trans_9 | Sooo...Meet-y

The bald and elderly man standing shortly after Brainiac 5 and Sensor might have been familiar to some. It all depended on what they knew and what reality they were from. Regardless, Picard greeted everyone with the same cordiality and warm tone, regardless of their own familiarity to him. "Hello and welcome aboard," he said. "My name is Jean-Luc Picard; I'm the captain of this vessel and her crew. I regret that your arrival had to be under such circumstances, but they cannot be helped, I'm afraid."

Gaius was wasting no time in examining the equipment that had been handed to him, and it seemed that a very likely permanent new worry line had been carved into his forehead.

He'd been promised some answers here, either way. The genial looking man who proclaimed himself to be Captain was not a Cylon model that Gaius had seen before. As he scanned the room for any faces that might be disturbingly familiar, he began to wonder what it meant if he there were none.

"Captain Picard," he said, trying to preserve what dignity he could in his tone given that he could still vividly recall the feeling of being covered in mucous moments before. "Is this a Cylon vessel?" If it was, he saw no reason they would hide it anymore, especially not from him. Though they did enjoy inflicting mind games on him in particular - perhaps this was some new brand of torment.

"I'm unfamiliar with that species or organization," Picard replied. Not completely, as he had done much research, and information on all worlds was available in the media library, not just those of currently popped crew members. He crossed his arms, considering his answer.

"This vessel was constructed by a race of trans-dimensional alien entities known as the Daligig. If that's an unfamiliar term to you, don't worry. It is to all of us."

Gaius immediately had conflicted feelings about this.

He knew he should simply be drowning in the relief of finally having escaped the Cylons, somehow, miraculously.

But something in the grim manner of, well, everyone gathered, told him that this might be an even worse place to be.

He resolved then and there to stop griping quite so often about how things were the worst they could possibly be. A resolution he broke moments later as he cursed under his breath.

"For frak's sake, what's next?" He ran a hand through his hair, forgetting the state it was currently in. "The Daligig. No, I'm not familiar with that term. I'm afraid I don't understand exactly who the crew is, then. Are you from the Colonies?"

He already suspected the answer would be no, but he had no idea what that meant.

Static stood on his disk, arms crossed and hovering near the door, not too far from Brainy. He was eagerly waiting to see just who might come through; he was hoping to see Rocket or Black Lightning, but even some of the other heroes, just...someone else from his time, really. It'd be nice not to have to explain who he was for once.

But, if that didn't work, he'd just be a tour guide. He was good at that.

Alia Atreides still felt off balance, and confused. She woke up and then everything happened so fast... it was strange and disorienting. The wound on her heart from the loss her her brother was still fresh on her heart, and this wakening made her long for her love, Duncan, more than she could imagine was possible.

Some how, I don't think I'm in Arakeen anymore...

As stepped through the door, accepting her new, strange items, and fallowing the other. Despite her inner confusion her face was a flawless picture of calm and serenity, the eyes that marked her as a fremen, blue with in blue, scanned the other around her from behind lowered lids.

There was confusion, a slight, but relatively handsome man near her was talking about ships and 'sy-lawns', whatever that was. Surely there was no where in the known universe where she would not be known, she was St Alia of the Knife! The emperor regent, ruler of the whole universe...
Then someone in the crowd caught her eye, not even a someone but the flash of spice eyes... but... who's?

Alia strained to look deeper at the people around her, but found herself overwhelmed by the mass of unknown faces.
But then, she could have been wrong.

Rikku reviewed the past few minutes in her head. She'd been cleaned up (good), dressed in some weird suit that she could feel move, (not good and creepy), and also had been given back her blue headband, her red scarf, and her daggers (very, very good). Now, she was walking around, getting on her tiptoes and trying to see if there was anyone she knew caught up in this mess with her. Heck, she'd even be happy to see Brother at this point. Hands were curled firmly around the handles of her daggers, the metal a security blanket of sorts.

Arha sat cross-legged on the floor, waiting. Truth be told, she did not know what she was waiting for--whether it be for someone from her Arrakis or someone from Obi-Wan's universe, or for someone else entirely. The fact remained that she was waiting because she was certain this was a thing to do. Her blue-within-blue eyes swept the Observation Deck as she studied faces and took in the new ones, her stare one of intense scrutiny that yet held more curiosity than anything else.

These were to be her crewmates, these people, and each face was one she would commit to memory so she would, at the least, remember. If they caught her staring, it was her smile that lit her face and gave them welcome. Pod-pop was confusing enough, no one needed hostility when they had more questions than thought. Perhaps Ghanima would find her brother, Leto. Perhaps Sheeana might find Duncan. All was possible. For herself, Arha wished nothing save the happiness of those she had become close to, those she called friends.

And that was enough.

"This is going to be a lot to take in, so please bear with me," Picard began.

"The most important thing to note is that not everyone here is from the same reality. We all come from different worlds, different interpretations. My own home is called the United Federation of Planets, and it's an interplanetary alliance of alien races. I'm from Earth.

"There are other realities, but that's the one I'm from. The Ohm go about and destroy realities. We're here to stop them. According to the Daligig, we were saved from our own realities because the Ohm have already destroyed them. Our influence on our realities, the strengths of our ... stories, for better words, is what drew them to us."

Ghanima had been sitting by one of the large windows, watching as she always did as the new crew members began to trickle in. As always, she was hoping that Leto would be among those who wandered in.

An Atreides did appear, just not the one she had been hoping for. Alia, her aunt.

Feeling a mixture of emotions, Ghani slowly rose to her feet. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself and pushed through the crowd, making her way to the Aunt she'd thought she'd never see again.

She wasn't sure what she'd say to her. Would she be the abomination Ghani had last seen her as?

"Aunt... Alia?" Ghani called out softly as she approached the other Atreides. Alia looked so much younger than she remembered.

Sheeana stopped short in her tracks and took in a surprised small breath. Another person dredged up from the depths of her world's history. Another Bene Gesserit mistake.

Alia Atreides. The Womb of Heaven. St. Alia of the Knife. Regent. Preborn. Abomination.

She approached cautiously, readying a diplomatic expression. She parted her hands in the Fremen respectful greeting. "Greetings to you, Alia Atreides."

Dick had his omnicomm out, working on lists. Mostly pertaining to his team, but also to the Outsiders and what powered kids were on the ship and where the next place to concentrate reconstruction efforts might be. There were also lists of questions about the Ohm and whether they could trust their new found 'allies'.

In other words, Dick was multi-tasking like a pro. While still paying attention to who was coming through the door.

She had waited until she was sure Alia had left hearing range, then dropped to a crouch next to her Sister. "Alia Atreides is here." She said in a harsh, agitated whisper.

Mal stood in one corner of the room, watching the people coming and going, feeling a lot better now that he'd gotten cleaned up and dressed (though he didn't exactly like what he was wearing... but he figured it was better than nothing). He stood there for a few minutes, still looking around at the people who were also there, before deciding that he wanted to walk around a bit, and see more of what was going on.

Hopefully he'd find someone who was a bit more knowledgeable about the situation.

Matt stood to the side, mind in a whirl. The Ohm, a group of reality destroyers. Made him wonder if everything he had done was, well, up to snuff. He was the normal boyfriend and yet...

Magic curled around his hand, and he tried to suppress it. There was nothing he could do anymore.

And if his reality was gone... so was Will, even though he could feel her presence.

Sometimes it sucked to be the normal boyfriend. Especially since he was still a complete and utter fool.

Jason yawned as he followed Dick around. He really didn't get why he was here, but hey, maybe he'd get lucky and someone he actually cared about would show. But the seeing as he cared about fewer than ten people in the world, that was looking slim. Not to mention that most of the people where already on board. Who else could... Jason stopped and blinked a bit. Had he just seen who he thought he saw?

"SorryI'mlookingforMax!" Bart shouted as he almost crashed into Mal. "Sorry! Um, hi! Welcometothebigmeattentaclething I'm Impulse!"

After the unsettling of meeting Alia Atreides, of all people, Sheeana had gone back to searching for more Fremen.

She thought, for a moment she'd found one in Rikku. Same slimness with very little water-fat. Daggers carried at the hip. But the eyes weren't blue-within-blue and the daggers, on closer inspection, weren't curved like crysknives.

Still, it was worth it to say hello and find out what her deal was. "Those are interesting daggers." She said with her best diplomatic expression.

Baltar was braced for quite a bit, but that managed to throw him completely anyways. His mouth opened and closed once, his eyes skittering across the strange faces convening in the room.

Alternate realities. It wasn't as if the idea hadn't been thrown about in scientific circles, but it was usually more as a philosophical or theoretical exercise, and Baltar didn't know very many scientists who had continued to take it seriously after they graduated university.

It was then that something else sank in -- we were saved from our own realities because the Ohm have already destroyed them.

Gaius blinked once, hard, his head swirling at the implication, as he gawped, trying to form words. "I -- you mean... everything..."

Everything he knew. Everyone he knew. The last shreds of humanity. The entire Cylon race. Wiped out.

A memory floated through his head - Six's words to him, on Kobol. You are the guardian and protector of the new generation of God's children.

"This is madness," he said, though it was half to himself, and more wishful thinking than anything else.

"I see her," Arha murmured. "Be at ease, Sheeana. This is a time for beginnings, mm? What will you do, greet her as Fremen, greet her as someone else? Find your center, your calm, and show nothing. It is best that we go greet her properly, is it not?"

Her fingers brushed Sheeana's cheek and her touch was a soothing tingle of warmth before she rested her hand against her Sister's shoulder.

He could see. This was always a good thing, the seeing. This was a bit much. At least his hair was restored to its usual-- green Jewfro-type business. And he'd suited up, the great glorious bastard, back to being comfortable and NOT naked. And NOT slimed. And it didn't take long, did it, to get a roach hanging out of his mouth, smoke sifting slowly towards the ceiling. He had his hands in his pockets. Spike was confused.

'Chosen,' that was the vocabulary word for the day. 'Chosen' for. Aliens, or. He hadn't soaked it all in just yet, he had to mull, and there was a numb kind of look on his face as he stood just off to the side, peering about the other people in the room and not recognizing a damn one. "Greater purpose my-- ass," he was muttering under his breath, not even really SMOKING the cigarette, per se, just felt more comfortable with one hanging from his mouth, for the time being.

Jo had been watching the in coming new crew members with a slight smile. They all looked about as clueless as she had felt as when she'd first pod popped. It was nice to know some things would never change.

Spotting one who was looking like he was looking for... something, Jo stepped up and offered him a smile. "Hi, find what you're looking for yet?"

"A beginning is a time for making sure that the most delicate balances are aligned. You are right." She quoted the Princess Irulan. The small touch helped calm her.

The first person Damian noticed was Grayson. Wonderful, he's not alone. The second person he notices is Jason. And Grayson isn't nearly as guarded as he should be. Damian should clearly be Batman if Grayson's going to be this careless.

"Grayson! Behind you!" he shouts, then pulls out his sword and rushes at Jason.

Picard knew that face. That reaction. He'd had much the same response. "I realize how you must feel. It's nigh impossible to take in.

"We're still holding out hope that the universes can be restored, and the damage undone. The Daligig we spoke with informed us that it's possible, if difficult."

Sooo...Meet-y

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