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Entry tags:
- !plot: lirath,
- allenby beardsley,
- angie spica,
- anwei ayles,
- applejack,
- ash ketchum,
- cassie,
- chell,
- daniel jackson,
- dean winchester,
- dhianeila,
- eleventh doctor,
- eva,
- feldt grace,
- hank pym,
- hit girl,
- hoshi hikari,
- jamie hemeros,
- jono starsmore,
- kaya,
- lash,
- lord zetta,
- martha jones,
- midna,
- nightwing,
- nokosi,
- phillip,
- rapunzel,
- red xiii (nanaki),
- ren akiyama,
- river song,
- ruffnut thorston,
- sandy marko,
- satellizer el bridget,
- schmuz 44356,
- setsuna f. seiei,
- shoutarou hidari,
- son of satan,
- spider-man,
- stature,
- sumeragi lee noriega,
- tenaya,
- the master,
- wheatley
Lirath - Ship Survival
As the battle raged outside, those remaining aboard Stacy had their hands full preparing for the incoming flood of refugees.
Positioned near the Bleed-Gate orbiting Lirath, Stacy stood ready to receive the refugees. Ship after ship ascended as quickly as they could, some of them making a break for the Bleed-Gate itself while the smaller ships were forced to dock at Stacy, unloading their cargo of refugees before setting off again for the planet's surface again to take on more passengers.
Several small units of GIA soldiers were also sent up to help the Transmigration crew take in the massive amount of refugees, many of whom were tired, wounded, and scared. It wouldn't take long for the ship to begin filling with people.
With the battle raging outside, and the Ohm clambering outside, trying to get in, it would be a tall order to keep all of the refugees safe and calm, but the crew didn't have much choice.
[ooc: Open!]
Positioned near the Bleed-Gate orbiting Lirath, Stacy stood ready to receive the refugees. Ship after ship ascended as quickly as they could, some of them making a break for the Bleed-Gate itself while the smaller ships were forced to dock at Stacy, unloading their cargo of refugees before setting off again for the planet's surface again to take on more passengers.
Several small units of GIA soldiers were also sent up to help the Transmigration crew take in the massive amount of refugees, many of whom were tired, wounded, and scared. It wouldn't take long for the ship to begin filling with people.
With the battle raging outside, and the Ohm clambering outside, trying to get in, it would be a tall order to keep all of the refugees safe and calm, but the crew didn't have much choice.
[ooc: Open!]
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The Doctor pushed up his goggles, his face stained with lubricant or what he assumed was the next closest thing coming from a living ship and you know, maybe that wasn't worth thinking about in too much slimy, oozing...detail.
In a way, he was half-surprised to see the Time Lord even there at all. Why, he expected him to have, oh he didn't know, "borrowed" a transport and abandoned ship as soon as he could, just because none of this was worth getting killed over. Having the Master arriving to help was a small shock on its own. The Doctor hoped it was going to be a pleasant one. He gave the man so many chances, more chances than anyone else, and just when he thought he had no more to give, the Master might commit one or two small acts of kindness, just enough to make him think that maybe there was something in there after all. Apparently getting older and a new body hadn't quite changed things. The Doctor furiously waved the Master over.
Like he said, he generally liked to be an optimistic if he could. Even about the Master. It was more of a generally guarded optimism, but still!
"I take it you haven't seen one of these things before!" the Doctor had to yell over a weird thump rattle thump thump in one of the conduits overhead. It had that distinct sound of it wasn't supposed to do that. "Well, come on!"
He scooted to give room for the Master, turning to shoot River a warning look. After that conversation with her in the Obs Deck, he wanted to make sure she behaved and didn't take it upon herself to preemptively have a go at the Master because she was under the mistaken belief she knew what was best. The very cheek! The Doctor pulled his goggles back over his eyes, licking his lips as he crouched in front of the terminal. One of the screens was blinking rather urgently, as if they all needed reminding that yes, they were under attack, as if they hadn't quite noticed.
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Unlike the Doctor's meek, mild companions; this one was a killer. It could be seen in her eyes. Those cold, merciless, heartless eyes. The eyes of a murderer. She would kill him if he made a wrong move. When the Doctor gives her that look, she sighs and lowers her rifle. Not completely disarming herself, but at least he doesn't have to worry about her getting trigger happy.
"Fine. I've got both your backs."
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Instead he gave her a nice, wide smile, that was also clearly nice and fake. "I feel safer already," he remarked, sidling up behind her and leaning over the Doctor's shoulder to have a look at the terminal.
At first blush, it didn't look good.
The Master eyed the Doctor's greasy appearance and began stripping off his suit jacket and tie and rolling up his sleeves.
"You're going to owe me a new suit after this," he snapped at the Doctor, as if it was his fault all this was happening.
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Besides, given the reports flashing on the screen, it really was in their interest to do something about these problems.
The touch-sensitive displays would respond to any tap on their reports with further information. And to address the problems, the main console beneath them offered, for this shining moment, access to the workings of the ship for the relevant areas.
Not that there was a guarantee that these problems could be addressed remotely...
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The Doctor lowered his goggles back over his eyes with a snap of elastic. "New suit, yeah. You can borrow one of mine, assuming we all survive this. Now -- "
The display flashed particularly urgently this time. The Doctor supposed he better get in there, the Time Lord crouching and deciding that as the skinniest one there, he had the best chances of fitting through that access shaft. Tube. Blood vessel? He wasn't quite sure just yet. The Doctor started to sonic the protective covering off, working quickly despite that disdain toward all things red and blinky. It came off eventually with a squelchy sort of pop, leaving a string of sticky goo to dribble off as he passed it to River.
Better she hold onto that and make herself useful instead of standing there with a rifle ready to aim at the Master.
The Doctor bobbed his head, peered into the hole and then clapped his hands together and rubbed them briskly.
"Some sort of blockage at LN175DF-P," he said, as if he was suddenly an expert. It didn't seem to occur to him that both River and the Master knew him well enough to see through his bluffing. The Doctor had grown so used to the posturing for his friends that it was an unconscious habit now. "I'll get it sorted. Just pull me back in a few minutes, understand?"
He looped what looked like a positively horrid collection of handkerchiefs tied end to end around his stomach, giving it a good tug to make sure it would serve as a rope, and then passed the end to the Master. Maybe it was a gesture of hopeful goodwill. The Doctor didn't wait around, instead getting on his hands and knees and crawling into the dark slimy access shaft. It was rather like being up a person's nose, the Doctor having to hold his breath and wishing this was one of those times he had a human's ridiculously weak sense of smell.
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"Honestly, you boys and your ships. I swear, if the Doctor spent half as much time caressing me as he does the TARDIS or Stacy, I'd be a lot easier to deal with." She mutters as she takes the protective covering and leans it against a nearby surface. No such luck, she needs her hands free in case some Ohm threats show up.
She watches the Master as the Doctor hands him the end of that makeshift rope. Not really trusting him. Whatever the future Doctor had told her about him we'll never know, but whatever it was seems to have been enough to make an impression on her.
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75: The access location closest to the blockage. In other words, heading the right direction.
DF: Dilatant fluid. One in which viscosity increases with the rate of shear strain. A few logical extrapolations are all it might take to conclude that this particular blockage has occurred in Stacy's equivalent of synovial fluid, or in other words, joint lubricant.
-P: Progressive. The blockage is worsening.
Of course, even without all that information, identifying the problem area is easy -- amidst all those pulsing, stretching, twisting tubes of relentlessly gruesome biofluids, one section of a vessel wide enough to make an ancient oak envious pulsed and throbbed with a stretched, red, inflamed look about it.
-P
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He briefly considered just letting the stupid thing go, out of spite... and to see what would happen. One glance at River stopped that idea in its tracks.
Instead, the Master smiled patronizingly at her, not feeling terribly threatened by her words. He'd been privy to the hopes and dreams of far too many companions to ever expect the Doctor to actually fulfill any of them. Though he was never quite sure about that Rose girl. Besides, she seemed just as keen on flirting with him. That could have its own advantages.
"You do realize he has absolutely no idea what he's doing." Oh, dear. Did he just make a double entendre?
So, looks like the Time Lords are going to have reactions to Stacy's fluids here? >:3 *thumbs up*
All fascinating in itself and the truth was he was dying to know about its composition and maybe he'd have a look once they weren't under attack. Hopefully maybe. Good thing to be, a Hopefully Maybe. With that in mind, The Doctor kept crawling, trying to peer past his fogged-up goggles into the murky darkness ahead. It didn't take long for any sounds of life, aside from Stacy, to become muffled and then drowned out entirely until all that remained was the muggy air in the tube, hot enough that it almost seemed like a solid thing in its own right; he could already feel the sweat ringing around the goggle's straps. It wasn't the same stifling silence like when he'd been trapped in the Pandorica, at the very least, and in a way, he decided he wasn't entirely alone (thankfully. Horrible, horrible thing to be alone like that!). Mad, brilliant, bafflingly amazing Stacy was around him and she might not even register him as a lifeform, but at least he wasn't in this alone. Surprising how just knowing the little things like that helped things along.
He'd pat the big girl if he wasn't trying to avoid falling on his face in the tube.
The handkerchief rope tugged deeper into the access tube, bobbing as plaid, rainbow, polka dots and a few rows of faded pastel cats were pulled in after the Doctor. He followed the tube, peering at the other ones he could see. That was the problem with too many life or death situations -- all rather difficult to stop and have yourself a good look, especially with a human's dulled senses! Really, he had no idea how they managed it sometimes. The Doctor paused to catch his breath, faintly surprised he was even having trouble breathing at all. Time Lord, bigger lung capacity, among other things. He'd barely gone past what was at a guess a human's comfort zone, what with their dislike of dark smelly spaces.
And why did it feel like his eyes were tearing up in the goggles?
Shaking his head, giving a great big wet sniffle as he felt his throat tighten, the Doctor kept right on crawling until he located the inflamed section. He sat back on his knees. Looking at what looked like the universe's worst blister made him wince. Really put it into perspective complaining about your own blisters due to bad shoes! Ouch, poor Stacy! Reaching up to rub at his nose and cough, all without quite realizing it, the Doctor started to fiddle with his new new new sonic's settings, trying to ignore that oddly interesting light-headed feeling starting to creep up on him.
He went to work on the inflamed section. The sonic screwdriver buzzed green as he tried setting after setting, sitting on his knees in a puddle of muck that was making his head spin.
Unfortunately the Doctor couldn't bluff to Stacy the way he could to the others. He couldn't lie to her and tell her everything ever would be okay because he was here, wave around his psychic paper and bluff and fib and have it all come out the better because everyone believed what he was saying just because he looked like he was that sort.
Instead the Doctor worked in the dizzying silence, until it felt like time lost all meaning to him in there.
[[OOC: okay, I guess River and the Master will pull him up when they notice the line's gone dead/Eleven's stopped working? JUST SAVE THE BOWTIE YOU GUYS 8D]]
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The work might have slowly stopped, but it had been enough.
Blockage cleared, the screen read, before it scrolled off the screen to leave dataspace to other, more urgent matters.
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"Oh, but he's a very fast learner." River quips back with a sly, seductive grin of her own. It's clear that she's highly intelligent and witty to boot. "Quite innovative too." Almost as if she knew the Doctor intimately. One never quite knew with River Song. The Master didn't even know she was from the Doctor's future yet.
It wouldn't become obvious just how much she cared for him until she noticed that the handkerchief rope had been deathly still for the past few minutes. The look on her face changes drastically from smug satisfaction to fear and worry, "Something's wrong!"
She rushes over to the Master and shoves him quite roughly out of her road with the butt of her rifle - not hard enough to hurt - just enough to make him drop the rope and stumble backwards. Dropping her rifle, she tugs almost frantically on the rope, "Doctor? Are you alright? Doctor?" She's constantly talking while pulling on the rope, managing to haul him out of Stacy a little at a time. She's stronger then she looks, apparently.
There it was, plain as the look on her face. River didn't just fancy the Doctor, she loved him. The way she wiped that fluid from his face, removed his goggles, and fussed over him was proof enough. "Doctor? Answer me!" She continues to wipe the fluid from his face - he's dripping with that stuff!
"Answer me or so help me....."
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To his credit, he didn't notice the rope had gone slack any later than River had. But she didn't give him time to consider doing anything about it. With a surprised grunt, the Master stumbled out of her way, dropping the rope entirely... and sliding right into a pile of goo.
"Was that really necessary?" he snapped, watching her frantic actions with disdain. Oh, she had it bad for the Doctor.
He thought that up until the Doctor's limp frame tumbled out of the tube. And then it was the Master's turn to push River roughly aside, checking the Doctor over expertly.
"He'll be fine," he commented acidly. "Idiot passed out in the tunnel." The Master smacked the Doctor across the face, hard. His ministrations were obviously very different from River's.
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Relief was evident on her face when he proclaims the Doctor merely unconscious. Quickly as that mood had sprung upon her, she seemed to calm down just as swiftly. Traveling with the Doctor was always one big roller coaster ride of adrenaline.
"What could have knocked him out? He didn't have enough room to flail." Why, was that a joke at the Doctor's expense?
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"Ow!"
The Doctor suddenly revived between the two of them, giving a kind of woozy flail at whatever was closest because that was really the sort of thing you tended to do when you got a smack to the face for no reason. He blinked, sputtered through the drying bits of slime on his face, and then sneezed and shuddered. Another sneeze. Goodness! He didn't feel okay at all, to massively understate things, and in fact if he wanted to be frank about it he felt the exact sort of miserable that required a comfy chair, some piping hot tea, and a huge blanket to curl up in to stew in just how miserable he felt. The Doctor gave a wounded sniffle. Funny thing, that; he wasn't too keen on smacks to the face as a wake up call or getting Stacy mucus up his nose, much less both at the same time. Nevermind all the other places it must've oozed into (they weren't going into that).
He blinked up at River and the Master. "What was that for?! Asking nicely, I suppose that's gone out of fashion apparently! I just -- ow! What happened?"
The last thing he remembered was -- oh!
"Stacy!" The Doctor tried to sit up and head right back for that access tube. His head spun. Nausea smacked him right in the gut. The Doctor flopped back, giving another annoyed sniffle and shooting both River and the Master a suspicious look. One of them slapped him. He was still trying to sort out who. The problem was they both looked guilty to him, because the Master had plenty of motive to at least want a smack in, what with him foiling all the man's plots, and River was...well, she was River. He wouldn't put it past her.
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He watched the Doctor flop around with a small amount of concern-- but not for the Doctor.
"You're not coming down with something, are you?" Time Lord ailments tended to be pretty nasty, considering their superior immune systems.
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"Oh no you don't." Good luck trying to crawl back into Stacy, because River Song is blocking the way. "You fixed the blockage, so you're sitting the next one out. Catch your breath." Oh Doctor, she's worse then any aunt. She's your wife and she knows you just as well as the Master, if not better. She turns her attention towards the Master and raises both her eyebrows at him expectantly. "You wanted to help, so you're climbing into Stacy in the Doctor's place." Or does she have to get her rifle and make you do it? "The Doctor isn't fit to go back in there."
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Sustainable for 3:12:10
Shutdown of ancillary systems available
MAGNETIC MONOPOLE CONTAMINATION BREACH
Breach sealed
Decontamination magnet offline!!
93% of magnetic monopoles uncontaminated
Time to 15% contamination: 12:34:20
Time to 25% contamination: 19:12:14
Time to 50% contamination: 22:01:10
Time to 100% contamination: 23:15:49
TIDAL COMPENSATORS AT 127% SUSTAINABLE OUTPUT
Error! Compensator 3112 offline!
Error! Compensator 2119 offline!
Error! Compensator 4005 offline!
BIOINTEGRITY FIELD: 55%
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He sneezed again and then tried to wipe the tears from his eyes. There was something to be said about a good cry -- or even a good blubber! -- but feeling your eyes tearing up, your throat clenching, and knowing that frog in your throat was two seconds from pitching a tent and settling in wasn't what he had in mind. The Doctor looked positively miserable. He grumbled under his breath, frowning at River doing her best human shield in front of the access shaft and of course the Master was no help at all in this because he was more worried about his own skin than anything else. Some things never changed. The Doctor would find it perversely comforting under normal circumstances.
The Doctor sniffled again, a great big wet one. "What's the screen say now?" He couldn't see from here, but that didn't mean he couldn't hear that incessant beeping and blipping and must they always sound so self-important? "River, you and your guns! I really ought to take them away from you. You'll shoot someone's eye out one of these days."
He fixed River with what he intended to be a Very Stern Glower. If this was an allergic reaction to a particular brand of mucus, he didn't think the Master would fare much better going into the next access shaft, unless he was trying to prove a point, such as I Can Last Two More Minutes Better than You, Doctor, So There! type of point. The Doctor made another attempt to haul himself to his feet and promptly tipped over.
He blamed the puddle of slime under him. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact his whole body felt ridiculously wobbly right now. Not at all. Nothing of the sort!
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"Oh, no, Doctor, she's right. You're obviously not fit to finish the job."
That didn't mean he'd head automatically back in. After seeing what such a short time in the ship's... tubules had apparently done to the Doctor, the Master had no intention of going in there if he could help it. He scanned the monitor readout, trying to pick out the problem least likely to involve a gooey situation. Not that such a strategy would necessarily work, considering the environment.
"Decontamination magnet," he murmured to himself, glancing around for the appropriate interface. Surely, surely, this wouldn't require crawling around in muck.
Would it?
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"Better men then you have tried to take my guns away." She mutters, turning her attention to the ill Time Lord. She starts to try and clean the larger globs of mucus off him, thinking that the less that was on him, the better he'd feel. It was also a way of testing her own vulnerability to the mucus.
Aside from a general feeling of queasiness in her stomach, River really didn't notice any other effects. Thank goodness for her human DNA, it seemed to be strong enough to ward off a dangerous reaction. So she could take a turn without the Doctor getting suspicious as to why she was reacting like he and the Master.
Monopolium contamination -> assigned to this team! Problems will be separated henceforth!
What might be trouble is the information it was shooting out. In more detail it elaborated on the mainscreen's report: the monopolium supply had been contaminated by "ordinary" dipolar micromagnets. These magnets were slowly disrupting the monopolium, dissolving the monomagnetic mature of the fluid as they spread. At the moment, the contamination moved slowly, but every additional dipolar magnet introduced to the fluid speeded up the process.
Ordinarily a decontamination magnet weeded out dipolar magnets, but in this case... well, 'offline' had been putting it lightly, since the contamination had been caused by the magnet's destruction.
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The Doctor tried to crane his head to glance at the display and the Master. "Well, it can't be too much different than the stuff we had as kids, right? Just squishy and bigger."
He aimed a look at the Master, trying to hold back a sniffle from his spot on the floor. Not that he liked to dredge up their past, despite the fond memories, but even if this was a living ship, he trusted the Master to at least be brilliant enough to figure it out. It wasn't as if the man wasn't scarily intelligent: it was just he tended to have rather poor (read, downright silly) ideas about where to apply himself and a general lack of priorities that didn't involve himself at the expense of others. The Doctor tried to bat away River's hands, not happy with being fussed with, and it was more of a moot point anyway because if they didn't get this fixed, the chances of them blowing up along with the rest of the ship were high.
The Doctor by now managed to half prop himself up on his elbows. Between the slime and his red eyes and nose, he looked just as hideous as the Master's smile. The man probably loved this. And to make it worse, he was sure River knew that too. The Doctor waved at River to behave herself. He didn't need her deciding to take it on herself to shoot the Master just because he looked at him funny.
Knowing River, that was probably asking too much.
"Try that covering over that slime pit. The magnets might be in there," the Doctor flapped a listless hand at the pit. He started to fumble with his sonic, his fingers slipping on it as he tried to get a grip and hold back a sniffle/sneeze at the same time.
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The words 'slime pit', however, were not so easy to shut out. The Master looked up with an expression of faint horror.
"In there," he repeated, and then had to smirk as the Doctor fumbled out his sonic-- amused by those clumsy efforts as well as the mistaken assumption. He pulled his own laser screwdriver, newly repaired, from his pocket, locking eyes with the Doctor.
"I've got it," the Master said rather smugly, and strode over to the covering. A few seconds later, it came off with a pop. The Master peered in tentatively.
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She eyes the Master's laser screwdriver with mild interest. All she knew was it the Master's competitive and much more dangerous version of the Doctor's sonic screwdriver. Finally, a Time Lord with some sense. The sonic screwdriver could have hundreds of settings, but not one of those could take the head off of a threatening alien.
"Good luck." Why yes, she is being very catty towards you, Master.
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And further luckily, certain sensible precautions were still in place!
Decontamination magnet accessed. Diverting monopolium flow.
UNfortunately, the Master's eager gaze would be met by brilliant sparks cascading upwards and a fairly hideous smell of wet smoke and burning tires made out of skunks. Beneath that cover, the decontamination magnet had failed catastrophically. Where another protective hatch should have been, he saw only a massive hole in a blackened membrane, beneath which the electrical currents that should have been flowing into the magnet sparked violently across a gap where the magnet should have been. A few trace chunks of that magnet remained in the channel below, wedged at the bottom beneath a gummed up, crystalline structure that resembled nothing so much as the iron-filing contents of a thousand magnetic art kits, dumped out and piled up.
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Keywords FTW
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In which I talk out of my butt
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