trans_9 | One foot in front of the other... [Open!]

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One foot in front of the other... [Open!]

Is Special Weapons a classroom today?

No, but the young man in glasses with a slight limp scribbling furiously on a new whiteboard definitely makes it look like one. The scattered tools suggest an 'absent minded professor' vibe. Someone hasn't bothered to sort everything yet.

On the board are drawings of various Ohm in varying quality with an ever growing list of their strengths and weaknesses. Suggestions for small arms and techniques to deal with each Ohm type most effectively are being listed to the side.

On another wall, blueprints of the small arms scribbled on the whiteboard are slowly accumulating on the row of datapads propped against the wall. Someone had been working overtime while confined to his bed. Blueprints for shielding devices and armor are starting to crop up as well. They can't focus solely on offense.

Slowly, the plans are starting to build. But they need all the input they can get. Hopefully others will soon answer the notice he sent out.

((OOC: Hey, feel free to talk to Billy or whoever else you find here about Ohm plans and reorganizing things! I'd just like to ask that we hold off on discussing Lex's plans/the superweapon until I get a chance to coordinate with Will and the mods about what they want to happen and what's allowed.))

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He'd been concerned since the words spoken through his omnicom.

Although Renne had yet to master the entirety of the thing's use, he had managed to figure out what he could do with it. And that in itself, had proven both useful and enlightening. Enlightening but...somehow disturbing.

It had been the disturbing part that compelled Renne to actually slip out of Medbay. True, he's a terrible patient to begin with but his crawling ability isn't what he's worried about. Navigating his way from the medical wing to the Special Weapons section, he'd put the omnicom-thing on his head to balance. And he had listened repeatedly to the exchanges.
Who was it anyway, that the Female had said could...whatever-that-word-was?

It takes some effort to push the thoughts aside as he finds the appropriate section on this ship but he manages. Of course, don't be surprised if Renne tries to find a door and knock.

Old habits die very, very hard.

"Come in," calls the familiar voice, finishing up one last scribble of a Firebug. Something short-range and powerful would be needed there.

"Eee-eee."

It's a squeak that, while somewhat subdued, is intended to imitate the sound of something he'd heard called a "door bell". A drop of humour in the flask of tactics.

Renne earns a small chuckle for that. "All right, you're clear. Come settle in."

Billy reluctantly pulls away from the whiteboard and hops over to a stool, perching on it. "What do you need?"

"Eee, Rrrr-enne wahn-t hell-p Bee." Trill.

Logically, he knows he's probably the least qualified to even be here but two things spur him on: The desire to be a real help and a dark, if possibly hopeful idea.

Hence, Renne gingerly crawls toward billy's voice.

"Right here," calls Billy when Renne is close enough to barely bump into his leg. There's another stool next to me and a table behind me if you want to sit up here."

Looking over his drawings once more, he adds: "All right. Did you have something in mind?"

"Eee." The unhurt leg gets an extremely careful but no less affectionate nudge.

And then he's crawling delicately up onto the stool just now mentioned. Once he finds it, which doesn't take long. It takes a minute before he can chirp out the concept in his head though.

"Wha-t Bee ma-ke? Rrrr-enne go-t Think-Think fohrrr big sohrrrrd, but...Eee."

"Sword". He calls nearly every weapon that or "thunder maker".

"Personal weapons for the crew members without extraordinary powers to use. Remember how difficult it was for us to stay afloat in the swarm? We need tools that will give us more room to fight. What were you thinking about building?"

Billy frowns to himself and looks over at the other stool, unsure of how to proceed.

"May-bee, Rrrr-enne hell-p. Bee kno-w, Rrrr-enne do with Feel, eey-ess?"

There's the faintest flash of dark amber and a shudder down his spine. Inwardly, he prays that he can still offer this without tainting those that have meant, in his eyes, his salvation.

"You want to use emotion to fight the Ohm."

It's a fascinating idea, but one that makes him shudder just a little. But if it will save their lives and the lives of the people they're fighting for, he's for it.

"Eey-ess."

He's just as afraid of that idea. Still, this isn't a matter of dignity. It's a matter of survival, plain, primeval and simple.

"How can you use that on a larger scale?"

He won't offer his opinion until he has a clearer idea of what's going on.

This is where it gets tricky.

Chirping softly, Renne bites his lip and half-slicks an ear down. He'd done part of this before but only once -- self-consciousness and an intensely high level of guard having arisen from it.

"Rrrr-enne do Trrrahn-scend. Ahn-d th-en, yeu ta-ke."

"What do I take?"

This is starting to unsettle him just a little.

"Do ta-ke parrrrt frrrom Trrrahn-scend."

Hoping to try and make his meaning clear, the Renne lifts up a paw and, with some control, Transcends...just the one paw.

"Take...part of you?"

Definitely unsettling. But he'll do it, if that's what Renne wants. Only if he's sure though.

"Eee. Eey-ess. May-bee, it hell-p if o-therrr krrrit-terr send Feel to Rrrr-enne?"

He's not done this before, so he's winging it. Still, the thoughts in his head compel him onward -- he alone can pack one hell of a punch. But, he also knows most of his limits.
Add to that, the combined emotion from other life-forms.

In mid-squeak, Renne carefully extends his arms in an attempt to offer the Human what solace he can.

"What feelings? Can you process all of that?" He's imagining that 'hate' is going to be a fairly prominent emotion, and that has to hurt.

"If this is going to hurt you permanently, I don't like it." Billy bows his head, still worried about what his friend is trying to do.

This earns the smallest of smiles.

"Eee. Rrr-enne hold it, in cup. Th-en put it in...Thun-derrr thin-g."

A shadow passes his face. Carefully, he leans forward, offering Billy a complete embrace and if he dares, a gentle rub against his back.

"Rrrr-enne noh trrry hurrrt Bee."

"A gun," Billy finally realizes. "All right. We'll guard it carefully."

As it turns out, the embrace and back rub are exactly what he needs to clear his head. He returns the hug fully, releasing the tension and fear he felt.

A few moments later, he pulls back and smiles slightly. "I know you won't, don't worry."

"Eey-ess, tha-t."

He holds on for as long or as briefly as the Human wishes. Upon letting go, he parts the touch with a nuzzle, then straightens up. Almost all business now.

"Noh. Rrrr-enne do Te'l-R'asha ah-forre hurr-t Bee. Do Bee thin-k...it worrrk?" 'It' meaning his thought. He's not about to speak any deadly rituals anytime soon.

Shudder. He most certainly didn't want Renne to use that ritual.

"It worked in the battle on the planet, didn't it? If you think it's worth it, then so do I."

"Eee. It did. Bad krrrit-terr noh got Feel. Th-en, Rrrr-enne ma-ke th-em Feel."

Flooded them with root-deep terror, that is.

Billy nodded. That made sense.

"All right. I'll leave the weapon to you for now. We need time to decide who should wield it."

"Eee. Rrr-enne noh kno-w haow ma-ke Thun-derrr." There's almost a whimper at that.

Gun-phobia? Quite. To the point of after having had one in his safekeeping, he's kept away from firearms since. Plus, there is that logic. He simply has no clue on how to construct one.

"Then I'll give you one to emulate. Hold on."

Reaching along the shelves, Billy finds a gun and promptly checks that it's empty. Ronon had drilled that particular procedure into his head during training. Once he's absolutely positive that it's safe, he hands it over.

"This is a gun."

Shudder.

He can't stop himself from shuddering anytime he's near one of these and he knows about it. Holding one? That's an experience unto itself. Still, his shaking hand/paws investigate the firearm.

This one's nothing like the Browning (http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/57/Browning_HP_(Finnish).jpg) he once knew and before he can stop it, a memory-sensation of that particular weapon flashes in his mind.

Billy nods. "It's totally empty, don't worry. We were all trained to handle guns safely."

With that, he watches as Renne absorbs the necessary information.

"Eee. Rrr-enne noh wahn-t do ah-lone. Rrrr-enne wahn-t hell-p Bee."

Breathing slowly and evenly, the hand that he'd Transcended earlier becomes insubstantial once more. Physically touching in the everyday sense can only get you so far. Thus, with a hand Transcended, he literally "enters the gun".

"I'm here. If you need me for any reason, just ask."

Billy watches with interest, slightly surprised when the hand enters to explore the inner workings.

"Rrr-enne co-me, to hell-p Bee."

Trilling softly, Renne's hand soon comes back out and Solidifies.

"Rrr-enne hell-p Bee, if Bee wahn-t. Ma-ke Thun-derrr fohrrr pee-puhll hee-rrrre, ahn-d tea-ch haow too."

This isn't like your typical firing a bullet, no. Then again, he's not talking about firing typical bullets.

"We'll teach everyone how to use it if they'd like to. But we'll have to be careful. This is an extremely powerful weapon."

The ability to cripple with emotions wasn't something he wanted everyone to have access to.

"Eee. Rrr-enne hell-p see wha-t krrrit-terr be sa-fe wi-th. Bee hell-p ma-ke?" Chirp.

He's not taking any chances either, already resolving to put candidates for this weapon under at least one, possibly two, tests. This is his own nature, after all and Billy is one, the one he knows he can trust with this kind of power.

The Doctor's been wandering the ship without any real purpose - he tends to do that when he's trying to think, or trying not to think, or just bored. Right now, it may be some combination of all of the above, and even without any destination in mind, there are patterns to the way the Doctor wanders. Such as, for instance, the tendency to gravitate to any place where there's lots of technology and maybe a clever person or two.

So it's perhaps not terribly surprising when he ends up in Special Weapons, considering the whiteboard drawings with a sort of absent fascination.

"Almost makes you miss the Daleks," he remarks after a moment - not that Billy will have any experience with Daleks, he expects. Not the point at all. "Sure, they'd try to destroy reality so often you'd think they were on some sort of schedule, but if you've met one Dalek..."

"Doctor," Billy acknowledged, hobbling over to one of the tables to lean against.

"...you've met them all? I wouldn't know, Jamie never mentioned them. But the Ohm have diversifed, as serious as they are about destroying as many realities as they can. We have Ohm of many shapes and sizes adapted to slice, stomp, swallow, immolate, decimate, and exterminate every shred of life they come across. There's no solution that fits them all unless the group that cracked their frequency can do so again."

He glances again at the many different drawings, starting to wonder how to assign the projects once they're approved.

The Doctor turns his attention from the whiteboard to Billy, eyebrows rising slowly as the boy speaks. "My, you're cheery," he remarks sardonically, though it's with a faint smile, no real barb to the words. He's seen how easy it is to fluster this one, and he doesn't plan on doing it again. Right now, anyway. "

He nods to the leg Billy's favouring. "So which kind did that? Assuming you didn't get it tripping over yourself... which, to be fair, I have done before." Pause. "Very rarely. Hardly ever."

"I've never been the brightest optimist of my team," he says with a wan smile. "And the Ohm weren't exactly rolling out the welcome mat for us."

He manages a self-depreciating chuckle at that. "At one time I would have been very likely to trip over myself, but this time a grunt got under my guard." He jabs at the diagram with long slicing legs. "We were attempting to evacuate the hospital."

"As reasons for injury go, that one's not bad. A bit impressive, actually." Maybe, on a ship full of people who save the world all the time, not as impressive as it would be anywhere else, but still worth a bit of sympathy, the Doctor thinks.

He doesn't ask what happened at the hospital, if they did any good. Maybe it was alright, and they succeeded. Maybe the Ohm retreated before anything too terrible could happen. But if it went the other way, the Doctor would rather not hear it right now.

"I just wanted to... Um..." He fidgets a little, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and drumming his fingers absently on the table he's standing next to. Usually, he doesn't have to make this offer. Usually, people just ask him on their own. ...usually, he's got more to do with himself, a billion ways to keep busy without even having to look.

"If you need anything - help with any of this, I mean, another pair of eyes or hands or... Well, it's not like I have much else to do right now, with the TARDIS... the way it is."

"I'm not the sort of person to wear my battle scars as a badge of honor. I just want to do the best I can." By his tone, he just sounds a little weary of it all. That will pass when the memories aren't quite so fresh.

What surprises him most, though, is the fidgeting. Billy has become so accustomed to this Doctor sweeping into every situation with a bold streak of confidence that it's a little unsettling. It's more understandable, though, when he catches what must be part of the reason why.

He nods, accepting without a trace of doubt or envy. "You're more than welcome to join in---we'd be foolish to refuse your intelligence and experience. I thought I told you that on the first day, but I must have forgotten to."

There's a faint frown on his face. "I know how unsettling it is to have a vital piece of yourself sealed off. Perhaps not the exact dimensions of the void, but an approximation. I'm almost positive that someone on this ship is toying with us, but I'm sure both of you, Jamie, Jenny, and Rose can overcome that."

...okay, so he's an optimist in certain situations.

The Doctor smiles, a little crookedly. "Blimey, what has Jamie told you about me?" Not that he doesn't appreciate the confidence, mind...

But he doesn't much want to talk about the TARDIS just now. He could handle it just being broken, but totally inaccessible as it is... that does feel like something's keeping it that way.

"And... what makes you think something's toying with us?" he asks quietly, frowning a little. Not that he doubts it, but besides the problem with the TARDIS, he hasn't seen much direct evidence of it himself. If Billy can tell him anything more, he'd certainly like to hear it.

"You don't need to worry. The vast majority of his words have been positive." Not all, of course, but no one was perfect. Even if certain people sometimes believed that they were.

When the Doctor asks that question, Billy presses his hand over his glasses before speaking. It's always difficult to think about this.

"The crew members who have been here longest can all tell you that there are certain inconsistencies in our memories. There are skills we can remember learning, but when we try to recall the teacher no details come to mind. One example is the raptor-punching incident---for some reason, a captain of this crew was required to punch one of our dromaeosaurid crew members in the snout. We all know that it happened, but no one can remember who the captain responsible for the incident was."

He has to pause for a minute to recover, rubbing his temples. Trying to navigate around the erased memories always brings a headache.

"A leading hypothesis is that the ship AI is responsible. One of them, called GLaDOS, regularly abducts crew members to participate in her experiments. When they're taken, our memories of them are erased. If she later decides to release them, the memories are restored. It's happened to one of my communications officers."

All right---those hurt to talk about, but he can finally reveal the biggest piece of evidence. "But the most solid piece of evidence we have relates to the circumstances of our arrival here. Our memories of the destruction of our worlds were erased because it was believed they would be too traumatic for us to retain. We were later given the option of having them restored. I did, and it was every ounce as horrifying as we were warned about, but some of the crew believes that the implanted memories are false. We've yet to determine a way to confirm the truth."

No, Doctor, those AIs don't play nicely.

The Doctor listens silently while Billy explains, and doesn't answer immediately even after he's done. He stands there, brow furrowed, turning it all over in his head.

Really, it's only a few more pieces of the puzzle he's already been trying to piece together - generally, well-meaning people don't kidnap people they want to help them, however desperate the situation, but if it's a rescue... well, that complicates the situation. But if the rescue itself was fabricated...

His head is starting to hurt. It's not too much information that bothers him, it's too little, and too many bloody questions.

"But... don't you have access to the ship's main computer? The brain, whatever you want to call it - is there a reason you couldn't just go and look at where the memories came from? There must be some sort of record somewhere in the ship's memory - or haven't you been able to sort out how it works?" Wouldn't be a surprise, and he wouldn't blame them - organic computing is convoluted at the best of times, and he doubts the original owners of this ship left a manual lying around.

Billy leans back against the table, suddenly slightly frustrated. "You'll want to contact the crew in Neuropathy about that effort. They may accept someone with your credentials into their circle, but their work is very secretive and they would never allow riffraff like me into their ranks."

Another brief nod. "As far as I know, no one has access to Stacy's brain, not even Neuropathy. If they did, they likely would have spent days inside trying to find a way to control the ship. But you'd have to contact them to be certain.

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One foot in front of the other... [Open!]

Slow Kind of Walkin'

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