A New Platform [Intro Post February]

[voidtreckermods]

On the Train

Three days after the Voidtreckers return to the void after their adventures on the biosphere world, they are awoken by a familiar announcement.

"Good morning passengers, it is day Sixteen of the month of Jelly. Points have been updated on the system."

They have indeed, and everyone can spend the morning shopping. Those who have been on the train for a while will also be expecting the second announcement that comes a few hours later.

"Shortly arriving into a designated void platform. Exit from void in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one." A lurch and a jolt and the windows fill with the fog that means they are at a platform. The fog seems thicker than usual and as they step out onto the platform they will find it is cold, very cold. Icy fog sticks to their clothing, makes it hard to see very far; the atmosphere is dark and gloomy.

As usual the first to leave the train notice nothing as they walk silently, rucksacks on their backs, towards the barriers: Alexis Rhodes, Elfnein, Itsuki Myoudouin, Ken Ichijouji, MT, Neku Sakuraba, Nike Lemercier, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Rainbow Dash, Rei Saotome, Taichi Yagami, Tsubomi Hanasaki, Yuri Tsukikage and Zechs Merquise all pass through the platform, not looking back before they disappear through the barriers and into the fog beyond.

But on the platform itself there are new faces. Wearing hoodies in all four colours, in various states of confusion.

For New Passengers

At first all they can see is steam, billowing around them as they come to their senses. As their eyes adjust, they will see they are on a platform, glass and dark stone rising in sturdy arches around them. Behind them is a set of barriers, and in front of them is a single track extending both ways into thick fog.

They are standing, in clothes that are not their own and a style they might not even recognise. They are carrying a rucksack on their back. For a moment it seems to just be them, alone in the white haze; then the steam begins to fade and they realise they aren’t alone.

The platform is not large with sixteen figures scattered around, all facing the tracks, all dressed in cargo trousers and hoodies. To both the left and right, tracks disappear into the mist. Then there is a roaring sound and out of the fog arrives a train. Jet black with gold writing on the side. The Voidtrecker Express. There is a hiss as the doors slide open and out step a strange assortment of people. Some are human, some are less so. Most are wearing the same hoodie in one of the four colours, red, orange, blue and purple, though some are sporting different clothes in a variety of styles.

The Train

After a short time, the doors hiss open again. Those from the train may encourage those on the platform to board. It’s not like there's anywhere else to go and even if there was, you feel a pull. A need to board, a feeling that staying on the platform would lead to something terrible. If that is not enough, there are plenty of people on the platform now, to encourage them onto the train.

Each ICP shows the same message and next to the screens there are stacks of leaflets written by those on the train, with further information (see
'Publications'). The store rooms have been restocked with fresh ingredients, including several crates of avocados, the ingredient of the month of Jelly, as well as all sundries.

For passengers that have bought items, these are also scattered around the luggage carriage in various suitcases and bags.

New passengers will find their ticket allows them into their cabins. They may need to negotiate for beds, especially if they want a top bunk!

Room is tight but there are storage cubbies at the head of each bed, beds fold up and the bottom bunks double as benches for the small table. There is storage under those benches full of spare blankets and pillows.

Departure

A second horn sounds to encourage any stragglers braving the freezing fog, and the doors slide shut. Veteran passengers know what will happen next, but they may wish to brief their new companions.

The train sets off, the fog obscuring the view again as it picks up speed.

"Welcome aboard, passengers of the Voidtrecker Express." A female-coded artificial sounding voice echoes throughout the train. "Please take the time to read the passenger information displayed on the Information and Communication points and familiarise yourself with the layout and emergency exits."

The train begins to tilt, leaving the ground and rising up into the fog-filled sky.

"Entrance into Voidspace imminent. New passengers are advised to remain seated. Entry into Voidspace in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one."

A shudder, a jolt, a lurch to the left. A flash of light, colourful and blinding. As quick as it happens it is done. The train seems to steady itself. The fog from the windows is gone now, replaced with a kaleidoscope of ever-changing colours.

Welcome to the Void!

Comments

[marvelous_murderbot]

"I see," she replied, and immediately, with the precision of her artificial muscles, began a gentle patting motion - warming her hand up past human normal as she did so.

"I hope you discover a name you like," she said - again, to the ghost - "every being should have a name." She turned her attention back to Soldat.

"Are they a native species, or some form of artificial life?"

[worthallthis]

"I really don't know," Soldat says, apologetic. "I inherited them from a friend who. Died. I'm not even sure where he got them." They're still pretty sure it's just a haunted children's toy, but they still love the little thing.

The ghost figurine bobbles cheerfully enough, for a little ghoulishly grinning sheet with plastic chains. If Guri looks close enough at the bottom, she'll even make out where the platform it rests on connects to the rest of it via little springs.

[marvelous_murderbot]

"I wonder it speaks binary," she said, thoughtfully. "Does it make its thoughts known?"

Then she pauses.

"Oh. I am being rude, aren't I?"

[worthallthis]

She's odd, but seems nice enough. Anyone who cares about communicating with something or someone who would otherwise be unable to communicate earns points, with soldat. "You're fine," they say, trying to inject a little warmth in their voice. Tone is not a thing they're great with. It's hard, sometimes, making the right kind of feeling come through. "I'd rather my roommates like them than not. And if you do ever hit on a way to communicate, I'd be happy to learn. I even tried Morse code."

So many of the spirits back in Beacon knew it that it seemed like a good bet, but apparently whatever animated the poor little ghost toy had never been taught, and hasn't seemed particularly interested in learning.

[marvelous_murderbot]

She nods, and leans in towards the ghost, speaking again. What emerges is a string of droid binary, a language understood by most all artificial life forms where she's from. After a few moments of that, she sits back to see if it worked.

"Hmm."

[worthallthis]

The little ghost just continues to bob lightly up and down, with no sign it understood. "Sorry, ma'am," Soldat says, tucking the last of their things into the storage space under their new bed. "If they understand, they apparently don't feel like communicating. Mostly they just communicate with me by rattling their chains for attention. They have no. Nutritional or power requirements. Just the occasional petting, and company."

[marvelous_murderbot]

"Interesting. Perhaps they do not use verbal communication at all."

She looked up, giving the ghost one last pet.

"Thank for the change-over. I know how particular some people can be about their space."

[worthallthis]

"I've only been here two weeks. Not really a lot of time to get attached." Plus they've had a lot of their possessiveness burned out of them, and one bunk is as good as another, aside from practical concerns.

Soldat settles on the mattress, after smoothing the blankets down. The ghost floats right off the gun case and drifts over to bump against their boot. "As long as I'm on the bottom. The side doesn't matter, really."

[marvelous_murderbot]

"Oh, that much I can understand entirely - in an ambush situation, immediate access to the floor is imperative."

[worthallthis]

"Exactly." That and they get paranoid when there's someone underneath them, even if it's someone they might marginally trust. Pulling the gun case over to their bunk to start bringing out the pieces and assembling them, just for testing purposes, they ask, "Where are you from?"

[marvelous_murderbot]

"Oh, a planetoid in the Minos Cluster," she responded, "though it wasn't a home or anything like that. What about you?"

[worthallthis]

Oh, it's like that, then. "A planet called Earth," they say, laying pieces out on the blankets next to them. They decide not to get into the whole Beacon thing. They don't even know what what planet that town was on. "You'll probably find a lot of the other passengers are from Earth."

[marvelous_murderbot]

"Good to know," she replies, watching him work on the pieces.

"Oh, it's a slugthrower," she replied, interested, then remembers to translate. "Metal round ammunition, not using energy technology. Very useful for sniping, though most people fail to understand that, where I am from."

[worthallthis]

"We call it a rifle," Soldat offers amiably. "Technically this is a Barret model. It is in fact for sniping." But if nobody else in her part of the universe uses them: "I take it you have different kinds of ranged weapons on your planetoid."

[marvelous_murderbot]

"There are many planets that I am aware of," she said, by way of small correction "and we use what are generally called blaster rifles. At closer sniper distances, they have the downside of making trajectory easier to detect. But with the best optics, ranges of several kilometers can be easily achieved. I've heard of shots even longer, but those were by specially programmed sniper droids."

[worthallthis]

Soldat resists the urge to say they're specifically programmed. That tends to give the wrong impression, especially to someone clearly used to robots. Droids? Something like that. It's still a little funny to think about, to wonder if they could match that, with the right tech.

"Okay, now I might want one of those blaster rifles, then," they say instead, with a little smile. "I've got good range on this baby. But not several kilometers."

[marvelous_murderbot]

"They are useful in some regards. But again, it gives direction, and if the target has any sort of energy shielding, it will likely not penetrate - ensuring that retaliation can be swiftly directed."

She shrugs.

"My preference, when I was ordered to kill, was always hand-to-hand for that and other reasons."

[worthallthis]

Ordered to kill, huh? Soldat doesn't look up from assembling the rifle, taking their time with it rather than the speed-run they're capable of, but a lot of their attention is focused on her. "Most of the time my targets weren't supposed to know I existed. I was a ghost. A secret weapon. So I didn't really use my hands all that much."

[marvelous_murderbot]

"I was more than capable of that," she responded, "I am very quick and can exceed human norms in nearly every conceivable way, but it was more the...threat of me that was used, within my erstwhile master's organization."

She is quiet a moment.

"I was fortunate in being able to delete many of the specifics - along with the information needed to rebuild that criminal empire."

[worthallthis]

Soldat is quiet for a minute, too, though while she thinks, they're assimilating some new knowledge they hadn't remembered they had before: how often they were used for internal executions. As a threat to other HYDRA agents. Jesus, what a way to run an organization.

"Delete." They look up, startled by the idea. Not by it being possible-- they're starting to think she's the kind of thing HYDRA always wanted them to be, an actual robot, and even then biological murder machines can have memories burned out-- but by it being fortunate. "Why would you want to? I had all my memories taken. I. I want them back, even if they're awful. They're mine."

[marvelous_murderbot]

"For two reasons," she responded, after a quiet moment spent with pursed lips.

"First, the practical. My erstwhile master, Prince Xizor, was the third most wealthy and powerful man in a galaxy, an empire he had created based on murder, extortion, drug smuggling and every manner of violence. I knew where all his safehouses were, where his secrets were. That knowledge would enable anybody to rebuild what was lost, and commit still more violence. The deletion of that portion of my memory removed that possibility - as well as the command codes that Xizor had to ensure I remained his loyal killer, seductress, and right hand."

That last seemed to bother her more than anything, and it did. Not just that she'd done it - that she had to accept as a fait accompli - but that she'd never rebelled against it. Never even conceived of the thought. Instead just seeking the challenge.

"The second reason is that that comprised most of my active existence - in all of which I was not my own person, if you would be generous enough to let me use the term. Many are not. Now that I am free, this way my decisions are not haunted by those past things. I can make choices of my own, without precedent that was not of my making."

[worthallthis]

They're very still for a moment. If they could delete the parts of their brain that the Words live in. If they could do that, and nothing else. (That'd be pretty tempting.)

"I feel like we might have a lot in common," they finally say, weakly, before looking down at the half-assembled rifle. "I've got. Command codes. Too." They're not worried that people might know about them-- without knowing the Words the knowledge is useless, and not even Soldat knows all of the Words. "Don't know what I'd do if I could take those out."

[marvelous_murderbot]

"I think," she said, her voice suddenly understanding, "that you could start over. As I have."

She offers a hand, the first time she's attempted to comfort a human.

"You carry a great burden. I would help remove it if I could. You, too, were programmed against your will."

[worthallthis]

They set the rifle aside after a beat, to reach over with the flesh hand and wrap their fingers gingerly around her wrist. It's maybe more personal than a handshake, but also easier to get out of for both of them. (Wrist-hug. Har-har.) They do kind of call it that, though, as a stand-in for proper affection.

"Thank you. I was. Some of it's faded, but. There's still a lot left. I'm okay, though. I'm getting better." They say the last like it's something they say a lot, to other people, to themselves, like a mantra. "Starting over is a little harder for those who can't delete parts of their brain, though."

[marvelous_murderbot]

"That is logical," she replied. "If there is any assistance I can offer, please let me know."