MD #157: You Only Live Thrice
MD #157: You Only Live Thrice
Summary: The free Lines return to the resurrection hub to bring back their Three.
Date: 12/09/2017 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: Understanding is a Three Edged Sword
Doorkicker - Ground
Ambrose Clara Diaz Knox Rance 
Aboard the Resurrection Hub
It may not be the underworld, but you can see it from here.
Fri Mar 30 2049 (MD #157)

Diaz is allowed along because she's required. This time Inez flies the Raptor and the group gets back over to the resurrection ship easily enough. However, much like last time, Rance and Cooper are still armed. Diaz is allowed a bag of stuff for Clara that's inspected by the two before they even depart. However, returning to the ship presents no problems and everything appears to be exactly as they left it. Even getting everything started back up yields the same results with the exact same numbers.

Reconnecting the resurrection system involves heading down into engineering and breaking a lot of 'Do Not Break' glass-type systems. There's a lot of 'Are you sure?' questions. In order to gain approval, the ship seems to know which Lines are aboard. Each time the question is asked, all of them are forced to place their hands to the handplates and actively agree. Once the pre-fitments are made available, there is a lot of heavy lifting and reconnecting the systems physically. There's no way just two Line members could do it. Four would be a challenge enough. Five Line members working together makes it bearable. Once the system is all reconnected the final systems check pops for them.

Handplates rise up from the control panel and when they place their hands to them, there's a very heavy question: 'You sign and signal agreement to reconnect Resurrection and in doing so you agree that you speak for your Line, as free and uncorrupted. Do you sign and authorize this?'

Down in the hot Engineering section, each of them sweaty, they can agree. And when they do, a heavy thrum starts deep within as generators begin powering up. The drives are coming alive, bringing in capability to bring life back that has already passed on. Its heady. New lights and control panels begin popping up, but nothing throwing alerts. Only the voice overhead, 'Resurrection On-Line. Beginning boot sequence, five minutes to full system capability. Awakening can be done remotely from this room or from the control system in the Line Storage Arm of your choosing. Thank you.'

Ambrose is in his blues, and again with a field medkit over his shoulder. It came in unexpectedly useful on the last trip. Hopefully he can find a different use this time around. The Two is thoughtful and largely quiet as they work through the security systems and then the physical labor of re-enabling resurrection. He's agreed to this for Clara's case, but even then the implications may be more than they can guess. There's a moment of hesitation when the system asks him to confirm in the name of his entire Line, but the doctor sighs and places his hand on the plate to confirm. "I hope if there are uncorrupted members of my Line somewhere, they'll understand." Then he signs off. "I hope we're doing the right thing. And what Lieutenant Piers would have wanted. I don't envy her the choice if it's not." Nothing to do now but wait.

The normally ebullient and sunny tempered Ten is, by marked contrast, quiet spoken and subdued every step of the way. Diaz speaks the words to confirm for her line, when and as needed, her expression somehow taking on a more-somber air with every challenge and answer. Taking the responsibility to speak for her line makes this particular pilot not only hesitate but weigh each question for the challenge and responsibility that it is. When at last the final go-ahead is given she looks from face to face, "The commander said that we were waking up Lt Piers, if we can, but two others. Which others is he speaking of?"

"I reckon Lieutenant Piers will let us know, Doctor. If she'd rather stay dead, then she can use her second chance as she see's fit. She's certainly earned it." Rance keeps it pretty simple to his view. But then again, he's Bold. Of course he'd think that.

Cooper doesn't have much to say for the rest of the people. He just looks at Ambrose and seems to agree. He seems far away for the moment, but not aloof. "C'mon. Let's go get her." The guy leads off with his rifle at the low ready. Rance will bring up the rear. There's no answer to Diaz's question, instead leaving it to Ambrose.

The group hikes out of engineering and heads up the stairs to the main deck. They pass by the shuttered and locked galley, past some berthings, and around the spire's interior until they reach the doorway clearly marked, 'THREE' in big block letters. The paneling from Randy's attempt is still on the floor. Cooper puts his hand to the panel and the heavy locks behind the door begin to roll. They groan with the sound of heavy, armored steel and its clear they haven't been used (or greased) in some time. As they open, though, the room opens up. Coop goes in first with his rifle up.

The room is very long and deep, extending more than 300m. Stacked from floor to ceiling are rows of bodies in translucent tanks, hundreds of bodies per row. More than a dozen rows. Everything is dimly lit in here and the life support is just beginning to come online, heat starting to blow into the otherwise chilly room. Directly to the right is the control console, just on the other side of a defensive position. Straight ahead are twelve 'birthing tanks' built into the floor, all of them empty. Auto-generation would be impossible without the efforts of the Lines to move the bodies… unless that was also turned on. And it isn't. Someone will need to operate the controls while the others will get the body and prep the tank to be used.

Ambrose looks to Diaz, his expression shifting to a thoughtful frown. "To be decided. To be honest, I'm not sure there is a right or wrong choice. We make up Faith, Mercy, Honor, Boldness, Creativity, and Curiosity. A roughly equal balance of action and caution. Given history, I'm tempted to say a Nine and Twelve?" It's clear he's thinking aloud as much as making a suggestion. It's not the sort of choice one Line should decide anyway. "I suppose she will," he agrees with Rance. Though that way of thinking doesn't resolve the Two's core concern, he's not going to belabor the point by arguing with the Seven. Knox's call saves him from having to worry about that, and Ambrose sticks with the group as they move toward the Threes' compartment. Stepping inside the disused chamber, the doctor takes a moment to look around. Then he gives a fatalistic sigh. "Who should do the honors?"

"What important moment would be complete without an Adaptation or Logic?" Diaz suggests, carefully voicing this question in return. "One of each would be a fair balance as well," she adds as she stares slowly around the length of the room, doing the math for the sheer number of bodies waiting to be called to life. "How's going to man the controls?" she asks, scrubbing her hands together, a nervous gesture, then adjusts the fit of the backpack she's carrying, though it holds clothing and shoes, all Clara's from her own gear.

Coop clears his lanes then comes back to the group. "I'll do it. If she doesn't want to be brought back, then it'll be on my hands. She can hold me accountable. Rance? Prep the tank and keep an eye on the door." Coop heads for the controls and lets the Seven go about his business. "Doctor, Lieutenant, please get a body for us." He moves over and presses a hand to the system. "I'd like all three of you there when she wakes up. You should be the first faces she see's." Because its home. Not a cold tank with faceless goons. While he presses his hand to the system, he closes his eyes and the closest storage tank slides down the wall and goes horizontal, the top opening slowly to allow access to the body inside in the sea of white goo. Mmm. Goo.

"I have no objection to Eight," Ambrose answers Diaz, "Though I think we can guess what logic says about our current situation. I have concerns about Four, though. Adaptation may seek the survival path, all other considerations be damned." For all that he's technically an officer, the doctor has no qualms taking direction from Knox. "Understood, Gunnery Sergeant." He moves to join Diaz at the nearest occupied storage tube to start prepping Clara's new body. Once it's ready for activation, he coordinates with the Ten to get it moved onto a gurney (or carried if need be) and into the tank.

"Thankfully, Adaptation doesn't get to make command decisions for their entire line, everyone in this room, this ship, or the entire fleet. A little .. cold blooded practicality isn't entirely a bad thing, it just has to be balanced with compassion, mercy, kindness, and honor," Diaz replies as she moves with Ambrose to help prepare a body to awaken for Clara. She can't keep the grave expression off her face, and after a few minutes of struggling she gives up and just lets her face do what it's going to do, saving her energy. Once they have the body in the tank she stares down into the empty face for a moment then steps carefully back, making sure she's not in the way. "This isn't a binary situation, Coop. We're all here. You don't get to shoulder the burden or the responsibility. She can be mad at me if she wants to, that's pretty much our standard operating parameters anyway, no reason to change the outlines at this point."

Rance is busy at the tank, punching numbers into a keypad menu on the display. "You all might have your ideas. How about we wait to see what Clara has to say? She's got as much say as the rest of us, no matter who she is when she comes out." The words are spoken humbly and quietly, but his eyes are on the Doctor and Pilot. Knox doesn't seem to have an opinion because he's busy searching the system bringing Clara up and preparing the file. "Lords and Ladies know that you are on a good path, though. Balance is good. Might be strange coming from a Seven, but I've learned a little." He smirks, "Don't laugh. Scouts honor."

Coop is listening, though. Once the file is ready, he steps back. "Diaz, you take it, then. File is ready. I want you to doublecheck it and then go ahead and hit it when you're ready." He steps away from the console and moves over to kneel at the opposite end of the tank, leaving Ambrose and Rance up close.

Diaz nods at Rance, another one aimed at Coop before she walks over to the console and studies it for another of those equally thoughtful moments. She rests her hands on the control after a moment, skimming through the data file again, seeing the same percentages, the same variables. "When does a percentage offset the persona? When does enough lost change who or what we are? Is it enough to have our core sense of self still accessible to rebuild from?" she wonders in a voice gone quiet, the pensive look on her face slowly being replaced by a look that is both stubborn and hopeful as she draws in a steadying breath and squares her shoulders subtly. "Alright. Stand by," and exhales a low count and taps the command, "now," at zero.

"Perhaps," Ambrose allows Diaz's point about the Fours, "but there's no reason to pick potentially problematic Lines first. We have time." Once he and the Ten have the lifeless body shifted and it has disappeared below the surface of the tank's goo, the doctor steps back. He gives Rance a sidelong look. "I agree," he says to the Seven. "About the first part." This is accompanied with a good natured smile. And then he's reminded of the seriousness of their task as Knox speaks. Ambrose has no objections when Diaz is nominated to throw the switch, spending his time unshouldering his medical kit and breaking out basic diagnostics equipment. "We'll find out momentarily," he says to the Ten's musings, and then he waits beside the tank to see what happens. "I've never seen a resurrection before," he notes.

The body in the tub is.. inert, at first. Naked and somehow formless, despite having the shape of a young woman. There is no immediate response to Diaz's touch of the button, but after a long few seconds, the light on the side of the tub switches to green. And the 'goo' churns briefly as its occupant struggles to drag herself upright. Precious, precious air, sucked in by mouthfuls; goo-slimed fingers slipping and fumbling in her attempts to gain purchase on the side of the tub while her dark, wild gaze jumps from one face to the next in the manner of a newly born creature completely overwhelmed with too much stimuli. And so, naturally, clambering out of the goo-filled tub and trying to scurry away from all those intent faces.. seems like a patently good idea. So she goes for it.

Diaz spares a careful look at the console, hands kept prudently to herself to the point that she's briefly tucked her hands behind her back. As though just proximity alone could do something unexpected. She's turned toward the tub and the body within, waiting until the light goes green and the first stirring of movement within the goo. Only then does she make a wide circle of the tub, detouring around Rance, Coop and Ambrose until she's a few feet from the tub, just in time to see the Three emerge from the goo and fumble for a grip on the edge of the tub. "I have," she says in a quiet voice, answering Ambrose's remarks, "and I remember waking up," what more she might say is gone when she sees the decision that the three makes, correctly interpreting it as a 'make a break for it' decision and stepping forward to help. "You're safe," she knows the value of that word, "Coop, Rance, Ambrose, they're right here. Do you remember who you are?" speaking clearly, hands held open at her sides and slightly forward, speaking to the instinct and the gut check impulses with word, action, inflection.

"Nothing's happening?" Ambrose says at first, glancing back at Diaz. But a little patience is all it takes. Standing beside the others, he greets the new Three with a gentle smile, though the expression holds more complex emotions in the mix — concern and the weight of the decision they've made chief among them. "Lieutenant Piers?" seeing those wild eyes, he too tries to gain her focus. "It's all right…" But he steps back quickly once it's clear she means to run. At that point his only concern is to block the exit so she doesn't escape the chamber, so he steps to block that avenue.

People are talking, but it's like they're babbling in a different language, at least for those raw, first moments of wakefulness. Disoriented, cold, and overwhelmed with the presence of others and the amount of fluorescent light skimming off every surface in the room, the Three scrambles out of the tub and huddles against a wall some ten feet from the door Ambrose is guarding. Her anxious gaze is drawn to Diaz and her words. Particularly that most crucial word: safe. Shivering, arms wrapped around her knees, and her long hair a goopy sticky mess that's half smeared against the wall, she gives the Ten a jerky nod. Yes. "What the frak's going on? Why am I here?" If she's swearing, she's probably Clara.

Cooper and Rance keep a side. They both watch very closely. Even as she looks panicked to move, the two stay still but Rance does offer his hand out. When she starts to make a break for it, Cooper rises from his knees and looks at her. Rance follows suit and they stand there with their rifles hanging low. Cooper hears that response from her, though, and smiles juuust a bit. "You've been resurrected," Rance tells her. "Seems you've got a lot of people who love and care about you. Its not so easy to leave good people behind." Bold, again, hitting the broad strokes.

Once she hears Clara swear, Diaz lets out a breath she didn't realize she was holding, and for a moment her shoulders sag slightly. She shakes it off, shrugs the backpack off next, and lifts out the biggest towel she could fit into the pack and offers it forward to Clara. "Here, I thought you might want this first," she says as she approaches, still moving with care to avoid any sudden movements.

Having no idea if this is normal reaction to resurrection and not knowing Clara well enough to judge her identity, Ambrose focuses on trying to keep her from harming herself in panic. "Easy," he tries to calm the Three after she bounces off the wall, "you're all right." Everyone else seems reassured by the cursing, and the pertinent information has been relayed, so the Two takes it as a good sign. He steps back, going to retrieve his medical kit, and gives Diaz room and a minimum of privacy to give Clara her things.

Clara just stares at Diaz when the towel is lifted out. Like, what else do you have stuffed in there? Her teeth are practically chattering as she huddles there, naked as the day she was… well. "Resurrected from what?" she demands hoarsely from Coop, stabbing a look his way. Some goo is coughed up, and the heel of her palm wiped slowly across her mouth. "I didn't die." Her gaze is dragged back to Diaz, expression an odd mingling of accusatory and imploring. "I didn't die. Why am I here?" It takes a full twenty seconds for her to reach for the towel, and if it's relinquished, to pull it against herself like a child's blanket.

Cooper and Rance hold their place, Rance mostly keeping an eye on the door. Nothing threatening, just careful. "Maybe, maybe not. But you've got some waking up to do," Coop tells her. "How about one step at a time? Diaz is going to make sure you're good and warm. The Doctor is just going ot check you out real fast if that's alright? We need to make sure you're Clara. Nothing personal. Just is."

Once Clara accepts the towel, Diaz draws breath to start to answer Clara's questions only to nod at Coop once he speaks up. "I have more of your clothing, I remember how cold it is, was, sorry," she stumbles over the tense there and offers up a quick glimpse of an apologetic smile. "I know the goop is going to get itchy as it dries, but at least you'll be warm. You can clean up after," she adds and glances toward Ambrose then back to Clara. "What do you remember last?"

The doctor lets the others do most of the talking, keeping it calm and professional himself. With his medical gear in hand, he makes his way back over toward Clara and Diaz. He stops beside the pair and waits to see if the Three is going to consent to be examined, and he is in no rush. Assuming she agrees, Ambrose kneels down to quickly check her vital signs and record them on his data pad. "This will only take a moment," he assures Clara. And then he nods her towards Diaz, trying to prompt her to respond to the Ten's last question.

Clara doesn't seem particularly interested in drying herself off with the towel. She continues to clutch it to her scrawny frame, which doesn't quite veer into emaciated territory.. but it's damned close. The goo continues to dry, and it is - as Diaz promised - getting itchy in places. She scratches at her throat and collarbone, gunk collecting under her fingernails, ignored. "I don't know," she murmurs to Diaz, continuing to fixate on her. A little tilt of her head at the slip of tongue, and there's a question on hers.. but it isn't voiced. Later, perhaps, when she isn't huddled on the floor with Ambrose checking her vitals. "I'm trying to remember, but there's only.. pieces. I don't where to start." A beat. "You're Ten, right?" There's recognition, but it's faint. Coop is shot a glance, though there's little reaction to his explanation. It just is.

Cooper motions for Rance to move to the door and cover the hall. The Seven moves that direction while Cooper steps slowly over and takes a knee a good distance away. He looks at Clara for a looooong moment, then, "This Ten, Diaz, went to a lot of trouble to get you back. Way more than she had to. Let's focus on one step at a time, okay? Get yourself covered up and warm. We'll get you back to the Orion and there will be plenty of time to work on memories. But I want you to focus on the Ten and Two. They are going to help you. Myself and the Seven are here to protect you. Think you can listen to these two Lines and trust us for a few minutes? ..You're safe. You've got my word on it."

Once she's certain that Clara will allow Ambrose to do his doctor stuff does Diaz reach back into the backpack she's carrying and hands over a ration bar and a bottle of water. "This will help get the taste of the goo out of your mouth, and i have clothing for you too, when the doc is done." She lifts the last of the stuff out of the bag: double layer of tanks, under clothing, pants and boots, last of all an over sized hoodie is set with the rest. Coop's words make Diaz look up, shaking her head at the Six, "That's not what matters. What matters is that she's awake," and she turns back toward Clara, a sudden smile on her face, however brief. "Everything else will sort itself out from there."

Clara focuses on Knox while he speaks, and then, slowly, drags her eyes back to Diaz when the 'trouble' to get her back is mentioned. Her brows knit slightly. "Okay," she says, low, to the Six. The remainder of Ambrose's evaluation is permitted without incident, and she continues to observe the Ten in puzzled silence. Particularly at the smile. Belatedly, she reaches for the clothing and slowly releases the towel she'd been clutching. Stiff fingers make slow work of dressing, and her eyes skitter toward Rance prowling by the door with his rifle. Boots are tugged on last, though the laces are left undone. Irrelevant. "My kids.. are they safe? Where's Al? Why the frak am I here? I didn't die. Coop, I didn't die. Are you gonna tell me what's going on?"

"You may have lost some of your memories," Ambrose answers Clara in a quiet tone. "Physically you're fine. And it seems like things are coming back to you slowly? If that's the case, I recommend you try to be patient and see how much of your original memories resurface." Finishing up, the doctor stores his equipment and re-seals his kit as he continues talking. "But you did die, in battle with the Skath. That's why we're all here."

Coop rises from his knee, glancing to Diaz, then looking back to the Freshest Sister. "No, I'm not. This ship has not been fully swept and my focus is getting you home safe. After that, you can see who you need to and talk." But then Ambrose drops that little bomb and Coop gives a one-shoulder shrug and moves towards the door. "We need to move. We can come back and shut it off after she's safe on Orion."

"Other lines can't download into waiting bodies without bodies being prepped into tubs," Diaz says this in a cautious tone of voice, "so getting her back to the Orion and coming back to shut off the systems won't result in other lines waking up while we're gone?" She glances back at Clara as Ambrose gives the Three some answers, "They're both right. More will come back to you, memory wise. But we need to get you back to the Orion."

Clara can tell when she's being shut down, but unlike, say, Boldness.. she doesn't tend to react in anger. Or really much at all. She simply nods slightly to Knox, after a confused look leveled the doctor's way. Maybe something he's said rings a bell; maybe not. "Okay," she says again, this time to Diaz. The ration bar is ignored, but the water is accepted and curled into her hands as she pulls to stand.

So the Three took that better than expected. Ambrose offers her a supportive smile and then turns to the others. "I don't think it's wise to leave things connected. Why don't you take Lieutenant Piers back to the Raptor and I'll detour just long enough to turn off the system? It shouldn't take long."

Cooper shakes his head. "No, it looks like they need to be manually loaded. It'd be safe…" But Ambrose is volunteering. "Fair enough, Doctor. We'll meet you at the Raptor. Haul ass. You've got five minutes." Rance moves out first, going to the edge of the long hall's horizon. "C'mon, Clarabear. There's a quiet room waiting for you to get your thoughts together." He glances back to her and winks before moving them out.

Once Clara is on her feet, Diaz tucks the ration bar back into the now empty backpack and slings it over her shoulders once more. "I don't think anyone should be alone on this ship, not until it's been swept and we're entirely certain it's cleared and safe," she puts her fraction of a cubit into the conversation. She hesitates then looks to Clara again, "I'm not sure if this is going to spark any memory for you, but we have a mutual friend, a marine named Randy Flynn, who asked me to relay a message to you. She said, 'I'll be in our rowboat'," she says in a quiet voice, hesitating over the exact phrasing and unable to determine a better or worse moment to share the message in a bottle, so to speak.

Clara lifts her eyes at the comment from Diaz. Given the sudden clarity of her focus, it's a sure bet that she remembers that name, if little else. The message itself, though, seems to draw a complete blank. "..okay." More questions than answers, she looks even more perplexed than she did upon waking. And if they have a moment, after the others have filed out and it's just the two of them lingering in that quiet, sterile space, "I don't know what you did. Or why. But thank you." She doesn't wait for a reply, and heads for the hatch before Knox comes looking for her.

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