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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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West pauses for a second to take that in, before he's driven on by the voice's continuing refusal to give him any solid details.
"Great how? I mean, what does a disembodied voice in a creepy green intestine think is Great?"
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"What d'you mean, classified?" he demands, stopping and glaring up at the ceiling for want of any more obvious place to look.
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||Classified - adjective. Withheld from general circulation for reasons of security.||
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Well, technically she can. But it wouldn't be very community-spirited of her.
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||Do you have any other questions, West Rosen?||
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He wants to have another stab at asking where the hell he it, but he gets the feeling that he's not going to get any kind of answer if he doesn't limit the possible replies to yes or no. "Am I in the US?"
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"...Canada?"
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"Paraguay?" (http://community.livejournal.com/trans_9/16510.html?thread=1387390#t1387390)