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Talk About Timing...
While chaos was going on in the city, a level below the Living Areas, the rest of the ship was functioning normally. Stacy, apparently oblivious to goings on in the city, likely do to her malfunctioning sensors there, carried on with ship business.
||Pod Release Protocols Initating,|| Stacy's familiar voice sounded out to the upper levels, though no one was there to hear her. They were all downstairs, fighting for their lives against giant cockroaches.
In the Pod Caverns, there were the sounds of: Pop. Pop pop pop. Poppuhpoppoppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiiiissssss.
The usual condensation and mist sprayed out from cracks in the pods, they ripped open and the people inside slid out onto the floors, covered in slime. One of them, due to his mechanical nature, slid out covered in a sort of oil mixture, in a smaller body than he'd once had.
Pop. Poppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiissss.
There was no one already freed from the ship to greet them, only Stacy herself, and the empty silence of a ship caught in the middle of a crisis.
||Pod Release Protocols Initating,|| Stacy's familiar voice sounded out to the upper levels, though no one was there to hear her. They were all downstairs, fighting for their lives against giant cockroaches.
In the Pod Caverns, there were the sounds of: Pop. Pop pop pop. Poppuhpoppoppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiiiissssss.
The usual condensation and mist sprayed out from cracks in the pods, they ripped open and the people inside slid out onto the floors, covered in slime. One of them, due to his mechanical nature, slid out covered in a sort of oil mixture, in a smaller body than he'd once had.
Pop. Poppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiissss.
There was no one already freed from the ship to greet them, only Stacy herself, and the empty silence of a ship caught in the middle of a crisis.
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Usually the podmates had started asking questions at this point. Perhaps she ought to sedate him anyway...
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No more tentacles, thanks. They really wouldn't make his day.
"Shit!"
What did he do the last time he felt like his skin was going to leap off his muscles from the sheer electric energy of the fear in him? Oh yeah, he yelled a few wild accusations and then flew the hell away. Nowhere to fly to this time.
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Well, that certainly derailed him, even if it didn't calm him down any.
"I'm in a-- a gut cave-- and there are public bathrooms?!"
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!!
...
!?
!!!
...
In a high tone of voice that suggests a boy at his wits' end: "Okay, fine!"
He even throws up his hands. That's how endy his wits are. See what you did, Stacy, you and your needles and your alien abductions?
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||Please follow the lights.||
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Because they might pop.
All over his feet.
And that would be terrible.
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||The Hub will transport you where you wish to go.|| Stacy said.
He hadn't asked for clothing yet. Perhaps he was unconcerned with it.
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"That's very sci-fi of you, Disembodied Voice," he remarks. "Who do I thank for the service?"
Oh, if he's asking questions, then the edge must be coming off his terror, if only because nothing stays sharp forever. If you're really lucky he may ask about an end to the nakedness yet.
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Ah, there it is.
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"Where are my clothes?"
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Pause.
||Would you care for some clothing?||
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...actually, it occurs to him after he speaks that he has bigger problems.
"You got some kind of... freaky... GutWorld hostage uniform for me?"
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||You are not on 'GutWorld'.|| she answered. ||Nor are you a hostage. Would you care for some clothing?||
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"Then where am I?" he demands (at last), adding lamely: "Yes." In case he doesn't get another chance at asking for clothes.
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What? No one had promised helpful answers.
The pustules on the floor lit up again, leading off in a different direction from the one West had come. ||Please follow the lights.||
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Oh god, he has to follow the freaky blisters again. It's okay, West. One step at a time. God.
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Did that mean that there was no world map handy, or that there was no world map at all?
The pustules lead West to a nearby cylindrical room with only one door. The room was white, and empty except for some tentacles hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room.
||Step into the room. You will be clothed.||
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"I don't see a wardrobe."
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The tentacles reach out and loop themselves gently but firmly around his limbs and torso, picking him up off the ground to wrap him in a strange sort of jumpsuit. It's dark green, and feels like rose petals.
Oh yeah, it also feels like it has a pulse.
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West is far too manly to shriek when badtouched by horrible tendrils, so he would be grateful for the fact that he did just that to not be spread around, thanks.
When he's back on the floor, he tugs at the suit with a look of unrestrained disgust. "These aren't clothes! They're a plant fetishist's wet dream!"
HOW COULD HIS DAY GET ANY WORSE
DON'T ANSWER THAT.no subject
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