It doesn’t make sense. Or, rather, to be entirely truthful, it makes just enough to bother him and that basically amounts to the same thing.

The Doctor paces in front of the blast shield in the Observation Deck. Right now, he thinks he needs a good pace, something to help him think. No sign of Amy or Rory yet, which is surprising, in its own way. Amy has a habit of managing things all on her own, whether it’s saving him from that stint with the Time Vortex and the Entity or the whole of reality. Rory couldn’t be in better hands. If she is on the ship, he would have expected her to come dragging Rory after her by now. So no, it’s not really like Amy there. As for Rory…actually, the Doctor can see him getting lost here; between forgetting to check for gills, the plant-suits and meeting a load of aliens in a huge living ship, a human like Rory might feel slightly overwhelmed. Probably a bit distracting, yeah…

The howling nothing is still out there, the Doctor turning to look past the shield at it. It’s pretty, in the making-you-feel-slightly-nauseous kind of way.

Or maybe that’s just him.

Vaguely disturbing to look at or not, the Doctor glances out at the void outside of Stacy. It’s hardly the first time worlds, plural, have been destroyed or just generally threatened or in a peril-like sort of state. It's actually quite common. But there are signs or it’s meant to happen (history) except he knows as a fact that this isn’t one of those times. Amy and Rory's Earth has a very specific date of death and "death by Ohm" isn't right. This isn’t just a rogue black hole swallowing a dynasty’s system of planets or a quasar misbehaving. It’s…different. The Doctor turns away from the window, holding up the omnicomm in one hand. By now he’s stopped calling it a Thingie, even if it’s a much better name in his opinion. Useful thing, this omnicomm. Helps to keep in touch. He’s been trying to hack into it and get a direct line to Stacy but so far, no luck. Deadlocked, he supposes. Or maybe the new new sonic is still adjusting. Working out the bugs.

The sonic buzzes green in the Observation Deck as the Doctor continues to pace without looking before the blast shield. Occasionally he stops to twiddle around with the omnicomm, long fingers blurring, before he reads another setting on the sonic and then the cycle starts over. Every now and then he might make a full circle of the room, by some miracle not tripping over the fleshy seats, and might try listening to the walls or poking at where they meet the floor. Or what stands for a floor in a techno-organic ship.

[The Doctor is either poking around or looking serious business at the view, whatever works for you]

It wasn't so much that he'd been slammed into a bookcase that was the problem. It hadn't even been that hard.

Okay, that was a lie, it'd been pretty hard, but the real problem was he'd also had his head slammed into a mirror, possibly against a table (that was hazy), and Jerry Stenson's fists, respectively, and while he'd had all that attended to after the mission, he'd only allowed as much fussing over him was necessary to get back on his feet again. As such, his noggin had still been a little tender when he'd been so unceremoniously slammed into a bookcase. And then, if you went even further back, he'd been concussed something fierce several times since being on the ship, and then even further back, in the fight with a giant dragon, and these things tended to be cumulative.

"Anyone in here?"

It had been some time now since he had taken command of the Macross Quarter, and much time had passed since the first simulation in which the fleet had participated. 'Vadum had not sat idle however during that time, he had been intent on becoming as familiar with the workings of the Macross class vessel as he could possibly be. He had strode near every meter of the corridors and  flight decks of the four hundred meter long vessel. The workings of the sensors, targeting computers and engine controls all had been committed to memory. With the current lack of bridge crew it was only sensible that he know how to operate the various systems in conjunction to Helmsman Wash, perhaps not the most disciplined however during the simulation he had proven himself a more than competent helmsman.

( A Captains duty to survey his ship )

((OOC:  Feel free to run into Rtas anywhere you wish, whether noticing him on the flight deck, in the Quarter's hangers as he strolls through or even on the Bridge just let me know which!)

Engineering was just as intimidating the second time around. Hopefully, though, this time she could get settled in.

Anwei had managed to find not one but three matching laptops under a pile of collapsed cubicle dividers in a City building - which meant she could mix and match them for parts. They were all stuffed into one laptop bag over her shoulder; the bag on the other shoulder held battery chargers (would the solar ones work with that overhead lighting? Maybe run a line from the ominous-looking pit?), a big sheet of folded Mylar, and any small tools she could find. Hopefully the supplies here would have anything she'd missed; if she'd picked up duplicate tools, she could always donate them to the group.

She lingered by the door for a moment; it was strange to be anonymous here. She did know some people, but not to have everyone know her...not to have eyes follow her, the too-loud jokes told behind her back, the videos showing up in her commfiles...this must be what it felt like to be one of the Little People. She could get used to this.

"Hello?" she said, and then awkwardly reached up and pulled her omnicom from the neck of her plantsuit to call and see if someone could help her out.

This was going to be the sweetest party ever. As if it could be anything else, considering who was putting it on.

The Sensoriums were pretty much exactly like that one “bonny lad” –a phrase Dave was seriously thinking about incorporating into his ironic repertoire- had described. A big room that responded to thoughts…it was like he’d been handed a big blank canvas and told to make his life’s masterpiece. Like he was on the mount, about to make his sermon that would bring in his flock and lead them to the path of awesomeness.

Had to do this right.

First, it needed music. The sort that pounded straight into the brain and overrode the senses. This was some zombie shit, a memetic virus that overtook the nervous system and forced the infected into party mode, forced into a perpetual dance party activated by only the sickest beats.

Dave took a moment to wonder if this thing was taking him literally, and then decided that it didn’t really matter.

Now it needed lights, but not just any lights. All the lights. There were going to be strobes and laser light shows, displays and…hell, why not throw in a giant LCD display on one entire wall? Why the hell not?

A giant LCD screen playing Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff-themed stuff. Hell yes.

Again, Dave spared a half-second to think about things. He wondered if this would be the first rave that ever needed seizure paramedics right out of the gate. And then decided in the other half to leave that up to the ship. It probably could summon medics or whatever it did without his help. Really, Dave thought, he ought to just quit worrying about all this stuff. It was like time travel, in that way. Just roll with it.

Still, he might as well make sure that there were provisions. Water and energy drinks, candy and granola bars. Something to keep dancers going until they finally collapsed. Glowsticks for those into that kind of stuff.

All that was left was to change into something more suitable for a rave. The Puppet Tux, he figured, should be a nice ironic counterpart to the causal nature of a rave. Undeniably cool, not too dressy, but just dressy enough to hold a superior air of cool over those who'd come in. This shit was like fine wine, and Dave was the snooty villa owner to guide party-goers through it.

Time to get this party started. Dave snapped his fingers, he music started up. Perfect.

Hana had spent most of his time aboard the new ship wandering through the many routes within the large City. He found something comforting about the strange place, he guessed the clash of older buildings battling with more modernized ones reminded him of home, somewhat.

He spent hours walking, taking turns whenever the urge struck him and stopping periodically to look at whatever new view he'd come across. Each day the journeys through the immense settlement always started out the same but the destination continued to be different and he was always oddly happy to catch a glimpse of the strange alien dogs that seemed to be more cautious than hostile.

Today, Hana had been drawn to the strange Clockhouse cradled within the hold of the larger buildings, but the strange atmosphere and piercing gaze of the stuck clocks' faces had forced him to retreat uncomfortably from inside the house and instead scale the building to rest on the old tiles of the roof.

There he lay, hands behind his head, listening to the rhythmic ticks emitting from the room beneath him, which, now that he knew what the cause was, now sounded strained, like the breathing of a trained runner who was competing.

Hana waited up there in the dark, staring up at the artificial sky, not bothering to see if he could recognize any of the layout of the bright lights that were imitating the stars.

As he watched the sunrise for the third time that day, he could see many of the other buildings silhouetted in the false glow, despite the Clockhouses' roof not being very high and he decided perhaps it was almost time to do some more exploring...

[ooc; If you're tagged by asakura_flower don't worry, that's just my commenting journal.]