Eli Wallace (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
geniusatmmos) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
universal_destiny2014-12-02 02:22 am
geniusatmmos) wrote in universal_destiny2014-12-02 02:22 am
OPENING LOG
Who: Eli Wallace and OPEN
What: Welcome to Destiny
Where: Stargate Room
When: One lonely night...
Warnings: None yet!
It had been a long week and a half.
Eli had spent most of it on the bridge, trying various calculations, trying to get the last stasis pod working, or, even better, find a way to extend life support or increase power to last the next three years.
It isn't looking hopeful.
When the all-too-familiar feeling of the ship shuddering out of FTL happens, he can't really believe it. Why? Why now? He's been monitoring the power consumption so carefully! And then he notices the indicator. The monitor belonging to Stargate Operations. He stares at it.
"...Incoming Wormhole?"
His voice is incredulous. No... Why now? Why?! There weren't any planetary Stargates in range, so that meant someone had dialled the Nine Chevron code from a non-Destiny-style Stargate.
They can't take on any more people. This screws everything over...
He sets a Kino off to go investigate the Gate Room, snatching up a remote, before heading to the armoury.
He jogs into the Gate Room just as the Wormhole connects, the familiar "ka-woosh" of the unstable vortex, before it settles into the event horizon. Eli takes up position at the console, a rifle under an arm... Just in case.
What: Welcome to Destiny
Where: Stargate Room
When: One lonely night...
Warnings: None yet!
It had been a long week and a half.
Eli had spent most of it on the bridge, trying various calculations, trying to get the last stasis pod working, or, even better, find a way to extend life support or increase power to last the next three years.
It isn't looking hopeful.
When the all-too-familiar feeling of the ship shuddering out of FTL happens, he can't really believe it. Why? Why now? He's been monitoring the power consumption so carefully! And then he notices the indicator. The monitor belonging to Stargate Operations. He stares at it.
"...Incoming Wormhole?"
His voice is incredulous. No... Why now? Why?! There weren't any planetary Stargates in range, so that meant someone had dialled the Nine Chevron code from a non-Destiny-style Stargate.
They can't take on any more people. This screws everything over...
He sets a Kino off to go investigate the Gate Room, snatching up a remote, before heading to the armoury.
He jogs into the Gate Room just as the Wormhole connects, the familiar "ka-woosh" of the unstable vortex, before it settles into the event horizon. Eli takes up position at the console, a rifle under an arm... Just in case.
no subject
"...Major. Major Egret, MSFSOD. Call sign's 'Jackal.'"
She turns her attention back to the panel.
"I'll answer to rank, surname, or call sign. And no. Totally unfamiliar. Whoever made this ship, it's nobody I've heard about. Which I guess is fair, for all the sense anything else I've heard here makes."
no subject
He shook his head and took his flask out of his suit jacket, spun the cap off and took a draft. A military woman with boyishly short hair who didn't seem like she was medical. That seemed just as wrong as Ms. Lalonde's way of speaking.
This place was going to take a lot of getting used to. Maybe he wouldn't be here too long.
He really does want to point out that maybe a man ought to be looking at the machines, not her... but given that he knows less about them than she does, he doesn't bother.
"What else have you heard, ah, Major."
no subject
She glances up again, scrutinizing him from head to toe with the look of someone used to appraising people with a glance--and probably used to passing judgement on them, as well, going by how roundly unimpressed she looks. Of course, he hasn't seen her look impressed at anyone else, so it may just be her natural state of being.
"And you look like you just stepped out of, what, a 20th century costume party?"
Another pause.
"Didn't catch your name. What's your story, then?"
no subject
"And here I thought From the Earth to the Moon was fiction."
Space. Oh what in God's name has he managed to get into.
"I'm Jean-Paul Doret, ballet choreographer for the Opera National de Paris. From 1911."
no subject
She stared at him a moment, as though contemplating whether she believes a word he's saying. After a few seconds, she lets out a heavy breath, shaking her head. Not exactly the time she'd have picked a team from, to say the least.
"All right. Different times. Don't get how that works, exactly, but this is all pretty well off the deep end, anyway. Year's 2202, for me."
She looks back to the panel as she continues in the same stern tone.
"My civilian studies were in history and political science, so I've got some idea how strange this must be for you, Mr. Doret. You have difficulty adapting, you let me know, and I'll see if I can help."
Despite the nature of the offer, she doesn't smile or look exactly sympathetic or make any other sort of obviously comforting gesture.
no subject
"Ah, thank you for the offer." His acceptance of her offer was a bit stiff. The offer of help should be his to make and hers to need.
no subject
"Fair enough. And don't worry about it. My duties don't cease to exist when I'm away from home."