Act 1 | text

[poisoninmypocket]

Who: Monty Navarro
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: SS Heron
When: September 16th

[Monty isn't a complete stranger to being one place and then suddenly being another. This typically has some element of delusion or other magic involved, though. Suddenly finding himself aboard a random ship in the fleet is disconcerting. But Renart's given him a basic rundown of what's going on, and he's glanced through this latest communications network. There's far too much to take in. But there is one matter he's been wondering about.]

To All Souls Present,

My name is Lord Montague D'Ysquith Navarro, most recently of the Fortress Between. I should extend my apologies if this is a query that has been answered before, but is there, perhaps, a list of persons who once were held within the confines of this fleet who have since departed? And is it known where these disappeared persons might go?

Regards,
Navarro

ACTION - SS Heron

[Monty's not entirely sure how much he should go just wandering about a strange ship when he's just arrived, really. He probably ought to introduce himself to the captain, find out if there's some place for him to actually sleep, where the food Renart mentioned might be... But, well, a man does get distracted. Specifically, he's been distracted by the Med/Science Lab. Everything in it should, by rights, be absolutely foreign, but his hands seem to know what they're doing when he picks up devices, and he knows what the different medicines he finds are and what they do.

It's unnerving, disturbing, whatever had he done to be so deserving of such an augment? And how in god's name is this possible? He's really trying to take it in stride, but he's back to being a no one, stranded away from all the people he's known for more than a year, except Renart, whom he hasn't even found, yet.

Anyone stepping into the medical lab will find a young gentleman dressed to the nines in a suit from a bygone era, moving around and trying desperately to keep himself distracted from... everything by mucking about with the equipment.]

Comments

[exothermia]

I wouldn't have called it a specialty then. I've had some experience with building and machinery-- [He refrains from mentioning his years as a factory worker. Too painful to deal with, right now.] --but the knowledge from the augment surpasses my own.

[poisoninmypocket]

[Monty nods.]

I hope you're enjoying your new position, if nothing else, sir. Is there a great deal of work to be done in engineering? I... have yet to fully explore our vessel.

[exothermia]

Not much that is necessary. It's mainly engine work. I use it more for tasks outside of what's considered ship duties.

[poisoninmypocket]

Oh? What do people do to keep themselves busy here, then? I'm not very sure what I ought to do with the laboratory when it's tidied up, and I'm not doing any particular experiments.

[exothermia]

They do what they want. [Not a particularly helpful statement. A true one, though.] They visit people, they read books, they train... when we're visiting another planet, people do things there instead of on the ships.

[poisoninmypocket]

[Where is your ambition, Erik? Tell him what to do to be the best here! Gosh.]

Is there... some objective we're all working toward in visiting these planets?

[exothermia]

Being entertaining is the line they feed us. There's meant to be an audience watching us, at all times.

[poisoninmypocket]

[Yes, he has heard about this audience.]

And what do you do to be... entertaining?

[exothermia]

[At that, his brow creases, and it's clear he thinks little of the act of playing to the crowd.]

I do nothing. I go about my life. I'm not here for their entertainment, regardless of what they might say about it.

[poisoninmypocket]

Is it... wise to completely ignore something that might aid in facilitating your efforts to escape, sir? I do not mean to impose, but it would seem having more resources could only benefit our company in discovering some means to overcome the Atroma.

[exothermia]

How, by getting credits directly from them? I've played these kinds of games before; been played by them. Any aid will come from ourselves alone.

[poisoninmypocket]

Then what plans have we for aid to ourselves, sir?

[Monty raises his brows.]

[exothermia]

["Plans" is overly optimistic. Erik folds his arms across his chest.]

Gathering information.

[poisoninmypocket]

Is there a central repository of known information for new members of the company to review?

[Monty is a very optimistic person.]

[exothermia]

Yes - there's a written guide. I need your communicator ID to send it to you.

[poisoninmypocket]

Of course! [Monty pulls out the communicator he'd found on his person on waking up. He misses his journal, really...] How do I tell what the ID is?

[exothermia]

[Erik provides an explanation. Once they've worked out the ID, Erik forwards through a copy of Nightingale's guide to Monty.]

It provides an overview of what's happened previously, and the most basic questions.

[poisoninmypocket]

[Monty glances down at the guide and smiles. Now this ought to be useful when he has a chance to look through it fully.]

Thank you, sir. I should take my time to read it over. How long have you been here, if I might ask?

[exothermia]

[Erik hesitates before answering - having to do the math, and remove the ten years in between when he went home.]

...about half a year, I believe.

[poisoninmypocket]

A not insignificant time, then. How are you holding up?

[exothermia]

Fine. [It's said bluntly enough to make clear that Erik doesn't think it's any of Montague's business to ask.]

[poisoninmypocket]

[Well, then. Right. He'll wait to retread that topic until his social link improves here.]

Ah... all right. I shan't pester you further, sir. Thank you for your assistance. I truly do appreciate it. I hope I can be of help to you once I'm properly settled.

[He gestures vaguely to the medical bay.]