Reverie

I have a few questions:

What the hell is going on?

Is this a prison ship?

Who is bringing us here?

And what's the planet because it sure as hell ain't Earth?

[Hello, network. It's Tyl, looming too close to his communicator again. He's been very nearly quiet since his arrival on Reverie, and now he's built up a head of steam for a ramble. Hope you're sitting comfortably, it might be a while.]

So. I've been slowly extracting information from this station's little brain. Asking about Delta Optima, resurrection, all sorts of things.

It doesn't know much. Says it doesn't, anyway. But what it did say was tantalizing: The station wasn't supposed to be able to fix dead people. Or drag them in from other dimensions either, it learned how to do all that after it murdered its crew.

Or maybe something else has lodged in its rusting conduits, running the show now. Dear little CIRSTA wouldn't say. I think she's holding out on me, though. Anyone feel like trying to charm her? Or just tear her open. I don't know enough about human computers to do it myself.

Oh, and--[He's forgotten what else he was going to pester the network about. Hmm.]--Ah! Right. Back on the subject of getting murdered. I was told this place tries to kill everyone constantly. No time to do anything, too busy fighting for your life. Sounded dire.

I've been here for more than twenty intervals and nothing's tried to kill me. Honestly, I'm disappointed. The worst I've had to suffer is a hangover. I've lowered my standards to account for this bucket's limitations, but I'm not that easy.

And on that final note, there is one thing. One very annoying thing. This gravity business. All of you have these. [He holds up one of the station-issued magnetic boots.] These things. Station left me a pair too. Wouldn't look dire on me. But.

[The boot drops with a clunk, and there's an odd series of whirs and mechanical clicking.]

I wasn't planning on being stolen away to a human station, light years, universes away from my collection.

[Regor holds something up. At first it might be hard to identify. It's the same gunmetal that accents his tight-fitting suit. It tapers into a long, curving metal strut, which he draws attention to.] These feet weren't made for one-third-G. Not made for spin gravity. They were designed for real gravity and good taste. [Yes, Regor has removed half of one of his legs, just to complain about it.]

I've got designs for walking feet. Ones that fit human boots. But got no parts to make them. Someone needs to fix that, because I am sick of scraping my head on the ceiling every time I want to go anywhere.

If you have the parts and the brains for cybernetics work, talk to me. Soon.

[ Alex looks a little ashen faced and grim, but otherwise no worse for wear. Beside him is Vanessa who looks a little uneasy with the situation. Her hair is loose, arms wrapped around herself and whilst she agreed that they need to do this, and she trusts Alex, it's a little clear that she doesn't want to do it.

Alex clears his throat. ]

Alrigh’, well - I know this ain’t as big news as it would have been a couple weeks ago, but. Vanessa and I - and Bobbie and Kylo - we uh, we had a little chat. With someone who had been on the station before.

Who died on the station before.

And before ya’ll start arguin’ - just listen to what we heard, for a second.

First thing - all this? The crazy shit that we keep gettin’ in to, and why we’re so far from Earth? It’s all because of the Drive. Now we talked to the Medic so I ain’t exactly got a whole lot of technical details, but - they built it because of whatever was going down on Earth at the time, but instead of what it was supposed to do, it moved them.

Moved them, and then started killin’ them.

But the drive is somewhere on the station - or at least it was. So I think we gotta put in a real effort now to find it.

I don't understand this as Alex does. ( her words are quiet as she finally speaks. even if you've not had the conversation with her that she's from 1892 there's a look to her, particularly in her dress, that would heavily suggest that she's not from a “modern” century ) But I trust the information that we received.

( she only knows what the others told her, effectively unconscious during the affair, but there's a feeling that vanessa has. the spirit hadnt meant them harm, nor did it feel like a deception )

It may be that this Drive is behind one of the doors we have yet to open, I don't know, but perhaps someone will discover that.

( her only hope was that there wouldn't be too many questions about how they'd come to learn this information though vanessa doubted that that would be the case )

( there'll be responses from both. vanessa is in purple text )

[A bone-white faceplate and unequal yellow lenses, framed by blue and gunmetal. Might be human, two eyes, at least two arms, none of it sitting still. A deep, resonant voice filters through the mask from an unseen source, slow and deliberate, rising and falling in an almost sing-song tone.]

So. A little tin can, out in space. Collecting all the flotsam it can find.

[The words gradually come faster, more staccato as he goes.]

Dirty. Grimy. Primitive. Using spin gravity! Not even the oldest, most decrepit ship in the fleet would spin like this. Would barely be worth notice. Not important.

Except.

[The mask looms too close over the communicator, filling the view with white and glowing yellow.]

I am now here. And someone will tell me why.