(OPEN | Mutiny Log) Well it's been so long

[alittlesweptup]

Date & Time: Nov. 16 ~0300 through Nov.19th ~0230hrs, 3133
Location: Housing, Cafeteria, VR rooms, hallways etc (read: everywhere)
Characters: YOU!
Summary: Mutiny on the moon base! Vital systems are offline, mutineers are making PA announcements, and there’s conflict and turmoil brewing in the halls. Dun dun duuun!
Warnings: None yet (possible violence?)
Notes: Specify a date and location in your top comment. You may specify multiple dates/locations. A timeline for the plot and the IC PA announcements made during are available HERE.

[In the dead of night - or as close to ‘the dead of night’ as is possible to have in moon base - a small group of transports finally make the move they’ve been planning for weeks. Pre-determined teams, maintaining radio contact throughout, simultaneously take control of the Transporter Room and take multiple systems offline.

One moment things are normal; they next, they’re not. With a last message flagged as ‘maintenance’ left on the network, the network cuts out. A moment later, Transports across the base find themselves losing contact with the ground or shifting in their sleep and gently floating out of their beds from the force as the gravity drops. Lighting flicks over to emergency only: bathing corridors and rooms in a desolate, lonely red. Doors work - and then they don’t. Transports will find themselves confined to housing (and washrooms), the VR rooms, and the cafeteria; it’s plenty of space to be comfortable and largely covers most Transport’s basic needs (unless you’re fond of cheery light or having your feet on the ground in which case you may be out of luck).

Hours later-- Click-HHHSSSHK-click!

A woman’s voice speaks over the moon base’s PA system, echoing through the dark corridors and off the odds and ends gently floating through them thanks to the lack of gravity regulation. The voice is rich and accented, with a certain practiced ease to it - one that sharpens to a point the longer she talks:]

Testing. Testing-- are we good? Christ, I'm not echoing, am I? No?

All right good. Listen up, fellow transports. As you might have noticed, some of the base's general systems have gone offline: this, I assure you, is absolutely intentional. There's no need to panic.

So moving on from the understandably frustrating to the even more frustrating, I'm sure you all have also noticed the fact that we're currently all stuck-- starving and defenseless-- on the bloody moon. In a base that was, up until a few days ago, overrun with zombies. And before that, thousands of lives were bombed right out of existence, and before that, an entire world-- and before that we were all still being thrown at the United Earth for the sake of dying off repeatedly in a war we never stood a chance or had a say in. Transports have been treated like pawns since day one, and I'm sorry, but we don't deserve it.

If we're giving up our lives and our freedom, I'd say it's about time we earned ourselves a little equality.

We deserve a say in what goes on in this fight, and with that in mind, a few of us have decided to hold onto the transporter for a while. Just until the Initiative agrees to treat us like people instead of ammunition. Trust me, we’re not here to hurt anyone; none of this has to end badly. But it does need to end. Things have got to change. And if this is what it takes? This is what it’s going to be.

We need your help; please don’t make it any harder for us.

[The PA clicks off, pitching the base once more into complete radio silence.

Near the end of the first day, gravity regulation is re-established. The network is brought back online the following day, allowing everyone to communicate more freely. Lighting doesn’t come back online until the 18th and the door regulation isn’t normalized or operable until the 19th. Throughout the four days, the mutineers make multiple PA announcements.

In the mean time? Keep your friends close, come to the aid of your neighbors; help with reconnaissance and choose sides - are you neutral in this mess? Are you trying to help bring systems back online and root out the mutineers? Are you sympathetic to the mutiny and trying to sabotage those Transports standing for the Initiative?]

Comments

[hyanaimne]

[Tempest will leave chit chat with the Initiative employees to someone else. Once the doors are locked and secured, Tempest breaks away from the group without a word.

She starts there, then follows the perimeter of the the Transporter room, touching the wall every now and then and muttering to herself under her breath in Elven. While she could participate in sassy and snarky conversation, setting up her spell takes far more of her concentration than the ones she usually tosses out, and she'd rather not fuck this up]

[totallytrustworthy]

[And with the rest of it on lockdown (Charlie at door B while Tess and Seviilia keep watch of A; Tempest doing her...business all about them) Chloe shrugs a heavy pack from her shoulders, drops it to the floor (gun still in hand ) and begins the lengthy process of unpacking carefully folded space blankets, first aid kids, food packets and the like. Her eyes stay mostly set on the Initiative staff as she goes-- momentary breaks to organize supplies a given-- but she trusts Charlie and the others to manage the rest well enough.]

So...[Jesus Christ, someone break the obscenely glacial ice here.]

[the_array_team]

[Vennett doesn't bother keeping his hands down. There's nothing to fight WITH in there outside of Lowell's tools... and those are out of HIS immediate reach. Instead he picks up his mug and takes another long drink of coffee, watching Tempest cast some sort of magic, likely a perimeter.]

So. [He answers. The smile is humorless.] What'd those fuckshits at the UE offer you?

[miscreant]

Don't you think that if we were allied with the United Earth, we would have killed you by this moment?

[The elf at the point of door A frowns, rolling her head backwards to look at Vennett with half-lidded eyes.]

Has it perhaps occurred to you that you have soldiers in your midst who do not care for the way either of you handle things? Or do you always stare denial so stiffly in the eyes? That's quite a talent.

[Seviilia half-turns, somehow miraculously leaving her axes strapped to her back. She'd really like to rip them off and give him a reason to mouth off, though.]

[skennen]

[Connor is an especially quiet and composed presence among his fellow mutineers. Chloe's question receives only a small nod for an answer, but his eyes are focused on the door ahead of them. He's ready all right. He can't imagine being more ready for this.

A moment later, they're moving into the transporter room.

The transporter room occupied by Initiative members.

Oh.

Wasn't the room supposed to be empty? This is probably an important detail they should have been aware of. There's no time to mull it over, though. Connor starts forward, ready to subdue any threats to the team... only to step back and assume a position off to one side when he recognizes the gleam of Chloe and Charlie's bared guns. His hand falls away from his own firearm, the really old-looking pistol that shares jacket belt space with a tomahawk and a sword. The others seem to have things under control.

When Tempest turns and walks the perimeter of the room, he moves out of her way and heads toward their new hostages.

The United Earth comment is dutifully ignored for now.]

Should I bind them? I have rope. [-darts, but he can cut the dart part off.]

[alittlesweptup]

[That gets his attention - makes some muscle in Charlie's cheek jump as his jaw sets and his brow pulls low. They're not traitors, if that's even the word for it - because hard to be traitors to an organization they're not actually native to, one that kidnapped them all from their proverbial beds in the first place.

But digging at the point isn't going to help anything. Charlie shoots a look to Seviilia, makes the barest of placating gestures (because there's a point where he's briefly angry over the implication that they might be with the UE, but he can manage that much at least), and then sets his sights back on Vennett.]

We're not with the UE. [Which is as simple and as firm as it gets.] Now unless you'd like to be tied per my friend's suggestion, I'd recommend you take it easy with the accusations.

[So no, Connor: maybe not just yet.]

[mathematician]

[Lowell nearly snorts when Vennett speaks up again. He was wondering the same thing, but glad Vennett brought it up first. Although, according to creepy blue-skin woman, they aren't part of UE. Which could either be a bold-faced lie, or then this is just some... sudden rebellion. Most likely the latter with the lack of UE soldiers suddenly bursting throughout the whole station. Lowell gives a glance to Vennett, and then back to addressing the group as a whole.

Starting with an eyeroll.]

Not UE? So you've just decided all to yourselves, you're going to start a hostage situation. Complete with rope.

[Lowell adds, dragging out the sarcastic tone as he looks to Connor.]

Great.

Has it occurred to you that we aren't even getting paid right now? We're here working round-the-clock hours so you twats can do whatever you what, whenever you want.

[And maybe this is the exhaustion talking... no, it's DEFINITELY the exhaustion talking. If he were more awake, he'd probably think twice about taunting the people with axes and guns. But with those dark rings under his eyes, he's really not thinking straight and is more pissed off than anything he didn't go for a bathroom break ten minutes ago like he intended to.]

But yeah sure, fine, take me out. I'm sure you'll be giving everyone else on this base a real chuckle when everyone's struggling to find out why the Transporter cooling tank isn't functioning and the whole station blows up.

Boom, threadshot.

[totallytrustworthy]

Oh god, no. No definitely not. [Halfway through setting up a few shoddy flashlights, if Chloe could look any more offended by that accusation when she abruptly glances up it'd be a feat.

Also, Seviilia, not helping.] Look, nobody's getting 'taken' anywhere-- including out-- and transports doing whatever they want means one hell of a lot of p--

[But her sorry excuse for a rushed explanation/ driveby-diffusing of the situation is cut short by the flicker of the lights above them dying out, the network tablets (should anyone have one nearby) freezing up entirely.] Ah. Looks like we're on.

[ooc: From here on out it's officially go time! Conversations can and should continue normally but if you'd like to break off for individual threadjacking or set up your own established subthread for just your character, feel free to toss it right under here. Or do both! Conversations are messy, messy creatures. ]

[the_array_team]

[The eyebrow that goes up at Seviilia's speech darkens into a glower... and settles into full rage as they continue. He didn't stop Lowell, outburst, far from it.

He might have, in any other situation... but the blue whatever she was had said it. The only situation where the last people alive who can operate the technology isn't a factor in a takeover? Is one where they already have someone else to do it.

"You need an assistant." Saul had said, firmly. Providing someone perfect the very next day. He was going to break that motherfucker's face.

The betrayal might feel a little more personal than usual right now. He'd honestly liked the kid.]

No, actually. I'd like t'hear t'rest a that.

[Doesn't even CARE when the screen in front of him flickers, losing the work of last night. He hasn't gotten up, but it's getting to be a struggle.]

We pay y'fuckers a god damned fortune a head whether y'work a lick or not! House an' arm yer ungrateful arses! Y'get to choose where y'go no matter if it's gonna help FUCKSHIT or not for who we got dead. After all, it's only yer asses that's important t'bring back.

Tell me. I want t'hear it. How it don't mean piss all.

[miscreant]

[Seviilia rolls her pupilless eyes and promptly shoulders passed anyone who might have been blocking her path so that she's able to stand face-to-face with Vennett and Lowell. The dark of the room accents the frosted mist curling off her armor.]

This may come as a shock, but this is not about you. I could not give less of a horse's bare ass about your "workload". You house and arm us? That is your answer to taking us from our liveihoods? You expect us to thank you for conscripting hundreds of individuals, children included, for a war we have no stock in?

[She snorts. In actuality, she doesn't care for about half of her points, but they make for good arguments and lead up to her ultimate button-push.]

You speak of the dead. What of the thousands slaughtered just months ago? Oh, hang on -- you can fix that, can't you? With the push of one of those little buttons, yes?

[The elf places a hand over where her heart should be, mocking regret.]

Sweet Sun, we've made a terrible mistake, haven't we? We ought to leave these men to their dreadful tasks of erasing their long history of blunders.

[the_array_team]

[To Vennett, the eyerolling was little more than a fluttering of eyelids, but the tone conveyed what biology fell short on. While she talks his face is taunt mask of anger, but when she hits the taunt about the thousands slaughtered, it smooths out into cold, simple hatred.]

Fuck. You.

[He looks past her, as much as her stance allows to the other hijackers. Neither tone nor expression lightens.]

What do you want?

[totallytrustworthy]

[On second thought, it was probably a massive mistake to let Seviilia come in for the start of this. (Still, it's not like they had any idea there'd be staff on hand, so...) Chloe's quick to take the offered glance.] Sev, sweetheart? Do us a favor and make sure that door behind you's still secure.

[And getting right to the heart of the matter isn't exactly ideal when they've not had a chance to set up a situation that's anything less than hostile.]

To be entirely honest, you lot weren't supposed to be involved.

[hyanaimne]

[Tempest finishes her circuit of the room, still muttering to herself. She finally stops, right where she started, and kneels down to touch the floor. She speaks the last of words of her spell and the walls and floor suddenly, briefly glowing with magical power - enough to light up the entire room. It's gone as fast as it appears, though, and Tempest stands up and dusts off her jeans]

That should do it.

[the_array_team]

[Before Seviilia really gets going, the comment draws a dour look from one of their hostages.]

Yeah? An' now what?

[hyanaimne]

[it takes a moment to realize she's being talked to - this is a spell she's never cast before, and getting used to the attention she needs to uphold it leaves her staring off in some random direction for a moment or two.

Then she looks over, blinks, then shrugs]

No one will be able to get in using teleportation.

[the_array_team]

Thoughtful of ya. How abouts technology cuz we've got teams out right now.

Lowell's subthread

[mathematician]

Did you just- cut the network?

[Lowell asks the dumb question, as he picks up his own tablet, trying to get it back online. Which someone might want to prevent, so it doesn't blow up.]

[the_array_team]

[In the mean time, there's also that stomach curdling lurch as gravity lets go JUST A LITTLE to normalize to the natural pull of the moon.]

Motherfucker!

[How many of us do they HAVE?]

[mathematician]

[Lowell's immediate instinct is to grab the desk in front of him, which doesn't do much since the desk isn't exactly gravity stable either. Fuck.

He gives another glance to Vennett, sharing the same thought as the other. Has everyone fallen for the same shit they have?]

[the_array_team]

[He gives Lowell a slight shrug. He doesn't know for sure, but the grim expression he casts at their kidnappers... the odds really aren't good for the rest of the crew.]

[totallytrustworthy]

Oi, easy, mate. [Most of the unpacking's managed, and in the soft red glow of emergency light it takes a few beats for her to snap on one of the heavier flashlights. It's not a perfect light source, but once the others get going they'll at least have a sad substitute for a little regular lighting.

She crosses the distance between them to set a hand on the top of his screen.] It's out, and what I need is for you not to panic about it.

[mathematician]

Oh yeah, no problem. "Hey, don't panic about losing your only communication with people outside this room," says the gun-toter. No thanks mate.

[He pulls back on his tablet, and continues to tap rapidly at it.]

Chloe Frazer > Richy Rich or anyone else!

[totallytrustworthy]

[Setup takes more than a few minutes to complete: when the clock is running, priorities come before friendly banter, and so long as none of the staff look ready to run for the nearest sharp object (no pens to the neck, thank you) she does her best to keep focused on making sure they'll last the next few days.

Once that's seen to, though, once supplies are all in order and accounted for, Chloe realizes their stores are-- quite drastically-- too low to pull through comfortably. Or even remotely comfortably. Water should be fine (she's camped out in enough jungles to know hydration is key) but food? Food was stocked up based on their original number crunch. Three people in need of enough to not starve over the course of up to a week means...

Well it means the mutineers that aren't on defense are going to have to go somewhat hungry.

So she tallies it up, marks it down, arranges hefty packets of water, food and used playing cards for the staff and door teams; lifting them one at a time for the sake of passing them out. Richard just so happens to get his first.

Probably something to do with the look on his face.] Special delivery. Try not to spend it all in one day, yeah?

[misterlawson]

( The deadpan observation that crossed his features when he noticed what Chloe had been doing earlier hasn't left. These are angry people in a situation where none of them have really thought things through. They're not prepared.

They assume someone else might be, he guesses, or they are at least chafing from a perception of inaction, and he doesn't blame that chafing. He's felt it, chased it away down every bottle once that young thing had shown up with an alternate booze dimension. His tendency to accept the absurd is higher here and now only because it suits him to keep his bad habits well stocked.

Speaking on those, he'd much preferred to have the big guy be handing things out to him... sigh. )

Space travel and expansion was ruled too much of an exhaustive cost sixty-five years ago. You're lucky.

( He takes the packet, pulling it close to his middle. No, he doesn't want what's coming, and he's already regretting that he didn't bring in a full handle to tonight's little avoidance of Transport festivities.

Better that he hadn't, given the water being passed out now, but damnably irritating. )

If this was anything they wanted, you wouldn't be here right now.

[totallytrustworthy]

I've been lucky, mate. Can't say the same for most these days. [Is it a joke? Is it casual conversation? Is she pissed off? Who knows.]