voidtreckerexpress | A New Platform [Intro Post April]

On the Train

Once again passengers are awoken by the morning announcement.

"Good morning passengers, it is day Sixteen 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 after lunch. A lunch that may be a bit sparse: between the big eaters and the stress bakers, the stores have been stretched thin the last two weeks.

"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 steam is thin, with blue skies seen above. The sun shines brightly down, warm light pooling on the platform.

As usual the first to leave the train notice nothing as they walk silently, rucksacks on their backs, towards the barriers: Cassie Lang, Glorfindel, Jessie Custer, Olivia, Paddra Nsu-Yeul, S’reee, Thea Queen, Wei Wuxian.

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, open, with a vine-covered wall stretching high either side of the barrier. 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 eighteen 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 doors close behind them.

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 plenty more tomatoes.

For passengers that have bought items, these are also scattered around the luggage carriage in various suitcases and bags. There is a suitcase stocked with spare wash kit items, for those who are running low as well as a box labelled Do Not Use Yet that is full of small 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 who are making the most of the sunshine. 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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"The train brings us back," Soldat explains, pausing to properly look back in Ghost's direction, now. "Whole and healthy. I woke up the next morning in the luggage car." Which they can say a lot more calmly now than they were at the time, because waking up in a dark, enclosed space happens to be one of their many triggers. "Besides, I'm already dead, anyway, technically. What is death to a dead thing."

The last comes out almost wry. It was the mantra of the spirits in Beacon, and they do kind of understand it a little. More than a lot of the still-living people around, anyway.

"Absolutely none of that was as reassuring as I think you think it is." Soldat is just getting an incredibly flat look. "Like, okay, I'm just going to put that over here and touch it when I can process it beyond 'that's the third most fucked up thing I've ever heard,' which is actually an incredibly high bar."

A beat. "Actually, maybe second most fucked up. I have to give you points for the delivery."

They blink, then duck their head, looking sheepish, before starting back down the train car again. "Sorry. Everybody in my last place had to die to get there, and we could be repaired there when we died, too, so I'm. A little out of the habit of treating that as serious. I know I'm pretty weird that way."

There's still a lot to unpack there - 'my last place' springs to mind immediately - but, nope, putting that in the box to fret about in the middle of the night sometime when he runs out of other things to worry about. Which will not be today and probably not even tomorrow.

"I guess you really can get used to anything," is what Ghost says, dryly, instead. He follows it up with, "I'm the last person who can give anyone shit about their circumstances making them weird. There's still some people who don't think I'm fit for human company."

"You seem pretty okay, to me." They've got friends who are actual mutes, friends who only speak in wordless song, friends who are giant psychic cat things. Talking through a phone is nothing. It's actually impressive that the phone manages so much tone. (More than you do, Asset. No.) "You'll probably find people here are pretty accepting. We've got. A giant spider. A talking book. An angel and a demon. A lot more former assassins than you'd think for such a small population. Whoever you are. You'll probably fit in okay."

"Slightly ill-advised alien-human hybrid." Only slightly. And yeah, the phone handles tone pretty well - in this case a self-deprecating one. "Sorry, I'm used to everyone already knowing. Downside of only getting to socialize with scientists and other escapees of a corporate space station, I guess."

"Weapon, and one of those former assassins," Soldat says with half a smile, pointing the metal thumb at themselves and glancing at Ghost over their shoulder again. "It's fine. I'm. I get where you're coming from." And Ghost is already clearly much better off than the Asset was, coming out of HYDRA. Either he's been free for a while, or his scientist captors at least encouraged him to chat.

It's not so much captors as co-refugees, but he appreciates the thought, Soldat. There's a slight sympathetic wince.

"And not in the mercenary 'I'm just here for the big checks' way, I'm guessing." That's the only kind he really has experience with, if you can count Dahl as experience. Fuck that guy in particular. "My situation probably isn't as bad as what you're thinking, but it was a bunch of civilians and a handful of ex-regular-military folks trying to keep their heads down."

"That's good, then. Sorry, I have some. Biases when it comes to scientists and experiments." It's also a relief. They don't like the idea of actual people-- or alien-hybrids, for that matter-- kept captive. "And no, I didn't get paid."

"I've got biases about it, and I like most of the people involved." A small sigh. "Wish there was at least one familiar face. Not the asshole mercenary, though." Fuck that guy.

"Yeah, I understand. I didn't know anyone when I first got here, either." They lead the way through the cars, heading for the sleepers. If Ghost has questions, he can ask, but they're pretty sure he doesn't need the kind of explanation for the different cars that, say, Merwen did. "But people you know could always show up. The first platform stop after I got here, two people I knew were there."

Nope, he knows what a train is, thanks. (Significantly more compact than a space station, is what it is.)

"Yeah, but then I have to be the expert." It's said mostly jokingly. Only mostly, though. "Being lost with somebody you know is different from showing them around later."

"I'll admit. I've never actually been lost with somebody I know before." They look sympathetic, though, over their shoulder. "I guess I might have had less of a freakout if I'd been on that platform with a friend, though."

Technically, Ghost has never really been lost like this before, not without a clue not so much on where to go but on what to do.

Ghost laughs a little. "I'm doing okay at the not freaking out part, I think." He can freak out once he knows he's not in immediate danger and also knows where to get away from other people.

The joys of being only a handful of days old, that. Being lost without a clue was their life for a long time, sadly, and handlers didn't exactly count as people they knew.

"You are doing great at the not freaking out part," Soldat assures him with half a smile. "Do you have other questions? I know this whole place is pretty weird to a lot of people."

"I'm probably saving it for later, ask again in a week." Fifty-fifty odds on either side, probably. He doesn't have a great history of holding it together outside of high-stress situations.

"And it's not fair to let you ask that without telling that I'm biologically predisposed to never running out of questions." Self-deprecating, a flash of humor. "But if you're doing the guiding thing, I probably shouldn't keep you from the people who are doing the freaking out."

"Good thing I'm predisposed to trying to answer them, then, huh?" Soldat tosses back. "Let me at least show you to your cabin. What's your cabin number? It should be on your ticket."

A New Platform [Intro Post April]

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