(Open) To Peter Guillam the night was taking on surreal dimensions.

[circus_cupbearer]

Who: Peter Guillam, Ricki Tarr, and YOU.
What: There’s a new arrival on the station and he has no idea what’s going on.
Where: All around the station.
When: Present moment, a bit less than a week after the end of the last event.
Warnings: Will update as needed.
Note: first comment will be a thread for Ricki, but anyone who wants to meet Peter should feel free to roll their own meeting with him.

Peter Guillam is not a man for science fiction. Once he’d been coerced into seeing 2001: A Space Odyssey and had fallen asleep forty-five minutes in. He’s caught the odd glimpse of Quatermass and Doctor Who on TV, but he’s dismissed it all as piffle. Which means he has next to no context in his head for waking up on a space station.

Once it becomes clear that he’s not been kidnapped by Russians, he sets out on a cautious exploration of the place—which will continue after he meets someone he is definitely not expecting to find here. After that, you're likely to encounter him in the mess hall, the bar, and possibly even snooping around the plant area.

Comments

Closed to Ricki Tarr

[circus_cupbearer]

So here’s a freshly awakened Peter Guillam, disoriented and not a little frightened and trying very hard not to show it, creeping through the halls of the station. This would be a great time for someone to find him. Particularly someone he knows.

[rickitikitarr]

When Ricki sees the back of his head, he feels an honest to God pang, assuming it's just someone with familiar posture and a haircut. Then he catches him in profile going around the corner and the shoe kind of drops. It's actually him.

His heart leaps, and he decides immediately, affectionately, to fuck with him. He slips up behind him, silent as a ghost, and asks, sudden, and extremely close;

"Lost, sir?"

[circus_cupbearer]

Peter’s hindbrain reacts first, sending his body into motion against a perceived threat almost before his brain is aware of what’s happening. He whirls, striking out with his forearm and the weight of his body to grab whoever it is and pin them against the nearest wall, one arm across the throat.

[rickitikitarr]

He hits the wall with a yelp, and raises his hands up over his head, showing him his palms, being good.

"Hello Mister Guillam."

He's still Ricki, every inch.

[circus_cupbearer]

Peter just stares at him for a moment, the bone-deep familiarity of Ricki’s face and manner at such complete odds with their surroundings that it almost takes a physical effort to make sense of it.

Then he releases Ricki and takes a step back, scrubs a hand through his own hair.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Which can almost be translated as “I never thought I’d say this, but Christ am I glad to see you.”

[rickitikitarr]

"Very fucking little."

He says, lowering his hands, reaching up to rub his throat. He'd deserved that, but it does sting.

"I woke up here about a month ago. Just, presumably, like you have now."

[circus_cupbearer]

"And where exactly is here?" he asks. He sounds and looks as if he's blaming Ricki for this whole problem, though it's more a matter that Ricki is a convenient target for the anger and fear he's actually feeling. "I'm assuming there's no way off?"

[rickitikitarr]

"None that we've found yet."

He says, perfectly aware of this transference, and utterly unruffled by it.

"I'm looking- but I"m hampered by the fact that I know nothing about this kind of environment. It'll be easier if you come see. The observation deck isn't far."

He turns to lead the way.

[circus_cupbearer]

"Do I have a choice?" Peter grouses, but: "Go on, then," he says, deferring to Ricki's experience on the ground.

As they go, his head keeps swivelling to take in the surroundings.

[rickitikitarr]

He leads the way, and clears his throat.

"You've got extremely good timing. We're coming off the heels of three days of sleeplessness, blasting music."

Truth be told, he's still showing the signs a little. He doesn't bounce back the way he did when he was at the nursery.

[circus_cupbearer]

Peter winces. He knows that sort of thing is a torture technique, and he can easily imagine the effect.

“Delightful. How did that happen?”

[rickitikitarr]

"We don't know. We don't know who's brought us here or why- they piped it in over the loudspeakers without a word of announcement or explanation. All we know know for sure is that they're incredibly powerful-"

He admits, and rounds the corner onto the observation deck, which is (my god) full of stars.

"-and that we're not in Kansas any more."

[circus_cupbearer]

Peter freezes in his tracks and just stares.

He’s literally speechless, his mouth hanging open. After a moment he turns around a full 360 degrees, taking it all in again.

Then:

“What...”

He means What is this or What’s going on or some actual question, but words fail him completely.

[rickitikitarr]

"I don't know."

Says Ricki, perfectly honest, for once.

"I don't know, and I've had a month and a half on it and I do not have a fucking square inch of purchase. I've occupied myself with trying to learn about space travel and station systems in case the air supply crashes, but I am thoroughly, utterly, nastily fucked."

[veristitalian]

It's a day where the mess hall is quite full. All the tables are occupied, the noise level is climbing.

Near the machines, one woman is eating along, a book open next to her on the table. Jasnah glances up, spots him looking for a table, and tilts her head, gesturing silently that he's welcome to the seat opposite.

He looks new, and she remembers that feeling all too well.

[circus_cupbearer]

Peter smiles—always easy for him to be pleasant to a good-looking person—and sits with his food.

"Thanks," he says. He notes the book; he won't make a pest of himself if she doesn't want it, but he'll at least get the basic pleasantries done. "Peter Guillam. I'm new here, though I suppose you've guessed that already."

[veristitalian]

"Yes."

Admits Jasnah, closing her book for the moment and setting it on the table.

"It's a smaller group than it seems, at first. Before long you begin to recognize everyone." And, since they're starting from scratch, she begins with her customary directness; "Jasnah Kholin."

[circus_cupbearer]

"Pleasure to meet you. Been here long, then?"

He's poking cautiously at the food on his plate. It looks more or less normal, if bland, and other people seem to be eating without any ill effects, but he's having a hard time overcoming a vague sense of distrust toward the replicators.

[veristitalian]

"Since the first group of us awoke. Some months- though we measure those differently on Roshar than you do on Earth."

She allows, and offers the advice;

"Eat quickly. If your imagination runs away with you, it's only worse. A few people have been poisoned, but not so many or so badly that it makes starvation a viable alternative."

A ray of sunshine, is Jasnah.

[circus_cupbearer]

"Hold your nose and swallow, is that it?" Peter says wryly, but takes a bite right as she says the bit about people being poisoned.

He swallows. "Poisoned how?"

[veristitalian]

"We don't know."

She says, helpfully.

"But we have no alternatives. People who understand the technology of the replicators are trying to address it."

[circus_cupbearer]

"Well. Good luck to them, I suppose." He takes a deep breath and bolts a couple more mouthfuls of food. She's right; it's not so bad if you don't linger.

"And those are the only food sources, those things?"

[veristitalian]

"They are."

She says, letting out a long, bracing sigh. Jasnah has been here just long enough to become gradually, steaming mad.

"We're growing plants, but they're not fit to harvest yet."

[circus_cupbearer]

Peter pulls a face. "That'll be a couple more months for vegetables, at least. Never mind anything fruit-bearing."

[veristitalian]

"And with a limited air supply, we can't light fires freely. It'll all be raw."

And not particularly appetizing.