Futuristic Journey of the Red Siren (Closed to New Characters)

[Ha_lfLife]

~*~ Pretty Cover Display WIP ~*~

Chapters Log:
Chapter 1. The Beginning

 

[Saurosian]

Everything had a price.

For three credits a month, you could keep your pet scorpion well-fed. But those same three credits could be the difference between giving your navigator his full salary at the end of the month, and risking that he goes looking for a better bunk. Jette knew which price she was willing to pay.

For a hundred credits, you could bribe a Gibraltar customs officer to not tip off the local Free Marshall's Guild when they recognized your face from crude wanted posters (even though the artist had given you a crooked nose). For a hundred more, you could buy most of the materials you needed to clean up the scene when they reneged on your deal and had to be dealt with. What you couldn't buy was easy enough to scrounge. If you knew what to look for.

For one hundred thousand credits, transferred through three holding accounts of sequentially increasing shadiness, you could buy a submarine off of a man whose running days had ended when he'd lost his second leg to diabetic necrosis. For no price at all, you could have warned him that his own old crew had sold out his location for a cheap buck, and the next unscrupulous soul who came knocking would want more than his ship for a fair fee.

Could have.

Everything had a price. And if the price of bringing an Arc-born scientist onto your ship was being a little more discreet with your less-than-legal liaisons - well, that was a price they would be paying. Some more begrudgingly than others.

"There is a knife on the bridge," Jette said. It looked... cheaply tactical. Like someone had bought it from a souvenir shop in one of the New Atlantic City sectors that had resorted to dim bioluminescent jars instead of fluorescent lamps. No point in selling a fake knife there, but no point making a real one, either, if it was just going to get dropped down a trash chute as soon as the officials came knocking in your block.

The intercom was still on. "Someone needs to come put this in storage in -" She checked the clock. 9:54. "- the next six minutes."

She keyed the mic to off, then thought better of it and flipped it back on. There was a scritch-scratchy noise. It didn't like to be fussed with.

"And all crew needs to be on the bridge in six minutes, too. All crew. Dress to impress."

Now with a definitive finality, she flipped it off again, and made her way to the ladder. It led, very quickly, to the hold. She spun the port open - an easy task, when they were already pressurized with the station - and climbed up onto the hangardeck.

It was a dim, empty space. Other dock workers and ship's crews were milling about. Most had already pulled out for the morning, or else hadn't stumbled through their hangover well enough to find their way back just yet. Mostly, it was quiet. No one noticed her in the low red light and the shadows that it cast where one bulb didn't quite overlap the next. Just another sailor on another sub.

If they only knew.

She smiled.

The Scientist would be here soon. 10:00. Just as we agreed.

---

Ha_lfLife
yoikes
rus roman
wickedlittlecritta
ChaiLatte
powerline​

 

[rus roman]

mood:

apprehension

outfit:

black trench coat, black turtle neck, black pants, black boots.

location:

the docks of The Ark

interactions:

Captain Jette Sabina

Jean Marlowe

Dr. Dashiell

There was a silence in the gaping maw of one of three exits from The Ark, an inky black silence that muttered wordlessly of trepidation. Within this belt of shadows, that seemed to stretch on and on like a cloak contorting itself around the rim of the vast, vaulted chamber she had come from, Dashiell Jean Marlowe--the heiress of the Marlowe bloodline--scowled into the darkness. She wore black. She always wore black, and it took only five minutes to dress, making sure her gloves were in her shapeless hooded jacket. Around her she had set a few duffle bags, that which she had struggled up this perilous slope to the surface above. No one knew she was here, especially the ones that would miss her the most, she made sure of that.

It had been too much to bear, to stand and watch her people, her family, bow their knee in subsurvience to their new reality. That their home shuddered on the old bones of a whittled grandmama, who demanded blankets and warm broth, but all they could offer was stale bread...
There was a malitude of practical approaches that led Dash to this day, the day she left her home. But foremostly she had fatalistically concluded that her research, her life's work, meant that she was best suited to the task. She would search for hidden gems in the deepest parts of the ocean, walk where her family feared to tred. It was either join them and sit on her thumbs, or throw her arms out in an attempt to catch a ray of eternity. Anything other than her escape would require her to accept the dilapidation of her home and simply do what has always been expected of her, to marry the Hart boy. She gritted her teeth derisively at the thought of it.

Dash hitched her bags around her waist once more, and told herself that the strain in her spine to hold all that she was, was worth it. Each step brought a thin pencil of light closer, which rounded itself and widened, till she could see the surface of the planet itself. Dash had been privy to the docks on occasion by her father as a welcoming party to political guests. There she had watched the water and the dying sun, and remembered the child-like reaction of wonder that beset her. But it felt different this time, almost culpable. Guilt settled in her stomach and it rolled petulantly. Was she reconsidering? Her mind flashed with a disaproving look from her father, but this did not disway the giant feeling of exhileration that took a hold of her when the sun did finally fall upon her.

'Captain Jette Sabina' was the name scrawled against the parchment Dash clutched to. She had struggled it out of a conversation with a dock worker in her demands to find safe passage to the deep. It was the name that had been bouncing around her mind for the weeks leading to this day. Sa-bi-na. She let the syllables wash her tongue as a reminder; "do not forget the name of your pallbearer" her father had said. It was a grim lesson but it was put there to scare her into being cautious of strangers. It was a common fable shared between Arkians and their children. Fear the outside, and the unknown. Dash knew little of caution, she had never had need of it.

A figure, presumiably this Jette character, appeared on the ledge before the port. The woman looked tiny against the backdrop of her edifice, almost insubstantial at this distance, and Dash wondered if this image would be shattered. Then she wondered at how she must seem, struggling with her bags, her face shrouded by her dark hood, a looming figure pulling themselves from the deep.

Dash came to stand before the Captain and let go of her bags, grateful for the rush of relief and yet winced at the blooming pain in her knuckles. She felt heat there and brought her hands together to rub at the tender spots on her fingers. Trepidation truly was her master now and found herself forgetting the introduction she had so carefully rehearsed...

​

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

scroll

the navigator

kolya.

mood

just woken up and insufficiently caffinated

outfit

the shirt passes the sniff test

location

his bunk/the bridge

interactions

open

tags

n/a

There were a number of pleasures to be found at port, and one of the simplest was the chance to sleep in. Kolya was indulging, wrapped up in his blankets in his bunk late into the morning, when the intercom crackled overhead and the captain’s voice barked out orders.

He groaned and tried to swim out of sleep to a wakefulness that could process speech. Knife? Six minutes? Dress to impress?

For a moment, warm and cozy and disoriented, he nearly fell back to sleep, but the captain's words finally processed properly and he sat up, blinking owlishly into the dim light of the bunks. Then he pulled at the shirt he was wearing and sniffed it.

"Hmm,"

Kolya said, dubiously, and went to rummage through his things for a shirt that smelled at least slightly better. He wasn't sure he owned anything that properly qualified as "dressing to impress," but he had good boots and his well-worn old Arkangel naval coat with a high collar and lots of pockets (a prize stolen long ago that he had never quite grown into, but could never bring himself to part with regardless), so that would have to do. He ran his fingers through his hair and slumped out of the bunks to the kitchen, because before he did anything else he needed caffeine.

He considered hollering down the hall if anyone knew what the captain was bothering them for, as he made his tea, but if he didn't know then surely no one else did.

And then as soon as he had the thought he remembered the captain's plans regarding a certain bright young scientist, and he said,

"Гавно,"

and took his mug and hoofed it to the bridge.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[yoikes]

Nayla was crouching by an open electrical panel, cables of different sizes and colors jutted out into different angles, while the young mechanic fiddled with its inside. When she was satisfied with her work, the cables are neatly folded in a way that looked more organized. She closed the panel, screwing it close again before eagerly pressing and holding the green button until it lit up and the machine started a low hum. Nayla then listened to it until she was sure that it was running perfectly, a small, rare smile appearing on her face.

The water generator was letting out some weird buzzing on their previous trip, which really bothered her. It didn't sound like a mechanical error, but more of electronics, and she's been waiting for the chance to take a look at it. Now that it was out of her mind, Nayla thought that she can finally get a quick nap, or perhaps heat a pouch of mushroom soup, and let out an annoyed groan when she heard the orders. "Seriously? Talk about the timing." She sighed in a complaint but the captain's orders are the captain's orders, so it has been ingrained within Nayla, who turned in the direction of the equipment room behind her and yelled, "Luz, I'm heading back to my cove now!"

What she meant by "cove" was her own place tucked in a corner of the engine room, which was just next to the motor and electronics room, under a steel stairwell. Hidden behind some panels was a cozy-looking mattress and blankets and pillow that, for one, would seem as if it has been seemingly thrown onto the floor. But for Nayla, it was her own private space, her own "private quarters". Her private belongings are stacked in whatever nearby empty space she could find, from books, tools, to what she is looking for: clothes. Jette told them to "dress to impress", but she didn't exactly have any kind of flattering dress, her job involves getting dirty after all and it's hard to clean those stains. So she looked down at what she was wearing, dirty gray-colored coveralls with a relatively clean white shirt underneath. The shirt is probably-- no, definitely, one of the cleanest pieces of clothing she has. So Nayla decided to be creative a bit. She unzipped her jumpsuit, took the sleeves off her arms, and tied them nicely around her waist in a knot. Great, she feels lighter and cooler too now. Now she just needs to make her way to the bridge, which is going to be just a short climb up from the engine room, a direct access.

Mentioned: ChaiLatte

 

[ChaiLatte]

Hands clapped together as Luz brushed the remaining dust off of them. A proud smile formed on her face as she gazed about the workshop, satisfied with the job she’d done and allowing herself a sigh of relief. She’d been up early tidying a few rooms and making them a little more presentable for their newest passenger. As the captain had informed them, this Arc-born scientist had not been made entirely aware of the circumstances she was walking into. The less evidence of their illicit activities lying about in the open, the better.

Her triumph quickly crumbled at the Captain’s words over the intercom. A knife? She smacked her palm against her forehead for having missed one. And here she thought she’d gotten everything. “Damnit.” It was going to be tricky to keep things hidden when they were so used to walking about the sub without a care in the world. Six minutes didn’t exactly give her enough wiggle room to get from where she was to the bridge, down to storage, and then back in time. Surely someone else would be able to handle that, right? One could hope.

It was Nayla’s voice calling to her that snapped her out of thought. “Be there in a sec!” she shouted in reply, eyes sweeping over the room once more before moving to exit. Dressing to impress was something she could do on the fly. As some of their ventures tended to pop up suddenly, Luz was accustomed to tossing off her clothing at random while rushing to the diving hold so she could swiftly jump into gear. Since she’d recently cleaned all her clothes up, she knew exactly where they’d all been scattered about and hidden away. As luck would have it, some were on the way towards Nayla’s so-called cove.

There was no time to get too gussied up, so as she pitter-pattered her way through the motor and electronics rooms she slipped the dust-covered top off over her head and wiped the sweat off her brow with it. Hesitating outside the engine room to search, just above the doorway was one of her hiding spots. With the dusty top, she lassoed at the small bundle tucked in the corner, knocking it down into her hands. She grabbed a top at random - a loose olive green sweater of sorts - slipped that on and shoved the dusty one in its place before tossing the bundle back where she had found it. That gave her the excuse to slip away later when awkward conversation was bound to happen and she could organize it then.

Adjusting the sweater to hang comfortably off one shoulder as if nothing had happened, she popped up just outside Nayla’s cove. “Well don’t you look snazzy,” Luz let out a low whistle, admiring the knotted-jumpsuit look. Gaze lifting to the mechanic’s face she let out a quick laugh. It was no surprise to spot a bit of grease leftover on her face. Bundling a sleeve over her hand, she reached up and gently wiped the grease off Nayla’s cheek. “There. Shall we?” She sure was thankful for the quick access up to the bridge, letting the mechanic lead the way before climbing up after her.

 

[Saurosian]

Black was a very efficient colour and Jette loved few things as much as efficiency. She hadn't always known that she loved efficiency, and sometimes she had construed her love in terms of hate (for wastefulness and lackadaisy) rather than love, but for all her life there had been a special feeling that welled up inside her when she killed two fish with one stone. So looking at the scientist approach through the darkness in her perfect black-and-black attire, Jette had the strange premonition that she might actually be a good addition to the crew, and not just a profitable one.

Then she saw the duffle bags she was heaving along with her, and she dispelled herself - efficiently - of that misled notion.

The scientist heaved the bags forward one last time. Jette, who had been standing there haphazard, smiling for her whole approach, found herself expecting the scientist to say something. It looked like the scientist was expecting to say something, too. But despite all these expectations, nothing - nothing! - came through.

Jette glanced down to the bags. Numbers started popping from them and merging together, passing from units of weight to fuel to money to time -

Cool hands now. Better to toss half of it later than never get it - and her - onboard.

She looked back to the scientist's face, which still struggled to find the right way to start a greeting.

"Doctor." Jette had practiced this smile in front of a lot of mirrors. "This isn't... light..."

And the next part of the sentence is...

"...but we'll make it work. Why don't you come onboard?"

rus roman

 

[rus roman]

mood:

apprehension

outfit:

black trench coat, black turtle neck, black pants, black boots.

location:

the docks of The Ark

interactions:

Saurosian

Jean Marlowe

Dr. Dashiell

Embarrassment was a hot coal that burned in your belly and spread across your body in a hurried jitter. Dashiell likened it to the first time she ate citrus--a prized fruit in her grandmama's courtyard garden--and how it had sat in her stomach and growled menacingly up her throat. She desperatetly wanted to dispell the feeling, it can not be that she had frozen to the spot, and surely the captain would understand. But there was no mistaking the hardened look that spilled over Jette Sabina's face when the doctor came up dry, and not just dry, but burdened. The bags, oh the bags had set this steeliness in the captain's shoulders and Dash distressed at the thought that it could be her undoing. Would she refuse her? Sell her luggage? Throw it overboard? She had spent hours rehearsing what she would say, days packing for this venture, and weeks planning not only how but why she should leave. The why was so important, as it was what tore her from the shell she had found so very comfy, and slapped her onto the docks above...

A clear thought sliced through the dim and said to her: you are more than this...

Dashiell straightened slightly, pushing her chest outwards, and cleared her throat. "Yes, Doctor Dashiell Marlowe and it is a pleasure to meet you," the words came out more brusque than she had wanted but if it layed out an appearance of confidence, then she would be pleased with it either way. She had begun to reach down for her bags once more but then straightened and added decisevly that: "The work of a petrologist is never light."
Dash had remembered to pull her gloves from her pocket and she did so without hesitation as her mind realed with germs and contamination. She slipped them over her delicate hands and felt a little push of conviction in the motion. More words wanted to spill from her, to make up for the giant hole of embarassment, and now that she had found her footing, she could fill it freely.
"The study of the formation and transformation of rocks requires equipment captain, unless you are offering your own, then this weight is necessary." She needed to stress 'necessary', as her heart jolted at the idea of being seperated from them. Some of the equipment she held was generations old: spoons, spatulas, petrographic microscope slides, storage jars, brushes, picks, probes... The list went on, but what was of the utmost importance was her travelling microscope. The one her father had given her, which his father had given him. Oh how the idea of their seperation made her stomach roll with nausea. No, it could not, would not happen.

Dash locked eyes with the captain, wanting to instill the seriousness she felt. It was perimount she ascertained at least a modicum of understanding, so that she could work without hinderance, and so that her equipment was left alone. "I trust we can be agreeable with each other?" She offered a smile.

 

[Saurosian]

Her bursting panic was well concealed in the surreptitious glance Jette gave around the docks when Doctor Dashiell Marlowe, with all the pomp and bravado of a prized turkey the day before Thanksgiving, declared herself - by name - to the world. She caught one curious pair of eyes and chased it off with a glare, but she couldn't find every inquisitive ear in the shadows. If someone wanted to know... well, they would know.

The Arc was in her top ten for 'creepiest cities in the world', and for the moment it had just bumped itself up a few spots. The thought of archaic listening devices perched in the machinery made her spine shiver. She had seen what relics still glistened in the hands of half-mad collectors clinging to the powers of the old world... she wanted nothing more, in that moment, than to be far, far away from the Arc and all its strangenesses.

Except, it seemed, for the few which the good doctor would insist on bringing with her. She stifled a sigh beneath her smile.

"Doctor Marlowe - should I call you doctor? Listen. You'll have to forgive us here. We're not helping you out because we have half a clue what you're doing or how you're doing it. This is more a case of a, how do you call it? A "leap of faith". So if you'll meet us half way and excuse a bit of ignorance about petrification, then we'll - as I said - make it work. For all of us."

And if it doesn't work out...

She reached out to give Dash a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, rather than finishing that thought. "Why don't you follow me down the hatch here, pass one of those bags and we'll get the crew to stow them away for you."

rus roman

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

scroll

the navigator

kolya.

mood

just woken up and insufficiently caffeinated

outfit

the shirt passes the sniff test

location

the bridge

interactions

rayan

tags

Ha_lfLife

The knife looked more like a toy than a weapon, slick and cheap. It felt bad in his hand when Kolya picked it up, the balance all wrong--all in the blade, with no counter-weight in the handle. He tried to balance it on his outstretched right hand, the left still holding his mug, just to see. Who on the crew would have purchased such a shitty thing? And worse, who would have left it lying around, as evidence that they had bought it?

The terrible little knife started to fall from his hand and he caught it just as Rayan entered the bridge. The doctor was perhaps the only one on the crew would could actually fill the order of dressing to impress, and he didn't look pleased to see Kolya already there. That was fair. Kolya wasn't pleased to see him either.

"Доброе утро,"

he said in answer to Rayan's good morning, idly flipping the knife between his fingers. He took a sip from his mug and then asked, still toying with the knife,

"This isn't your piece of shit knife, is it?"

He assumed not--he could not imagine someone as fussy as Rayan owning anything that was as cheaply made as this tacky little souvenir--but it was funny to imply that he did.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[rus roman]

mood:

apprehension

outfit:

black trench coat, black turtle neck, black pants, black boots.

location:

the docks of The Ark

interactions:

Saurosian

Jean Marlowe

Dr. Dashiell

Dash cleared her throat out of discomfort and immeadiatly stiffened as the captain's hand laid rest against her shoulder. She had mistepped, but where? Jette's demeanor had changed. Had she said something wrong?

"Excellent," she said nervously as her eyes flicked down to her bags, "then there should be no problems with my luggage..." and added: "I don't require you to understand my work, just that I need it." She said it quietly, almost to herself, like a small prayer.

Dash almost felt like turning tails on the spot, disappearing back down her hole. But, she had come this far, and so she dispelled the notion of telling the captain to take her hands off of her luggage. Instead she nodded in her usual agreeable fashion and handed one of her bags to Jette. "Please and thank you," is all she said.

 

[yoikes]

"Hey-- Stop, I can do it myself." Nayla protested, but still let Luz cleaned something-- probably grease-- off her face, staying still until given the okay. She then rubbed the spot with her back of her hand off habit, probably undoing her friend's help by making a new smudge across the same cheek, murmuring a quick thanks as she led them into their ship's "compact" bridge. Compact, because when compared to other ships it is small in size, which makes sense since it was practically designed to be operated by a small team.

The smell of coffee hits her first, and then she caught the tail end of their conversation as she entered the bridge, something about a knife. Nayla then quickly stepped aside to give Luz the space to enter, before giving Koyla and to the new doctor a look, easily sensing the tension rising between the two of them. She thought they've been at it for weeks already, perhaps even since the doctor was recruited into the crew, though Nayla can't say for sure. "... Morning?", she was unsure how to start, and decided to leave it to Luz instead. With that decided in her mind, she distracted herself with another realization of how small their bridge really was.

The pilot's seat was placed in the middle, surrounded with a command panel that has all sorts of different buttons, switches, and levers to streamline the ship's control, which usually would require at least three people to maintain. Three large screens hung overhead, and when the ship is operating it would display what the gauges are showing coupled with other informations to help the pilot driving the ship. Crammed into the remaining space was the machinery for sonar and communications, with seats for its respective operators. The spaces between seats and machinery was already small, and looked even fuller with the four of them standing within the room.

Mentioned: ChaiLatte wickedlittlecritta Ha_lfLife

 

[ChaiLatte]

“Nn-” Luz’s hand hung lamely in the air between the two of them, objection fizzling out as she watched helplessly as the mechanic wiped at her cheek. She had half the heart to try and clean it again, but when Nayla’s hand lifted to reveal only a tiny smudge, she decided against it. “Actually, it looks better that way.” Besides, maybe a little grease would be good for the scientist to see that the Red Siren’s crew were hard workers.

Following her friend, Luz peeked her head up first before fully joining them all, taking a quick headcount. Not bad for four out of five to already be present. Maybe McCoy had been the one to take care of the quick storage run. Hearing the uncertain greeting from Nayla, she came up the rest of the way to chime in. “Good morning, cuddlefish.” It took only a moment to breathe in the tension between the two. “Whoa, simmer down the testosterone.”

Hands lifted to the messy bun atop her head from her morning cleaning and tugged at the hair-tie to let her locks free, making herself comfortable in the space as she typically did. It really didn’t matter to Luz who could adapt to most settings and situations and walk confidently through any room. ”So, who’s excited for our latest addition?” she didn't mask the sarcasm in her tone. Catching sight of a glint between Kolya’s fingers she stepped to stand next to him, lifting his hand and tilting the knife toward her to catch her reflection in it. She shook her fingers through her strands of hair to make herself more presentable. Then quickly realized *this* was what the Captain must have been fussing over. "Wait, this definitely isn't yours." One eyebrow lifted impishly as she gazed at Rayan, then in a low voice back to Kolya, "were you going to make it disappear?" Not at all hinting that he'd stab the good doctor, of course.

Mentioned: yoikes wickedlittlecritta Ha_lfLife

 

[powerline]

Luz had been cleaning, so McCoy, polite in his own way, made himself scarce. He holded up in the armory on the opposite side of the ship, and, surrounded by boxes, guns, bullet casings and power, he prettied himself like a nervous girl. He never got the opportunity to, not in life and not when the doctor boarded. He never considered it before he saw the way Rayan dressed, how he carried himself—a mistake perhaps, because now they swept past each other as commonly as sighting ghosts. McCoy had seen rich before, certainly, but it’s continued close proximity was new. Rayan’s materialism was like casting pearls before swine, and McCoy, caught in the middle where admiration and envy shook hands, found himself, as piggy as ever, trying to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.

He had one boot kicked up on the table and the other off his foot entirely, dutifully polishing the leather with a rag stained brown and flecked with dirt. The starved leather ate the moisture readily and took its time to shine. When it did, the boots shone dull and humble, glistening softly when turned in the light—not much to anyone else but McCoy. He was proud, proud and sentimental over old boots like an adult seeing their childhood keepsake made anew. But the true excitement came from a sweater laid out ever so carefully on the table. McCoy only had but one set of clothes, never needed for anything more, so the sweater is everything. It was made of a synthetic wool that stared at him, the fibers dyed a beautiful dark green like an ocean’s depth, not too flashy, not too vibrant, but not the browns and blacks McCoy had grown so reliant on. There was a knife on the bridge that didn’t matter, there was only six minutes left to prune himself before fresh eyes would see him and decide who he was, which did.

Aside from the Captain, he was the last to reach the bridge. He hadn’t caught the prior conversation, but could firmly note that the energy seemed strange, palpable and yet McCoy cut right through it, heavy steps announcing his presence. He craved to be unbothered and smooth, but fell back on a darkened look on his face, nearing an intentional scowl as he shifted his gaze to Nayla, and hung by the frame of the entrance like a vampire. “Good mornin’,” he said, pitch low, drawl pronounced, but rumbling and loud as he nodded.

mentions: ChaiLatte Ha_lfLife
interacts: yoikes

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

scroll

the navigator

kolya.

mood

just woken up and insufficiently caffeinated

outfit

the shirt passes the sniff test

location

the bridge

interactions

rayan, nayla, luz, mccoy

tags

Ha_lfLife , yoikes , ChaiLatte , powerline

Kolya raised his eyebrows at Rayan's response.

"Oh ho. It barks,"

he said, grinning. He was saved from making the situation worse by Nayla's awkward, uncomfortable entrance, and Luz's bright, peppy one.

"Good morning пчелка, рыбочка,"

he said to Nayla and Luz. He decided not to dignify the testosterone comment with a reply. Perhaps he deserved it. Perhaps not.

"This is mystery garbage,"

he told Luz, still playing with the knife one handed. He set his mug down to have both hands free, and tucked the knife away into one of his coat's many interior pockets.

"Is disappeared. Ta-da!"

He did a little flourish with his hands, like a magician, as if he had really made it disappear, and they had not all watched him pocket it.

"Good morning, солнце,"

he said brightly to McCoy at his entrance.

"We are having fancy scientist join crew,"

he told them all.

"So best behavior to make Captain look good, вы понимаете?"

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[rus roman]

mood:

apprehension

outfit:

black trench coat, black turtle neck, black pants, black boots.

location:

the docks of The Ark

interactions:

Saurosian

Jean Marlowe

Dr. Dashiell

Dash watched attentively as Captain Jette slipped two of her bags down the hatch, and even though she could see Jette had been careful and methodical with how she had let them drop, Dash still found herself listening out for whether they crashed below or gently thudded into the craft. Just as she had turned to grab the last bag there was a sudden flash, a horrendous crack, and something had torn through the side of her long coat. Even as it had burned a path straight past her, she was still unknowing of what had hit her. The crack sounded once more, and then another. They rattled Dash’s mind, making her teeth clench as the sounds reverberated throughout her bones. Her hearing went fuzzy, her mind dazed, and she blinked slowly around her. What could make such a sound?

The warped patterns and dancing colours in her vision dimmed and finally she found she could find some semblance of focus. That is when she noticed the captain hunched over. She had let go of one of Dash’s bags and it landed with a heavy thud. Dash had immediately stooped to catch the falling woman, and found herself kneeling over Jette’s body, instinctively shielding the captain. Jette’s head rolled to the side and her glassy, unfocused, eyes stared up at the greyed heavens, and Dash knew something was terribly wrong.

“Captain Jette,” the words eked out of Dash’s compressed lungs, but even then she knew that the woman would not answer. She was still, too still. Jette’s body quickly became limp and heavy, and cold, and stiff. Too stiff. Something dark and thick oozed out of the Captain’s abdomen, and Dash instinctively squeezed her hand over the bubbling wound. Blood roared in her ears and everything went dim as her mind concentrated on a single fact.

Jette was dead.

“Oh my god,” Dash choked on the words as her mouth tasted of metal. “No, you must get up,” she felt ragged as she attempted to pull herself and the woman to safety. But her body became stuffed, stitched, and sewn with pain and found she could not do both.
“GET UP,” she called out once more, her breathing rapid as adrenaline and shock became her masters. The shock was born from the ease at which life was lost. That object had torn through Jette as though she were butter. How is that possible, how can something so big disappear, and do it so quickly. Dash’s mind reeled and she found herself looking outwardly. Where had it come from? Where was the danger?

There, in the distance, guards of the Ark. They had come for her…

Dash cried out in frustration and used her foot to pull her last bag towards her so she could shove it down the hatch. There was no part of her that could do the same to Jette’s body, simply push her through the opening and let her fall. “Fuck,” she cried out again. There was no time to think, just move.

They were bullets, Dash could see that now, they pelted around her like hail and she cried out again over the dim of the rapid fire. Did they know that it was her? Did they know she was Dashiell Marlowe? Tears ran hot down her cheeks as she pulled herself to the opening of the submarine. She awkwardly dragged Jette’s body along with her, stoping momentarily to catch her breath, and then restarting the process of shuffling her own weight, and then Jette’s.

Dashiell began to lower herself through the hatch, and cried out from a deep pain in her left leg, her muscles lashed out at her for using them to keep her footing in the rungs of the ladder. There was something wrong with her leg. She looked up at Jette’s bloodied hand which hung over the opening, and she reached out to take a hold of it, to pull her down with her, but more bullets zipped overhead and clashed into the lid of the hatch. Dash screamed and fell back; down, down into the depths of the Red Siren.

 

[yoikes]

And the gang's all here, Nayla thought, as McCoy appeared from the other direction of the ship. She caught his gaze, averting it awkwardly, choosing to instead focus on Kolya as he told them what to expect. The muscle has joined their crew for a while, but for some reason, she continues to find herself intimidated by him... specifically, his background. What's stopping a bounty hunter from betraying them, when the money is right? Nayla knew a certain organization that would be willing to pay a considerable sum for her, though to her last knowledge such bounty is still only offered amongst the member of the organization, but that might change already. But before she could worry more about things that may not happen, a squeaky sound of the hatch opening echoes through the submarine. That must be Jette, ready to bring their new scientist on board.

"I'll prep the engine," Nayla said and disappeared into her domain before anyone could stop her, though she thought that might just be an excuse to get away from McCoy. But it's time to work again until Jette drags her back up for introduction. She already made sure that the diesel already refueled, all set to go to wherever Captain decided it's best for them to head next, while the batteries are kept on to keep the electricity running while the ship is parked, even if it's just for something as simple as lights, coffee maker, or warm shower water.

Nayla had just climbed down the small platform that connected the room to the bridge when she could hear the faint pop!, one after another, a few dinging against the metallic body. The sound was all too familiar, one that she learned during her time of service and occasional encounter in this job. "We are under attack!" Nayla yelled as she sprint across the room toward the power panel, flicking on switches and pressing the buttons needed to bring the ship alive. She watched as the diesel engine rumbles and started thumping, then rushes to the electronics, opening the ballast tanks in a hurry to make it possible for a quick dive in. It will take a while to rig for a deeper dive, at least they won't be sitting ducks and give the chance of whoever shooting at them a chance to board.

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

scroll

the navigator

kolya.

mood

screaming internally

outfit

the shirt passes the sniff test

location

the hatch/the bridge

interactions

nayla, dash

tags

yoikes , rus roman

Just after Nayla made her escape back to her engines, there was an awful, unmistakable sound from near the hatch.

Gunfire.

Kolya was at the hatch nearly before he knew he was running, skidding to a halt in front of a tableau of dropped luggage and blood and a wide-eyed, shocked young woman bent over--

(Kolya had seen dead bodies before, but there was a difference between a body belonging to someone you didn't care about, and one you did.)

He could not speak to the scientist. Not now. Not without saying something to ruin all the plans Jette had just died for.

You cannot possibly be worth this.

"Stay out of the way,"

he said coldly, and went to the hatch to confirm it was locked. Then he hit the coms.

"Departing now,"

he barked into it.

"I need someone in the bridge to help with controls,"

he added, but no more. He could not, would not, look at Jette lying there like a broken puppet, red soaking through her shirt.

I didn't think she could die, some small part of him thought in confusion, like he was seventeen again and Ylfa was dying all over on him.

"Сейчас же!"

he snapped over the coms, and ran again, back to the bridge, leaving Dash and her bags and his captain behind, because the only thing worse than losing Jette was losing her for nothing.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[ChaiLatte]

It all happened so fast.

There was a gentle and intentional plop of a luggage bag descending down from above. It was followed shortly by a second, but it was the rapping of guns being fired up on the dock that stirred Luz. The third bag came tumbling down with a resounding clang and it was then that she knew what had happened before she could see it with her own eyes. Spotting only a blur of black and unmistakable crimson in the distance as Kolya zoomed past her to close the hatch and then again to pass her on the bridge, it was the echoing sound of her own heartbeat racing in her ears that was louder than anything.

It couldn’t be-

Time seemed to stand still and rush by all at the same time as she felt her body frozen in place. She wanted to scream but she had forgotten how to form words. Her throat felt tight but her eyes refused to tear up. She wanted to look away but all she could do was continue to stare helplessly. It wasn’t until Kolya barked an order in his native tongue over the coms that Luz practically jumped out of her skin.

There was no time to waste.

Without sparing another glance toward their fallen captain or the scientist, she pulled herself away from the scene swiftly and rushed to join Kolya. She’d learn some of the controls during her year with the crew, having begged them to teach her since she hated feeling useless when not diving or conversing for jobs. And to be honest, she needed her mind to focus elsewhere right now. Like the times she encountered a dangerous sea creature alone or when her diving suit was running out of oxygen, she could work under pressure.

“I’m here, Kolya.” Her voice sounded distant and all wrong, but she took the seat to help him, hands steady despite the shock.

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

scroll

the navigator

kolya.

mood

screaming internally

outfit

the shirt passes the sniff test

location

the bridge

interactions

rayan, nayla, luz, dash

tags

Ha_lfLife , yoikes , ChaiLatte , rus roman

"Thank you, Luz,"

Kolya said. She could do it. They could pilot the Siren together, he was sure, and the panic churning inside him started to settle. He started back for the bridge, by Rayan's voice stopped him. He'd half expected the doctor to fall apart, but his voice was composed in a way that made Kolya regret a little that he had hassled Rayan so badly earlier.

He looked past Rayan at Dash, still on the floor next to Jette in shock, her hands slick with the captain's blood.

"Make sure she isn't hurt too,"

he said.

"...Thank you,"

he added, before going back to the bridge.

"Preparing to disembark,"

he said, beginning the process, trusting that Luz would help where she was needed.

"We'll be diving, Nayla get ready,"

he added over the comms.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[rus roman]

mood:

pain, fear

outfit:

black trench coat, black turtle neck, black pants, black boots.

location:

the Red Siren

interactions:

Ha_lfLife

Jean Marlowe

Dr. Dashiell

How does one describe what physical pain could feel like in a person that had never felt it before? How does one express that Dash had not only never experienced physical harm, let alone illness, but had never felt the fathomless expanse of loss and sorrow? Dash could feel parts of her shrinking or swelling, lengthening or shortening. Her mind was processing what had just happened to her and she could feel herself dissociating...

There was a tightness in her thigh, and only now did she realise this tightness was getting hotter. It was like shockwaves slamming each of her nerves with a sledgehammer, or a live wire stabbing into her skin and burrowing into her muscles. Tears welled in her eyes as her vision danced, and she found that she was holding her breath. Dash clenched and unclenched her fists, and felt the first ebs of ragged cries crawl into her mouth. She would not cry. Not in front of them.

Dash dipped her chin and looked down at her leg, and with the adrenaline having now left her she could see for the first time that a bullet had zipped straight through her coat. She recalled when she was first slammed by the deafening cracks of gunfire, when that first bullet had raged past her, no through her, and into the captain... It had blasted through her coat, grazed past her thigh and slammed into Jette's body. Her mind started to dance with images, and she winced from the ferocity of it. Dash looked over to the captain's lifeless form, and found she could barely focus on the man who had stooped low beside her. His hair was dark, his face solemn. She had seen faces like that before, faces that were well versed in the art of hide and seek. Dash looked down at her thigh again, her ears still ringing, and mind whirling so rapidly she thought she would faint. She prayed she would faint so that this pain would end right there and then. People moved around her, barking orders; maybe some spoke to her, maybe not, she was not sure...

Dash pulled herself into a kneeling position and the increase of pressure on her thigh sent immediate waves of pain down her leg. She winced and attempted to stand, but there were new pains lulling her eyes to close. Dash felt dizzy and heavy all at once, her vision blurring and spotting. She found her hand reaching for her ribs but she did not follow through, she already knew there was something there she did not want to feel. There was the unmistakeable trickle of warm blood down her side that set her on edge, teeth clenched, the undeniable feeling that you were damaged, that something was wrong.

Dash was standing now, swaying gently as she clutched at metal piping to hold her steadfast. A little voice in her mind was saying that everything was ok, everything was going to be ok.

 

[ChaiLatte]

Luz merely nodded in response to Kolya’s thanks. She was afraid of what else might spill out if she tried to speak. There were only questions that were racing around in the back of her mind, and she couldn’t risk getting distracted by them or having her vision clouded with tears. Not now. They needed to get moving before they could fall to the same fate.

Her gaze flipped back and forth between the main controls and the controls in front of her, familiarizing herself with them while she waited for Kolya to return. She knew what each of them did, which ones relied on the others in order to work correctly; but there was a difference between a casual dive and a desperate one. Similar to an exploratory swim versus a run in with a shark. You could remember all the information in the book but that wouldn’t help you when you needed to rely on instincts to get you safely out of a situation. Yes, she knew what was expected of her now, and she would be ready.

Vaguely hearing the exchange between Kolya and the doctor, her own tension dimmed slightly when he joined her again. Communication would be crucial, so she tuned out everything around her except the sound of the engine and the breathing of the man next to her. She awaited his next move, taking a deep breath to settle the last of her jittery nerves.

 

[yoikes]

Nayla had just switched the power source from battery to diesel when she heard Kolya through the comms. She found that odd, as the Captain usually would be the one making the announcements, but reached out to the panel on the wall to answer still. "We are good, but give me... about 10 minutes to rig for a deeper dive." The mechanic announced. Where is Jette?, she was about to add, but decided to held back the question, as she figured the most important right now is getting away. Knowing her, she thought that the older woman is probably just being too focused at handling their ship's control panel. "Just get us the hell out of here!"

Nayla would need to run back by the ballast tanks' operating panel when they are actually doing diving maneuver, she would need to monitor the measurements to ensure that it's filling in correctly. A mistake in the process of submerging and surfacing could doom the ship, after all. But until then, she moved to the other instruments in electronics room to ensure that the ship is running smoothly.

Mentioned: wickedlittlecritta

 

[rus roman]

mood:

pain, fear

outfit:

black trench coat, black turtle neck, black pants, black boots.

location:

the Red Siren

interactions:

Ha_lfLife

Jean Marlowe

Dr. Dashiell

Dash did not hear him at first. It was as though a voice from far, far away called to her but the deafening ring in her ears blocked them out. She felt so small, trapped on a deserted island. The steady pitch that wavered in her ear drums did not silence, but her ability to focus slowly began to grow. Can she walk? Was that what she had heard him say? Yes she can; she will. She nodded to the man.

He was holding her now, his arms slipped about her, and she did not find herself flinching away but rather leaning in as she realised he could take this pain away. He could bear her weight, and the sudden relief in pressure on her thigh caused her eye lids to waver as her mind let go of the torment her leg delivered and instead washed her consciousness in repose. In his manner of clutching her wavering body, the man delivered a greater firmness to one of her sides, and she unknowingly gravitated to this part of him that she felt could take more of her. So she grasped at this arm, and that hand, holding on to them and allowing them to guide her through the labrinth of the Red Siren.

The sounds of machinery sent bizarre chills down her spine as they clashed with the ringing in her ears. It sent her mind ablaze with panic and confusion, and in response her heart beat began to quicken. Dash could even hear her eyelids blinking, hear the muscles pulling at the skin, and the blood rushing around her head. She had started to clench and grate her teeth, but that had to stop as quickly as it had begun as the sound became too horrifying for her to bear. Dash's breaths started to come out in stiffled puffs as she tried to calm her tremoring lungs. But the hallways seemed to zip past her, even though she was certain they moved at a snails pace, and it all started to become too much. She was certain she would faint. But then, she was sitting.

Through her heavy blinking as she stifled sleep, Dash watched the man shuffle about the room he had sat her in. His fingers grazed over draws and cupboard doors, searching for something...

He had brought something to her. Drink this, he says. She looks at his face numbly, only momentarily, taking in his sharp jaw and cutting eyes. Then she looked to the bottle, the black bottle, and almost gagged from the smell when it did eventually hit her. Dash was familiar with the biting scent of ethenol, it was what she used to sterilise her equipment, she distilled it herself from the potatoes her mother grew. Apparently the doctor wanted to sterilise her insides. But she obeyed with shaking hands, even though her insides told her not to, and licked her dry lips in anticipation for the sweet abyss it would bring. Dash had never been one to drink, but maybe she should start now.

Runaway, survivor, murderer... Why not add alcoholic.

She downed it, the entire contents.

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

scroll

the navigator

kolya.

mood

screaming internally

outfit

the shirt passes the sniff test

location

the bridge

interactions

nayla, luz,

tags

yoikes , ChaiLatte

On a ship like the Red Siren, you didn't need to like the rest of your crew--hell, you probably wouldn't--but you did have to trust them. With your life, if not with your lunch. But Kolya liked Nayla and Luz, and it was a strange thing to know that in this moment they trusted him the way they would have Jette: like he knew what he was doing.

Fucking terrifying.

"Disengaging,"

he said, and was relieved to find that his voice was even and steady as he hit the switches to release the sub from the docking apparatuses. He felt the sudden sharp drop as the Siren came loose, before it started forward. He could hear someone who had been banging on the hatch give a yelp, and then a splash as they hit water, and Kolya couldn't help but grin.

"Setting course due northeast,"

he continued. They needed to get free of the continental shelf, far enough out that the Siren's slow speed wouldn't matter, because she could go deeper than most other vessels.

"Diving,"

he said, as they began to move clear of the port, the sonar readings behind them still mercifully clear. Presumably other subs would be coming, but they hadn't been ready.

"Five fathoms...ten...fifteen,"

. If they had any luck left at all they would be too deep to follow by the time their pursuers were after them.

Kolya suspected their luck might all be gone.

♡coded by uxie♡