singillatim | the steps of survival

Who: La'an Noonien-Singh + whomever wants cr pre-event
What: Patrolling, corpse disposal, investigating, supplies
When: September; days before the event + non-event things
Where: Around Milton

Content Warnings: La'an's warnings, corpses, + TBA

step 1: recognize the situation ( open to ~~1 person~~ dr_unconscious )

[ This isn't the first time La'an Noonien-Singh has been trapped somewhere against her will. Really, she supposes she should count herself lucky that the frozen landscape means this can't possibly be the work of the Gorn — the cold-blooded lizards avoid the cold and would never choose this place as a hunting ground. Of course, if it were the Gorn, she would at least have some idea of how to handle everything, whereas all of this is... beyond her.

She isn't a scientist. She can't even begin to guess what the atmospheric phenomenon might be and whether it is the cause behind the damaged electronics or their presence here. But she can still gather information and put together pieces as she's able, and perhaps someone here will be able to take it further than her. Working in Starfleet has taught her to rely on the strengths of others as much as her own, so she just has to hope that someone here will be able to further connect the dots.

To that end, she continues searching through the homes that haven't been claimed by other unwilling residents. With a foraged notebook in hand, she documents the state of each home, what was taken and left behind, and what she can tell of the former residents. And whenever she finds a journal of one of those residents, she clears a space at the kitchen table and settles in to read, paying close attention to the final days recorded in 2014 as the town's situation worsened. ]

step 2: establish priorities ( open to all )

[ Patrolling the perimeter of the town feels natural to La'an. Bundled up against the cold (though not as much as she really should be) with a red scarf standing out against all the black, she does her best to ignore the elements while focusing on the familiar. Walking the hallways of the Enterprise is one of her many duties aboard ship, checking in at different locations to ensure everything is working smoothly and there are no issues in need of her attention. She may not have a team to check in with here, but she still has a self-appointed mission to keep these people safe for as long as they're trapped here, which isn't something she's going to shirk.

So she walks. In the morning, at midday, and when night falls, she walks along the edge of the town, keeping watch for any of the predators she'd heard while traveling here, or for signs of anyone in need of help. ]

step 3: inventory supplies ( open to ~~1 person~~ moralabsolutism )

[ It's been days since her arrival and La'an has yet to explore the town's grocery store. Her attention has been devoted to uncovering details of what happened in Milton and how they were brought here, but as she accepts that answers might not be as forthcoming as she would like, she's going to have to take stock of what they have available to them.

There's an almost ominous feeling as she steps into the building, the large room quiet and devoid of life. It's been years since she even set foot in a place like this, which makes it all the more unsettling, but in she goes, choosing an aisle at random, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her jacket as her footsteps almost echo through the silence. ]

step 4: stay calm ( closed to fidior )

[ After finding the initial bodies in her first days in Milton, it has become increasingly apparent that there are too many to leave untended. These were once people, so of course they deserve to be laid to rest in some appropriate manner, but more than that, bodies decay. La'an can still vividly recall the smell of rotting remains on the Gorn planet, the stench mixing with the sheer terror of fighting for survival to create a memory that will be forever seared into her memory. And since she very much doubts that many of the people here have enough experience with death to stomach what needs to be done, she takes it upon herself, at first taking care of the corpses found in the houses she visits to investigate left-behind belongings, and then purposefully searching other locations for any missed remains.

Moving the bodies is anything but easy. The ones out exposed to the elements are frozen solid, and the ones found indoors in unheated areas aren't much different. But it's the ones in warming areas that worry La'an most — enough time has passed since the time of death that rigor mortis has disappeared and decomposition has begun. This is a dangerous time for the living, especially when they barely even have the most basic archaeological medicine to rely on.

The churchyard is her destination with the latest body. Using an old shower curtain, she wraps the heavy fabric around the corpse of an older man and slowly drags the frozen weight through the snow-covered street. It's exhausting work but she doesn't let that stop her. This is work that needs to be done. ]

step 5: use everything at your disposal ( wildcard )

( Comment below if you would like a custom starter, or leave one for me! This post is to establish some last-minute, pre-event CR to help set the stage for whatever is in store for us this month. These threads don't have to go on for a long time, since we'll all likely dive headfirst into event things soon, but if anyone would like to meet a stoic, absolutely not from the future, badass Starfleet officer in disguise, here's your chance.

And don't forget to check out La'an's permissions, if you haven't already! )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ The knocking catches her off-guard, to be sure. It doesn't startle her, exactly, but she is surprised by it, pen freezing above the paper of her notebook that's nearly a third full with notes already despite it only being a short time since her arrival and relatively little concrete information being available to them. Connecting the dots takes work, and she's unwilling to let even the smallest detail slip through her fingers.

It feels strange to invite someone inside when it isn't her house, but she does so anyway, raising her voice to be heard through the quiet. ] Come in!

[ And then she waits, her spot at the table in line of sight of the front door. She hasn't met many of the others in the town, keeping her distance as a way to keep her secrets in those first days. But now that it appears quite clear that they likely aren't going anywhere anytime soon, she's facing the fact that she's going to have to start making connections. ]

[Clayton had halfway expected not to get a response at all, as he hasn't for so many other houses he's visited today, so getting an actual invitation this time briefly catches him off-guard too. But only for a second. A pause, then the door slowly creaks open on frozen hinges, and another pause as Clayton lingers in the doorway to drink in the scene. He's easily able to fill it with natural bulk and some layers under a navy blue peacoat, although he still manages to look and feel quite cold with the snow dusting his hair and salt-and-pepper beard.

[Flashing a hesitant smile, gesturing at the table-- ] Sorry, you're busy. I can come back some other time, if you'd rather?

[Yes, he's already moving to close the door behind him, but that's more to keep what little heat is in the house from escaping while they waffle.]

[ She doesn't know the name of the man who opens the door, but she thinks she might have seen him from a distance once or twice during her time in Milton, though it's a bit difficult to say when every face is a new one. In he comes, more hesitant than he needs to be, and before she can get a word in, he's already heading back out. ]

Just come in if you need something! [ Raising her voice to be sure he hears her, she stands from the table and moves closer. ] I haven't claimed this house, so you don't actually require my permission.

[ It still feels weird to have claimed any spot in this town as her own. This isn't her home and she didn't choose to be here, so why would she take any steps to feel more settled? (Because it's becoming increasingly apparent that they might be here a while, that's why.) ]

[Clayton halts, but in spite of his sheepish laugh, he's not too embarrassed by the exchange. Making someone upset because he's being too polite is, in his mind, much better than just barging in and acting like he owns the place.]

If you say so. [He steps forward over the threshold and gently pulls the door closed, taking a moment after that to tap his shoes on the ground and pat the snow off of his shoulders. Making sure he doesn't track water through the house.] Well I'm sorry for interrupting anyway. Ah--

[She's already moving towards him, so Clayton does what feels like the obvious next step and extends a hand out to meet her halfway. There's a lopsided, still very apologetic smile splitting his face.]

--Clayton Epps. [Giving her a moment to introduce herself back before continuing, ] If this ain't your place, then I suppose I don't feel too bad 'bout lookin' for supplies in it. Find any medicine you'd be willing to part with? Bandages?

[ The politeness is certainly appreciated; there are many here lacking in any level of proper manners. Though, despite her lilting British accent, La'an herself is not always the most polite. Respectful of others, yes, but she's more likely to be blunt and to the point than tiptoe around people's feelings with niceties.

She notes how he's considerate of the snow he carries in, and the way he offers his hand first. Accepting it, she gives a firm shake and meets his smile with her usual stoic expression. She doesn't smile easily even at the best of times. ]

La'an. [ No last name offered. His words garner him a more assessing look, however, and she puts a few pieces together and is pleased with how they add up. ] You have medical training.

[ Gesturing down the hall in the direction of the bathroom, she gives the slightest shake of her head. ] I haven't looked yet, but if there is anything, you're welcome to it. I only know basic field triage, anything more would be wasted in my hands.

Pleasure to meet ya, La'an.

[La'an isn't the only one doing some studying. Her demeanor seems to match how she handled him at the door - curt, but not unfriendly. Clayton can work with this. Not that he changes his approach any; Clayton's smile only warms as he starts to come to terms with La'an's temperament, and his handshake is equally firm before he draws away.]

You got me. [Chuckling, like she's caught him in a white lie, but Clayton doesn't tease her too much about it.] ER doctor, part-time field medic.

[He turns his head to follow her hand, staring down the empty hallway for a moment, before deciding that La'an is more interesting and turning back to face her. If there are supplies here, they aren't going anywhere.]

Wouldn't sell yourself short - "basic field triage" saves lives. I'd rather put medicine in your hands than keep 'em all hoarded where they can't help nobody at all. [His head tilts slightly.] Where'd you learn?

[ ER. It takes a moment for the acronym to register and process; the term has changed in the two hundred between them. Not that she lets on to that, of course. Subterfuge and deception are two of her best skills reserved for missions, which is how she's trying to think of all this. It's all just one long, unplanned mission...

She doesn't argue his point about even her basic skills saving lives; they have before and they inevitably will again. What she can't explain is that her triage usually involves a tricorder and the occasional hypospray, neither of which are available in this frozen place. But keeping people from bleeding out is the same in any century, so at least there's that. ]

Survival training. [ Which isn't a lie. ] I work in security, so it's part of my purview.

[ Which also isn't a lie, just a gross oversimplification of the situation. She does work in security, she's just failing to mention she's the chief of security over a crew of hundreds. It's a small detail. ]

[Clayton mouths a quiet oh of understanding, although he definitely does not actually understand, evidenced a moment later as he attempts to fish for more details: ]

What sorta company you work for? Or is it on contract?

the steps of survival — ota

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