001 -- text

[exponentiate]

Two questions:
What are the expectations here?
What positions are available for those who can work?

[ an exit is what tobias really wants but a perfunctory search could have told him escape is impossible — and he scoured every relevant link, every post about the ship's life he could find.

he'll settle for knowing where the needs of the ship lie. ]

Comments

[cargojet]

Head of Department: Carolyn Fry
Duties: Maintaining the present complement of thirteen working shuttles, repairing further shuttles using the available resources. Volunteers with piloting experience preferred but not necessary, as present crew offers lessons. Undermanned sufficient to present demand.

[exponentiate]

A lot of the departments offering lessons?

[cargojet]

Crucial. Can't depend on finding a doctor in the stasis pods. We only have one qualified doctor at present. Further, all Tranquility technology needs a crash course. In Communications we have networking tech to maintain. Engineering keeps our O2 going and engines running. Gunnery has VR training to teach weapons skills, etc. Some volunteers originate from similar backgrounds, but even those who have been brought here from spaceships of their own are unfamiliar with this universe's specific advancements, and that's knowledge that can only be taught by those who have learned it already. When the expertise is gone, it has to be picked up from ground level all over again.

[exponentiate]

Necessity is the best teacher. [ in that you learn or you really wish you had. ]
I'd appreciate it if you gave me the contact information for the heads of Communication and Security.
And just out of curiosity: what research is being done here?

[cargojet]

I'm the head of Communication - Nathan Petrelli. If you'd like to tour Comms I'm available in an hour's time.
Tyke is head of Security. Her number is SEC>>001>>011.
In terms of research: efforts to accurately map the corridors, genetic study on the monsters that roam the halls, better understanding of the black holes that seem to be increasing in frequency to block our way, further study of the nanomachines in our tattoos, and attempts to unlock our own full potentials--many of those with the ability to escape this place or manipulate it have had their powers limited, and the genetics department is trying to reverse it. I'm not a scientist myself, but my own department has involved itself in mapping research in the past, and possesses an active view of the occupied areas of the ship as they are. We've dabbled with interstellar communication to our detriment in the past, and maintain an interest in solving the mysteries of what we've dubbed the 'subnetwork'. However like other departments, our ability to do this kind of work has stalled in favor of maintenance; we've been crippled by lack of volunteers.

[exponentiate]

[ so a whole lot of questions, not a lot of answers. more of the same. this might yet turn out to be another simulation.

tobias roughly pushes the thought aside. if he starts thinking like that, he'll go insane within days. ]

Works for me. Not like I have a packed schedule anymore.
Where can I find it?

[cargojet]

[ Hey, he did ask what they were researching, not what they know. Although to be fair what they know is in a very short column marked 'wtf' ]

Deck 001, look for the door marked 'Communications Department', then ping me and I'll come up and let you in. Work for you?

I didn't catch your name.

[exponentiate]

I hadn't given it. Four.
I'll meet you then.

-> action

[cargojet]

[ Nathan barely lets himself puzzle that people on the Tranquility have some damned weird names before he gets back to work. It's an hour later that he makes the trip up onto the upper balcony to give his guest the tour, stepping aside with his tattooed arm slung through the door to keep it open. ]

You must be Four.

[ Nathan is better dressed than usual following his trip to Arima. He'd traded electronics for clothes, and come back in particular with a long semi-armored brown coat, rugged for lengthy space travel, which was already paying its way toward being the best thing he'd ever bought. The new shoes were a big help too. Appearance is important, and people had become too used to seeing Nathan reduced to a hobo in all but name, ties and suits and shirts in varied states of decay from overuse. He's also shaved, miracle of miracles.

The first view of Communications is the top deck, the hum of computers running down below coming up from the bull pen below, over which is suspended a walkway that flanks the walls to the left and right, heading to a rec room on the right and a rag door and a set of stairs to the left. Also to the left was the only console in Comms not linked to the internal networks, a preventative firewall meant to keep hackers out. This open console served as a safe space to post trainees, as well as providing visual access via two enormous screens to Comms' mapping systems, displayed in side on and top down active views, with colored white dots representing comms devices.

Apart from the hum of the computers, Comms was more or less quiet, not even a murmur of hushed conversation going on in the background--it was almost eerie. ]

First impressions?

[exponentiate]

[ the one and only four found a good haul in his locker: enough clean clothes for a week and all of them in dauntless black. shirt, jacket, pants, down to the military boots. from behind, black ink is visible as it curls over his neck. whatever the tattoo may be is hidden under the thick jacket.

tobias has been donning all black for too long to abandon the habit now. it grants him a sense of security as irrational as it may be.

it also helps make him look older than his eighteen years, which is always a plus.

he takes in the sight without a word. though he maintains a level of cool detachment not out of place in the military, a spark of interest ignites behind his eyes: his version of a kid in a candy store reaction. he wears a little smile as he taps a screen. ]

Wish I had some of this at home.

[cargojet]

This place has been in a constant state of evolution since we moved in here. Normally Comms would have been managed from the bridge, but we're locked out of all the systems up there. Last year we ripped out all the old consoles and replaced them with newer models stripped from an abandoned salvage ship, and the map up here--it took eight months to get more accurate readings out of the tech, there's still an error of four meters in either direction, but on a ship this big it's par for the course.

[ Nathan didn't know about wanting any of this stuff at home. At home the network, comms, the tracking devices--none of it served any purpose, at least in his usual line of work. He gestures to the map and the keyboard input beside it. ]

You can type in a comms number or a name and in most cases it'll show you where that person is.

[exponentiate]

[ one thing to be said about working in dauntless security: after being privy to security cameras everywhere, even in dormitories, he doesn't even blink with this. ]

May I?

[ he motions to the keyboard. ]

[cargojet]

Absolutely. I wouldn't have brought it up if I didn't mean you to try it.

[ He steps away from the console to make room, though keeps a wary eye on the screen to make sure that it's doing what it's meant to be doing. It would be embarrassing should the appropriate little white dot not turn red at this point. ]

[exponentiate]

[ tobias types in the obvious first choice: his own number. he watches the dot he recognizes as standing in for him turn red. he doesn't hesitate before typing in anderson's number and looking for the change on the screen. ]

The anonymous function on the communicators. Does it affect this?

[cargojet]

It does. The anonymous function makes the signal bounce a little, but it could be reconstructed given time and a reason to do it. We've tried working it on Smiley before, but it almost got someone killed. It's possible to bust the tracking system and still chat under your own name, encrypt the privacy filter, but generally the better you encrypt the harder it is to untangle all the details, and who would bother trying unless it endangered ship security?

Of course privacy means squat if you're from this universe. They know the tech better than us, and our toughest security encryptions look like a child wrote them as far as they're concerned. If you wanna keep something really private, you go offline and you get away from the lived in areas of the ship.

[exponentiate]

I thought that was common sense.

[ the technology he worked with may not be this advanced, but there were cameras everywhere. where virtual information is concerned, computer defenses, like real ones, are never as unbreachable as one would hope.

he taps the screen again. ]

What about former crew? Too smart to be tracked?

[cargojet]

Unfortunately so. Our routers don't cover the whole ship anyway, it'd have been unsafe to install them any further out than we have. That and the easiest way to stop the signal going out is just to turn off the device. Ward was last seen alive about six months ago, but by a man who's word I don't personally trust; the only person ported in on jump 19, and the only person ever brought in from this universe.

[exponentiate]

I can see why you wouldn't. Is he still here?

[cargojet]

As far as I know he's gone--as much as any of us are ever gone. No sign of him on the map, at least.

[ And to highlight that Nathan tapped in the number, which told him that Joseph Davies has last posted to the network seven months ago. He brought up the conversation with another tap of his finger on the keyboard. ]

Useful guy in other ways. You wanna see where all this is kept?

[exponentiate]

[ you sure know how to reassure a guy, nathan. tobias reads through the conversation quickly. he makes a mental list of names — gallagher, ward, alexandria — to research or about later. ]

Show me.

[cargojet]

[ Hey, it's reassuring to know that all that wonderful information is there, isn't it? It could always be worse. The pirates could have gotten in and taken everything. ]

Alright, well if you'll follow me.

[ Nathan guides the way down the stairs that are suspended against the back wall, down into the bull pen where comms officers usually worked and sometimes - for instance in the case of Nathan and Ryuzaki - occasionally seemed to live. The pods were all divided up behind makeshift walls constructed of sheets of whatever could be found welded together, predominately the extra parts used when they'd ripped everything useful out of the Scylla's consoles, giving Comms a different, almost futuristic feel to the rest of the ship. In fact, since the Scylla had been built decades later, that wasn't surprising at all, but it was at least refreshingly different. A painting hung behind one of the pods, and a cool breeze seemed to ooze from a doorway under the stairs. Beyond it, lines of servers were stacked up, generating heat, and dozens of fans and several refrigerator units filched from the top floor kitchens served to cool it down. ]

The network lives in there.

[exponentiate]

[ he's always a little disappointed when he sees a server farm. that something so vast and seemingly endless can be housed in boxes like anything else. this one is more impressive than most. his fingers itch like an erudite's to get at the information stored inside.

strangely, perhaps, it's the painting that draws his attention. the skyline, the buildings, this city bears some similarities to his own. he nods toward it. ]

That anywhere in particular?

[cargojet]

[ Nathan has a much smaller suitcase sized collection of storage devices which make it look even more unimpressive, but it is the abridged version--the one without all the chatter about cats and pool parties. He tilts his head up at the question, briefly confused as to what Four is asking about. The paintings have become such a fixture now that he almost forgets they're there. ]

New York City, from a rooftop in Brooklyn. That's it after a nuclear explosion--one I prevented from happening.

[ Not bragging at all, just stating a fact. He looks at Four rather than at the painting. ]

[exponentiate]

[ new york city, another name to file away for later. but what he asks— ]

Nuclear?

[cargojet]

[ He tips his head. Okay that's weird--knows what a server is, but has no idea what nuclear is. Odd. ]

Radioactive weapons? Fusion? Nuclear power?