TEST DRIVE #3 - Alien Bazaar/Ten Forward

[tenforward_m]

#1

Option 001. Alien planet, marketplace: So you're new to this whole space travel thing. The ship is cool and all, but there are hundreds of alien worlds out there. You want to explore. To see what the universe REALLY looks like.

Well, here's your chance! Your first stop is this lovely indoor marketplace, which looks kind of like a mall. There are stalls one after the other as far as the eye can see, and they sell all kinds of things: food, clothes, trinkets, animals, fabrics, jewelry, perfumes, books, etc etc. Some things look human, easy to recognize; other things look very alien. There are two levels, and constant chatter as people hawk their wares and discuss prices.

Do you want to explore? Poke at the weird shops? Buy a gift for a new friend? Flirt with someone at the food court? Maybe you see a pickpocket, and must run to the aid of the victim. Maybe there's some other villainy afoot. After all, a crowded marketplace is a good place for villains to lurk, causing trouble. Whether you're a hero or just an unassuming traveler, there proves to be some adventure for you on this planet.


2

Option 002. Aboard the Enterprise, Ten Forward: You have no idea what just happened. One minute you were home, and now you're on a spaceship, in the middle of a crowded room. It looks like a bar. There are people eating and drinking, some in uniform, others not. Some are clearly aliens.

You've managed to land in Ten Forward a long bar with barstools and a bartender, tables sprinkled throughout, and the far wall is nothing but windows out to space. It looks like a nice lounge, low conversation making the room hum.

Better ask some questions and find out where you are, or just tap the closest person on the shoulder and try to make friends. The bar is open.

Comments

[shanjifyo]

Stahma, in turn, is a little startled by the look of him: neither human nor Votan, and that puts her on her guard. His appearance reminds her of a predator, and she watches him acutely for a moment, eyes wary, before she lowers her gaze and ducks her head slightly, putting on a properly submissive front even here in front of this stranger. Among her people, women — even highly ranked ones — are considered subservient to men, and she has been playing into that image so long that it's instinct to her to fall back on it in a situation like this one. It's an interesting contrast, in combination with her unmistakably dignified, noble carriage.

"I see," she says. She looks up at him, with her head still slightly lowered so that her eyes meet his from beneath her lashes. There's little coyness in her gaze; rather, the look is one of curiosity, and that mostly genuine this time. There's a growing sense of alarm in the back of her mind: if she cannot return to Defiance soon, what will happen to her husband, her son? The thought spurs on her next words, though her tone of voice is still soft, pleasant, measured. "It's... good to know I am not the only one in this predicament, though I would feel more at ease if I knew when I would be able to return home."

The last is almost, but not quite, a question phrased as a statement. If he doesn't even know where they are, then it's unlikely he'll be able to tell her when they can leave, either.

[theycallmetodd]

True enough, he has no answers for her. Like her he has just recently arrived and is now looking for a way to leave, though he's sure it will prove tricky as he doesn't even know how he got there.

"If you find an answer, please, do let me know. Though in the mean time..." He moves slightly to the side, offering up a space at the bar. "Might I offer a drink?" Why not? She appears to be rather pleasant, something the old Wraith rarely finds. And, if he turns out to be trapped on board this ship, contacts and allies will no doubt be useful. He might as well get an early start gathering those.

[shanjifyo]

Appearances, of course, can be deceiving, and Stahma is rather more than she seems to be at first glance. But pleasantry is something she is very, very adept at falsifying, and this time it's even at least a little genuine — she appreciates the spirit in which the offer is intended, if nothing else.

"Thank you," she says, and smiles, a bright, brief flash of white teeth. "You're very kind." She takes the space he vacated for her, standing perhaps a little closer to him than a human would consider polite. Castithans and humans have somewhat different ideas about personal space.

[theycallmetodd]

So do the Wraith. While they aren't a touchy-feely race, they are telepathic. Compared to the great network of minds on board a hive, physical proximity is really nothing to fret about.

"Not at all," he responds, waving the barkeep over to take her order. He already have a half-full glass of wine in front of him. And really, his rarely kind. But he is polite. Whatever else he is, he does have manners. He knows that it is often advantageous to hide one's true agenda under a polite facade, and he is quite good at it.

[shanjifyo]

She takes the moment before the bartender approaches her to glance around her again, picking up details. There's quite a crowd here, and while some look human, some — like the man she just met — decidedly do not. The majority are wearing what she assumes to be some form of uniform, in shades of red, yellow, and blue. Stahma would guess military, but these people don't seem like soldiers. The situation is strange enough to unsettle her, but she covers her nervousness well enough — and even if she doesn't, a little nervousness is only to be expected when one suddenly finds oneself where one was not before.

The bartender is watching her curiously, she realizes, and she brings her attention back to the moment with an apologetic smile. "Ah — white wine, if you please," she requests. They're unlikely to have any Castithan beverages here, but she's familiar enough with human ones to know which she likes and which she doesn't.

The glass comes across the bar to her and she takes it carefully by the stem, taking a cautious sip, before returning her attention to the stranger next to her.

"This must be terribly unsettling for you as well," she says, soft-voiced, seeming perfectly empathetic, a matching smile lingering on her lips. "So sudden... I can't imagine what could have happened."

It's that that disturbs her most of all. Being kidnapped, she could find ways to deal with. But suddenly appearing in a strange new place, in space — and with all of these people seeming so unconcerned — leaves her at a loss for what to do next. Slowly, though, she's gathering her wits about her. If this is a spacefaring vessel, then someone here must be in control of it.

"You haven't had anyone speak to you? Question you?" she asks, sounding more curious than anything.

[theycallmetodd]

"I cannot imagine this would not be unsettling for whoever gets whisked away to end up here." He picks up his own glass as well, clawed fingers carefully holding the stem, but instead of drinking he merely studies the dark red liquid inside.

"There have been no questions. Not yet. Though I have gotten a chance to talk to a few of the passengers. Unfortunately, I have yet to learn anything that could truly be of use in finding a way to leave." What he had learned just made this all the more unsettling. Not only had he ended up somewhere else, but also in all probability at another time that his own. And, to make it even worse, at another dimension than his own. From what he had gathered, this was the case for many on board.

[shanjifyo]

The idea of alternate dimensions is not one Stahma has ever entertained. Oh, there have certainly been theories — some of the Indogene have a fondness for such things — but as a woman of the Castithan ruling caste and wife of a man whom humans might call a mob boss, her own interests tend to be much more grounded.

Still, when confronted with a circumstance like this one, she finds herself having to concede that anything might well be possible. And, as always, Stahma will have to learn to adapt. It's something she's become very good at, over time.

She considers the man next to her, with one of those faint smiles on her lips that looks perfectly, completely pleasant but might mean anything at all. "Then perhaps we should view this as an opportunity," she suggests. "A chance to experience new things."

Something seems to occur to her then; she puts down the wine glass on top of the bar for a moment, bringing both hands together in front of her at waist height and giving him a bow, just a slight inclination of her head and upper body. There are none of the complex gestures associated with the Castithan upper class here; they would be wasted on someone who couldn't understand. "I am Stahma Tarr," she introduces herself. "What should I call you?"

While I'm not familiar with your muse, might I still say that your tags are a thing of beauty?

[theycallmetodd]

"Indeed." He would greatly prefer to return to his fleet of hive ships, and he will strive to do so. But if he can't? If it turns out that he is, in fact, trapped here? Then he will simply have to find new goals and new purposes. The idea is daunting, however. When you have been doing something for thousands of years, it is hard to imagine doing anything else.

At her following inquiry, he looks momentarily surprised. He can't remember when someone last asked for his name. There is the name the humans of Atlantis assigned him, but it is quite ridiculous and not him. Names aren't a simple things for the Wraiths and is communicated entirely over the telepathic network in a hive. They say everything about them, about their position on the hive, about their purpose, everything about their very being. Such a thing is hard to sum up in a single word. He nevertheless makes the effort, silent for a moment as he thinks. "I suppose Guide would be a decent enough translation for my name." In response to her bow, he inclines his head in return. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Stahma Tarr."

aww, thank you! :) I'm really enjoying this thread, even if I am slow.

[shanjifyo]

In that much, at least, their thoughts run in the same direction. Stahma is not foolish enough to believe that she knows enough about what's going on here to make a judgment as to whether or not she can escape to return home — but that doesn't mean she won't make every effort at her disposal to do so, whatever that requires of her.

His name is unusual to her, just the one word and one not normally used as a name at that, but she chooses to let it pass without comment. "The pleasure is mine," she says. "If it is not an imposition to ask, where do you hail from, or your people?"

He's not of a race she recognizes. The Castithan people conquered much of their home system and the four other races living there, never thinking that there might be people outside of it — until the destruction of their home led them to flee to Earth, where they found humans. But this man resembles no one and nothing she knows; it's simultaneously intriguing and unsettling.

Slow is okay. I'm so eager to write, but I also have a ton of patience.

[theycallmetodd]

"There is no imposition at all," he assures. After all, he's going to be inquiring about her species, and he does realize that giving something can make it easier to get something in return. "I am Wraith. My people are spread out over the Pegasus galaxy." He turns his head somewhat, enough to look out the window at the stars passing by, a wistful expressing crossing his face. "Regretfully I do not know where my galaxy is in regards to here."

He shakes himself out of his reverie and returns his gaze to the wine in his glass. Giving it a brief twirl he lifts the glass to his lips for a slow sip. "May I turn the question back to you, Stahma Tarr?" He inquires. "Your coloring clearly sets you apart from humans."

[shanjifyo]

She knows that look, even if it appears on a face that's still strange to her: homesickness, or perhaps simply nostalgia. It's something Stahma feels from time to time herself, though it usually strikes her when she least anticipates feeling it — the sudden longing for the familiar, old world, in which everything was certain and immutable.

But it's not a feeling she indulges for long. Not when the new world offers her so much more. Even the uncertainty is something she's willing to deal with if it means freedom. Freedom to be something more than she ever could have been on Casti, freedom to have what she wants without being told no because it wasn't her proper place.

It's only fair, naturally, that he asks her the same question. Stahma smiles, inclining her head. "Of course. My people are Castithan. It has... been a long time, since I last saw my homeworld. Many years ago, it was destroyed in a great disaster. But some of us survived."

All those who were allotted a place aboard the Arks as a consequence of high birth or station, as well as those few — like her husband — who had managed to buy passage, had made it out of the Votanis system before the stellar collision that had destroyed it, but not all of those had made it to Earth. Stahma thinks of this sometimes, and counts herself very, very lucky. Or perhaps blessed.

[theycallmetodd]

"My condolences." He himself has no bonds to any particular planet. The Wraith doesn't really have a homeworld. There is of course a planet where they had evolved, but there isn't much there now; just some creatures he shares a part of his DNA with. His race are instead a nomadic people, traveling between feeding grounds and culling the herds, with no fixed point to call theirs. When he expresses his sympathies that Stahma has lost her homeworld, it isn't due to understanding. It just simply seems like what he should say, and he does make it sound sincere enough.

"From where did you come now?" The survivors must have settled elsewhere after this disaster, settled and most likely rebuilt. Her refined appearance and manners signal high status, and the detail and craftsmanship in her clothing suggest that they were made my a skilled artisan. Her kind aren't just some refugees living in squalor, of that he is certain.

[shanjifyo]

"We — my people, and those of the other races who shared our home system with us —" meaning those the Castithans had conquered and had once all but considered subject races, "traveled to a world called Earth." The Votan races had not had faster than light capability; instead, they'd spent more than five millennia in hypersleep, a sort of suspended animation, while the Arks traversed the great distance. Stahma, needless to say, is a great deal older than she looks.

"Our scientists had intended to terraform an uninhabited planet," she adds, with that same slight smile. She glances down a moment at her wine glass. "No one had anticipated there might have been people living there already."

[theycallmetodd]

At the mention of Earth, the old wraith tilts his head slightly to the side in recognition. Again with that particular planet. It seems everywhere he turns there's a connection to Earth, even more so on this very ship. If it isn't Earthborn humans, then there are those whose ancestors came from there, or other races that have settled there, or have at least been there. He's no different, himself. What is is that's so special about that one planet?

"I can imagine the natives being even more surprised," he says with an amused twist of his lips. From what he has been able to gather, humans tend to get flustered when other races show up on their doorstep. "Did you terraform the planet, or did they manage to somehow stop you?"

[shanjifyo]

Stahma shakes her head slightly.

"We tried to live with the humans peacefully first. I'm afraid it didn't last." She pauses, considering her next words. Stahma has never been put into a position where she's had to describe this to anyone, and it's... strange for her, to frame this in a way that someone who didn't live through it can understand.

"There was a war between us that lasted for nine years. Many lives were lost, on both sides." She sounds and looks regretful, though in truth, Stahma and her husband were isolated from the Pale Wars, living in Sulos colony in Brazil. She doesn't have the experience of living in a war zone. It was only some years after the war ended that she and Datak and young Alak — an unexpected gift, her son, born at the midpoint of the conflict — had traveled to Defiance, and she had finally seen what the Pale Wars had done to the rest of the world.

"Just before the war ended, the Arks — our ships, in orbit of Earth — exploded without warning. No one knows what happened, but the terraforming technology — it changed everything." More lives were lost during the Arkfall than during the Pale Wars. She remembers hearing the reports: entire cities destroyed, great swaths of land rendered uninhabitable, and what had not been destroyed had been... altered, twisted into some strange hybrid world neither human nor Votan.

"There was an armistice, after that. And now we live side by side with the humans, in a new world." She smiles, taking a sip of her wine; when she lowers her glass, she remembers the look he had given her when she had first mentioned Earth, and returns the curiosity in kind.

"You seem familiar with Earth," she says, putting on a veneer of caution to avoid looking presumptuous. There's the chance she's misread him, but she doesn't think so.

[theycallmetodd]

As he listens to her tale, he becomes sure that they don't come from the same reality. Granted that there are many things about the planet Earth he doesn't know, he's perfectly willing to admit that. But if other races had settled there - and not only that but had terraformed the planet itself - he's sure he would have heard about it by now.

He's not sure yet what to do with this information, if anything, but he stores it away in his memory none the less.

"Not so much with the planet itself. More with its inhabitants," he replies, seeing no reason not to. While he knows humans to live on many planets, the Earthborn ones are... interesting. And frustrating. And... quite tasty, but perhaps he should keep that bit of information to himself.