here they talked of revolution, here it was they lit the flame

[initiates]

Date: October 1st
Location: The Observatory.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports arrive and are shuffled into the Observatory for the show of the year. Initial briefings are very brief this time around, and that Greeter just won't stop crying.
Warnings: new confused people and old sad people??

Your arrival here has been very unceremonious. One second you were somewhere else, and now, very suddenly, your feet hit the glowing white of the Transporter pad, and you're here. You aren't alone, either. There's a crowd of others around you, each seeming just as bewildered, angry, or confused as you might feel. At the head of the group is a woman in purple robes, with eyes red as if she'd just finished crying. She hurries over a quick overview of your intended purpose here, and gives direct answers when asked for them, but to most things she simply shows you how to access the tablet you've just been given. There, you can find the history of this place and a record of what your new cohorts have experienced — although it won't have Network access for another 8 hours. Someone stands on hand to give you a weapon, and though the armory is now greatly reduced, you should be able to find something to suit you.

You're shepherded down a walkway tunnel and into the Observatory, where you will find screens mounted on three sides of the wide room. The only lighting comes from dull red emergency lights, and the scenes of a dreary, rainy city from various cameras up on the screens; the largest of the screens opens up to a view of Earth from a good distance away -- this one isn't a screen at all, you might realize, but a window. As you watch, all screens in the room fill with light, impossibly bright. It consumes the buildings, the people, everything. There is no sound played, perhaps mercifully, only that white light -- and then nothing.

Through the large window, there's a pinprick of light over one of the landmasses on the blue planet. It grows to a tiny blossom and then dies away, but a cloud begins to mushroom outward in the same spot. It pushes the natural clouds out of the way, claiming that small portion of the world and wrapping it in a uniform gray.

Strings of numbers begin to fill the blanked out screens as the base's AI begins collecting data and calculations, but the show seems to be over. You're free to explore the base, visit and use any of the VR rooms, or discover your new room and roommates, but try not to step out of any airlocks if oxygen is a requirement for your system.

Welcome to the moon base, with front row seats to the grave of Exsilium.

[[ooc; reminder! The Network will be down for 8 hours after the wave of new Transports.]]

Comments

[matre]

There are more now. The monthly wave of new recruits continued despite--everything.

[ the little pause hints that she was thinking of a different term. her impression of the initiative, already negative, has not seen any improvement with recent events. ]

[alittlesweptup]

Has anyone done an official headcount? [Logically he knows there hasn't been time for that unless the AI is running a database as people step off the transport pad. It's a number the Initiative probably has but--

Charlie pinches the bridge of his nose.] Nevermind. Are we alright up here? I mean, is the station alright? I've barely heard of the damned thing before now and here we all all living in it. [She probably doesn't know, given the Initiative's tight lipped nature. Doesn't keep him from grasping at straws as they go.]

[totallytrustworthy]

My vote is no. [Knowing the Initiative's talent for getting the lot of them into trouble, she imagines the bloody thing will fall off and float into space or whatever these stations wind up doing in movies.]

[matre]

You would be right. [ she nods to chloe. ] Only some rooms are equipped for habitation. Much of it is in disrepair. Workers are sought to help fix what can be fixed and rebuild what must be rebuilt.

[alittlesweptup]

Lovely. [Said like 'Shit.'] So knowing how plans tend to go here, we'll be spaced within the week.

[totallytrustworthy]

Or worse. [Things could always get worse. Never forget that.]

[matre]

[ vanozza aims a sharper look at both. ]

I would hope not.

[alittlesweptup]

Yeah, well. [He'd been hoping to get some kind of aloe vera when they got back to the island and look how that turned out.

All things considered, it's a short walk from the Observatory to the Cafeteria. They're not the only ones to have made it either, the higher ceiling throwing any noise back down at them.]

[totallytrustworthy]

Hope doesn't amount to much in a place like this. [Or at least not when they're stuck in it with someone else at the helm.]

[matre]

Nonetheless, such talk is fruitless. Let us rather focus on what can be done. Like finding something here.

[alittlesweptup]

[Fair enough - though only because there's a certain level of pragmatism there as opposed to optimism. Christ, if someone was telling him to look on the bright side right now, he'd probably be forced to strangle them.

Charlie makes a vague motion to what looks like the kitchens (space kitchens!!) at the back of the cafeteria.]

Might as well start in the obvious place.

[totallytrustworthy]

Fair enough. [Immediate goals are good. Better than simmering in cynicism for a good long while. Chloe cuts a lazy path through conscripts and cafeteria tables, angling in on a set of doors likely leading to the back of the kitchen.]

[matre]

[ she follows behind them, quietly now. ]

[alittlesweptup]

[Charlie's more than happy to let her lead the way. The line of Chloe's shoulders makes a good point to focus on with the noise reverberating in the cafeteria, the harsh overhead lighting. Once instead the kitchen, it's quiet and empty enough that he's alright to shear off and start rummaging through cabinets.]

[totallytrustworthy]

So you're a...what, duchess? [She could be more flattering: go for queen or something similarly lofty, but she's not so ignorant to think the dress screams royalty. Or at least royalty of a different sort.

After all, cars and engine grease and the grit of a ruin-littered rainforest might be her passions, she just still has a few more personal hobbies that she doesn't often let come to light.]

[matre]

[ she stifles a quick laugh. ]

Only a Donna if you wish to call me such.

[ only the woman with sway over the successor to saint peter. ]

[totallytrustworthy]

Ohhh. [Chloe ducks in under a set of cabinets and finds herself moderately relieved that there's no such thing as space spiders. Moon spiders. Whatever. The bloody thing's empty.] Nothing 'only' about that, if you ask me.

Shame they dragged you here. [Shame about a lot of things, really.]