She was going to find her way around this ship if it killed her. And though her time with Jean and Tess had been telling, she needed a little time to think. So, Miku walked along one long corridor to another, to another, to another, and managed to find...

Another pulsing, meaty hallway. Miku rested her head against the wall and sighed. At least the pain was in a bearable place, and though she'd slept a lot in the last couple of days, she hadn't yet succumbed to the curse. Thinking of Tess's worried face had helped. Miku looked around the hall and frowned. How was it she could navigate a mansion full of dead people, locked doors and insane puzzles, and somehow couldn't find her way around a giant spaceship full of living, regular (mostly) people?

He'd managed to avoid excessive exposure during the attack, through careful measuring of where to keep himself. He rather preferred it that way--the less anyone knew of his ability, or saw of his skill with the sword, the better. For now, the less anyone noticed him, the better chance he had to decide what he would do with his appointment on this ship.

Because, of course, he would only sit around and wait to be ordered by anonymous faces via television screen for so long. He would determine how truthful they were, and whether it would be best that he lend his expertise to this venture on his own. After all, as tragic as it may have been that this strange race destroyed that universe...he survived. Callous as it might seem to the casual observer, the truth that they would eventually destroy themselves was undeniable. This might just provide the fresh start he'd been trying for, after all.

If, in fact, any of it were true.

His sword now kept safely within the room assigned to him--for now, to him alone--he lurked in the outer edges of the Obs Deck, watching the crew as they wandered about in whatever miniature worlds they'd constructed for themselves.

Sooner or later, he would find the person he was looking for. Just as soon as he spotted them.

He couldn't say how long it'd been since the mission to the bridge. He couldn't say he particularly cared. The irony that the computer had been the lesser threat--and the less lethal one, did not escape Kyle. Of course, he had never believed Skynet spawned of itself. People had to build it, to program it, and to have the arrogance and the foolishness to turn it on and allow it to become sentient.

But that wasn't what kept him drifting.

The thought that his world was gone, just as the war was about to be won...that stole precious hours of sleep from him. Even if he would have otherwise considered the rooms this AI offered him--under her fresh guise of benevolent leader--he could not accept sleeping in a bed while everything he fought for was gone.

Kyle needed to do something, but all he seemed to find himself doing was retracing steps back and forth in the City. After so long, the City was becoming claustrophobic all on its own, and yet...he did not relish the thought of walking through those pulsing hallways again. He would make an exception, should there arise another instance for him to work for the good of the crew, for a chance to save his home, and Sarah, but he wouldn't wander about simply for a change of scenery. He'd never had scenery to change before.

If she hadn't set up everything very quickly, someone might have asked what she was doing. Carving a chunk of out of the street with a gold-filigreed halberd had been the hardest part, but dragging the four-inch-thick braided forged-iron cables down four blocks was rather difficult, too.

Plugging them into the power main running under the street, arranging the supporting thaumaturgical elements, and pulling the lever—that was the easy part.

A noise like a dozen screaming cats accompanies the rush of current down the magically-conductive line, and... the lights of the City, the entire City, flicker at once. Even the holographic sun overhead flickers and dims for a few long seconds, leaving everything shrouded in blackness except for a cable of white-hot iron that stretches across several blocks, searing bright sparks out of it to scorch the facades of nearby buildings.

Elsewhere in the ship, too, minor systems suddenly fail and then restart, surge protections automatically shielding them from the sudden, massive draw on the ship's power generation. Lights flicker down some hallways, or a Sensorium pod abruptly reboots, or someone finds that the slop-dispensing machine is suddenly momentarily out of order.

And then, as quickly as it started, it's over, and the cable blows itself clear, end melting and chipping into ash. The rest of the makeshift cable steams in the air.

And that's when a set of huge energy tentacles reach down from the ceiling of the city, grab Roxie, and slam her into the ground.

||Roxie, damage to ship systems is not permitted,|| Stacy chided in a tsking motherly voice. ||You have earned two Violations for: the damage that could have resulted from attempting to redirect shipboard power; and causing a potentially dangerous interruption in ship services.||

The stink of ionization fills the air.