The android nodded perfunctorily, "Your recovery is proceeding along satisfactorily, if not ahead of my initial diagnosis." With a sweep of her hand, she accessed a holographic UI, broadcasting her comm-ident to the patient. "Should your condition change, or you find yourself suffering any symptoms, please contact me immediately." A pause, "However, I feel you are ambulatory enough to return to quarters, though I would avoid any intense physical activity."
Should any of you make your way to the galley, it does prove to have serviceable culinary synthesizers. The food and beverages are far better than any sort of ration or R2E.
The mercenary commander Orvir Pike, along with a few other mercenaries, are hanging around this area. They seem content to ignore you.
Leaving the survivors to their farewells, though they were, curiously, not parting ways until they arrived at the base, the android wandered to the galley. Noting Orvir Pike and his Peryton mercenaries, she nodded at the scar faced soldier. "Your companion, Sgt. Breez, is conscious and,if rumors are true, it might be good to invite her to the Brutaris viewing."
She stepped by him, moving to the culinary synthesizer, selecting a caloric paste, high in nutrients, though rather tasteless. As she ate the paste, she sat down close to where the Nayr was going through his datapad. "May I get you a drink while you work?"
|
”Sure, thanks ma’am.” he says without looking up.
When she returns he’s still going over his notes.
”I can’t make heads or tails of it. No sense. Like no logic to it at all. If these . . .uh. . . grays I guess we’re calling them wanted to study us then I get that. . . But a murder mystery AND a Barghest AND then a pirate invasion? And that facility was huge! Think of the cost, if not in credits than materials and labor at least.”
He sets the datapad down and rubs the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes.
”Listen, I’m a private dic. And in my years in the biz, I’ve learned two things. One is that big operations are always pinching pennies. Well that’s bunk here. Why bother making that huge facility and turning our ship into their own playground when they could have just stuck us in a HAC for a fraction of the price? Makes no sense. Not to mention the monumental cost of blowing the brains on your own crew. Those guys had to have specialized training I’m assuming, why waste time and resources investing in training those guys if you are going to kill ‘em at the drop of a hat? I mean, there is also the horrifying moral thing but I’m sure we past that milestone long ago.
“And the second thing is, big operations like this are streamlined and at least somewhat logical. You wanna test how we react to stress? Fine, put us in a murder mystery, record the results, wipe our minds, then test the next scenario. Even I know that is how basic science works. But no, here? Here it’s ‘throw a bunch of dung in a blender see what happens!’ I don’t know what they got out of observing use but it wasn’t valid scientific data.”
|
As the excitement dies down and her crew mates slowly disperse, Lilly sits alone in the medical bay trying to make sense of the last few days.
Nothing about this fits. Why go to all of the trouble? Why take all this time? How long have they been playing at this game in the first place? And what IS the stupid game anyway?
Anger suddenly fills her. I want to hurt them, all of them, cage them and knock their big heads, make them feel fear and pain and terror and the death, all the death. They killed so many and exploded their heads and there was so much death… and it hurt… and… and...
… and the tears finally come. They take a long time to run out. Her ribs hurt when she finishes, but she can think again.
With a final, decisive snuffle, she realizes how hungry she is and heads toward the Galley, washing her face in the Medical Bay before she leaves.
Old habits die hard, so Lilly mentally maps the main areas of the ship as she pads along the corridors, noting which supplies might be stowed where in case of emergency. Or if we get abduc… no, stop that. It’s over. Don’t go there.
In the Galley, the food smells better than she hoped. I guess the Stewards upgraded their food synths. This looks like the real stuff.
She scans the room, seeing a group dressed like Breez in one area, all seeming to ignore Beauregard and Galatea-5 camped in another. She shrugs and sits down next to the Android.
“Nice work in the lab. I really appreciate the brain scan. It was hard… I mean, we started wondering… all of us, you know, if we’d… and then everything happened and…” Tears begin to well up, so she slumps and stops talking, looking into her plate like maybe there’s an epiphany hiding under the gravy and veggies.
She pulls in a halting breath and sits up straight. “Thanks. For everything.”
Determined to make conversation, Lilly nods toward the mercenaries and asks Galatea-5, “So, any of them ask how Breez is doing? Where is she anyway?”
Settling into old habits gives Lilly some sense of calm, like there's actually something right in the world.
I’m sure there’s plenty of interesting gossip floating around here… let's see...
Galatea listened carefully as the Detective shared his rambling analysis. Though, if she was being truthful, he deductions were not entirely valid, however, she allowed him to conclude before injecting her own thoughts.
"Were I in your place, the illogical objectives of the experiment and the flawed value of observation would indicate that I had not yet escaped the simulation. However, that is a disconcerting notion, as that would mean that I, myself, was a part of said simulation, and my own insights and observations would be subject to suspicion and doubt."
It was then that the doors to the Galley opened and Doctor Flint-Bridge entered, sat beside her and thanked her for her assistance in Med Bay, indicating her assistance had, in someway, assured them of her intentions, loyalty. The psychological trauma these survivors must be experiencing was an order of magnitude greater than any the android was comfortable diagnosing.
"I, it," a pause, "a simple procedure, I simply wished to aid you in your recovery, considering your experiences at the Outpost. Once we get to Tyrkalis, you will be safe."
An unbidden response from the Exocortex, 'False. Experiences indicate an observed, though unidentified, breach in Steward protocol, accompanied by anomalous observed behavior.' Mercenaries accessing restricted zones, an excess of luxurious contraband and linguistic anomalies. Perhaps none of them were safe, even aspects of the survivors simulation, fitted with cortical ordinance to end their existence when the deception had been discovered. Perhaps she should not push the survivors towards the truth, for if they discovered it, would her own existence end?
Noticing the Doctor focus on the Peryton's conversation, she quickly sent a text to the Doctor's comm unit: 'Perhaps a feigned interest in the Brutaris match would allow you to obtain an invitation to tonight's viewing, where they can be observed in a less, guarded, environment.'
|
|
Noticing the Doctor focus on the Peryton's conversation, she quickly sent a text to the Doctor's comm unit: ”Perhaps a feigned interest in the Brutaris match would allow you to obtain an invitation to tonight's viewing, where they can be observed in a less, guarded, environment.”
Soft chimes play in Lilly’s earpiece as her comm unit registers a message. Glancing at the screen, her eyes widen for a moment, then she gives Galatea-5 a conspiratorial look. She stows the unit and leans close the android.
“Was I being that obvious? I must be losing my touch. Thanks for the tip. Want to join me on a descent into the land of mercs?”
Galatea shook her head, responding surreptitiously, "Not obvious at all," she paused, looking towards a reflective section of the culinary synthesizer, watching Pike's reflection. "I, too, have my suspicions of the man. Given his official status as, independent contractor, he possesses access to certain areas of Tyrkalis that are well above his security clearance." She paused, her eyes flickering rapidly back and forth in their sockets, as if reading information at an inhuman speed.
"I am attempting to download this last season's statistics to feign an interest in the Brutaris match, perhaps we can convince your companions to join us as well?"
|
John submits to Galatea's examination after it's clear that Doc Flint-bridge will also be attending, but he's self-absorbed, or perhaps sullen. He answers questions in monosyllables, "Yes." "No." "M'be."
When Yariel announces her intention to join the Stewards, he seems little affected. He merely offers his hand and mutters, "Good luck, Officer Flash." Then he leaves the compartment.
John settles in his bunk and stays there during the day, sleeping with his cane in hand and a pistol under his pillow. During the night he sits and watches the door, again with his cane in one hand and his pistol in the other. Occasionally during the nights he slips out to reconnoiter the ship. The only other times he leaves the quarters are to take quick meals or to use the lavatory.
He starts to develop a scraggly beard.His hair grows lank and greasy. And you learn to keep an olfactory preserving distance.
T'sorkel feigns some interest in both food and entertainment, but it's soon clear that the Shirren is just exhausted. He makes an excuse of needing to get the twins settled down before he heads off to the quarters assigned to him.
You believe T'sorkel is still shaken by his deliberate destruction of parts of the Archive too.
Orvir Pike is gruff and not very talkative. That said, he seems intrigued by Dr. Flint-Bridge and Galatea's interest in tonight's screening of brutaris. "Why don't you and your friends join us tonight in the lounge. We're planning to put on the match at about 11:30 tonight."
|
|
Orvir Pike is gruff and not very talkative. That said, he seems intrigued by Dr. Flint-Bridge and Galatea's interest in tonight's screening of brutaris. ”Why don't you and your friends join us tonight in the lounge. We're planning to put on the match at about 11:30 tonight.”
Lilly feels at home in this kind of activity and it stokes her growing calm. She flashes her sweetest smile at Pike’s offer. “It’s a date. See you at 11:30 tonight in the lounge. I’ll see who wants to join us and bring them along.”
Turning from the crowd of mercs, she walks down a corridor with Galatea. “They do seem to be a curious bunch, but interesting. Thanks for the idea on piquing their interest.”
She yawns without thinking about it, then realizes how tired she feels. She pushes through the feeling for a moment.
“Shall we do a last minute check on Breez? I think I have enough energy for a quick follow-up.”
"T'sorkel, we need to establish a .... Be you feeling well? You be a little green around the gills."
The Shirren looks back at John blankly and nods. I...I'll be ok. I think it's just the...the stress of the events catching up to me. He takes a deep breath. I need to put the boys to sleep, make sure they're ok. Excuse me, please. He enters the cabin and closes the door before John can say much more. But the Abadarian hears a small cry from behind the door and then what sounds like gentle sobs.
The android noted her companions exhaustion, "Should you wish Doctor, I can send my prognosis to your comm unit for your review, if you wish to retire until later this evening. Your companions and yourself have suffered prolonged exposure to significant psychological and physiological stressors."
She was, however, walking towards the medical bay as she spoke to Flint-Bridge. "I fear symptoms may present themselves without sufficient rest and, perhaps, counselling." She paused as she spoke, regarding the diminutive doctor, "Being unaware of your companion's behaviors, I will have, difficulties, identifying symptoms of deeper trauma, as such I would appreciate your assessment in that regard."
You all manage to have a refreshing rest in the spartan, but comfortable, quarters aboard the Voidcrier. Most of you wake up just a little before the brutaris match is set to begin.
You collect yourself, perhaps taking a refreshing sonic shower, and join the throng preparing to watch Orvir Pike's brutaris vid.
There is good bottled (as in NOT from the food synthesizer) beer being passed around, and there is enough for at least a couple of rounds for everyone.
The match begins, and all of the Perytons cheer for one side or the other.
At some point near the beginning of the match, you blink.
When your eyes open, the holovid has seemingly ended, and everyone looks around in a confused manner.
Your bottle of beer is warm and flat.
Orvir Pike looks around. "Ummm...anyone see the end of the match? Did I fall asleep?"
Galatea, having experienced time loss before, immediately accessed her internal time logs, while correlating the time with the Voidcriers logs. "It seems highly unlikely, unless the food and drink were, in fact, laced with some sort of sedative." She pondered the situation, "Engineer Galatea-5 to Bridge, please respond Captain Yalamis."
Galatea, having experienced time loss before, immediately accessed her internal time logs, while correlating the time with the Voidcriers logs. "It seems highly unlikely, unless the food and drink were, in fact, laced with some sort of sedative." She pondered the situation, "Engineer Galatea-5 to Bridge, please respond Captain Yalamis."
There is a pause, then Narla Yalamis responds. "Bridge here...Galatea...what's...your status?"
Beauregard recalls that most of the guest quarters that are nearby have portholes.
All indications are that you are using conventional thrusters to traverse space. You have no reason to believe you are in any sort of simulation similar to the one you recently emerged from.
John, you can't be sure what the status is ship-wide, but all indications are that this is affecting everyone here.
Galatea noted slight anomalous readings while checking her internal chronometer, quizzically she looked to the Doctor and her companions who had joined them for the Brutaris match. "I may be able to narrow down the anomaly by checking internal computer logs, and scanners on the bridge." She looked to her halfling companion, hoping she would back her up.
She then turned her attention towards Pike, himself, "Perhaps a Drift field inversion, which would cause a stutter, affecting our perception of time-space. Further investigation is required, however, I would suggest retiring to your quarters until a proper medical examination can be conducted to ensure that no Drift bleed has affected your cells on a molecular level." An utter load of fei-oo but it may give the large mercenary cause to isolate to his quarters for fear of trans-dimensional radiation, and if she could keep the Peryton's out of her way while she investigated the situation it would be in her best interest.
T'sorkel has rejoined the group after getting a good long sleep. You see some redness in his eyes, but perhaps he just didn't sleep very well. When the blink occurs, the Shirren sits up slowly. I..I thought I fell asleep again. He is suddenly more alarmed as it appears the others have experienced the same thing.
T'sorkel stands. We should gather everyone for accountability. See if anyone is missing or if anyone did not experience this.
|
|
T'sorkel has rejoined the group after getting a good long sleep. You see some redness in his eyes, but perhaps he just didn't sleep very well. When the blink occurs, the Shirren sits up slowly. I..I thought I fell asleep again. He is suddenly more alarmed as it appears the others have experienced the same thing.
[dice=Sense Motive]1d20+12
T'sorkel stands. We should gather everyone for accountability. See if anyone is missing or if anyone did not experience this.
"Good idea."
|
|
Smiling and taking a swig of her drink, Lilly looks around the crowd and then calls out loudly to the room.
“So, who are we rooting for in this match? Any favorites up there? Those guys —” she gestures with her beer bottle toward one side of the screen ”— look pretty strong, but that one over there is kinda cute. It’s gotta count for something.”
And then she woke up.
What in the Seven Nebulae…?
She looks around the room, first to her friends and new compatriot, Galatea, then to Pike and his crew. Everyone looks like they just woke up. But why were we all asleep in the first place? Sure sports can be boring but not like that.
She goes straight into chemist mode, quickly running a sample of the remaining beer through the chemalyzer in her suit’s integrated microlab. While it’s running, she hears Galatea talking with Pike and the mercs.
”Perhaps a Drift field inversion, which would cause a stutter, affecting our perception of time-space. Further investigation is required, however, I would suggest retiring to your quarters until a proper medical examination can be conducted to ensure that no Drift bleed has affected your cells on a molecular level.”
”Drift field inversion?” What’s she… oh… ahhh, got it now. Oh.. oh dear… that’s, um, oh stop talking any time, hon. Better get in there.
Lilly extricates herself from the chair and jumps into the conversation.
“Yes, Galatea, that’s… oh dear, I hadn’t considered it, but you’re absolutely correct. You don’t want to mess with Drift field infusion — er inversion. Serious stuff. Feeling a little of the residual myself.” Lilly deliberately sways a bit, trying to dramatically drive home the potential seriousness of this imaginary ailment.
She looks to the merc unit’s battle medic, counting on the idea that they’re still confused by what happened and don’t want to look bad in front of their leader.
“Isn’t that right, um, Coghil… er, Comptuhhh… um, you there… medic?”
|
|
Instead of joining the party for the brutaris match, John prowled the corridors looking for something. He didn't know what, but something odd, something not quite right.
He wakes up on the corridor floor, quickly snatches his cane and levers himself back to his feet. No way I just fell asleep standing up. Where are the others? Should have stayed with them.
He checks his firearms as he begins to trot back toward their quarters first, and then to the lounge. Striding through the door, he asks, "Did anybody else wink out a minute ago? I woke up on the floor and be queasy about it."
White all of you are sorting out exactly how to proceed, Orvir Pike takes charge of his mercenaries. "Peryton's assemble, on the double!" With that, all of the mercenaries line up, though most seem bewildered, drowsy, and possibly confused. Pike gets a count, then checks in with Sergeant Breeze in the med bay. "Breeze, what's your status report?"
There is a pause, then much to your relief you hear Kaniko Breeze's voice. "I'm in good shape. I feel like I just woke up from the best nap ever!"
Orvir considers your suggestion for everyone to return to quarters and nods. "Ezra, Fallion, Sparkles...you're with me on the bridge. The rest of you, return to your quarters. You are not to leave unless ordered to do so. Fall out!"
Pike turns to all of you. "I want to make sure the bridge is secure. Galatea, I recommend you make your way there as well. The rest of you...I don't care what you do. I recommend staying together though."
All checks of any time logs indicate clearly that 24 hours passed, and are unaccounted for.
T'sorkel chitters anxiously. He looks around warily as if something will jump out at them. Pike, are all your personnel accounted for? We need to ensure someone isn't missing. That's how all this started on the Chimera. And listen to Beauregard. He knows what he's talking about. We need to stay in pairs. The Shirren nods to the Nuar.
Galatea nodded as Pike spoke, "Affirmative, we will meet you on the bridge." Galatea did not trust Pike, not entirely. The Naur's comments about double agents brought back memories of a verbal exchange, in an unknown language, she had observed on Tyrkalis between Stewards who had never conversed in anything but Pact Common previously. She wanted to ensure that she stayed close to the survivors of Omicron, it would increase her own chance at survival.
"I'll take our guests to Medbay, determine if there us a physiological explanation for the time loss we've all apparently shared. We'll link up with Breez and meet you on the bridge." After hitting my quarters and gearing for a combat exercise, she thought to herself. If Pike were trying to commandeer the ship, he'd want to establish over the bridge and key systems, such as engineering and communications.
As she spoke, she had her exocortex remotely contact the survivor's comms, flashing a warning across their HUD's 'Do not trust Pike. Med Bay. Quarters. Bridge. Stay together.'
T'sorkel darts back into his room and comes out with the carrying case for T'regen and Darluk, the twins, as well as his weapon. He checks on their larvae canisters, noting how both of them have grown a bit recently. They're still asleep, but they seem fine. Ok, we're headed to the medbay? We check on Breeze and then do some preliminary scans? But then we need to head to the bridge and figure this out?
Pike confirms to T'sorkel that all of his mercenaries are accounted for. With that, he and three of his mercs gear up and head for the bridge.
You head for the med bay. There, looking a bit confused, but very alert and fit is Sergeant Breeze.
John glances at his comm unit, rubs his stubbly face. Neat trick. I didn't give her my comm code. If it is her...
Like his companions, Rar'gul enters the galley with more questions than answers. Swinging by the culinary synthesizers, he collects a dozen tubes of sweet vegetable paste and a pitcher of carbonated fizz.
The trox turns toward the seats before quickly retracing his steps and dialling up a couple of packs of Burger-O's. Cradling the snacks in his vestigial arms, he carts his goodies over to a quiet spot off to the side.
Rar'gul stares at the table, absently picking at his fare, deep in his thoughts. He glances over to where the mercenaries sit, cloistered together away from the other passengers and crew. His gaze travels over to his companions, strangers but a few days ago, now willing - and having! - spilled and shed blood for one another. It was just as the veterans had described when he had spoken with them during their pilgrimages to the Halls of the Forever Queen...
Ah, home. Maybe Flash has the right of it and it is time to move on. After all, they had ended the grays' experiments and destroyed their facility. Surely that was the momentous event his dreams had warned of?
The image of lights sliding by overhead as he is wheeled along a corridor on a hospital gurney flashes before his eyes, replaced by another of an armoured trox collapsed on the ground at his feet. He takes a quaff of the fizz in an unsteady hand, wiping the palm of his other hand on the leg of his pants as though trying to rid it of some unseen grime.
His appetite lost, Rar'gul pushes away the food and stands. Hearing the discussion turn to the topic of a watch party, he joins the others, glad for the diversion. "You ccan ccount me in," he rumbles.
Before turning in, he approaches Dr Flint-bridge and Galatea, asking if they could assist him with fitting the synaptic accelerator (CON) he had constructed within the gray facility.
* * * *
Rar'gul blinked.
He was lying on the floor. He didn't remember a thing about the game. Had the party been that good?
Pulling himself upright, he noticed the others in various states of rousing, several asking the very same questions he was wondering.
A tingle of familiarity ran along his spine, chasing the last of the fogginess from his mind as he instinctively joined his companions and readied for a danger yet unseen. "It seems we'rrre not frree just yet," the trox rumbles.
Sticking close to his companions, he keeps a watchful eye for signs of anything amiss as he accompanies them to the medbay, before collecting gear from their quarters.
|
|
"Alright T'Sorkel, your with me. We need to get to the medbay, see if we've been drugged . . . ."
At that Beauregard pauses and thinks for a moment. "I, uh, I hate to ask, but your kids . . . how . . . aware? are they? I mean I know you Shirrin are supposed to talk to them all the time, but do they . . . y'know . . . talk back? If so . . . I mean, it seems like another avanue to explore if they experienced the time lapse. Did they notice a long time with no contact with you? Do they need new food? I'm sorry if I'm being insensitive here, just . . . well first want to make sure they are okay and then second want to check if whatever whammy hit us hit ALL of us."
Once in the med-bay Galatea had an idea, "Dr. Flint-Bridge, while I run a cursory test to determine any physiological symptoms of our collective time loss, could you review the logs from the medbay." Galatea bent to her task, performing a series of non-invasive tests on the group to gather rudimentary data. "The diagnostic monitors were hooked up to Sgt. Breez's vitals, and should have monitored them throughout, unless she was taken from the med-bay during the missing time."
Turning her attention to Breez, she performed a rapid body check, looking for any damage or injury. "I am sorry for the lack of care, Sgt. Breez. However, we want to ensure your health prior to continuing our investigations, our intention is to arm ourselves and head to the bridge to ensure the safety of my Captain. Pike has ordered the Peryton's to remain in their quarters, but given the situation, our specialist," she looked to the broad shouldered Nuar, "has requested we do not isolate ourselves, and remain in a group. Will you join us?"
Everyone's medical scans continue to be normal
Galatea nodded as she listened to Breez's enthusiastic pleas to join her compatriots on the bridge, however she wasn't convinced that it was in her best interest. Especially considering Truthpelt's assertions that double agents were involved. However, if Breez accompanied them it would allow them the opportunity to observe her actions and ascertain where her loyalties lie.
The results of the med-scan were interesting, the incision though, gave her chills. She immediately flagged it, and made mental note to do a full body assessment of herself when she returned to quarters to arm herself prior to joining Pike on the bridge. Once again, she contacted the survivors via their comms.
'Subject Breez has had an invasive procedure performed during the time lapse, incision was not present during initial examination performed by Dr. FlintBridge. Medical diagnostics confirm subject was absent from the med bay between XX:XX and ZZ:ZZ, during our subjective time loss.'
|
|
Before turning in, he approaches Dr Flint-bridge and Galatea, asking if they could assist him with fitting the synaptic accelerator (CON) he had constructed within the gray facility.
“I’m happy to help, Rar’gul. I just did my own a little while ago. I’m surprised that you didn’t notice a bit more snap in my jokes.” She winks at the Trox, happy to feel safe enough to make a joke.
————
Lilly’s mind races through possibilities and observations, trying to catalog and organize everything.
We were out for 24 hours. Woke up in the same random positions we’d been in. We apparently weren’t moved. She tried to focus and calm the chaos.
Red… something red… red spot… that soldier! She grabs her comm unit and taps out a message to her team. She begins to include Galatea, pauses, and then finishes adding the android.
“When we woke up in the vid room, I saw one of the soldiers rubbing a spot on his shoulder. Looked like a spot on their skin with redness and swelling. Check yourselves out when you can. We might have been drugged?”
She carefully darts to her quarters for weapons, then heads to the Med Bay to see if she has any similar markings.
Once in the med-bay Galatea had an idea. ”Dr. Flint-Bridge, while I run a cursory test to determine any physiological symptoms of our collective time loss, could you review the logs from the medbay.”
She nods to Galatea. “Great idea. Maybe there’s a clue somewhere. I’m on it.” Lilly jacks her micro lab into the medical systems and pulls up records from the last 36 hours.
“Hmm…”
T'sorkel barely watches the others get their scan as he is bombarded by psychic messages from the twins as they wake up and are suddenly starving. Yes, yes. I know I'm hungry too! Here, I have some of your nutrient paste. You're going to be ok. We need to figure out what happened to everyone. It's a mystery again! Watch and observe the patterns and psychic energy of the crew. It's important for you to know how people react when you grow up. He opens a tub of larval nutrient paste and feeds the two shirren larvae.
He looks up at Sgt. Breeze and smiles at her. How did you fare down here? Did you notice anything unusual?
|
|
T'sorkel barely watches the others get their scan as he is bombarded by psychic messages from the twins as they wake up and are suddenly starving. Yes, yes. I know I'm hungry too! Here, I have some of your nutrient paste. You're going to be ok. We need to figure out what happened to everyone. It's a mystery again! Watch and observe the patterns and psychic energy of the crew. It's important for you to know how people react when you grow up. He opens a tub of larval nutrient paste and feeds the two shirren larvae.
He looks up at Sgt. Breeze and smiles at her. How did you fare down here? Did you notice anything unusual?
[dice=Sense Motive]1d20+12
T'sorkel glances at Beauregard. Sorry. Distracted by the boys. What were you saying? Oh yes, what do they remember? Well, their senses aren't fully formed, so their sense of time is not great. And they do take several naps, so even if they were awake the whole time, I don't know how long they might think has passed.
But they are hungry. Is that because they were waiting for food while we were all asleep? Or just because we've all gone without food for 24 hours. I mean, I'm hungry too.