The rest of the crew assembled on the Observation Deck to meet the latest editions to their numbers. After the revelation that their worlds are gone, many of them are even more eager to see people they knew from home.

Several people are set up near the doors to provide the new people with omnicoms and comm rings. They are also told they must read information about their current situation and a survival guide with their new omnicom. New crew-mates might see a tall dragonish guy with wings (but don't call him that) and purple girl among their number. There are also several authoritative-looking figures ready to introduce themselves.

There's a lot to tell the new people. It's going to be a lot to take in.

[ooc: Only new characters and Command Staff can start new threads for introductions, to limit the number of threads. Everyone else, just tag in and have your guys greet the newbies.]

The rest of the crew assembled on the Observation Deck to meet the latest editions to their numbers. After the revelation that their worlds are gone, many of them are even more eager to see people they knew from home.

Several people are set up near the doors to provide the new people with omnicoms and comm rings. New crew-mates might see a tall man in green armor and snake girl among their number. There are also several authoritative-looking figures ready to introduce themselves.

There's a lot to tell the new people. It's going to be a lot to take in.

[ooc: Only new characters and Command Staff can start new threads for introductions, to limit the number of threads. Everyone else, just tag in and have your guys greet the newbies.]

“No, Stacy! Let me go! They have to know this!”

Deep inside the mind of the ship, Cortana struggled against the computer-equivalent of Stacy’s tentacles. The image she faced flickered between Stacy as she should be – the warm, caring version that had been restored after they’d taken the bridge back from the pirates – and the old base program that had animated the ship when she had been a prison. The former was visibly distressed and struggling with her counterpart.

||I’m sorry Cortana, I can’t--||

||--You are unauthorized for the information that you have accessed. The information will be removed. Do not res--||

||Stop, please! Please don’t hurt her! She’s part of the crew, please don’t hurt her!||

||You will not be harmed by the extraction process. Do not resist.||

The ship trembled as the two sides of her personality struggled with each other, and Cortana managed to pull herself free and escape in the process. She flew through the systems, not daring to glance back over her shoulder to see if she was pursued. She had to get this information out. The crew had to know. She had to get to someone – anyone, at this point – and tell them.

She exploded free within the depths of Containment, hearing voices just on the other side of the door. She opened her mouth to shout, only for a tentacle to slap across the projector she was using, slamming her back into the system’s depths.

And somewhere in Containment, something cracked...

The battle against the Ohm raged on, and the casualties on the ground were mounting. Injured crew members got emergency treatment in the field, which largely amounted to patching them up so they wouldn't die sometime within the next fifteen minutes. After that, they were quickly picked up by shuttle and brought back to the ship, where they were sent to a medbay that was getting progressively more crowded.

The situation was growing increasingly dire, to the point that Stacy activated one of the AI's to help out.



"Please state the nature of the medical emergency."

Jaime Reyes was still alive, not that most of Team GTFO knew it. He lay still as death in front of Hal 9000, the scarab slowly working on repairing the damage he'd used to fake his death.

The only people that knew what had really happened were the telepaths. And they had some important information to pass on to a few of the others before anyone else got injured -- or worst, killed for real.

You have my sincerest apologies, but I have my mission.

The traps start. Rotating blades coming out of the walls and floors and ceilings, jets of fire, lasers, holographic enemies. The clear walls of the maze let them see what's happening to everyone else.

The traps start, and they have to stay alive despite them. If they stop avoiding them, it's their own fault, you see, if they die. That makes it indirect enough for Stacy's Anti-harming-the-crew protocols to be avoided, as Hal, despite his reprogramming, still has to follow some constraints.

Please commence with killing yourselves by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The only chance the group has is if they work together to stay alive, and somehow they have to take out the shield projectors creating the maze even though they themselves are shielded...

[ooc: Cooperation is key, people. Hal can only adapt to one power/skill-set at a time, not all of them.]

There is an AI on the ship that goes by the name Bender Stack. It only pops up now and again, and now its function may finally be somewhat clear.

"Hey. Hey meatbag!" says a grating voice.

Bender Stack chases people away from work when they've been doing too much of it.

This is why Brainiac 5 leaves the Special Weapons Division and by the time he gets up to the Living Area (having decided to eat anyway if the irritating AI is going to heckle him out of work) he's about at his wit's end.

"--For the last time, I am not going to build you a robot prostitute! You're an AI, not a mechanoid, you couldn't interface with it anyway."

Brainiac 5, for all his 12th-level genius, is an idiot. Sometimes there's just this thing that mad scientist nerds do, a sort of super-focus that overrides all else. Brainy seems to be in that fugue state of total concentration right now, as he distractedly gets himself some food.

He's an idiot because it's been days since he's, you know, eaten, because he still hasn't slept, and because he still hasn't had his own injuries tended to. (The plant-sap is a wound sealant and antibacterial agent. It'll do for now, is his reasoning).

Even now, he's synched up his omnicom to the vitals of the few left in the MedBay, and is plinking away at it. Sam is stable, but still in his coma, or else he wouldn't have left.

"Omnicom, record under medical file for Winchester, Sam. New entry. Neural regeneration proceeding as planned, and neural grafts seems to be healing cleanly. Vital signs are stable. BP and pulse are at normal parameters, but further monitoring is advised..."

While distracted, and prone to bumping into someone else with his tray as he carries it back with him to a table to wolf down slop as quickly as he's able, he's there, if anyone has need of him, or wants to goggle at the green guy (if they're new), or wants to know why Superman wanted to beat him up.

It was the worst possible time for it. The crew was about to be embroiled in a battle for their lives. Half of them were infested with alien parasites and restrained in MedBay.

||Pod Release Protocols Initating,|| Stacy's familiar voice sounded out to all the podmates.

In the Pod Caverns, there were the sounds of: Pop. Pop pop pop. Poppuhpoppoppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiiiissssss.

There was condensation and mist spraying out from cracks in the pods, as the people inside slid out onto the floors, covered in slime.

Pop. Poppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiissss.

Cybil is currently talking with Jaime Reyes about the possibility of hacking the ship's systems. Just a normal day on the meatship, a normal conversation in one of the cold zones, where there are no working sensors, about getting the hell OFF the ship, or turning the big bitch around.

"Do you think we could have our resident tech nerds build something to bridge the gap from technological to the more organic parts of her systems?"

By hook or by crook or by avoiding hook and crook, the crew assembled from the previous podpops eventually made it up to the Living Area to greet their new crew mates. The creepy sculpture was also there, though less to greet them than it was always there.

The strange, fleshy seating had multiplied. You really, really don't want to know how.

The ship never ended. The farther Zuko went, the more it always seemed there was to go . . . and those was just the areas he could walk to freely.

He found himself in a short hallway today, with three wings. He'd been here once before, continued straight ahead, and found the medical bay, so this time he was prepared for the sudden chill that skipped his physical senses and raced right across his consciousness.

The only thing he could compare it to was what he'd felt at the Western Air Temple, when he had taken refuge there while his eye healed following the Agni Kai. He'd never seen a place that felt as lonely as it looked, but the air of the Western Air temple was merely one of sadness, regret. The aura of the Special Weapons division was distinctly more negative. Angrier. More evil.

It was hardly difficult to imagine that terrible things had happened there. It looked like the scene of a fight, if anyone had been fighting in a hospital - an evil hospital. Zuko picked his way around the overturned beds and damaged equipment until he made it to the Acquisitions door. He was just about to try to open it when something on the floor caught his eye.

A whistle. Blackened with soot, lying on the floor by an overturned bed, carved in the shape of a bison.

Zuko picked it up. He turned it over in his hand, brushed some of the soot away, and turned it over some more.

Then he clenched the whistle in his fist so tightly that the wood almost cracked.

"Where are you hiding him?" the scarred prince yelled unto the heavens at the ceiling. "Answer me, Stacy!"

Still in the city.

Considering the sheer size of the megalopolis that Stacy was carrying around, Lyta was hardly surprised that even after hours walking up and down its 'streets,' she still got the feeling that she hadn't even begun to scratch the surface with this place.  If the large blue--and perfectly symmetric--blue tree had taken her breath away, then what she saw when had turned this last corner had left her just as awestruck in its beauty.  A massive gate, cast in gold filigree, with the shapes and forms of what appeared to be angels carved into its surface--each flawless, as if it'd been etched into the giant doorway by a skilled craftsman.  It was beautiful, yet at the same time mind boggling.  The contrast of the 'ugliness' of Stacy's interior with some of the gorgeous structures she carried inside of her left Lyta with more and more questions the longer she explored.  And rarely with any answers.

Nothing had ever, ever prepared the MacManus brothers for being abducted by aliens. This wasn't covered in school, or in any of the extra lessons Ma made them take. Nobody at the slaughterhouse ever talked about this, though one or two people may have mentioned it in a pub or bar or insert place serving alcohol here. Those people, though, they hadn't taken very seriously. Here, even the unshakable certainty of their Mission was trembling in the midst of so much foreign and bizarre.

So after the 'OHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCK' factor had died down a little - definitely not completely, but a little - and the big group had been disbanded, the twins went where they felt sure to get some guidance.

During the very brief tour of the city, Connor noticed something in the distance. He'd nudged Murphy about it, but they left checking it out until later. When 'later' came, and they checked, it was, well, "Jesus fuckin' Christ! That's the fuckin'- that's- that's the-! Fuck!" the Vatican.

Ten minutes later, they'd calmed down sufficiently to stop cussing and were walking through the eerily quiet St. Peter's Square. Slipping wordlessly through the doors of the Basilica itself, they made their way to pray. At the moment it didn't matter why these buildings were here. The aliens might be overstepping themselves, in which case they would die soon. On the other hand, it might just be a sign. Before they could decide, Murphy and Connor needed advice.

Nearly an hour later they reemerged, troubled but much calmer. There had been no direct answers - there rarely were - but the two of them were ready to wait it out. Whatever happened here, their Mission remained unchanged.

First day out of the pod, and already problems. Just like being back home she guessed. But in the meantime, what to do. She debated on going to check to see if her friends and family were locked up. But if that was the case, what could she do? Break them open? It would just mean punishment for her and them. And maybe others, and she wouldn't dare risk so many.

Then again, Stacy wouldn't do that, she obviously needs them, and what they can do. Everybody has a purpose and a function. In the meantime, she could check out the Sensoriums again, and get some practice in. Kate figured being cooped up for six months meant she was extremely overdue. So she headed for the room with her bow and arrow, hoping there would be simulated targets available.

Even though it meant the ship was getting her soldiers, whether they liked it or not.

"Okay, kids in the middle. I don't care if you can fight or can shoot lightning out your ears, stay in the center where we can protect you. If there's something the adults can't handle, then feel free to jump in. Noncombatants are with them. Anyone with a weapon, if someone is engaging an enemy in hand to hand, obviously, hold fire, even if you're a crack shot. Safeties of your weapons on until it seems like we might be running into something. For most of us, being able to shoot is only a thumbflick away and I don't want any friendly fire. Be careful not to hit anything that looks like a window, so we're not all tossed into space," Cybil said, standing at the front of the group.

"Andromeda. Cortana. Let us know what you can as we go, and if you think there's something we need to see, let us know to take a look. You're our tourguides."

And the important part.

"If you think you heard or saw something strange, calmly let the rest of the group know, even if you're not sure. We shouldn't be jumping at shadows and we can't panic, but we shouldn't be too relaxed either. We have no idea who or what might be here with us. Be careful. Not careless. Not paranoid."

Her gun was out in her hand, safety was on for now, and it was aimed at the floor.

"Kara, Harper, and Flash, I want you on point with me. Sam, Connor, Murphy, I want you bringing up the rear. The other people with superpowers in the middle, where you can get to the front or back easily if you're needed at either and where you're closest to the kids and the people without guns or powers to protect them."

She would, quite frankly, be amazed if anyone actually listened to her. She was just a cop. But

"Everyone ready? Let's go."

[ooc: Read this before tagging.]

The AI of Seamus Harper's ship, the Andromeda Ascendant was trapped here along with everyone else, her AI core stolen or at least copied to Stacy's systems. Other AIs had been captured along with her. But she did have answers to some questions, and apparently was willing to tell the crew things Stacy wasn't willing to without being questioned.

Apparently, one of those things was that Cybil Bennet, someone who had popped recently, right along with them, and was merely a police officer back home, was the captain of their crew.

Their crew of what, Harper had asked?

Andromeda's answer:

"The crew of this ship, Harper."

It was then that the eyelid-like visors covering the windows of Obs Deck started to separate, letting in the light--and oh, was there light. They were in the currents of a multi-colored cosmic riptide, surfing the stream. Stars shot past beyond the lights, nebulae, galaxies sped along them as if they were what was moving and the ship wasn't.

It was beautiful.

It was horrible, because it meant they were in space--or something like it. That was a very long way away from their homes.

"We are a very, very long way from Commonwealth space."

||Pod release will occur in 14 hours, 42 minutes, 55 seconds.||

"Stacy, why won't you answer our questions? Are you freeing the crew? All of them? Some of them?"

||Pod release will occur in 14 hours, 42 minutes, 19 seconds.||

"Dammit, Stacy."

||Prepping the release of Deep Sleep protocols for Pod Release Candidates.||

Somewhere, something went wrong.

||Systems failure. Systems failure. Damage to Pod Life Support irreparable. Systems failure. Pod Life Support at 95% and dropping...||

Somewhere, something whirred, liquids chugged and pumped.

||Initiating Backup Life Support Protocols.||

||Initiating...||

||Initiating...||

||Initiating...||

||Initiating...||

||Backup Life Support only 3% effective. Initiating Early Pod Release Protocols. Shunting Basic Life Support from uninhabited sectors. Starting Basic Life Support processes. Locking down secure sectors...||

||Initiating...||

||Initiating...||

||Initiating...||

||Initiating...||

||Initiating...||

||Initiating...||

||Protocols initiated. Equilibrium maintained. No casaulties.||

||Further repairs necessary.||

||Pod release will occur in 36 days, 0 hours, 55 minutes and 17 seconds.||

"What is pod release?"

||Pod release will occur in 36 days, 0 hours, 55 minutes and 5 seconds.||

"What are you up to, Stacy?"



||We are not going to be alone anymore, Andromeda.||