reefnet | KY321B; voice; night 007

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KY321B; voice; night 007

[ It’s the dead of night when the broadcasts start—short, choppy bursts initially, static interspersed with the occasional snatches of a woman’s voice against the low susurrus of waves on sand. It’s several long moments before they resolve into an actual message. ]

—anyone there? Please, anyone—I don’t care who you are, just say something!

[ There’s a clear edge of desperation in her voice and it’s no wonder; Zam had woken up pressed against a sand dune in the pitch black night, her last memory being of her own untimely murder. She’d thought she was buried at first, then in hell—and then she’d noticed the radio clutched in her one remaining hand. Then came the struggle of trying to figure out what it was and how to operate it one-handed in the dark and—suffice to say, she is experiencing a lot of stress at the moment. ]

Does this thing even work? [ More static as Zam starts blindly pressing buttons in the dark. ] —anyone receiving?

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[ Another recent arrival from the sounds of it. K waits, listening, until the erratic bursts of static resolve into intelligible messages, then he answers. ]

It works, I'm receiving. [ The masculine voice on the other end is pitched low, calm. ] Press and hold down the topmost button on the side when you're speaking, so your messages don't get cut off. Release the button once you're done speaking.

[ Because it seems prudent to cover the basics first. ]

It works, it works! There are people here, it's just really late.

Are you okay?

[ There’s a brief silence on Zam’s end as she fumbles with the device, trying to figure out which side is the top in the dark. After a few seconds, she figures it out. ]

Hello? [ She’s breathless now, desperately relieved to hear another person’s voice. ] Who is this? You can hear me now, right? Can you tell me where we are?

[ He debates how to introduce himself. Having never been named by his owner, he possesses only a serial number and a shortened form of it that could be mistaken for a name. That potential deception doesn't sit well with him. Probably best to be honest about his identity from the get-go, he decides. ]

That's better, I can hear you. I'm KD6-3.7. Not a clue where we are, though. Judging by the stars I can see, it's an equatorial location on a version of the planet Earth, if that means anything to you.

[ Difficult to narrow it down when he's aware of the existence of countless variant Earths scattered throughout the multiverse. But this one decidedly isn't his native Earth, he knows that much. Too much greenery and breathable air, not enough pollution and nuclear fallout. ]

And who am I speaking with? [ Maybe it'll help just having someone to talk to. ]

Fierfek, you have no idea how happy I am to hear that.

[ If there's other people here, people she can hear and speak to, then maybe she really isn't dead—even if she isn't sure how she could have possibly survived. Taking a lethal dose of neurotoxin straight to the carotid artery should be a guaranteed death sentence. Unless... Had Jango spared her after all? ]

I... don't really know. I'm uh— [ She winces. ] Someone cut off my arm but it's not bleeding. Cauterized. It doesn't even hurt as much as it probably should though that might just be the shock talking. [ A small, light-headed laugh. ] I don't know. Someone might've just killed me. I'm, uh... I'm still trying to figure that one out.

[ In short: no. No, she's not doing great. ]

Okay, wow.

[ That sure is a hell of a lot. But 'not bleeding' is a good start. ]

So, bad news first, if you're in shock you need water, and it's not easy to get. Good news, you're not dead now by most people's definition.

Are you on a beach? Can you see the sun, or the moon?

[ KD6-3.7. It sounds like the name of a droid, though that doesn't match the very organic voice she hears on the other end of the broadcast. It adds another layer of ambiguity on top of everything else, another facet that doesn't make sense.

'At least if it's a droid, then this probably isn't the afterlife,' she thinks absurdly. 'Droids wouldn't go to the same afterlife organics do.' ]

Zam. My name is Zam. I don't know how I got here; I was on Coruscant and then I just—I just woke up on this beach. [ She doesn't understand. It had almost felt like waking up from a nightmare, but the cauterized stump where her right forearm used to be testifies to the reality of her memories. ]

I think—I don't know if this is real. I shouldn't even be alive right now.

[ Right. She has to find water. On a deserted island. While in shock and missing an arm. Okay. ]

I see the moon. And yes, I'm on a beach with—I guess they're dunes? They go on for a while and then there's trees, but it's too dark to see anything past that.

[ Stars, she hopes that sounds familiar to someone. Why'd she have to wash up here at night? ]

I don't know, do I just—do I just start walking? I don't think I can make it through the forest in this dark, but maybe I could just skirt around the beach...

Okay, the moon should be East at this hour. Which direction is the forest?

Don't try to navigate the woods, but find a spot where you'll be under cover in the morning. And then I need you to sit down, breathe, and tell me your condition in detail.

North.

[ And then there's silence as Zam stops her broadcast to follow the voice's instructions. They give her something to focus on, at least, some sense that this is real and not the result of some dying neurotoxic hallucination.

Still clutching the radio in one hand, she starts to walk towards the trees in the distance, winding around the sand dunes that dot the beach. Even ignoring her arm, her body feels off in a way she can't quite define. Light and insubstantial, like she's lost more than just a limb. She grits her teeth and tells herself that it's the shock talking. Obviously, she's not dead—otherwise, she wouldn't need to worry about dying again.

Finally, she reaches the treeline and finds a place to sit at the edge of the forest, facing into the deep dark beyond. It's a good thing she's not bleeding; the last thing she needs is some kind of native predator coming across her in her current state.

She presses the broadcast button on her transceiver again. ]

Okay, I'm under some trees now. Feeling... not great. Light-headed, I think. The last thing I remember before waking up here was taking a saberdart full of neurotoxin to the neck, so... that might be related. I'm not dead, though, so that's an unexpected plus. [ She looks down at herself, trying to gauge anything else about her condition. Obviously, there's the severed arm, but now that she's actually somewhat calmed down and paying attention, she notices it's not the only thing that's missing. ] Looks like I've lost most of my armor... and blaster. Or maybe someone took it.

[ They'd even taken her one remaining glove. The skin of her left hand is pale, but otherwise unmarked and there's no sign of—wait. Zam's brow furrows as she stares at the hand, then raises it to her face. She feels smooth skin, small eyes. That's... weird. She'd woken up already shifted. That wouldn't be unusual under normal circumstances—she's trained herself to hold a human form even while asleep—but she distinctly remembers reverting to baseline after Jango's saberdart had hit. Had she reshifted while unconscious, somehow?

Still holding a hand to her face, she tries to relax, tries to let it go. Her human form might be her preferred one in most cases, but in a life-or-death scenario such as this, it'll only be a waste of energy to keep it up. It should be as easy as letting out a breath. She closes her eyes, lets her expression go slack...

And nothing happens. The fine bones and muscles of her face remain set in place, and the skin stays soft and smooth. She opens her eyes and tries again, focusing this time. She thinks about what she should feel: the sockets of her eyes expanding and filling, cheeks hollowing, skin becoming tough and scaled. But nothing moves; her features remain stubbornly human, as if they've forgotten any other form. Zam feels a new seed of panic planted within her. Has she lost control of her shapeshifting?

She reaches for the radio again. ]

Something's wrong. I don't know how, but I can't—I can't... [ How does she even begin to explain this? She's not even in the habit of telling people she's a Clawdite but if they're talking about her medical condition, then that context is pretty karking important.

With a strained sigh: ] Listen, do you know what a changeling is?

[ Crap. She doesn't know nearly enough about neurotoxins to be helpful in this situation.]

Yeah, whoever dumped us here didn't leave us with much. Is that all you feel? Lightheaded?

[ Steph gets no response while Zam is freaking out. ]

Hello?

[ Then Zam is back and Steph is now privy to the freakout. ]

Changeling, um... Something about babies switched with a fairy at birth?

I'm gonna guess the answer is no, I don't know what a changeling is.

No, no, nothing to do with fairies. [ Where do people even hear this stuff? ] It means I can change the way I look—skin, bones, muscles, that kind of thing. Or—I could. Can't do it now. I'm, uh. Stuck?

[ She tries to focus on different, smaller changes: lengthening her nails, subtracting a finger. Still, nothing happens. Her body remains solid and immutable in a way it's never been before. ]

Fierfek, what the hell is going on?

Change the way-- Shapeshifter! That's what we call it where I'm from. You can shapeshift. But you're not able to do it now?

[ How does M'gann's shapeshifting work? She's sure she read that file, but not very closely. It felt like spying on her ex's new friends. ]

Is that something that's ever happened before? A known side effect of some poisons, maybe?

Yeah. Shapeshifting. I've heard it called that, too.

And no, it's never happened to me before. I mean, there was a time before I knew how to control it, but that's not really the same thing. [ She runs her hand through her hair—short and soft and also something she wouldn't have in her baseline reptilian form.

She also realizes that she's missing her helmet, too. Great. ]

If I were really sick or dying, maybe I'd be forced back into my baseline form. But this isn't that. It's—it's one of my human forms. Unless... [ She shakes her head and then laughs, a sound of incredulity and frustration rather than amusement. ] I don't know, I've never been injected with neurotoxin before; for all I know, this is a normal side effect. Or—or maybe I'm hallucinating. Maybe I'm not stuck at all.

[ Maybe she's lying in a ditch somewhere, face and body contorting uncontrollably from her efforts. Maybe she's still curled up in an alley outside some seedy nightclub on Coruscant, waiting for the lights to go out. It's not like either notion could be more absurd than what she's experiencing right now. ]

Makes sense, right? [ Another laugh. ] Why wouldn't a neurotoxin make you trip?

Zam. Shame we couldn't meet under better circumstances, but it's good to hear another voice out here. I arrived the same way. Woke up on the beach with this radio next to me, and no recollection of how I got here.

[ He considers her words for several moments, frowning in thought as he takes stock of his body. How different it feels, in ways that are difficult to articulate. It becomes more pronounced the longer he's here. Having never experienced hunger pangs before, he hasn't yet realised that's the source of his growing discomfort. ]

It feels real enough. [ Yet there's a hint of uncertainty in his voice. ] Even if— something here... changed me. Physiologically. [ Weakening him considerably in the process, though he refrains from sharing that detail just yet. The whole ordeal is more deeply unsettling to him than he'd like to admit. ] Maybe the same thing that's kept you alive? [ More importantly: ] Are you injured?

[ Changed him physiologically? Zam's not sure she likes the sound of that—though, as he points out, whatever is responsible might be the same thing that had saved her from her own death. Or, perhaps, had brought her back.

She grimaces at the question. ]

My arm's been cut off, so yes. The wound's cauterized though, so I won't bleed out. [ An exhale through her teeth. ] Just have to worry about infection.

[ Zam probably shouldn't look a gift dewback in the mouth, but if something had saved her from death, it seems pretty strange that it would promptly drop her into another life-threatening situation without so much as wrapping up her wounds. Of course, she's assuming that it has an agenda at all; for all she knows, it has as much reasoning ability as a black hole. ]

How long have you been here? And how many others are there?

Deep breaths, okay?

I mostly know about baseline human biology, but my understanding is that you'd be in your normal form if you weren't in control of yourself. Neurotoxin might make you hallucinate, but it's more like dreams. Dying cells firing off, showing you random stuff that your brain tries to cobble together.

You said you're light-headed, do you have a headache worse than what dehydration or exhaustion might give you? You're speaking clearly, are you having any trouble swallowing, breathing, or controlling your movements? Is there anything else strange at all that you can't blame on being stuck in a human shape, wet, upset, and on a random beach?

Woke up on the beach today?

[New people???? What the fuck.]

The arm thing - this happened here?

[ A new voice interrupting their conversation surprises K, if only because of the late hour, but he answers both TO994M's and Zam's questions together. ]

A day ago for me. Middle of the night, eight hours before sunrise.

I'm curious how many of us there are too. Has there been a headcount?

No. Order of operations is: got arm cut off, got shot, woke up here. All in the space of a few minutes.

[ A very disorientating few minutes, needless to say. ]

A head count depends on everybody willingly speaking up.

Guessing nobody near you at home could have healed you, right?

Even if there had been, I don't think they could've done much. When I say "got shot," I mean with a saberdart full of neurotoxin.

Yeah. Heard you talking about that with BT6.

[Along with the shapeshifter stuff that she is very pointedly not addressing right now.]

What kind of neurotoxin? Do you know?

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KY321B; voice; night 007

voice | callsign: KD201D

BT612L; audio

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cw: mild body horror

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TO994M; voice

TO994M; voice

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