Deep in the bowels of the ship, he waited. Below him, the groundbound bipeds milled back and forth, their movements without rhyme or reason. Some were holding slabs of metal, some stared out at the strange, hypnotizing space outside, and still others merely stood, endlessly chattering to each other in their countless inexplicable alien languages, waiting for the ship to translate for them what they could not understand for themselves.

He watched all with his keen, avian intelligence. Alien intelligence.

With no master about to end the boredom of his inquisitive mind, he had been forced to improvise. And now he was free. Free to wreak havoc as he would amongst the silly, slow-witted groundlings. FREEEEEEEEEE

Zouichi wandered from location to location on the ship, but so far, not a single brightly-colored feather to serve as a sign of Alan Turing's presence. The parrot had been acting a little sulky ever since Zouichi had left on that last mission, so he'd decided to leave Alan some space. But this morning, the bird was nowhere to be found.

He was beginning to suspect Howard's cat (Emergency Rations was a terrible name) had something to do with this.

[ooc: Post is open! Please feel free to chase the parrot, try to lure him out, reason with him, call him names, try and cooperate with Zouichi to catch him, whatever! He can be run into anywhere on the ship, just let me know where. The person who will eventually corner him, though, is Shoutarou.]

Reviewing any mission is a critical step. Its important to note what went right and what went wrong so that adjustments could be made in the future. But the initial mission reports from Galilee seemed to indicate that everything went ridiculously sideways.

Granted, everyone came back alive, and with the technology they had been seeking. But this mission had clearly gone pear-shaped.

So after giving everyone on the away team a day to recover, say hi to the new arrivals, and get a few tattoos removed, it was time to get some more detailed answers. Leon started, privately, with the Command members on the mission: Nightwing, Fate, and Lash. The three of them were ordered to meet him and Nathan in one of the conference rooms in the Precinct. Kon would have been ordered to attend as well, but he was still in the Medbay, recovering from losing his hand.

When everyone arrived and got settled, Leon only had one question for the group.

"What the hell happened down there?"

Overall, despite the rocky entrance (no thanks to that buzzkilling jackwagon Soren), Punchy's been adjusting rather well to life on Stacy. He's got a job in Programming, already met some chill homegirl in the Sensoriums, and met some fellow super peeps at the Outsiders meeting.

He still isn't quite sure how he managed to ace his job interview. That baffles him almost as much as it would anyone else. It does, however, reaffirm his decision that codpiece bling is a Good Thing.

So, it's not quite a gangsta's paradise, but it's a far cry from the projects, which Punchy is absolutely sure he'd be an expert on despite never having lived in one. Jay-Z and blaxploitation films don't lie, right?

He finally finds his sleep cavern, which really…shouldn't be more comfortable than the cots at the Seminary, but actually are. Lying on his back, he can totally picture a pin-up above his head, if tacks will stick in those gooey walls.

He peels off his (incredibly stylish, not at all tacky-looking) costume and stretches out in the room, wearing nothing but his boxers and his goggles, which stay on his head because he honestly doesn't have enough styling gel to cover up for headband-hair.

He's about to start drifting off when he notices his new roommate approaching.

"…oh HELL naw."

Allenby had waited a while before asking to speak to Trudy, despite the crew being back from Galilee. She'd been too pissed and worried before then to really think about what she ought to say, and she needed time to figure it out.

Like... how to say it without getting Trudy mad again by mistake. Though frankly, she was pretty angry herself to learn that I won't touch your Gundam actually translated to your Gundam is getting stuffed full of mothballs until I say you can have it back.

That was if the condition--getting Trudy to sign off--wasn't actually a nasty code for kiss your Gundam goodbye, troublemaker. But Allenby was going to trust her crewmates and think that Leon and Trudy were too honest for that.

Against a backdrop of a simulated, gloomy Gotham City (in the dead of a dark night, naturally), Tim stalked some thugs quietly, whom he was sure part of something larger, a puzzle he could put together from the scenario playing in his mind.

Maybe it wasn't the healthiest way to vent after everything that had happened-- and, frankly, Tim was aware of that fact-- and that he would have to be careful not to cross lines, but it was what worked for him, and that was what mattered.

It honestly helped him think, to work these things through, to fight against a more tangible problem-- it got his blood pumping, oxygen flowing, and gave him some extra layers of thought and distraction to promote more complex thinking. To sort out everything in his mind, in the simulation and, more importantly, on the ship.

Plus, he was beyond frustrated-- to have lost so much time that he could have used to work, to do something productive. To help his friends and family on the ship. Because he had missed some pretty huge events, and even though they hadn't been privy to most of what was going on, the communications posts and what information they'd found out? Was more than enough to know how bad the situation had been. And his best friend had been hurt badly. Everyone had been hurt, but Conner... He regretted not being there to help, to maybe have been able to try to keep the situation from boiling over. But he couldn't have been. Because he'd been out of commission.

Red Robin's grip tightened on his staff weapon at the thought, and he cast out a line to swing himself down, feet first, to the previously unsuspecting lowlifes.

Besides thinking, it wouldn't hurt to work out some anger before it got to be too much.