Entry tags:
Unleash the Podlings!
||Pod Release Protocols Initiating,|| Stacy announced to the denizens of the upper levels. Down the the Pod Caverns, familiar sounds made themselves known:
Pop. Pop pop pop. Poppuhpoppoppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiiiissssss.
Mist sprayed from the cracks in the pods before the new crew members were summarily ejected from warm, comfortable stasis to their new chilly, damp reality. They'd either meet each other in the Caverns or in the upper levels, where the previously popped crew would also be waiting for them, if Stacy had anything to say about it.
This time, there were two pods spitting mechanical beings out of a more oily mixture, and one podling who was significantly smaller than most of the others.
Pop. Poppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiissss.
Pop. Pop pop pop. Poppuhpoppoppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiiiissssss.
Mist sprayed from the cracks in the pods before the new crew members were summarily ejected from warm, comfortable stasis to their new chilly, damp reality. They'd either meet each other in the Caverns or in the upper levels, where the previously popped crew would also be waiting for them, if Stacy had anything to say about it.
This time, there were two pods spitting mechanical beings out of a more oily mixture, and one podling who was significantly smaller than most of the others.
Pop. Poppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiissss.

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He burst through the slime, gasping for air, and he just _knew_ that this was the proof that he was a Cylon, not a real human.
He'd been resurrected.
Looking around, he didn't see any skinjobs on hand to take him out of the goo. But maybe as one of the Final Five they wanted to give him some frakkin' privacy.
Didn't even leave him his eyepatch. Of course, he'd taken it off before racking out - or so he thought. He'd had some ambrosia before bed and his memory wasn't what it used to be.
Looking around, he gingerly climbed out of the body-temperature goo, wiping himself off as best he could.
"All right, you bastards. Which Basestar is this?" he asked. Didn't look like the ones he'd seen and been aboard, but maybe they were all different.
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Great. More voices in his head.
"This isn't fracking funny." he said to whoever it was who was listening. "I find out who's behind this they're gonna be shovelling tylium ore or on permanent sanitation duty until the end of time." he growled.
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||You appear distressed,|| the voice informed him helpfully, ||would you care for a sedative?||
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"What the frack is going on here? Am I dead? Did I resurrect?" he asked, scurrying out of the goo and trying to put some distance between himself and the tentacle with the needle.
"ANSWER ME!" he shouted.
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The tentacle kept its needle oriented on him. ||Your heart rate and tone of voice indicate that you are distressed. I repeat: would you care for a sedative?||
Oh dear. The voice wasn't being very helpful, now was it?
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"Stay away from me. I want a Raptor, fueled and ready to go in ten minutes." he said. "I'm heading back to Galactica."
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||There are no birds currently listed on the active crew roster. Your request is denied.||
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Unfortunately, the goop was too runny and there wasn't anything else here that would serve. He was going to KILL whoever thought this one up.
He did have to admit, though, they'd gone through a lot of trouble. Wonder if this was one of the storage chambers on the starboard flight pod? They'd done a marvelous job of dressing it up to look really disturbing. The tentacle was a nice touch.
Probably Starbuck's idea.
No birds, indeed.
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May as well play along, see what he could get out of this prank.
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||Personal possessions are located in the Weapons and Possessions Lockers.||
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He was thinking they'd have the command staff or maybe just the department heads at the end of this little trail, ready to embarrass the hardass XO.
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At the end of the trail there was a cylindrical room with vines hanging from the ceiling, and the voice spoke again. ||Please move into the center of the room.||