themnemosyne | Mini-Event

Entry tags:

🪐 event

Mini-Event

EVENT

It happens in the dead of night - so sudden, so absolute, that for a moment, it feels like the ship itself has ceased to exist. The familiar hum of the Mnemosyne's systems vanishes, replaced by an unnatural, suffocating silence. A heartbeat later, the darkness takes hold. Total blackout.

Then, as if the ship itself is gasping for breath, emergency lights flare to life, flooding the halls in deep red. A shrill hiss follows as every interior door slide open in unison.

The system has gone dark. Terminals are dead. CL-10's have no access. Anything reliant on the ship's core network is unresponsive. Even elevators between decks are frozen in place, leaving only the cold, metal emergency ladders as a means of traversal. Synthesizers refuse to function.

And most critically -

L3TH3 is gone.

Not silent. Not unresponsive. Offline.

Yet, despite the eerie stillness, some things persist. Life support remains operational, oxygen still cycles, temperature remains stable. Airlocks are firmly shut. The engines continue their course, thrumming faintly beneath the floors. Even power still technically exists, but there is no intelligence behind it any more. The Mnemosyne is still moving - but without a pilot, without a shield and without defense.

To some, the fact that the ship's quarantine protocols also remain intact is a reassuring sign of system redundancy. To others, it is an opportunity lost. After all, a coup - or mercy killing - requires more than emergency rations and dim red lights.

Welcome to this month's mini-event! The system being offline will continue for a week, until the 17th. As the mod will also be unavailable at a computer during this time, direct any questions to mnemonsynecrew@gmail.com for a quicker reply.

As noted in the event, CL-10s won't be able to access the system for anything (work, ship data, etc.) during this time, but it can still be used to communicate between crew and used for personal data.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Long hours are par for the course on this ship, and so the middle of the night finds Wolfwood down in his workshop, soldering steadily on the medical drone Hilbert requested. He's got music playing quietly from his CL-10, the lights are comfortingly low, his thermos of coffee is still half-full, and he's about as relaxed and content as he gets these days.

And then the lights go out and the humming beneath his feet stills as the ship goes dead.

Nobody's around to hear the panicked sound he makes when everything goes dark, but it's loud in the terrifying quiet. When the emergency lights come back on a moment later Wolfwood's still frozen in place, and it takes an embarrassingly long amount of time (almost a full minute, in fact) before he can get himself to move. There's power in his CL-10 still, but all systems are reporting unavailable except for comms, and so that's where he starts: ]

ALL CREW REPORT IN RIGHT NOW

[ His training takes over then, guiding his feet down the hall and further down into D-deck to check the redundant systems. Without oxygen, they'll all be dead in a few hours, so that's his first stop. After that, he'll head up through the access tubes -- the elevators aren't working, so it'll be a long climb -- first to check the engines, then up further to A-deck, to confirm that the bridge is still sealed.

Don't sneak up on him, folks. He's a little jumpy right now. ]

Rin reporting from C-Level. All autonomous ship systems down. Ping location, status.

[Of all the fucking times for them not to be working late.

Still, they have a good idea of where Wolfwood is - or at least where he's going. Saverem's probably going the same way, if he's not already babysitting the power systems - the moment they're done canvassing the few rooms their small collection of crew have settled into, they make for the ladders, using the display of their CL-10 for additional light on the way down.

No sneaking up - but they're taking the descent towards the working levels almost recklessly fast, letting themself drop a few feet rather than taking it rung by rung.]

[ To be perfectly honest, he doesn't read the entire message from Rin. He sees the message come through and skims over it, and when he doesn't see the words emergency or help or anything like that, he shoves his tablet back into his pocket and keeps running. The backup systems are operational, with no errors showing on any of the readouts, and he even did a pass around the whole damn thing checking visually for any of those glowing fairy cores, just in case there was risk of future shorts.

But the air scrubber and its associated generator are running smoothly, which means his next stop is all the way up on A-deck, and the bridge. Rin will probably hear him coming from half a deck away -- Wolfwood's not a small man, and the thud of his heels against the deck is loud in the unnatural silence. ]

[This right here? Is why Rin wishes everyone else on this fucking crew would get a neural interface. The lack of updates on key systems is noticeable and mildly terrifying. Did Wolfwood get caught in a catastrophic decompression? Are the engines melting down as they speak? For all they know, their message didn't even go through because some part of the ship network is down, too.

They send a couple extra pings as they descend through the levels of the ship, to no avail. By the time they hear Wolfwood's pounding feet they're nearly to the next level down, and they drop the rest of the way, a good two and a half meters, down the ladder to the next ledge, their mechanical legs absorbing most of the shock of impact. Hopefully they didn'tjust fuck up that one ankle joint again.]

Status.

[They call it out before they can even see him properly, staggering their way back up onto their feet.]

[ If he were thinking clearly, then he'd understand that Rin wants to check in with the team as much as he does.

But he's not thinking clearly. He's not thinking about anything other than air and quarantine! Individual members of the crew are much further down on his list of priorities at the moment, sorry. Systems first, then people.

But one of the people puts themselves to the front of the line, landing hard enough on the deck that Wolfwood has a moment's panic that some other system has failed. Did part of the hull just explosively decompress?

Oh. No. It's just Rin. ]

Redundant scrubbers online, [ --he barks back, as soon as Rin comes into view. Wolfwood's not slowing, heading right for the access hatch Rin just came through. Only when it registers that Rin's come from the upper decks does he stop, breathing hard but in no way ready to stop moving yet, with the same sort of focused fear on his face that he'd been wearing during his foray into mutiny and murder. ]

You check the bridge?

[Well, that's... something. Wolfwood still looks freaked out, and Rin's not feeling much better - ship systems don't just power down like this unless something's gone catastrophically wrong somewhere - but hours to days is a better timescale for the emergency than the minutes to hours estimation that sent them out of their quarters in the first place.

They stop to pull out their CL-10, sending another ping and scowling behind the line of their filtration mask, before Wolfwood's question makes their head snap up.]

No I didn't check the bridge when there were no updates on life support.

[Rin grits the words out, defensive and incredulous, then has immediate cause to regret the tone. Their jaw snaps shut so quickly they bite the inside of their cheek, their leash letting out a little warning beep as they go stiff, the grip on their tablet momentarily spasming. When they speak again, it's a careful, neutral tone, much subdued compared to their insistance moments before.]

If we're going to the bridge you should get a suit.

[ Rin sounds like their temper's short right now, but Wolfwood's in the same boat and Rin's tone barely registers. He headed straight for the life support backups too -- in part because they were closer to his location than anything else, but in part because of all the ways he could die in space, suffocating seems particularly awful.

Still, he's got better things to do than stand here while Rin snips at him. He's already got one foot on the ladder before the comment about suiting up comes, and he shakes off Rin's concern with a jerk of his head. ]

No time.

[ That 'we' didn't click yet, sorry. See you later, pal -- Wolfwood's going upstairs, just as fast as he can manage. ]

[It becomes much more obvious when Rin pulls themself metaphorically and literally together to dog Wolfwood's heels - the only thing that seems to be stopping them from reaching out to grab Wolfwood by the closest body part is their own deep aversion to touching or being touched.

There's still some snap to their voice.]

And if quarantine is breached you will die. Slowly.

[They still have that fucking footage of Captain Drake, Wolfwood. Do they need to pull that up again?]

We don't know the status of the Cryopod systems. L3TH3's shutdown may have knocked out any activation protocols.

[ Grab his foot and get kicked in the face, buddy. ]

So you go check the cryopods then!

[ He knows exactly what will happen if he's exposed to the infection. That's not the kind of image that he'll ever get out of his head... but this is too important. ]

If quarantine's breached when L3TH3 comes back online, it'll fry us all.

[ Who the hell put these decks so far apart?! He's climbing as fast as he can, but it feels like moving through mud. ]

I've got to make sure the door's shut.

[Fighting on a ladder is an ineffective and stupid idea with a high likelihood of knocking them both off which is at least 40% of the reason Rin isn't setting out to physically restrain Wolfwood here.

That, and the log file of the mod Hilbert found. Disrespectful response, Punishment level 1, Disobeying orders, Punishment level 2... what level is throwing a punch?

So - right. Solution 2 it is.]

Then I'll check the quarantine.

[ Wolfwood's foot almost slips off the next rung, and the only reason he doesn't stop and turn around to yell at Rin properly is because the stairwell doesn't allow for it. ]

You're a real pain in the ass, you know that?! I didn't ask for your help!

[ Rin's right, of course -- the person with the filtration mask is the one who should go check on the potential pathogen, but Wolfwood's never been much of a team player. ]

[Vash probably has an internal translation for Wolfwood, can register that response as capitulation and diffuse the argument by just being himself. But Rin is Rin, and defensive anger is a language they, like Wolfwood, are much more fluent in. Well fine; fuck you too.

All the while, they're both climbing.]

In the event of a shipwide system failure all crew must report to stations to contain the emergency.

[It's not directly out of the ship protocols - those are down and Rin doesn't have access to their CL-10 screen right now anyway- but it sure has the ring of a safety manual to it.]

[ Vash just extends grace to everyone at the cost of his own well-being. It's not a model Rin should look to duplicate, especially with a bastard like Wolfwood. ]

So get to your goddamn station then!

[ What's the point of him reporting to Operations right now? Nobody needs to be sure that the cargo is secure! Rin reporting to their station and seeing if they can figure out why L3TH3 is offline makes sense -- Wolfwood is needed anywhere but Operations. ]

I don't need a babysitter!

OPE_N_Wolfwood to ALL + action

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SEC_Z_Massani

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