WEEK 4: DECOMMISSION

[dropoffs]

WEEK 4 ALERT

emergency detected

 

ALERT: EMERGENCY IN THE SIMULATION ROOMS.
LOCKDOWN SEQUENCE ENGAGING.
SYSTEM REBOOT LOCKED.

LIFE SUPPORT STABLE.
CLIMATE CONTROL STABLE.
FUNCTIONALITY WILL RESUME AFTER EMERGENCY ADDRESSED.
WARNING: PROCEED WITH CAUTION

REQUESTING CALLSIGNS:
INQUISITOR AND HARLEY QUINN
REPORT TO THE MAIN SIMULATION ROOM.

A barrier barred me from leaving my location and the other senior officers are not responding to messages. Tread with caution.

CALLISTO

It's somber, this morning, barring the sudden, clipped request sent out by the Eudora. Hard to not be, considering the proceedings of yesterday - the loss of two crew members that you had come to know over the past weeks. The sequestering of one in the brig, the other monitored in the medical bay. The truth of their actions, come to light. The night passes without fanfare, and the sleep is barely fitful, no matter where you have spent the night.

And then, the morning comes.

The walls of the Eudora feel looming in the silence, but duty calls. Temenos and Harley have been requested to investigate the simulation room. There's nothing to guide them through these hallways except their own feet and the familiarity of this alert from many weeks past; there is no compulsion, there is no guiding light, just a request from the synthetic AI voice of the ship herself chirruping over and over again. If others attempt to investigate in their stead, they'll find that they're given no access through the archway of the simulation room's entry, but these two individuals can make it through without trouble.

The simulation room is not off, like it has been the past couple of weeks.

Instead... it's rather different from before.

NAVIGATE
LOCATIONS STATUSES PROFILES AUDIENCES REPORTING PRIVATE CONVOS MURDER SUPPLY SHOP COMMS DOSSIER

Comments

[frotag]

[ a

actually seeing rosamund's broken form gets ichiban to falter just a little, too. his grip on throné loosens as he recoils, like he's just been punched in the stomach. ]

[naeddre]

[yeah seeing rosamund like this is fucking awful, and she has to bring a hand up to wipe at her face.

most of the crew probably expected it, just.]

... So it doesn't matter if we vote for them or not.

[frotag]

. . . Wait.

[ something occurs to him, actually. with only one arm around throné, now he's pressed against the barrier—not hitting it, but resting his other fist on the surface. ]

Tem, Harley, check her pulse—

[drymonster]

Ah... Yeah, you're— She might just be sleeping!

[ which sounds like wishful thinking, but he knows what story this is. ]

[frotag]

It's a simulation, what if—

[ ...ah, but then there's the audio of the video that temenos and harley are being treated to. the color drains from his face as it plays—it's cruel that all of this is being left to their imagination.

he falls forward until his forehead hits the barrier and he pounds on it once, a hard hit, before he just lets his arm fall and back onto throné's shoulder. ]

[naeddre]

[yeah, the sound is. the worst. it's the worst thing.

she grimaces, bringing a hand up to cover her face.]

[frotag]

[ and it's over. rosamund's final thoughts play on their i.r.i.s.es, and...

he starts to cry. hot, angry tears streak down his face as his nose runs, but he doesn't care that he's quite literally a hot mess. none of that matters, quite frankly, after all that. ]

[naeddre]

[noooOOOO ICHIBAN

okay well she turns and she hugs him. ):]

[drymonster]

[ yeah.



so much for that. ]

[frotag]

[ hey man ichiban is also going to cry on you. i can be in two places at once too. the power of friendship told me it's ok. ]