[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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Comments

[circumspector]

[ She's still eyes up, watching him as much as she can. She trusts him, and she trusts the scientists that did it so far as Jack would have throttled them if they had compromised her in any way. But he was still poking around inside her head effectively, and it always paid to be cautious where the squishy brain stuff was concerned. A hum that he'd found the one she wanted, rather than moving too much ] That one, yes.

[ Stays put as she goes on. ] Just stuck right on there. They had to take out the panels altogether to demagnetize them. It's an upshoot of my powers when I was still... trying to get in control of them. They'd do a lot of things I didn't mean to.

[decommission]

[ He goes quiet for a tense minute, makes sure the tweezers have a good grip before pulling on the chip - trying not to think of this as anything like brain surgery while still being careful about what he's doing. With it removed he holds it out to her from between the tweezers, not sure about touching it with his hands. ]

There aren't many people with powers like that? [ From the way she talks about it - he's still not sure if it was something done to her, or something she was born with. ]

[circumspector]

[ Her hand settles in her lap, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. Plucking at the threads in idle thought. ] No, not at all. Only six of us in fact. All women. Another one isn't born until one of us dies.

[ she shrugs, as if -- she didn't make the rules, that's just how it was, and it was just as simple as that so far as she understood it. She didn't ask for the markings, the abilities, whatever it was that picked this out at such seeming random, decided it would be her, and that she would be the daughter of Handsome Jack. ] They call us sirens. After the old stories... [ shrugs. stories from his earth, that the galaxy had long since forgotten, mostly, save that the names hung around on everything.

But obediently when she sees the chip come free, she holds up her hand to take it. It's small and light weighs barely anything considering how important it was sometimes. Gently setting it out on the cloth she had laid for it. ] Okay, ready for the next bit?

[decommission]

The Odyssey. [ Part women, part bird with the power of hypnotic voices. He knows the story, Odysseus tied to the mast.

With the tweezers still in hand he gives a nod. ]

Ready.

[circumspector]

[ A nod, and then she continues. ]

Okay, so where the chip was, beside it, you'll see a wire? With the tweezers, I need you to very carefully lift it up and with this here -- [ her hand reaches to tap the table where she's laid out a cotton swab that appears to have some kind of grease of all things on it. No different apparently to any other piece of machinery. ] underneath. Then work out from there, anywhere that looks exposed just dab it over and around. It's to stop the wires rusting, so thicker the coating, the better.

[ She leaves him to get started, then carries on where she'd left off. ] But yes, from the Odyssey. Though, we don't really draw people to us by singing. I think I sing miserably. Mostly it's them uhm, the wings? That we sometimes get. The part woman, part bird thing. [ another, sheepish giggle. It sounds silly, out loud. ] Well sometimes it happens. Psychos... well, when they go insane, and it's a bit complicated why, but they seem drawn to us. Or the others, that I saw. They had to deal with the bandits worshipping them, they call them goddess, or scream things at them like: [ clears her throat for her best bandit impression, not that it sounds even the least bit intimidating. ] "Will you marrow me?"

[ Which probably isn't funny, but like there's anything else funny to laugh at on Pandora anyway really. ] Granted, sometimes when they get set on fire they also scream that they smell delicious, so it's probably not worth reading too much into really.

[decommission]

[ This might be - by far, one of the strangest things he's done since coming to the station. With the cotton clipped between the tweezers he tries to keep on thinking of this as simple maintenance work, eyes locked on the bits of wires and metal. Someone else had decided she needed this.

He listens to her as he works, determined to act like this is normal enough if she's going to do the same, leaving most of the talking and explaining to her - even as it starts to get increasingly morbid. Par for the course when she's talking about Pandora, he's found. A hellscape straight out of Dante's nightmares, if you replaced demons with aliens. ]

Wings? [ She glows, that much he's seen. ]

[circumspector]

[ She appreciates it really, it's hard - hard to talk about Pandora. Or rather she's comfortable, she knows she is not better than anyone else that comes from it at baseline. She is shaped by its deserts, its frozen wastelands, it green hills, as anyone else is and it's perchance to kill or make horrific everyone that went there. But she knew that it wasn't exactly something light hearted for others to listen to, and she did her best, as she told Rhys, to keep it out of her thoughts and to herself. It is nice though to just talk about it like normal, like her life was something normal.

Especially her wings - it was silly, they hadn't come for a good reason, testament to power more than anything else. But when she speaks of it, the feeling comes to mind and it is pure - not that it is holy, but it is absolute, with no other sensation around it. In a haze, she remembers the first time her body had lifted off the ground. She had felt like something else that day, far off and distant, not because of the disassociation of solitude, but she felt like lightness itself, without form, her matter -- separating out like a substance defusing in water. She was past pain, past torment, at peace in that second like she could feel everything that came before and after and in that, that is where it is pure. For that one, one second, there was nothing else but that sensation.

And it floods across the mental link, a lurching second like there is no ground underneath them, and she doesn't break her posture, but she presses her toes down into the ground, arching her foot up to feel the pressure of the solid world under her feet. Uses it as an anchor, shuts the emotion and the memory down. ]

Yeah, wings. [ breathy for a second, swallowing on a dry throat. Tangibility. Solidness, she is still perfectly sat, back straight, but reflexively she brings up the images of the others in her mind. Letting him take the embellishment of her memories and observations to add colour. ] Energy, though, not feathers. The same kind that I use when I do -- well what I do. All our markings and eyes glow different colours, so -- I glow white and my wings match it. Cliche, right? [ she knows it's all completely ridiculous sounding. ] But Lilith, they call her the Firehawk, firey orange and red really seems to be her colour. She's also very gifted with fire manipulation too. [ Shrugs, slightly, and that comes with a particularly detailed image, of someone like her but not at all. All arrogance and power and destruction. ]

[decommission]

[ She'll know the moment the sensation hits him through the link, a flicker of surprise and his hand stops mid-motion, lips parting to take in a short breath. He swallows in time with her, accidentally in sync with her for the briefest moment. ]

They're beautiful. [ Red or white or any color. The surface of his skin heats, and he lets out a breath through his nose. ] Yours do something different?

[ She'd mentioned something like that, back when they first meant. Said she'd show it to him sometimes. He's stuck for a moment on the images of the red woman.

Not all angels are heralds. ]

[circumspector]

[ She peers up at him in the mirror, curious for a moment and - oh, there's a redness to her face. It was different to when Nathaniel said things to her, but she found she liked it all the same. Beautiful. She never thought of her powers like that very much.

It was... nice. Her eyes lower again, smiling to herself. Almost goes to nod except she's to keep still so instead she smoothes her fingers against her leg, calming herself off the high. ]

Very, very different. We all do separate things. It can be explosive, too, most of the sirens I've seen have adapted theirs for combat. They call them siren warriors. People are terrified of them. I've... had accidents too. [ The first research team, the first taste of eridium. Sirens, sirens are all burning. There had just been ashes and smears of blood left. She is not a warrior though, but just as destructive. ] Lilith... [ gives name to the figure. ] She calls it her Phasewalk. Maya, another siren, has something called a Phaselock.

[ Another smoothed out gesture, setting the material of her clothes straight, straight, straight. Adjusting the silly mess of beaded bracelets and flat sparkling stones. ] Mine is called the Phaseshift. Essentially I can... control and manipulate realities as I chose to. Like what you've seen me do with machines, I do that all with my mind, but I can change environments when and where I want to.