voidtreckerexpress | A New Platform [Intro Post March]

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A New Platform [Intro Post March]

On the Train

Once again passengers are awoken by the morning announcement.

"Good morning passengers, it is day One of the month of Kazoo. 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 is thick, the air is warm and humid and there are rumbles of thunder, the air heavy with the promise of rain.

As usual the first to leave the train notice nothing as they walk silently, rucksacks on their backs, towards the barriers: Alfredo Martini, Daia, Enna Alchiba, Lord El-Melloi II, Natsuno Yuuki, Nita Callahan, Saku Gyousou, Sakura, V and Wen Qing

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, and seems smaller with twenty-seven 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.

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'). Those not new to the train will note the addition of an eighth sleeper carriage. The store rooms have been restocked with fresh ingredients, it seems the month of Kazoo is defined by the tomato and there are plenty of them.

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 as thunder rumbles further and the storm threatens to break. 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!

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"Worth a shot. There's got to be some way in." She ponders. "Is there someone to ask? A conductor or engineer? Someone's got to run the train."

"I don't... think so." She admits, getting increasingly distressed as the conversation continues. "I think I heard people say that the train is running automatically."

"We are tethered to it, too. So long as we are on board this train. If it disappears, we do. And before you ask, nobody knows how to undo the tether."

"Tether makes sense. It makes a lot of sense. This place feels... Like I should be here." She could verbalize it but not in a way that she would really like to.

"I wonder if this is kind of a constructed universe, or a corridor which bridges things together. A vortex that we live in..." She brushed a hand over a wall which felt real enough. Or-" She snapped her fingers. "A pocket dimension. And if it disappears, we're out into the void..."

She watches Eight.

"Does that worry you?"

Eight is quiet during all of that, noting that this person, strangely, seems uncharacteristically familiar with everything that is going on. She doesn't mind the energy, if the other person didn't mind the quiet.

The question draws her back into the conversation and she has to really, really think about what is being asked.

"...I do not fear death." She says flatly and honestly. "I just..." There was something there. A loss. Profound and deep that extends far beyond the existential threat of non-existence.

"Yeah. I get it. Death is one thing, not existing is another." She's seen whole civilizations, whole planets, whole beings, erased from time with no one to remember it but her. She knows that feel herself, that cold dread that haunts her when she lets herself think about it which she rarely does.

"But don't worry, not going to happen if I can help it." And since there was enough existential crises for one day. "Tell you what, why don't you show me around-- Show me what parts of the train you like best."

Eight did not fear death. She was afraid that the home that she risked everything for would be forever lost to her. To have a dream and fight beak and fin for it, only for it to be gone and unrecoverable.

To the request she gave The Doctor a nod, slowly dragging her feet away to the the opposite side of the train. She notes some of the rooms as they pass -- the dining car with the kitchen up above, the gardens, and provides a brief and succinct description of each.

When she gets to the quiet rooms she gives a small halt, debating whether or not to go into that room. But the lady asked for her to bring her to the parts that she liked best, and so... she opens the door to the larger of the quiet rooms, with what looked like a work station on one side and a wall covered with pasted on paper on the other. The sign above reads "Show Us Your Home." While the canvas is mostly blank, there are a few paintings here and there.

"--and this. Is where I wanted to have a reminder of where we came from. So that we can share the memories with one another and keep them fresh in our hearts." Her eyes lower at the sight of her own drawing, a vision of a place she could no longer be. "...I'm thinking of taking it down."

It's a wonderful place. It's like a whole other world in here and reminds her of home. Her home. Only more mundane. The vibration under her feet is steady rather than the purr of a time rotor, there is a faint lingering sense of something, but no presence that she could feel against her skin like breath.

Still, the Doctor appreciates it and when they reach the quiet rooms, her eyes light up on reading the sign on the wall.

"It's beautiful." Sparse but lovely. She would add her own here maybe, but she couldn't remember if she could paint or not.

At Eight's words she frown's a little.

"Why?"

Eight's gaze turns to a picture of a large square with a distnat look in her eye. A balled fist presses against the blank paper.

"I know the train seems new to you, but we really don't have a lot of room. I made this for people to share memories..." She shook her head. "But only a small number of people responded. Surely there is more efficient uses for such a large room? There were quite a lot of you on the platform this time."

A sad smile crept on her face. "Besides, who wants to remember something that we will never again get the chance to see?"

"Even if it's just a small number of people it's important to them. The larger group doesn't always matter-- but also, you know, people need time. They'll come by and by." She almost wants to put an image of the TARDiS up there. Maybe one day...

"Why won't you ever get the chance to see it?"

"We are bound to the train to complete a mission. To travel from worlds in need to worlds in need."

She shook her head. She didn't want to admit this to a newcomer to the train, but it was the answer to the question that was asked. "..and the mission never ends. We will continue on this course until we expire, or the train does. And as you observed, if the train is destroyed we go down with it."

A small smile.

"Never say never. I've been in and out of worse and as long as you're alive, there's hope." She touched the train wall with her fingertips, feeling again that faint warmth and very faint sense of presence.

"I won't let anyone remain prisoner either. Even if help is needed." A murmured promise to herself and Eight and the train.

Hope was hard. Not because the situation was bad. If anything, the metro was worse. There there are kind people: people that look out for each other, people that look out for her. Even this complete stranger is providing her care, and they had only met mere minutes ago.

As though echoing The Doctor's gesture, she places her hands next to the square. What was hardest was she had achieved her dream. She made it to her new home. She found a new family. And one strange morning everything she had fought for was taken away from her. To risk death for her dream, over and over and over. To have died. To have had her happy ending.

Sad memories are better than no memories, but they can also make the real losses hurt that much more.

"You will try. I believe you." But. She turned to face The Doctor, eyes serious and stance resolute. "But you will not succeed. I have seen gods among people aboard this train, many who had more desire to leave than I do."

She was weary of hoping; of dreaming for something that had been taken away from her. She needed to work on what could be done now. To help the ones who helped her. To make sure that they will be able to return back to the train safely. Not for something as grandiose as a mission, but to keep moving forward. There was nothing more that she could do.

"Fair enough." Some people had to be shown to believe, and she might not be even able to do it. some tragedy might happen and Eight would be proven right. She knew she wasn't going to be here forever. She would outlive it, train or no train. An eternity loomed and she tried not to think too hard about it, both excited and apprehensive.

"What can I do to help here, then? To make it better." She was half talking to herself. "Or at least a little less sad."

For a moment, Eight's eyes turn away. In many ways she was envious of the determination this woman had. She wanted to continue to fight. But it hurt. Oh did it hurt.

Then, a song came to mind. It was still there, somewhere. Deep within herself she still heard it.

A sigh. The release of negativity. A soft curl came to her lips.

"Do you... know any songs?"

She lets the silence fall, enjoying faintly the thrum of the train and the feel of the movement through the void.

The sigh makes her smile a little and the question makes her smile more.

"Plenty. I know so many. I've not got a great voice and I can't remember how to play anything, but I can hum one if you want to hear it."

"Mmm!" Eight smiled and nodded, eager to hear what songs resonated with her.

"Hmm." She thought. What would be a good one? She thought of going with something she'd heard or even played. But then she decided to go with one that was closer to her hearts.

She hummed it softly, remembering the pain that had come with it, the agony of not remembering. She had now, of course, but that didn't mean she missed the person it had been made for any less.

Music can be a lot of things. For some, it's a memory. For some, it is loss. It circles around us, and has of recall things that were, things as they are, things as they will be.

As Eight hears the song her hands reach up and she holds them close to her chest. She can feel... something. Perhaps it was resonating with her situation now. Making her feel the loss and isolation. Her face is neutral, but the tears... the tears flow freely.

She needed this cry, the Doctor. Needed it more than she realized.

Whether it's a good cry or a bad one, sometimes a cry is needed. The song is a short one, but it's alright, the Doctor lets it drift into silence, though will hum it again if Eight needs it or something else.

"It's for a friend," the Doctor says after a while. "That I haven't seen in a very long time." Like all her friends really. Eventually. But she's lucky to be able to make so many.

She's quiet for a long while as well, only taking a moment to raise a hand to her cheeks. Once recovered, her cheeks will appear as though she had never shed a single tear. The joys of being a ink-based creature, probably.

"I am honored..." She finally managed, clearing her throat before continuing. "...I did not expect the song to be so... personal."

It was an interesting feature but the Doctor doesn't comment.

"As personal as this." She looks at the art. "Part of my home. Like the saying: Where your treasure is, there your hearts will be also." And it is her treasure. One of them.

"I bet between the two of us we can see what other treasures are here. I bet there are loads of people aching for something they've lost."

Eight nodded, needing to hear those words far more than she realized. A hand raises to her art, the memories of the song and everything that place meant to her flooding back.

"Yeah..." She says, a wistful nostalgia in her voice.

"You may be right about this staying up." For now, at least.

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A New Platform [Intro Post March]

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