(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

[totallytrustworthy]

[She gives him space for a minute. Lets him sit it out and breathe for a while before she comes back over to drop off a thick packet of supplies (water, preserved food, a deck of cards and a few scraps of spare, unused crossword puzzles all folded up neatly) on the spare space beside him.] You don't have to like what we're doing. God knows I wouldn't, okay.

Just do me a favor and try not to ignore what we're trying to do here.

[mathematician]

[He eyes the supplies as she puts it on his desk, and although nothing in his expression says grateful, it also has a little less spite in it than it did before.]

Do you even know what you're asking of me? To just sit here and accept being a hostage. Would you be able do that? I don't even know why you're doing this. We've let you do whatever you wanted. And you hate us for that? I don't- get it!

[totallytrustworthy]

I know. Trust me I do. [Because if it was her she'd be fighting tooth and nail for that exit, and she's asking them to be the exception to that rule. Chloe settles back against the desk just beyond the supplies. Rests her hip against it for support. ] We don't hate you, okay.

Well, not you directly anyway. God knows you lot weren't the ones shafting us all including yourselves. [There's a slight pause just in case she's wrong about that and one of them is actually higher up on the food chain. Not that she really expects someone to own up to that in this chaos. ] But right now everyone 'doing whatever we want' is the problem. We're not safe. Not on solid ground-- and we're sure as hell not out of the eyeline of the United Earth.

And personally I think it's a bit dickish to go about having gravity parties after thousands of people lost their lives. Maybe that's just me.

[mathematician]

Don't you think there's a reason I stay away from you?

[The "mass of transports" meaning of you, of course.]

I'm still mourning my sisters, and your people are having Thanksgiving dinners. Which, by the way, the British never celebrated. Americans.

I know we aren't safe. We-

[The "Initiative staff who were left on this rock alone" meaning of we, of course.]

know. But what are we supposed to do? I don't run the numbers. I have no idea how the Timeline Coordinators figured out when and where to strike. I just take care of that machine.

[totallytrustworthy]

Oh they're not all that bad. [Americans, that is. The other conscripts, though....] Then again I've never actually been to a thanksgiving dinner, so...

[But the rest of it rings true enough, and Chloe drops the light teasing for another momentary round of serious talk:] I know, love. Upset as we all are about the state of things, it's not you we're knocking at-- it's the decisions that brought us all to this dead end-- and it can't happen again. It seriously can't.

The only way to keep history from repeating after another reset is to shift the playing field; we might not all be geniuses but most transports know a thing or two about war. Letting us in on choosing how and where we go to fight this thing means less division. Less...stupidity.

[mathematician]

I don't get to make that kind of decision. None of us do. And I won't even remember having this conversation, if-

...When things get fixed. Right now we're in a Bad End. I know. But I can't do what you want. I had even less authority here before everything blew up. I'm just an assistant.

[totallytrustworthy]

[It sounds like the truth. God, she wouldn't really be surprised if it was. So...

shit.

Chloe folds her arms, leaning back far enough against the edge of the desk to sit down. She's not looking at him when she goes about mentally calculating their next step: eyes fixed on a far point somewhere across the room. ]

Balls.

[mathematician]

[He knows that look. He's been there. With ever increasing frequency, as of late.]

You really bollocks'd this up, didn't you.

[totallytrustworthy]

Just a bit. [Her lips thin out for a brief moment before she turns back towards him, offering up a small shrug of her shoulders.] Good thing we've got a plan B.

Not that I particularly like plan B....

[mathematician]

And you're not going to tell me what plan B is, are you?

[totallytrustworthy]

No. Not exactly. Not yet, anyway. [They need time to feel things out; make sure it's the right move.] But if we press on the rest of them hard enough, who knows? Might just work out in our favor.

[mathematician]

At least use the right possessive pronoun. You mean "your" favor. Not ours. I'm not batting for your team here.

[Just... ignore the use of phrase. He doesn't know it's connotations. He just knows it's an old, borderline ancient metaphor involving baseball.]

I'm dying Lowell you're perfect

[totallytrustworthy]

[Sorry, she stops on that last line there. Eyebrows lifting ever so slightly.]

Oh. You thought I was... ah. No. [Chloe tucks a grin down into the corner of her hand as she scuffs it across the edge of her mouth.]

he tries

[mathematician]

What.

[Did he say something funny. He wasn't trying to. He was trying to complain about their lack of friendliness. Humor was not supposed to happen.]

[totallytrustworthy]

[There's a short half beat before:]

Okay now you lost me. What, what?

[mathematician]

I wasn't trying to be funny. Why are you smiling?

[lowell, people smile sometimes without reason.]

[totallytrustworthy]

[What an enigma, those smiles.]

Because you thought I was coming onto you, darling.

[mathematician]

...What?

When did that happen? I didn't think that!

Wait.

Are you?

[totallytrustworthy]

No. [Look she's not stressing that to be rude, it's just--] Batting for a different team. Hello?

[mathematician]

I wasn't actually talking about baseball, you know. It was a metaphor to our situation.

[STILL. MISSING IT.]

[totallytrustworthy]

Cock, mate-- cock! It's a bloody metaphor for you liking cock.

[mathematician]

[mathematician]

How in the fuck does that have anything to do with liking cock?! I was just trying to make a reference to a phrase used in your time period!

[totallytrustworthy]

That's what that phrase is about. You know. 'Not the same team'-- as in you like the opposite sex of whatever it is you're talking to.

[mathematician]

That isn't what I was trying to convey, so let's just drop it, alright?