He heard something about the hangar on the comms, and about ships there. Could there be vehicles? Dean made his way there with some hope and trepidation. He glanced around, and then he spied a familiar tire wheel. And that shape under the tarp, could it? He whipped it off, and then a large grin just about split his face.

"Oh baby have I missed you." He rubbed his hand over her hood, and gave the Impala an affectionate pat before fishing his keys out of the plantsuit pocket. He got inside, and shut the door before starting her engine. Man, he never thought he'd hear the purr from her 427 engine again. It had to be one of the sweetest sounds he's heard since he got here. He revved the engine a little with gentle pressure on the accelerator, before putting his foot on the brake again. He then switched the engine off, and relaxed in his seat.

He was going to ride her in a little bit, but he wanted to do an inventory check. He got up, and went to check the hood, everything looked good there. Then the trunk. Oh yeah, got the arsenal right here. Even a few EMF detectors, rock salt, and good, some holy water. Might come in handy. He had one weapon with him, but now he could feel a little more prepared. Still had to get that phaser back to Worf too. Especially now he had all this. He flipped on the detector, and his face immediately frowned when there was a small reaction.

"Awww, come on! Ghost ship? That movie sucked!" He grimaced, and grabbed some rock salt rounds just in case before shutting the trunk lid again. Better go to check into this further.

End of the universe, and got another hunt anyway.

Sheeana tended to avoid engineering. Her sciences tended to the 'softer' end of the spectrum: sociology, psychology, occasionally veering into biology in that the Bene Gesserit could exercise conscious control over their autonomic processes, and ecology in regards to her Worms. But she didn't need a testing apparatus for that.

Today though she was hunched over one of the square, shiny tables. A garment was spread there, tan and made from sturdy material. Little plugs and filtration devices were being fiddled with, tubes inserted into slots, rents stitched by hand (and in fact there were many, this being an original from Rakis and thus as old as the dunes themselves, much worn). A facemask lay at the top, connected to more tubes.

What would you do with such a garment?

Tess is stronger than a teenage girl like her should really be, thanks to her Friendlies—but it's still a bit awkward carrying Miku into the Med Bay while the other girl is asleep and gently depositing her on an unused bed.

She looks around, trying to find a doctor, while the form-fitting pressure suit she wears respectfully dials down its normal slight shimmer into a less-distracting matte blue.

It felt great to not feel any muscle in her stomach anymore. Well on her way to being completely recovered (even if she sometimes felt the need to poke her scar), Sherry had scurried into the sensoriums, right out from under the noses of her otherwise occupied parents. Call it habit, but she found herself again in the Raccoon City part, dressed in a blue shirt, denim coveralls and a red jacket, watching the red-and-gold colored leaves sway in the breeze. Her pink and white sneakers bore grass stains, just like the knees of her coveralls.

No ducks, this time, but a blue kite lay on the ground beside her. She had thought about flying it, but when she realized that she didn’t have the foggiest idea how, gave up and decided to lie on the ground, instead. After thinking for a while about nothing, her thoughts turned to heavier subject matter: If she had really been Claire and Leon’s daughter, Sherry wondered and chewed her thumbnail, would she have known how to fly a kite? Maybe not, they didn’t seem like kite-flying people. It was hard to pretend when a lot of things were still new experiences. Was she acting right? Would they tell her if she was?

“Well, of course they would,” Sherry told no one in particular. “They like making sense.” Usually. She sighed and looked at the kite. It was hard to get used to, really, this business of them showing affection and wanting to see her. Sometimes, she wanted to tell them to stop, but couldn't bring herself to. Sherry wasn’t used to it, but she’d do her best. She was doing her best…

She wanted them to want her, after all.

Once he'd slept off all the booze he'd had at Lex's bar, Sima Yi stubbornly resisted the urge to go back for another round - back in his universe, he'd spent about the last three weeks drinking just to numb the pain until he could compartmentalize it and get back to his job, but this was something different. This was the first time he could ever remember feeling truly lost, and to say it was unnerving was putting it mildly.

Instead of giving in to the urge to anesthetize all the confusion, pain, and fear, though, he'd decided to take control in whatever small ways he could - and so he'd found his way to the library, to begin the monumental task of catching up on the eighteen hundred years of history he'd missed between when he'd died, and the era most of the people on the ship seemed to be from.

There were things Stacy had refused to let him see - namely, the three hundred years of Chinese history after when he'd been taken from - but sources on the west, and on times after that, she didn't seem to have a problem with. Currently, he was catching up on the history of the steam engine, which he'd had a vague interest in back home, but was a lot more interested in now; steam power had been little more than a curiosity in his time - and the fact that it had taken over a milennium since then to try to repurpose it for something useful was dumbfounding in retrospect. Even Zhuge Liang had to have overlooked it, extraordinary as his insights into engineering as well as battle tactics were, or there would have been records of its use before then. Resting his forehead on his palm, he muttered, "History has made fools of us all, Kongming."

Slobo stood back with Superbike and surveyed his work. On a street in the city, he had rigged a PA system with speakers from Outsider's Plaza. Static would probably be unhappy with that, but it's worth it. On either end of the street a red line is drawn in spray-paint. Everything was set, now he made the call and waited.

The Son of Satan did not usually use his skills at detecting psychic vibrations to find people but he found himself making an exception. Unfortunately, his powers on board the meatship were diminished. There was simply too many disturbing vibrations coming from all around, as if the whole ship was infested with dark energy (and perhaps it was).

When he finally found the witch Roxie Shreiber he did not speak immediately, simply stared. "Roxie."