[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.))

NAVIGATION • SETTING • FAQ • MOD CONTACT • GLOSSARY

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

[vocalis]

[ The buzzing continues, muffled, but it's still there. Some effort he made to cut it out. Aoba frowns to one side, raises one brow, unsatisfied. He's doing his best to keep his growing headache out of Nirad's mind, so why can't he do the same with his weird mental noise? ]

It is annoying.

[ He glances at the driving android too, wondering briefly if their conversation is being recorded like everything else in this world. It probably isn't making much sense, so he drops it. Out loud, anyway.

He leans back in his seat, arms folded over his chest, and focuses on the passing shapes and lights beyond the window. Mentally, his attention is still on Nirad. He reaches out to brush against the other host, just barely, an unasked question hovering silently between them. ]

[nirsighted]

[He's trying, just... maybe not as hard as he could. There are ways to block himself off totally from little baby host minds, to section himself off but it feels like crawling into a hole and burying himself. It feels like a... what's the word? Ilan had used it sometimes. Coffin. It feels like being put into a coffin. Like breaching the surface of the water and finding he's still being made to hold his breath.

Still, he tries to collect himself. Locks down all the little pieces of his brain and tries to focus on keeping the subtle vibration to a minimum. Nirad stares through the front windscreen of the transport van, at the blinking lights of Concordia, at the street signs and host of unseeing people and he tries not to be annoying.

Or does until that little sliver of curiosity finds him. The new host's exploration is clumsy - less like an itch at the back of his brain and more like a hand clapping down on his shoulder. He starts. The hum kicks back up: HUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM.

Only it's not just noise. The vibrations are: sporadic thoughts. A trickle of images. The backs of Nirad's out hands as if viewing them from his perspective. What he ate for lunch. What Carata looks like. A note of someone laughing. A deep, low pressure like loneliness or deep water. Water-- he misses the sea, he thinks.]

[vocalis]

[ Speckles on skin. A smiling girl. Something that smells quick and cheaply made. The pressure of deep water, a rush of waves. It all comes washing over Aoba's senses in a matter of seconds. From his lonely spot in the back of the van, a whisper that isn't quite the same Aoba escapes him- ]

I miss the sea too.

[ Aoba jolts back. Mentally he retreats from Nirad's space, receding into his own as much as he can as quickly as he can. Physically, he's so startled he jumps halfway into the empty seat beside him. Has to hold onto one of the railings to keep rooted. ]

I... e-excuse me-

[ It's a flustered apology, but there's something more formal and regrettable about it than can be said for whatever mechanism is translating between them. He's suddenly being a lot less of a whiny brat, anyway. His headache is worsening quickly because of all he suddenly felt coming from his senior host. And because he felt it while so briefly connected- ]

I didn't know... you can't help it, can you?

[ The constant stream of thought. The images, the tumultuous shifting of memory. The humming. Like how he can't help the headaches, or keep them from spreading.

Like that low pressure of loneliness came over the both of them, regret rolls over and weighs down on Aoba. His annoyance and anger is quickly redirected at himself. What was he thinking? Stupid. He pockets the rattling bottle of pills and glares down at the steel flooring. ]

I'm sorry.

[nirsighted]

[The mental tug of Aoba retreating feels like being dragged around by a leash. For a moment him mind balks, braces for the immediate jerk, but afterwards there's no where to go but to follow: the hum of his mind following along to take up the mental slack Aoba's reticent mind leaves behind. A boat floating on top of the water: the tide comes in, the tide rolls out. The little dingy's buoyancy is more or less the same in relation to its place in the water.

Never mind the pressure behind his eyes, the dull clunky pain that filters off Aoba to him. Headaches, Nirad thinks. Oh, someone should fix that.]

It's fine. [He squirms in his seat, talking without looking back at Aoba; his eye line remains fixed on the city beyond the van's tinted windows.] It's good to be seen. The company is nice.

[vocalis]

[ He chances a glance up towards Nirad at the front of the van, one hand on his forehead. His fingers feel heavy and cold against his own skin, and there's a cloudy feeling of misunderstanding. ]

What do you mean?

[ He'd just been... well, an asshole. Hardly good company. Too straightforward as ever, rude without thinking or meaning to be. Still unused to Ren not being there to remind him to check his temper and hold back.

Belatedly, he feels Nirad still floating there in his thoughts, the humming disguising him like a fog of noise. He seems harmless enough, so Aoba doesn't push back just yet, afraid of making the pain now leaking between them worse.

Instead of focusing on the pressure, he tries to recall the thing they seem to have in common: memories of the ocean. The sun dipping over silver waves, the feeling of sand between toes, cool and damp. Soft clouds of pink and yellow, pretty like spun sugar. A man's low voice telling him about the world as the sun dips lower over the horizon, his hair as red and bright as the colors cast over the sky-

No... wait. That last one wasn't meant to slip in. He must be more tired from travel than he thought. ]

[nirsighted]

[They're good thoughts anyway, familiar shapes even where the details differ. Honestly, it wouldn't really matter if they were uncommon or strange - if the young man in the transport van were from some place as alien to Nirad as this city. Just knowing them is pleasant. Comfortable. Better, maybe, for the fact that they are similar to his own. The sky, brilliantly striped with red; he and his twin brother trudging through the shallows as they bring in their small boat. Narin talks freely. Coupled with the gurgle of the surf, it's a rolling sound pleasant to the ear. It makes the dull reverberating pulse of the headache an easier thing to bear anyway, the memories tinged both warm and bittersweet.

Nirad seems to think nothing of it. He talks as if the traded images are done subconsciously.]

It's been just me and Carata. It gets quiet and no one talks to me.

[vocalis]

[ Their memories blend well. Swirling skies and the smell of salt, cool water on skin, a sense of family, belonging. Watching the colors play behind his eyes is almost as soothing as the real thing...

But the contrast outside of his head is sharp, and reality hits Aoba hard when Nirad speaks again. He looks up, expression mildly horrified by what he hears. ]

Just you and-?

[ He remembers hearing the name, but he hasn't met Carata yet. Expects he will soon, once they get to where they're going. It doesn't take much for him to put together that they must be broodmates, with words like that.

It gets quiet.

Aoba has only been part of the nest for a matter of days, but he understands. Or at least he thinks he does, because of Parker, of Romy. He can't reach them anymore. He barely knew them, but the spaces the left behind ache as much as his headaches. Empty, lonely.

The van keeps driving along, but Aoba pulls himself up to standing. Carefully he walks up the aisle, hanging onto the backs of seats to keep his balance. He reseats himself in the open seat across from Nirad, closer but still spaced out enough to not be too invasive. The humming seems louder here, or maybe that's just his imagination. To combat the irritation it's causing, he takes out his pills again and doesn't hesitate to dry swallow two this time. ]

I'll talk with you sometime... if you like. Just give me a heads up, so I can take some medicine first.

[ It'd be worth using up the pills for. ]

[nirsighted]

[He can feel that low pang, that vague sentiment of something missing and that fits in well enough too: a similar emptiness, a matching series of minor and major amputations. That Aoba doesn't quite understand isn't really important. There's something nice enough about sharing even the sad parts that makes the uneven ones more tolerable for a handful of minutes.

Nirad draws his attention from the passing street blocks and flashing city lights,, glancing back to Aoba as he moves up into the nearby seat. There's a flick of a glance for the pill bottle, but it's really nothing more than noting it's presence. Anyway, there are better things to be occupied with.

He laughs, a shy bewildered sound at the offer, then glances away. He adjusts the seat belt across his chest and tugs the zipper of his coat a little higher. There's embarrassment there, but also a thudding kind of delight.]

Sure all right.

[vocalis]

[ He also feels that thudding delight over the connection. Pounding that resonates in his chest rather than his head, warm instead of painful. But is this feeling his? Perhaps partly, but no, that wouldn't make sense. Because for Aoba it's closer to a flutter. Like butterfly wings in summer, but not quite as gentle. Faster, like a hummingbird in flight. Or maybe that's just the buzzing.

Yeah, it's probably just that annoying buzzing. It's what's making his face grow hot too, probably. He sinks a little further in his new seat and looks out the window at the passing lights, hoping Nirard will continue to do the same for the rest of the trip to Bearings. ]

[nirsighted]

[He can feel some of that hope, that flash pan spark of embarrassment burning hotter thanks to the fact that it's a kind of... mutual mortification. Luckily for them both, Nirad keeps his attention pinned to the city as it passes. Less fortunate: he makes no effort to control the vibrating, trembling mental attentiveness. He's not expressly extending his mind to Aoba's, not with the edge of the headache settled between them, but there's the definite sensation of being poised to do so for the length of the drive to Bearings.

You know. Just in case.]