Cohort mingle

[art_of_war]

WHO: Delta, Winter, Phalanx, Connor, Billy, Thrawn
WHERE: The Bloodsport
WHAT: Everyone is stuck in the ship together, so be polite I guess?
WHEN: Event
WARNINGS: None anticipated

Since we're all stuck, a mingle seemed like a good idea.

Comments

[art_of_war]

Thrawn inspected the doors to the cabins - noting the number - but made his way to the bridge before looking inside them. The bridge was small, needing only one person to pilot the craft. He sat down in what looked to be the pilot's chair and calmly started trying out different swoches to see which switches went to which screens.

[alaspooryork]

It takes a little while for him to calm down enough to explore, but by the time Delta is ready to look at the rest of the ship, the bridge is an obvious first place to start. When he notices that the person sitting in the pilot's chair is, well, blue, he observes quietly for a moment.

And the he speaks up in an even-toned voice. "Excuse me, but are you a pilot?"

[art_of_war]

"In a manner of speaking. If you are concerned, I do know how to Pilot this ship."

With a practiced flick of several more switches, more screens flickered to life. It is a strange feeling to have a Data Point download directly into the brain. But it also meant Thrawn was perfectly familiar with this ship.

[alaspooryork]

His posture relaxes even as he looks curiously at the layout of the pilot's console as Thrawn works it. "It is certainly not UNSC standard," he admits, "but is not similar to Covenant or Forerunner designs in the slightest. Does it have deep-space capability, or is it purely an in-atmosphere design?"

There are some people familiar with these ships, but Delta is clearly not one of them.

[art_of_war]

Thrawn had no facial expression but he looked at Delta as he worked.

"I believe this ship is different from any we are used to."

Which brought up another question, one Thrawn was interested in. Lights were coming on around the bridge and a low hum started somewhere.

"You are familiar with ships where you came from. Were you a pilot, or a repair technician perhaps?"

[pileofspirits]

Apparently Thrawn isn't the only entity on the ship with this idea. Granted, Phalanx is exploring every inch of the place, but the helm calls to them in a way that the rest of the ship doesn't, thanks to that Data Point they'd stumbled into some time ago.

So, a soft, strange presence shuffles onto the bridge in the middle of Thrawn's switch-flipping and just watches for a long moment. At their side, one dirty, rag-wrapped hand twitches in time with each of the switches that the man is turning on and off.

[art_of_war]

After a moment there came a deep hum as Thrawn pushed one switch to the 'on' position. Many of the lights around the bridge turned on when he pushed another. He was starting simply; going with the pre-flight sequence. Two screens by his hands flickered on.

It's with all this background noise (sub-audible to most humans) that Thrawn had missed the approach of a humanoid. He did mentally chide himself for being so careless as to let someone get so close. Though he did not startle, neither did he turn around when he spoke.

"Are you hoping to find something?"

[pileofspirits]

"Hoping to find something?" they parrot in their own voice (light and soft, almost too delicate coming from their masculine-seeming body) but the tone and cadence is all a perfect mirror of Thrawn.

They take a few short steps closer, bare feet still quiet against the metal floor of the bridge, and they try a couple of the words again.

"Find something?"

Whoops found out ships don't fly in the event. Fixed tag!

[art_of_war]

Thrawn looked over his shoulder once. Then he seemed to go right back to what he was doing.

"Yes, that is what I said."

Pre-flight routine finished, Thrawn pulled gently but inexorably on the controls. The ship powered up...but didn't rise. All systems were operating within normal parameters...

"If you are only able to repeat, that could be problematic."

[wearingthestars]

Despite how relatively small the space was, Billy still felt a bit sheepish about intruding when he entered in his own exploring to find Thrawn sat in the pilot's chair, though it was quickly followed by a hopeful expression.

"Do you know how to work it?" he asked.

[art_of_war]

After a moment there came a deep hum as Thrawn pushed one switch to the 'on' position. Many of the lights around the bridge turned on (though one kept flickering off and on) when he pushed another. He was starting simply; going with the pre-flight sequence. Two screens by his hands flickered on. As he pressed buttons readouts came up on screens and Thrawn glanced at them as he continued, but spoke over his shoulder toward Billy.

"If you are asking whether or not I am capable os piloting this vessel then the answer is yes. If you are asking for more light I have provided what this vessel is capable of. Either way such a vague question invites too many answers. You are berrer served by being more specific."

[wearingthestars]

Billy gaze turned to observe the lights, and then back to the screens with interest, cheeks flushed with Thrawn's reply. He wasn't wrong though. Billy considered his words a moment before asking a more decisive-

"Right...sorry. Um, can you get us out?" The answer was probably obvious enough. If he could he probably would have all ready, but Billy's explored every option he has available to him, maybe it really was as simple as just pushing the right button?

[art_of_war]

Thrawn frowned at the flight stick. Everything was on and functioning correctly but he could not coax th ship to rise. It wouldn't even recognize him if he pulled on the flight stick insistently.

"...apparently not. Nor am I able to open any hatches or doors."

Delta | OTA

[alaspooryork]

The first few hours had been miserable for Delta, but once he'd established that the communicators worked just fine and everyone else was in a similar situation, curiosity had gotten the better of him and he'd started exploring the ship from top to bottom. It was different than any other spaceship he'd ever been on, of course - nothing like the UNSC military standard, nor was it similar to the data on Covenant ships he'd acquired. The biggest difference was, of course, the complete and total lack of AI support.

Too bad. He would have liked to test the limits of his implant.

There was a bit of a challenge involved in setting up a litterbox for his little grey tabby kitten (a leggy teenager, now; time flies like that), and for a while he can be seen following the little guy around with a concerned expression, trying to make sure the cat doesn't get anywhere that will hurt him. Occasionally he'll have to make a rescue from a ceiling panel or open vent, muttering things like "Just because Resistor would do it does not mean it is a good idea, Euclid" or "I am at a loss to explain how you became stuck in the first place" or even "I wish you would demonstrate advanced problem-solving skills", though it is always followed up with lots of pets and treats of the chicken-flavored protein gel.

As for the protein gel itself, he often takes a plate with five or more different combinations of the flavors and textures, avoiding only the spicy chilli flavor. Gotta test them all?

Lastly, he's always poking around at the electronics systems. He may have switched his specialization over to Communications (and he has no regret about it), but he's still very curious about how the systems work here, and if he can figure out what makes these ships tick, he's going to try.

OTA!

[rk_800]

Connor is fascinated by the ship. While he realizes that being forcefully confined to one location is not exactly a positive, at first Connor isn't particularly bothered by their captivity. It gives him time to investigate an alien starship, another impossible occurrence that's a wonderful opportunity at the same time. Not only does Connor do his own fair share of poking around the Bloodsport, he lingers, taking his time looking over the bridge and the devices in the kitchen and, at one point, even a section of the wall in one hallway. There's no hurry while they're waiting for the countdown to end, and it gives him the luxury of committing as much as he can to his memory banks.

When Connor isn't wandering around, he can often be found sitting at one of the tables in the kitchen area. He doesn't claim a bed, because there's too few and he doesn't need to sleep, and that leaves him spending a lot of time in (what he determined to be) one of the most popular communal spaces. When the lack of things to do starts to affect him with an odd, squirming feeling he can't quite define, Connor fidgets with the quarter he keeps in his pocket. Perhaps recalibrating his hand movements over and over again wasn't exactly productive, but sending the quarter dancing over his knuckles and spinning on his fingers was more entertaining than putting himself into standby.

[wearingthestars]

The trick with the quarter is hard not to get mesmerized by, and Billy catches himself staring again with an apologetic flush.

"...How do you do that?" he asks finally, feeling a bit shy, clearly, but asking seems better than staring.

[rk_800]

Connor looks up with a smile, spinning the quarter on the tip of one finger, micro movements keeping it centered without requiring him to even look down at what he's doing.

"It's a recalibration routine that was included with my programming. The process was designed to make sure that my dexterity and cognitive processes are performing at optimal levels."

[wearingthestars]

Oh wow. A surprised smile spreads over Billy's face, and his own fingers twitch a little as though trying to figure out how to do it himself. The talk of programming doesn't seem to phase him, whether because he's used to android/robotic types by virtue of being here, or because of his person connection to them.

"It's really cool. Is it hard to do?"

[rk_800]

Connor tilts his head slightly to one side, the LED on his temple briefly flashing yellow. It wasn't an easy question to answer when he had, essentially, been created knowing how to do coin tricks. Though it's not strictly necessary, Connor drops the quarter back into the palm of his hand, freeing up his processors.

"Yes, it is hard. You would need to be able to control the coin with small, precise movements. My capabilities give me an advantage," he points out.

sorry this is late!

[alaspooryork]

Delta is another one poking around at the ship, investigating it thoroughly from top to bottom. His movements are gangly and awkward, but he's good enough at driving this human body by now not to be clumsy. It's an improvement.

He'd seen the roster for the cohort and been able to identify a few of them from previous acquaintance, but there are a couple new names in there anyway. He's trying to decide how to approach Connor one he spots him in the kitchen, but he's quickly distracted by the label on the back of his jacket.

"Excuse me," he starts, sounding excited, "but may I ask if you are really an android?"

OTA

[wearingthestars]

The first few hours have Billy chanting at walls in a way that might lead his new cohorts to think there's something quite wrong with him, especially as it seems to be having no effect. His magic can't get him out, or bring anyone to him, no matter how he tries to phrase it. There is a strange blue glow to his hands though, so though who are more observant may be able to figure out he's not having some sort of break down.

Once things have settled he tries to make himself useful. He's happy to chat or magic up reasonable requests for his new team mates (as he's come to think of them). He tries different combinations of the food gels, but he's not really successful with any of them, and will happily befriend anyone who proves better at it then him.

When the space feels particularly small he may be found floating about, as though the ship were in zero gravity, seeing if there are any secrets in the less accessible areas of the ship.

laaaate I'm sorry

[pileofspirits]

That peculiar chanting is noticed by at least one other being on the ship. Sometime in the middle of one of his spell attempts, Billy can hear a strange, lagging echo of his words coming from just down the hall.

Someone completely blanketed by a cloak of rags is sitting curled up against a nearby wall, just casually parroting his chant with an eerie amount of accuracy. Their voice is soft and strange and drags a beat or two behind Billy's words, but they're doing an otherwise decent job of repeating him.

<333

[wearingthestars]

He almost doesn't notice for a beat or two, stumbling a bit over his words as he finally clues in, and Billy starts a little as he notices the figure, cheeks growing pink.

"...Oh- uh-...Sorry, I was just um...just trying to get out," he mumbles in explanation, half embarrassed to be caught chanting like he was crazy, and half confused as to why they'd decided to join in on said chanting.

[pileofspirits]

The figure seems nearly as surprised as Billy does, lifting their head enough to blink and stare at him with wide, dark eyes.

"Just trying to get out," they mumble in nearly the same tone as he does, before trying the words again, but with a bit more clarity and intent this time. "Just trying to get out."

[wearingthestars]

"Are you...um...are you repeating what I'm saying or...?" Billy asks uncertainly, head turning with concern. He doesn't quite understand, but he wants to.