trans_9 | Meet and Greet

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Meet and Greet

The rest of the crew assembled on the Observation Deck to meet the latest editions to their numbers.

Several people are set up near the doors to provide the new people with omnicomms and comm rings. They are also told they must read information about their current situation and a survival guide with their new omnicomm. New crewmates might see a tall dragonish guy with wings (but don't call him that), a large afro attached to a smaller girl, and talking ponies among their number. There are also several authoritative-looking figures ready to introduce themselves.

There's a lot to tell the new people. It's going to be a lot to take in. But thankfully this time, there's a system that was set up to aid the new crew members with a few more experienced ones.

[ooc: Only new characters and Command Staff can start new threads for introductions, to limit the number of threads. Everyone else, just tag in and have your guys greet the newbies. Big brother/sister, there will be a thread for you as well!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I noticed there are a lot of different organizations..." Elle pauses. "How well do they all get along?"

She's not sure if she should expect something on the level of House vs NCR vs Legion, but... still. If there's one thing the Mojave has taught her, it's that factions simply do not get along. Having a common tragedy and goal doesn't help. Back home, it seems like everyone wants the same thing: order and peace in the Wasteland. It's just that no one can agree on how to do it.

"Generally, well. We're all on the same side here, after all. And the duties are generally quite separate. I'm in Medical, myself," he said, "and I've never had a problem."

Hmnn.

"I'm not sure where I'd be best suited," Elle says after a moment. She's not entirely comfortable with the idea of officially joining a group, but... 'We're all on the same side.' Hmn. "I know my way around a shotgun, but I prefer avoiding fighting altogether. Back home, people fought people, for the most part, so... Talking's the most important thing, really, though I've learned how to sneak around and pick locks, too."

"I wish I could tell you you could avoid fighting entirely." His smiled finally slipped completely. "But there's not enough of us, and too many of them. Everyone ends up in the thick of it, one way or the other. Still, you don't have to join a department. Some people just contribute the way they can, outside of the formal organizations."

"Maybe it'd be best if I joined a fighting force, then." Elle frowns. "I'm all right with shooting bugs, but it's when I've gotta aim at somebody's head that I start having problems."

She shifts her weight to one foot. "I'm used to doing everything on my own, with just the help of a few people. So, suddenly having so many groups open and peaceful is... jarring, I guess."

"Well, let's hope we can get you used to peaceful co-existence." Now his smile had come back. Admittedly it was a little flirtatious. Priorities, Morgan. "We do have a lot of culture shock here. You're going to see things that are downright strange and weird. Magic, for example. Talking flying ponies. Demons. It's perfectly okay to be weirded out, but we DO all get along, somehow, more or less."

If Elle notices the flirty slant to his smile, she doesn't seem to. Not like she'd have much of a chance to decide how to react, anyway, because, well.

"Magic?" The skepticism is audible and visible.

Magic was the part her brain skipped on, and not the ponies or demons?

"Yes. In many different forms and iterations. One of our departments is dedicated to it, in fact."

She can buy talking flying ponies. Radiation can do everything. (So can genetic experimentation, but she doesn't know about that part yet.) And you take a look at a Deathclaw and tell her that isn't a demon.

"But... What... How?"

Okay. That earned an amused, but certainly not mocking, smile "Ask four different mages and you'll get six different answers. This is a big universe... a big lot of universes, really. There are places out there still back in the Dark Ages, and others like a fantasy kingdom from a book."

~~But Morgan what are the Dark Ages~~

"I..." Elle scratches the back of her neck. "O...kay. I guess I've got some research to do."

One of his comments makes her smile wryly, though. "Aren't we all books to someone, though? Isn't that how the Daligig said this works?"

"I have found that if you can conceive it, somewhere out there it exists." Which was a rule for more than just here and now. "Like I said, don't let it freak you out too much. I mean, you just got popped out of a slime pod to be told you're on a living spaceship to serve as a crew member in a war for all existence! What's a little magic spell here and there compared to that?" he said with a wink.

"Well, when you put it like that..." Elle manages a small laugh. "You've got a pretty good point."

She isn't sure if she prefers the Wastes or... this.

Anyway. Moving on.

"Speaking of them... Has there been any contact with the Daligig since the first?"

He shot a meaningful glance around the Obs Deck, with a slight frown. "They're aboard the ship now. But they very much prefer not dealing with us if at all possible."

"What? Really? Why wasn't that mentioned in the guide?" Somehow someone didn't figure that was worth mentioning?

"Because we keep expecting, or hoping, that they'll leave. At least, that's what I have the impression of. The less contact we have with them, the happier we all are."

Weren't the Daligig the ones who saved them, though? Why would things be so strained?

"How come? What's happened?"

"Let's just say we persist in inconveniently acting like sentient beings when they'd much prefer we'd just be weapons," he said darkly.

"... Is that it, then." Elle's expression also darkens. "They weren't happy because the initial crew was alive because they were worried about the people on board. They were worried about the warriors on board."

"We are a valuable resource." Morgan stressed the final word. "And they will not hesitate to discipline us if we stray from the path they feel we should follow."

Discipline, huh.

"When did they board the ship? Have they moved to discipline the crew?" Elle is assuming they did; it's possible that they just threatened, but his phrasing implies more than just that.

"It's hard to answer because of time, but the ship was extensively damaged in a combat at the planet Lirath, and they have been repairing its sensitive areas. And... yes. They have. Two crew members were charged with desertion."

Morgan frowned distantly, all good humor utterly gone.

"Desertion?"

The questions just keep coming. Even though the topic is getting progressively darker, Elle's eyes are also getting increasingly sharper. The gentler, more lost girl is stepping back behind the harder traveler, who is used to this kind of thing. Maybe she doesn't understand the darker side of human nature, but, well, it's not like she's dealing with just humans any more. This side of her has accepted that she will not understand. But she doesn't have to understand to survive, and that's all this part of her cares about.

Not that the lost girl is aware of this. She thinks she's just focusing on something familiar, that there is something she does understand is within her grasp: that the brighter the lights, the darker it is behind the curtain. (It's ironic that the girl hasn't applied it to someone she looks up to. The traveler, however, has, and is slowly preparing for the moment when it will all come undone.)

"The ship stops on planets every so often. Sometimes it's for a mission, sometimes it's just for shore leave -- everyone gets off and just relaxes a bit. These guys... were planning not to come back. Luckily, the ship intervened before they could get really hammered down for what they did."

Morgan noted that change, that shift, and mentally cataloged it as one more thing he needed to work on over time. It was, after all, his private mission to save everyone, or at least as many people could be saved.

Elle is quiet for a moment.

"If someone decides they don't want to fight... They shouldn't be forced to. If they decide they want to live a peaceful life somewhere and find somewhere they'd like to..." Her brow knits, her mouth scowls, her hands tighten grips on the teddy bear and Omnicomm they're holding. "No one has the right to deny someone that freedom."

She lifts her chin. "What did the Daligig say when others spoke up for the so-called deserters?" She assumes that at least someone would've spoken up.

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