lastvoyages | 02. It could be said I have fallen far.

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02. It could be said I have fallen far.

[ Abigail's communicator switches on to reveal ... blackness. ]

—OUT OF HERE DAMN YOU—

[ The sound of fists banging on a wall, and a frustrated stamp of the foot makes the communicator bounce. What should now be clear is that it's lying on the ground, camera-down, having fallen out of Abigail's pocket while she throws a tantrum. ]

For Christ's sake! I have been in this fucking stairwell for at least an HOUR. Whatever you've been trying to tell me, Sir Admiral, consider your message taken!

[ More pounding. Then silence. Then Abigail picks up the communicator; you can now see that she is a little dishevelled and a lot annoyed. ]

Oh for fffffffff—pity's sake.

[ She wipes at her eyes with the heel of her hand; she might or might not have actually had any tears to wipe away, but she's going to at least look as if she did. ]

Is there anyone who can navigate these damnable stairs?

[ Abigail will get out ... one way or another. Later you may find her angry-gardening in the greenhouse, or she may try and get into the lounge to find a bottle of wine. ]

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[He hasn't tried the stairs (he mostly avoided them after his first day) but he helped one guy get out of a cabin, maybe that'll still work.]

Which staircase?

The aft staircase—I think.

Well, shit. [He mutters.] I'll go, knock on the doors, try to find you. Holler if you hear me.

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Abigail?

Hi, it's me. Gortys.

[yes like there are other small robots who sound like kids rolling around the ship]

Do you know what floor you're on?

[ A small noise of frustration. ]

I thought it was the fourth. But I have lost count of the stairs.

Okay. Okay, I'm coming to help out. Just...be careful until I get there and stay as still as you can, all right? I'll use my beacon to find you.

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I don't think he's trying to say anything. Not deliberately, anyway.

And how would you know that?

I don't think the Admiral would call it possible sabotage if he were in control?

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YOU KNOW WHAT FLOOR YOU'RE CLOSEST TO?

I thought it was the fourth. But the doors will not open and there is nothing to tell me which floor I am on.

I'LL TRY OPENING 'EM FROM THE OUTSIDE!

[A pop of feedback and static as Bill drags his communicator through the jump to the dreamscape. Sorry about that.]

It doesn't appear to be the Admiral making any of this happen.

Well then who or what is doing this? I thought he had all power on this vessel.

Booze is likely not the best remedy for near-constant motion sickness, but damned if Fiona isn't trying just the same. At present she is half-slumped on the bar, nursing an old-fashioned when she sees an evidently flustered Abigail storm in.

"Let me guess---those stairs got you, too?"

She's had her own unfortunate experience with that. And the elevator. And her own goddamned room.

Abigail doesn't respond right away; she grabs the closest already-open bottle of wine that she can reach and there's a moment where she looks as if she's about to drink it straight out of the bottle. Instead she gets a glass and sloshes the wine into it until it's about half-full, and drains half of that in one go.

"What is going on here?" she grouses. "God's blood, I thought I was going to live in the damned stairwell forever."

"Hell if I know."

Frankly, Abigail, Fiona wouldn't have judged if you had drunk straight from the bottle. The thought of anything as sweet as wine is nauseating at present, though, and she does hold her breath a bit to keep from smelling it if possible.

"I tried staying in my own room, but even that... I couldn't seem to get away from whatever's happening everywhere else. At least in here there's---" She lifts her glass in sort of a mock toast, "---this."

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"I'm in here too."

Says Peter, a level down, calling down and jogging up the last few steps, letting her know;

"Hello Abigail. I've been climbing. Have you been coming down?"

Abigail looks up. She'd escaped, briefly, but now she's stuck again, and she looks decidedly frazzled.

"Peter. Yes, I was—at least I thought I was on my way down."

"Let's sit still and wait it out."

He proposes, offering her his hand to come down the last few steps to the landing where he's making camp.

"Walking isn't solving anything."

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"Take a step back, just in case," says Jedao's voice over the communicator.

Below her in the stairwell, a sudden spot of light starts to grow - a vivid, crackling bonfire orange light, as he cares a hole through an unresponsive door with his sword.

Abigail lets out a small shriek at the light and backs into the nearest wall, as far away as she can get.

"What is that?"

He kicks some of the door in as the light extinguishes.

"It's my sword, ma'am." He hangs it off his belt and offers a half-gloved hand to help her step through the splintered remnants of the door.

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[Well, she certainly developed a potty mouth since the last time they spoke.]

I keep getting lost too, but uh, I can come around and try to help?

[ Actually it was always there... ]

I—I think I am free now, but thank you.

I will be staying away from the aft stairwell for the foreseeable future, I think.

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