While this had been a bit of a routine now for as long as he could remember being on the ship, Chris felt more at ease training than anything else. While he still was at risk with his asthma, he wasn't feeling the long winded feeling in his lungs as he did back at home. His lungs were slightly better thanks to his medication, and so he had transformed into Kamen Rider Sting fighting a replica of a mirror monster. This particular one was very reminiscent of a bull. Sting readied himself as he prepared to battle it.

[ooc: Feel very free to interupt him or bother him.]

When he'd first arrived, Cazali had sort of scoffed at the use of something like the sensorium. It was all all a lie, and indulging in a fake reality was pretty disgusting. Of course, he'd indulged once or twice for fun, and...quickly found it wasn't nearly as horrible as he'd thought. Which totally didn't mean he was warming up to it, no way.

But one day, he got an idea. His core medals- he hadn't yet gone to harass security about their return, and part of him didn't know why he was hesitating. Maybe it was hopelessness, or maybe he just needed to remember why his medals were so vital. So, he'd strolled in to the sensorium- bringing Besel with him, setting the confused kitten on the ground -and concentrated. The setting was barely a thought- it was just default blue sky, default grassy field, nothing special.

Cazali was more intent on remembering each of his medals individually, two through nine. With each new medal his body changed, growing stronger and more armored, coloring returning slowly- until he finally absorbed the ninth, and he felt that familiar surge of power. But it was a lie, and he had to remind himself of that as he looked his nearly-completed form over. This was just the illusion working. He hadn't actually gotten his medals back, of course.

The Greeed sighed, letting himself fall backwards to lie on the grass (and missing Besel by a few inches). Was his desire for completion returning...? Not really. He just felt sort of lukewarm about it still. What the hell was wrong?

Inventing a new spell; a most tricky and daunting proposition. Beyond most wizards. Lupin flattered himself by thinking he had a chance, but if pressed, well, he had helped with the Marauder's Map, had he not? He knew a thing or two about Defense Against the Dark Arts, and this was not dissimilar.

Besides, what did it hurt to try? (Besides the very real chance of an injurious backfire.)

Lupin came to the City, seeking out a place by the river where he (probably wrongly) thought no one would venture close enough to be harmed by his experimentation. Once there, he sat down on the grass without much regards for his dignity, and began writing on the book he had liberated for such a purpose.

"Protego Minutiae," he began, writing the words down as he spoke them.

Stacy sends out the call for certain crew members to present themselves at the decks. Once they are all rounded up, they are presented with the following information before being shuffled off into a shuttle to the nearby plant.

Planet Designation: Exotic Location
Status: Terrestrial.
Non-sentient life: Wild flora and fauna has been all much eliminated by homo sapiens. Domesticated flora and fauna present in limited quantities.
Semi-Sentient Life: Yes.
Sentient Life: Homo Sapiens.
Water: 89.3% of the planet's surface.
Climate: Earth-like
Landscape: Dense cities on all land masses except 'photo shoot' regions.
Air: Normoxic concentration.
Air Pressure: 89.6 kPa = 13 psi
Sky: Orange, with variable cloud cover.
Sun: A class G2V, white star.
Mission: Diplomatic mission with ruler Tyrant Banks for 'confidential, fierce information regarding the Ohm'.

The shuttle takes the scenic route, passing over cities filled with skyscrapers and billboards the size of small towns. Finally, it lands on the outskirts of one city, between the downtown and the beach. The shuttle docks, and the doors open to a room with black walls and a single flatscreen television at the far end. No doors are in sight.

On the television, a black and white PowerPoint seems to have been set up. It reads:

TYRANTMAIL,

Your welcome gift will be a real heavenly surprise!

Fiercely in Love,
Tyrant

The message is accompanied by a jpeg of Tyrant Banks riding a motorcycle in the tundra while wearing a bikini. She looks incredibly fierce.

The ridiculous part in finally being free from the psychotic program that ran and maintained the mazes Esplin had been running through with this soft human body for who knew how long was the fact he couldn't stop moving once he was out of them. Semi-familiar noises caught by these less than optimal ears would have him spinning around, looking for the origin. He was tense, taking stock of side-areas and nooks to shoot into or duck within, depending on what ludicrous thing was after him now.

Restless, plantsuit clad feet eventually found the long walkway that led into Hydroponics, pausing at the start. It was a lot of straight, inescapable space to wander, and he had no illusions over what this body could do. Other than fall, roll, and stand up again. Repeated far too often for his personal tastes, as he learned his mindless, human body was less well balanced (if more even gaited) than the Gedd through which he'd first discovered what it meant to see.

He still considered Hydroponics a gigantic waste of space, nothing like the memories he'd borrowed of what his homeworld was like, harsh and grating and the height of survival of what moves fastest and moves first. Anything Aldrea might feel, instinctual, was a curious memory to turn over and examine. Andalites prized their concepts of carrying some home with them where-ever they went. That he could identify, in the loosest sense appreciate, what that meant left him with the beginning of a sneer on his face. Or perhaps he was suffering from indigestion. None of his expressions read correctly on a human face. Gedds, Hork-Bajir, and Andalites all lacked the complete, soft, helpless moldability of the human form.

Disgusting.

"Hydroponics." Tasting the sounds, talking out loud to himself in the way he'd started to when running mazes, getting used to the feeling of this form of vocalization. It was far less effort than enunciating with the Hork-Bajir's hard mouth and reluctant tongue. "I want the Media Library."

Sakura look a left turn between two disparate pieces of architecture, eyes sliding over them both without truly appreciating what they saw. An inventory of places that were problematic for being hiding spots, possible ambush zones, tactical advantages in territory ran though her mind, along with figures and numbers for things she kept track of to make sure her thoughts weren't allowed much time to wander.

As it was, they were still getting away from her, heavy with emotions and logical conclusions that played off loyalty and desire to protect all at once. It left her looking pensive as she walked through the city, making her way toward the Great Wall of a country she would never see.

Hydroponics was simply amazing.

It was relaxing. That was the best way Aerith could describe it. She was sure there had been plenty before her to make this observation, though. Still, it was comforted her in a way she'd needed. Even if it wasn't the planet, her planet, it still gave her a sense of peace. Despite it being an artificial environment, it was realistic and that in itself was astonishing to her.

Nanaki had mentioned the area before, but seeing it for herself was a different story. It made her forget, just for a moment, about being on a strange ship in the middle of space.

That was a nice feeling. She could see why people would spend a lot of time here.

So she wandered around, absorbing what she could, taking in all that was around her. Aerith didn't have a specific purpose - other than exploring. It certainly was a big place.