doesn't mean he won't come around with you, Steve.

[ if there's anyone he'll open up to, Sam's figuring it'll be steve. ] What he's going through right now isn't easy, but it's also not your fault, okay? You can't help what you didn't know about, and he can't help what he can't control.

Can't yet, at least. [ if a cylon mind can override programming, a human one can too. ]