station72 | [MISSION LOG] BRAVE NEW WORLD

[MISSION LOG] BRAVE NEW WORLD

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 )

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[ The urge to hide in his room is incredibly prevalent. Bellamy won't give Lexa the satisfaction (he isn't sure she'd be able to tell, but he's not taking the chance) but being out in the common area, even for something as menial as attempting to puzzle out the kitchen, is the last thing he wants to be doing. There's too many intruding thoughts flickering through his head, and he can't stop turning over and over the lingering scorch of Lexa's anger, as if constant examination would take the sting out it.

He's not prepared for Rhys. But then again, Bellamy probably wouldn't ever have been prepared for Rhys and the bluntness of his introduction. Hanging's probably not the best overture, considering Bellamy's history. He doesn't exactly understand the overture Rhys is making. This doesn't feel exactly like sympathy, but Bellamy's not the best person to be defining that. ]

We're from the same place, [ He volunteers carefully, because he's already given up on trying to keep certain things to himself. ] I've met her before.

[ Understatement of the century. His eyes flick over Rhys's mimed simulation, and crosses his arms. There isn't any immediate need to get defensive, but he might as well be prepared in case this conversation goes south too. ]

How long have you known her?

[ Trying to wheedle out a bit of a time frame here, figure out how long Lexa's been in attendance. Maybe try to figure out whether or not this actually is the afterlife without asking Lexa directly, you know. Casual things like that. ]

[ #casual

Tracing out numbers and pluses and equal signs in the air: ]

This is the... eighth? Day we've been here. And before that, there was... okay, so carry the one— [ He scrunches up his face, looking displeased with his imaginary numbers. Finally, he stops, shaking his head. ] Time here isn't super easy to keep track of. A few weeks, probably?

[ Keeping track of the days hasn't been on the top of his priority list, anyway. Learning how to turn down Nest Radio has been close to the top, but he clearly hasn't honed his skills, not if things like this are happening without warning. ]

Me and her are from the same [ air quotes ] brood... thing. So I kind of saw your face earlier today. [ A pause. ] Don't tell her I told you that.

[ Oh. ] Also, hi, welcome to the group.

[ What Bellamy can surmise is that this man is tied to Lexa the way Bellamy is tied to Clint, to the Darkling. It explains, but it doesn't quell Bellamy's unease at the revelation that he'd seen Bellamy's face already. ]

Thanks. [ He says finally, guarded. ] I'll try to keep that to myself.

[ He can't control his thoughts. Not well enough to promise any kind of secrecy, even from Lexa. The ramifications of that fact get harder and harder to ignore. He's got plenty rattling around his head that he has no interest in sharing, let alone explaining, but it's looking less and less possible. ]

Is it always like this?

[ Bellamy taps a finger to his temple. He doesn't know what kind of answer he's hoping for. An affirmative, in which case he'll just have to get used to this, or a negative, in which case he'll have to square with his own lack of aptitude for walling off his thoughts. ]

[ Funny he'd mention that. It's something Rhys had asked when he first arrived, and probably what those who came before him asked, too. ]

The mind thing? [ Popping the 'P': ] Yeppp.

[ He's been practicing blocking out the Nest with the technique Angel showed him, but it's easier said than done. Things remain mostly the same, and he hears too much, shows too much, ignores too little. He avoids any sort of extra mental connection at all costs — only when it's forced on him, like with Lexa, does he acknowledge it. Otherwise, he subscribes to the belief that "if you ignore it enough, it'll go away." ]

Some people are gonna tell you to learn how to use it, or accept it, or whatever. But trust me, I know, it's weird. Has anyone tried to talk to you telepathically yet?

[ Ignore the problem until it goes away, aka how Bellamy attempts to solve all his emotional turmoil. Surely it would work for unwanted mental connections, right?

Though he's very visibly taken aback by what Rhys is proposing. The level of connection Bellamy presumes is involved in mind-to-mind communication seems more invasive than he's prepared to deal with. He hasn't been doing the best job of things so far when it comes to walling himself off, and he's already picking up more than he's intended to when even conversing with other members of their nest, but someone inserting words directly into his mind?

That's more than he was bargaining for, even if it feels inevitable after the fact. ]

No, [ Bellamy says, after a shocked pause. ] No one's done that yet. Should I be expecting it?

[ Aka how often does that happen and how much should he be prepared to hate it on a scale of one to ten? ]

You are in for a treat. By which I mean you're not in for a treat at all, it sucks.

[ He'd have said it via mental link just to be annoying, but he's terrible enough at filtering the shit that comes out his mouth, much less what comes from his brain. He's only talked to one person mentally, and even then, it was more a stream of consciousness than actual coherent words. ]

Just wait, someone'll probably try it on you soon enough. I've just sort of been. Pointedly ignoring it.

[ It's just as well. Bellamy's already realized he has a bad habit of bleeding thoughts, snagging and holding when he means to withdraw. It had made his discussion with Lexa more intimate than he'd ever intended it to be. ]

That's an option?

[ Or maybe it was, just not for Bellamy. Not until he'd learned some control. That realization is incredibly unwelcome, but Bellamy's already resigned himself to it. He's not disciplined enough to manage some of the things that come easily to his broodmates, let alone to the rest of the nest. ]

Seems like someone talking directly into your mind wouldn't be easy to ignore. [ A beat, then he adds: ] I haven't been able to block out very much since I got here.

[ Falteringly: ] I mean, it's an option. I'm not saying it works, but it's definitely an option.

[ It's ineffective, mostly, but at least it makes him feel like he's doing something. They say it's better to steer into the skid, to get used to it and learn how to control it, but he's never been a "steer into the skid" kind of guy. He keeps going until the car spins out. ]

Someone can probably help you learn how to do it? Not me. [ Since he can barely do it himself. ] But someone. Angel said to focus on it and imagine you're turning down a radio. A really annoying radio.

[ Someone. Bellamy doesn't know who to even begin to turn to right now. In the wake of his discussion with Lexa, he sort of just wants to go into his claimed room, pull the blankets over his head and sleep for a thousand years, pray that when he wakes this newfound ability will have become more manageable. It's a bad plan, but that seems to be the only kind Bellamy's good for these days. ]

Who's Angel?

[ Maybe an option? The visual of a radio is helpful, though Bellamy's not going to try anything in front of Rhys. Lack of visible audience might help him here. ]

Is she...connected to you?

[ The way he's linked to the Darkling, and to Clint. It's more intense than what he'd felt with Lexa, or what he feels now, in the midst of this conversation with Rhys. ]

Uh... no? In whatever way you mean that, no.

[ Jesus, Bellamy, you don't have to dance around it. He's fairly sure Bellamy is referring to the broods, though, and they certainly have no connection that way. They've got more than a few past experiences in common, but nothing hivemind-y. ]

She's just this girl here. She has tattoos?

[ Very descriptive. ]

She helped me when I first came here, that's it. [ He hasn't spoken to her since, but he wouldn't want to speak to himself if he were Angel, either. ] Maybe she can help you, too? Or you can just stick your fingers in your ears and say lalalalala all the time.

[ A girl with tattoos. Bellamy gives a bitter chuckle, because doesn't that practically describe Lexa? But he can't turn down the idea that there's someone here who could help him.

He can't ask Lexa for help. Whatever momentary truce they've forged, Bellamy can't rock the boat by asking her to teach him, and more to the point, he can't admit his own weakness and inadequacy to her. She had to know already, but the fact that his struggles are completely obvious doesn't mean he's eager to admit them aloud. ]

So if I asked her, she'd be open to it? [ Bellamy presses, unable to completely disregard his own suspicion. ] Because I don't want to go around with my fingers in my ears.

[ It sounded like a good way to get someone to punch him in the face. Maybe. ]

Possibly?

[ It isn't an answer that inspires much confidence, but then again, Rhys in general doesn't seem to. His motivational speeches are more "What team? Wildcats!" than anything else. ]

Weeee sort of had special circumstances going on? [ He gestures vaguely. God knows what it's actually supposed to mean. ] So I'm not sure if she always does that or if she was just doing it because I knew some stuff she wanted to know. Not that I forced her into helping me for info, or whatever. But she might have just wanted to do something in return.

[ It's a long-winded way of saying, "I don't fucking know, ask her yourself???" You're a big boy, Bellamy. You can do it. ]

If she can't do it, you could always ask Lexa. [ Bitterly: ] She's always telling people what to do. Even when they didn't ask for it. Especially when they didn't ask for it!

[ Is that hand gesture supposed to mean something to him? Bellamy frowns in answer, disapproval becoming more pronounced when Rhys suggests Lexa. No, Bellamy wasn't going to ask her for help controlling his thoughts. He'd already revealed too much to her on accident. The vulnerability Bellamy suspects is involved in that sort of training isn't something he could undertake with Lexa. ]

I'm not going to ask Lexa. [ That's probably obvious. ] You don't have to do everything she tells you.

[ It's a very lame follow up, mostly because Bellamy's concerned that if he commiserates meaningfully he'll accidentally reveal too much. And whatever misgivings he has about Lexa, they have a strange, tense truce. Bellamy isn't sure where the boundaries of it lie, but it probably excludes him from complaining too much to semi-strangers. ]

She's not always right.

[ Though Bellamy sounds more tired than anything else when he says that. There's no victory or righteousness to be had here. Lexa was dead and the world was in shambles. None of them had focused on the right enemy. They'd all been wrong. ]

Oh, no, I know. Trust me, I know.

[ He'd rather say, "She's never ever right EVER," but he won't get too fussed over it. Right now, anyway. He shakes his head and puts up his hands as if to stop Bellamy. ]

No, she's the worst.

[ To make his dislike as clear as possible. Just so there aren't any misunderstandings here. Still, despite their antagonism towards each other, he's inside her mind whether he likes it or not, so he's got a little information here. ]

I mean, obviously, she doesn't like you. Really doesn't like you. I mean, I hated you for a second there, and I hadn't even met you. It was just— [ He realizes he's going off topic and stops, although he could go on. And on. And on. ] Anyway. She might still show you, just to show off how much more she knows than you. I don't know. Just an option. If you can convince someone else to show you, go for it.

[ They're all weirdos and assholes, though, for the most part. ]

She's done all the favors for me that she's going to do.

[ If promising him his life and her protection could be counted as a simple favor. It's more than that. It makes Bellamy uncomfortable to have garnered that kind of devotion from Lexa, but he doesn't want to share that with Rhys. ]

It was just what?

[ That overwhelming? Did emotions bleed over like that? Did Rhys know why he hated Bellamy or was it just blind hate filtering into his thoughts? Bellamy's momentarily worried about it. He's only briefly met his broodmates, but he's already experienced enough of their shared emotional link to be concerned about it coloring his own unduly. The strength of belonging he'd felt when he awoke was unsettling enough. Realizing the scope of it visibly unnerved him. ]

Oh. Um.

[ It's very awkward to have to explain to someone how you randomly felt intense anger towards them for a moment, despite never having met them then. It's all Lexa's fault. If she stuck with her robot-who-doesn't-understand-human-emotions thing, this would never have been a problem. He gestures as he speaks, not really communicating much at all with them. ]

Well. Okay. It was like— I saw your face? In my mind? [ Ugh, that sounds weird. ] And a crapton of anger. Like you'd done something bad.

[ He doesn't necessarily trust Lexa's judgment, so "bad" is relative. ]

It was over really quickly, but. Yeah. Pretty intense while it lasted.

[ It's not unsurprising. Bellamy treats it as more of a confirmation, something to weigh against his preconceived notions that Lexa couldn't possible feel anything so deeply. He knows better. He's felt it, but it still takes him time to shake off his ingrained assessment of her. ]

I did, [ Bellamy says simply, but doesn't verbally elaborate. There's flickers in his mind, gunfire and battlefields and the sickening clutch of guilt, but Bellamy won't put any of that into words. ] But so did she.

[ Not that any of that comes even close to summing up the complicated nature of their relationship. It's only gotten more tangled now, and Bellamy's despaired of a straightforward way to resolve things between them. ]

Why shouldn't I tell her you saw my face? Wouldn't she know that?

[ She tends to know things, even when she isn't told. It's annoying. ]

Ha. Probably.

[ She knows everything, or at least thinks she does. (Which is probably where half of their conflict comes from, considering he acts like he knows everything, too.) It's less her knowing he saw it and more her knowing he went blabbing about her inner thoughts. He's guessing she keeps those pretty lock and key. They're brood, and still, he's only gotten glimpses. ]

I don't care about that. It's more... don't tell her I told you? I feel like she'd be pissed.

[ When isn't she pissed. ]

I'll try not to.

[ It's an easy promise to keep if they were only dealing with what Bellamy could say. What he thinks is a whole other barrel of worms. His inability to keep his thoughts locked down could end up shooting them both in the foot. ]

Thanks. For the information.

[ Even if Rhys hadn't managed to give Bellamy any way to help in the immediate, he'd given him the name of someone who might. It's more than he'd had coming into this conversation. ]

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[MISSION LOG] BRAVE NEW WORLD

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