≫ MYSTERIES FROM THE TRANQUILITY

[yardbird]

[from: murphy's journal]

[Like with Silent Hill, Murphy will have a special tab in his journal that will help him keep track of the mysteries that have been occurring aboard the Good Ship Tranquility. Such is to be expected, since this boat was silly enough to provide him with his great big Book Of "Important Information". (But this is also here to help myself keep track of things, durr durr.)

Also for OOC reference so I can easily keep track of things: Doop doop!]

[go back to: murphy's journal]

Comments

[yardbird]

05/17/2XXX
SUCCEED AND GIVE
AND IT HELPS YOU LIVE
BUT NO MAN CAN HELP YOU DIE

[attached is a list]

(the answer is "Solitude")

05/28/2XXX
WHEREFORE ALSO I WILL DARE
THAT CONTEST, MONSTROUS AS
IT IS, THOUGH IT BE MY
DOOM TO DIE. FOR NOTHING
WILL FALL UPON MEN MORE
DREAD THAN DIRE NECESSITY,
WHICH INDEED CONSTRAINED
ME TO COME HITHER AT A
KING'S COMMAND.

(the answer is "argo")

05/28/2XXX
HELLO AGAIN.
ARE YOU LOOKING FOR THE
/SECOND /PART?

[attached is a list]

[yardbird]

06/05/2XXX
[Tabbed under "MAPS":]



06/05/2XXX
☺
I LIKE PEACE BUT I DON'T LIKE QUIET
I LIKE WORLDS BUT I DON'T LIKE PLANETS
WHAT DON'T I LIKE?

(the answer is "k")

06/09/2XXX
[From here:]
PRE-JUMP 001 CABIN ADDRESS (#382)
CAPTAIN J. GALLAGHER
10:50 AM ( ALEXANDRIAN )
AFTER 05.22 MONTHS OF SPACE TRAVEL
AUDIO TRANSCRIPT
GALLAGHER:

Good morning, Tranquility. We're happy to announce that, finally, after months of travel, we've reached the first jump point. Soon, we will emerge in unexplored space.

We'll be engaging the jump drive in an hour's time. Please report to the medical bay in order to secure a gravity couch. Staff will be there in order to assist you.

Best of luck. See you on the other side.

[From here:]
POST-JUMP 001 CAPTAIN'S LOG (#45)
CAPTAIN J. GALLAGHER
5:54 PM ( ALEXANDRIAN )
FIVE DAYS POST-JUMP
AFTER [?] OF SPACE TRAVEL
AUDIO/VIDEO TRANSCRIPT
GALLAGHER:

[?] -- rking, good --

I don't have time to explain. There's been an accident, somehow, the crew are -- it's insane. I can't stay here. I have to go. I hope to God the distress signals sent -- it might be too late, I don't know. But if anyone finds this, somehow, you've got to know that it wasn't our fault.

06/13/2XXX
FOLLOW ME IF YOU WANT TO LIVE :)

[yardbird]

11/10/2XXX
[Transcribed from here:]
Hello.

It's been some time since we last spoke. I've been watching you. You've been doing very well so far. I can't wait to see what you'll do next.

[yardbird]

01/01/2XXX
[Transcribed from here:]

Captain Gallagher here.

All passengers should keep their doors locked; on no account should you leave your room without a companion. [?] Keep to populated areas [UNKNOWN] you must exit your quarters. Do not open your door to anyone past curfew. Do not open your door to anyone you don't know. [?] I'd recommend coming up with a password, or some kind of security [UNKNOWN]n, just in case you run into imposters.

In fact, it's [UNKNOWN] it's best if you stay in isolated [UNKNOWN] for the time being. Some passengers have begun to react unexpectedly to t[?]mp stasis, so if you see anyone you know acting strangely, report to Security immediately. Do not -- I repeat, do not -- attempt to intervene on your own.

Don't enter Engineering without prior authorization. Avoid the lifts. If you're a member of a civilian department, assume emergency lockdown procedures and await further instructions. Security will escort you back to the passenger quarters. They'll be scanning passenger's nanites to ensure everyone is who they say they are.

Stay safe, and good luck. We'll make it through all right.

01/08/2XXX
[Attached are some quick-sketch renditions of:]

[yardbird]

07/01/2XXX
[Transcribed from here.]

☺
SUCH IS THE APPEARANCE OF THE BLACKBIRDS.
SCYLLA TURNED BACK; SHE DARED NOT TRUST HERSELF FAR OUT AT SEA
HERE ARE THE GRAVES OF THE CHILDREN OF IPHIMEDEIA AND ALOEUS.

UNKNOWN AUDIO LOG [LIVE FEED]

W: You can’t keep this up forever. They’re looking for you.

R: Watch me.

W: Hiding will only make it worse. ▓░▓▓▓▒▒▒▒░▓░░(You can?) only do so much to—

R: I can only ▓▒▒▒▒░ (do?) so much.

W: What are you going to ░▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▒▒en the ship st▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓░░▓▓▓▓▓▓ damage control?

R: If you want to take over, be my guest.

[ DEEP OFF-MIC THUMPING ]

W: We’ll talk about this later.

[yardbird]

11/11/2XXX

It's dark in the hallway. It shouldn't be; this was the route to the gardens, I was sure. But now the gardens seem to have -- no. No, I just took a wrong turn. It’s been so long since I could stop and breathe, eat or sleep; I’m tired, making stupid errors and blaming the world. The LT would chew me out if he was still around.

"Matine." The whisper seems close, just behind my left shoulder and I spin around with my fists raised. The hall is still empty, and I dig jagged, broken fingernails into already bleeding cuticles, trying to use the pain to center my mind and focus. "Iloooooooona." This time it's even closer, in the opposite direction; I whip around again, and there's a raw, hacking cackle from the end of the hall.

The end of the hall, where... "Mama?" It's impossible. Mom's home, buried in the family crypt, the way she has been for almost a decade. But she's not -- she's here, now, reaching out. She's scared, I can tell; wide eyes in a pale face, and the knowledge fills Ilona with the drive to keep moving.

"I know you." This time when I turn to track the whisper my mother disappears, the edge of her sleeve fading around the next turn in the corridor.

Forgetting the gardens, I follow as the whisper circles in closer, calling my name in a raw, half unintelligible tone.

And then it's not a whisper, it's a man -- Jesus, it's Schue. I step closer and he grabs my arm, grip bruising, hauls me in close. And it's him, I'd know him anywhere, but there's something wrong with his face. He seems... hazy, like there's a layer of oil between his skin and bones. "Oh, fuck. Oh, no." Hand falling down to my side where I was about to pull him into a relieved embrace, I shake my head. "Oh, fuck me. You're one of them, you're not Schue."

I wrench away from his cruel, biting grip (and for a moment he seems to have talons, digging in and drawing blood but when I look down, my arm is clean) and backs away, my features sharp with rage. "Whatever the hell you things are, you picked the wrong crew. Schue’d want me to do it." Raising my sidearm with a hand that shakes, I take another step back. “He’d want me to do it.”

He raises a hand, mouth open impossibly wide, like he's going to... god, I saw the corpses, back before the group disappeared. Like he's going to eat me like they do and I take aim at that gaping, eager mouth: one shot, two, three, four, until he staggers and falls.

Just a few feet away, my mother beckons from the doorway of a room -- it must have always been there, the thing wearing Schue's skin was trying to keep them apart. Was trying to hurt my mother.

Crossing the distance, my gun thuds to the floor as the door closes behind me.

11/21/2XXX

I spot Arunima on her way to the labs. Don't follow her straight away, takes a moment to look myself over, straighten my labcoat, check my breath, my hair. I'm a little sweet on her -- so's Da Costa, mind you, but I think this time I probably have a better chance. Our conversations working late nights are just about the only thing that makes my job worth doing, even if we have a tendency to disagree over the ethics of this little project we all work so hard on. She's got a philosophical mind on her, that one. Lately she's been a little odd, but women get odd, sometimes. Maybe she's sweet on ne, too.

Once I'm in the labs, it's easy to spot her: she's the only one around. I'd thought maybe she'd just be collecting something, but she's at the consoles, hands a blur. Overworking herself as usual. I ready some pigtail-pulling little remark when I see the feed she's got up there. That's a four, I'm pretty sure, and the security door it's passed through was the only thing between it and them.

"Biswas!" I shout, frantic with terror for her. "What the hell are you doing?"

I already know the answer. "Don't try and stop me, Stephen." She points her gun at me then, but how many times have I told her she needs to keep her elbow straight? She won't put a bullet through me any time soon. Won't be putting a bullet through them, neither, not shooting like that.

"I won't stand to see these people tortured any longer. I took this job because I wanted to be a part of the colonization. I wanted to make the universe better, not--"

"Better?" I choke out. I know I should get the hell out of there. I'm close enough to the door I might make it, but not Arunima, and I can't just leave her. If she makes it out alive she'll spend the rest of the trip in the brig, but there's nothing saying I can't see her there. Lord knows I won't see her nowhere if she sticks around in the numbers' way.

I race over to her, and she barely resists as I plucks the gun away, push her behind me. This weapon's our last hope. The first one comes through the door, jaw too-wide, and I put a bullet through its head. The next one, too, a woman reaching for me, but her face is all wrong, features distorted from where they--

I put a bullet in her, too, but gets the throat and she keeps coming. My hands feel sweat-slick around the gun, and I shoot her again, but a third one's right behind them. I scramble back, realizing that Arunima hasn't moved a fucking inch from where I put her.

"Biswas," I shout, "Arunima. Run."

She opens her eyes, and doesn't move. She smiles as it comes for her.

I shoot wildly, but there are too many in this batch, and I don't have enough ammunition. I turn, make a break for it, knocking computers and paperwork aside as I scramble for the door, slam my hand against the security panel. I can't put the gun down, try to key in the code with the knuckle of my trigger finger, fast as I can, but I get it wrong and the display buzzes angrily at me. The caterwauling sirens starting up cover the sound of Arunima's gurgling screams, almost indistinguishable from the noises they make. Everything is a mad cacophony. They're eating her. They're fucking eating her and I can hear it. I have to get out, or it'll be me next. I punch in the code again, it pings green and I practically cry out in relief -- but it's too late. Three stripes of fire race down my back, and I know I'm a dead man.

They're either side of me now - they're in the doorway - they're cutting off the exit, distended features shifting like oil under water, inhuman. Last chance. Last shot. I lift the gun, aim it best that I can at my own face, and pull the trigger.

[yardbird]

06/21/2XXX

[ The transmission begins in the middle of a ringing, ear-splitting screech of torn metal, and for a few heartbeats there's nothing but the echo of it. As it fades, muffled sounds can be heard — clipped shrieks and boots scrabbling, interrupted by harsh seconds of static noise — and then all at once is a burst of breath so loud as to distort the sound. ]

—tting closer. I don't w—t to hurt anyone. You heard the —tain. They think there's— people aren't who they say they are. Th— won't listen, I've tried, they just look at me as th—

[ There's a burst of heavy static. When the sound clears enough to be discernible again, his voice is further hushed, a panicked, frantic whisper delivered too close to the microphone. ]

You have to —nd someone. There has to be someone left that [ . . . ] —damn minds. Pl—e, you have to come— help us. We're just —ers, we're not—

[ A few seconds of low static buzz. The transmission ceases. ]