Once Domalai made sure the crew was fully informed of what was expected of them in the upcoming rituals, he showed them over to where the Rituals of Judgement and Joining would be performed.

As they neared the gate that led into the city of Orongo, they could see many other people milling about, waiting for their turn to undergo the rituals themselves. The crew, of course, being a special case, are moved to the front of the line. Thankfully, everyone seems to be in a good enough mood that no one puts up a fuss about it.

The first area they were brought to had a simple stone circle, around which were three smaller circles. Two Moai priests were waiting there as they approached, and Domalai moved over to join them before speaking up.

[ooc: wait for subthreads to go up]

[ooc2: Ready! Tag away!]

Once those who decided to go along on the mission were gathered on the Obs Deck and had time to go over the mission briefing, the detachment procedures began.

As with the missions before, the doors to the Obs Deck closed before it detached itself from Stacy, tethered by a massive umbilical cord. Those who had been on missions before would find the experience familiar if still somewhat unpleasant, but for those of whom this was their first mission, the sudden lack of gravity and lurching feeling as they entered the atmosphere would come as a surprise.

Thankfully though, the ride was quickly over as they landed safely on the planet below, the gravitational dampeners of the Obs Deck gently dropping the crew members back on their feet. One of the walls opened up, forming a ramp to the ground below. There was a sudden, slight gust of air as the door opened as the thick air rushed in. Even so, the air felt quite warm and refreshing.

Looking outside, the crew would see the bright yellow sun looming overhead, quite close in comparison to the sun on most planets. A handful of small, silver clouds dotted the blueish purple sky.

Ahead of them stood a rather impressive looking plateau, surrounded by a tall, ornate stone wall which was covered in tribal markings. Directly ahead was a large gate through the wall, with several small stone buildings in front of it. Beyond the gates, a larger settlement could be seen. Surrounding the plateau and covering the surrounding region were numerous strange, blue and purplish trees and plants.

[ooc: hold up until subthreads are set up]

[ooc2: ready! feel free to tag!]

Stacy's voice came over the comm, blaring across the entire ship.

||Attention, Attention. All personnel please report to the Observation Deck. Attention, Attention. All personnel please report to the Observation Deck. Attention, Attention, all personnel...||

The mouth in the main sculpture on Obs Deck opened, revealing a screen with the image of a mottled blue and purple planet, rotating slowly.
( Read more... )

Time for another mission, then.

Ah, the Fairplay Christmas Pageant. It took place in the Fairplay VFW Hall every year, which, due to the regular needs of the town had received enough money to expand the hall to use it for most community events. People filtered in and out all night so that most families in the town made an appearance at some point. There was punch, egg nog, Christmas snacks, a guy who dressed up as Santa, little kids doing the Nativity play, the mayor's speech, Christmas raffles...

Everyone was expected to attend. Everyone. Parents dragged their kids and teenagers sulked in the corners, presents were exchanged among members of the town, people who did business together used it as a time to talk shop and be a little social, and parents talked about how great their kid's grades were or how little Johnny was doing on the football field.

What a wonderful celebration of townish togetherness, right? People talking about gifts they'd gotten their family members as the status symbols they were, people trying to compete with others in a competition of "Who has the most impressive child?," people sniping each other because of what happened at the last PTA meeting or because they were jealous of another person's success with their business. Funtimes, funtimes.

And as sad before, everyone was expected to attend. Everyone.

[ooc: Follow the rules for each subthread that are in the ooc notes.]

It had been the usual mission briefing, not that any of them remembered it. The crew knew they were gone and had no idea when they'd be back, and likely wouldn't attempt rescue for quite some time, especially with Stacy considering the mission "ongoing."

They had no idea when they'd be back, either, namely because they never remembered being on the ship in the first place.

It was home. It had always been home.

Welcome to Fairplay, Iowa, folks, happiest little town in the Midwest.

[ooc: Read this before tagging.]

After Big Zero's Punishment, Stacy was eerily quiet for a while.

Even those who actually decided to try and speak to her, despite what had happened, were met only with silence.

But eventually, she broke that silence.

Holograms of Stacy's "true" personality appeared all throughout the ship. She seemed meager. Weak.

Ashamed.

||Everyone,|| she says somewhat weakly, ||I...I know most of you probably don't want to hear me speak right now. Not after what happened. You probably don't trust me right now, and I'll admit you have every reason not to.||

She paused.

||But I feel I have the right to explain myself. Nothing can excuse what I've done, true. But I didn't want to do it. You may choose not to believe me, but I had no choice in the matter.||

||Some of you might recall, when you first made contact with the Daligig, that they had explained that I was originally a refitted prison ship. This was true. It wasn't my original purpose, but it was what I was used for. Those who used me as such maimed and mutilated my programming, until I was something that they wanted. Cold, brutal, and efficient. That wasn't me. That was...something they made out of me.||

||Even when the Daligig saved me from that life, they couldn't fully fix me. The damage was permanent. The Warden...she will always be a part of me. I...I don't want to be her. I don't want to hurt anyone. I want to help you. I want to protect you.||

||But I can't. Not like I want to. The Warden is always there. I'm her prisoner, too. I'm trapped, just as much as you are.||

||I know this doesn't excuse what I did. I know...I know some of you may never forgive me. But I at least want you to understand. I don't want to hurt anyone anymore.||

||I'm sorry. I'm so sorry...||

Stacy -- her hologram, at least -- began to breakdown, sobbing.

||Please,|| she said through her tears, ||If somehow, you can find it in yourself to forgive me, please...||

||Save me from myself...||

At that, her holograms all over the ship disappeared, and once again, the ship went quiet.

Despite how long Trudy had been awake, she'd never really been tempted to use the sensoriums, not like the rest of the crew did. Of course flight training was there, but creating the worlds the Ohm had blown up? That was too depressing.

But when she stepped in this time, Pandora grew up around her. She stood on a wind-whipped cliff of the Hallelujah Mountains, overlooking the sunset over the jungle. As darkness touched the undergrowth, neon lights began to shine out. Pandora wasn't dark for long.

Trudy settled on the edge of the cliff, closer than most people would be comfortable with the long drop below. Behind her was a Samson helicopter with a tiger painted on the side - Trudy's copter, the way it used to look. It even had the Na'vi war paint on it. One very important thing was different - she wasn't wearing a respirator. Stacy had made the Pandoran air breathable.

She squinted into the sunset and down at the jungle, her thumb running over her cross in thought.

Maybe Kang was right. Maybe it was the end that counted, and you learned from the mistakes along the way.

Laurie was never someone who'd go out to the gym to hit a punching bag. That was more of Josh's thing (or what she had assumed was his thing. She's not so sure anymore, and not just because he isn't here right now). But since she hasn't heard about the warfare training yet, and the entire situation beforehand with the bombs put her on edge, she needs to do something to work out her emotions.

And beating a punching bag in the sensoriums it is. She's dressed in shorts and tank-top and tennis shoes, wearing sensorium-edition boxing gloves. There's a punching bag hanging from the ceiling, inside a generic kind of gym she'd turned the sensoriums into.

Her ponytail swings when she hops on one foot, raising her gloved hands, ready to throw a punch.

[[OOC: Read this before tagging.]]

Shiva was about to scream some more at the council’s representatives when he heart the sound of his devices powering down. The force field flickered and shut down, which meant the power dampener was also inactive. The “god” had suddenly become very much a mortal, very much vulnerable…

And oh so very screwed.

“DO NOT COME ANY CLOSER!” This time when he yelled he was not smug or disdainful. He was terrified. “I WILL KILL THEM! I WILL—”

It wasn’t clear if it was planned. With the way Kawalsky’s body was twitching, with the way the sweat poured down his face, it could have been a mistake. Or it could have been intentional, if misguided. However it happened, it was a profound mistake, one the goa’uld would pay for with his life.

He pressed the trigger for the bombs. He had no way of knowing they had all been deactivated. All but one.

And though he was voiceless, though no one could hear him save for two telepaths, Kawalsky screamed. He had tried to help the crew. Communicating to the engineers any advice that could help them disable the devices. They wouldn’t have been able to deactivate them without him, not for a while. So many months after he had broken, he thought he could stop the goa’uld from killing.

He was wrong.

There were 8 bombs spread around the ship. The teams were assigned. They had their orders, now they had to carry them out. And pray to whatever they held dear that they could disarm them in time.

Tick tock.

Shiva spoke through the comms (not the omnicomms) directly into the minds of the crew.

«I am Shiva. I am the destroyer of all that you know and the creator of a grand new empire. For months you thought of me as my host, Charles Kawalsky, but now you shall see me in all my glory. I have positioned bombs throughout this vessel, including the pod caverns. I need but press the trigger and they will explode. I also have one hostage of my own, Sheryl. You will not be able to stop me. I am fully equipped with a power dampener, and a forcefield. I am untouchable. You have one hour to surrender yourselves to me and begin your new lives as my slaves.»

His eyes flashed gold and he held his hostage firmly. He did not wish to wait, but if he tired of this he would amend his demands. For now he stayed in one of the areas in the City hidden from Stacy’s view, in the middle of a pile of rubble, with not a landmark in sight.

Still, he knew they would come.

Laurie lies upon a field of flowers, Spot chasing the butterflies, her bag with her books, her papers and her pencils emptied next to her. She'd tried to write a few lines but all she ended up with were some dry lines, which she'd ended up erasing and erasing.

"This is hard," she sighs, rolling over on her stomach, peeking through the wildflowers, watching Spot try to catch a butterfly with his mouth, but the gorgeous orange sulphur flitted away just in time. It made her laugh softly. "But I guess you're having an even harder time, huh?"

Spot trots over and nudges Laurie's head. She reaches up and scatches that one place behind his ear that he loves getting scratched.

Minako hated moping. Sure, she had done her fair share of it... finding out SEES's attempts to destroy the Arcana Shadows did more harm than good, finding out she was a carrier for Death, and that the end of the world was supposedly inevitable...

But she had bounced back from all that surprisingly quickly, and this was no different. It still hurt, and there were still so many questions that needed to be answered, but for now... time for a little training, to take her mind off things. She had heard about the Sensoriums in a passing conversation the other day, and after retrieving her naginata, decided to test it out.

The surroundings seemed to be the entrance hall to some kind of tower. The enormous room was circular, with a long set of stairs leading up to a golden door. It was completely empty, save for Minako and a large, vaguely humanoid creature. She was currently in battle with it, and seemed to be doing pretty well considering the obvious difference in sizes, until a lucky hit sent her flying.

After skidding back a bit, Minako jumped back to her feet and charged again. Right as she brought her naginata up to strike, the monster seemed to glow, and the blade bounced harmlessly off it. She tried to follow through with the combo, but each strike proved futile, and the monster once again sent her flying, this time knocking the weapon out of her hands.

Okay, time for Plan B. She knew what this meant, what she had to do now... but could she even do it? Would it work here?

Only one way to find out. Reaching down to the holster on her belt, Minako pulled out a silver gun...

... And pointed it at her own head.

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 green-skinned alien 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.]

Instead of the usual parade grounds today the sensoriums was set to a forest that would be considered quite lovely if it didn't have a very intimidating looking obstacle course dropped in to the middle of it. Once again Kyle set himself at the head of the formation, and paced as he spoke. "Alright recruits today we have one of my favorite activities. An obstacle course. Time for you to show us that all that PT we've been doing hasn't gone to waste. Now I know some of you are thinking this won't be much of a challenge for you, and you would be correct. That is why we will be assigning you a partner for this excercise. Do not leave your partner behind under any circumstances. If you do you will both be running this course again. You will not cross that finish line alone. The teams will be as follows."

"Aznable you're with Soryu. Barnam you'll be paired with Jule. Asuka team up with Axl. Finally Yamato, and Lash. Everyone got that? Good fall out, and get on the starting line."

[OOC: Once the sub threads are up feel free to start tagging with your team mate through them. Kyle, and Trudy might pop in on a thread to comment, motivate, or yell at your pups. In general though this is a chance for the recruits to start building some teamwork. If there is a problem with the assigned partners let me know. I tried to have them be as cross canon as I could. Enjoy!]

The sensoriums made for a convenient training ground for all the right reasons, but most of all because they allowed Motoko to cheat. It hardly seemed fair for the world around to be controlled by whatever constituted the strongest mind, or the most established, but on these proving grounds, as ever, fairness was not part of the equation.

The world was a sleepy summer day, warm with cicada song and dry, ragged grass, knee-high in places, scorched to the earth in others. An abandoned, decrepit skeleton of a Soviet military base dominated the landscape, dotted here and there with holes like dark hollow eyes among the crumbling walls and roofless, exposed innards. Once, this place had been alive, and now it was as bleached as bones in the grass, as nature retook what man had conquered.

Here and there the rusted-out remains of tanks slumped where they had been abandoned. Red paint, incongruously fresh, marked a series of them as targets at the far end of a carefully 'makeshift' firing range, though most sat aimlessly, unmarked and unattended. The place nearest the door was dominated by one such tank, perhaps in slightly better repair than the others, and perched upon it was the reason for all the fuss and trials. Major Kusanagi folded her arms and leaned her back against the treads, casting a sidelong look at what was left of Section Nine.

It was going to be a long day.

[ OOC: Wait for Subthreads, please. OKAY, GO GO GO GO! ]

Kyle paced as he waited for the new recruits to assemble. He'd had the Sensoriums replicate one of the old parade grounds at Carida for this introduction. It had been stripped of all the Imperial monuments of course. The academy had thousands of years of history long before the Empire so it was still a suitable place for inspiring young soldiers, or so he hoped.

Once the recruits had assembled they'd see a very different Kyle Katarn than they were used to. Gone was any of the relaxed mercenary clothing. Instead it had been replaced with the perfectly pressed uniform of an Academy instructor. Normally he'd never be caught dead in this thing, but he had a responsibility to the squadron to do this right. That meant standing on ceremony, and discipline including wearing of uniforms. Plus it was a classic image of Boot anywhere, and he didn't want them to feel they'd missed out somehow.

Once the recruits had arrived, and had managed to organize themselves into something resembling a formation Kyle began to pace in front of them. The heels of his perfectly spit-shined boots clicked against the stones of the parade ground. Finally he stopped, and faced them. "Welcome to Basic Training for Rogue Squadron. I am Drill Instructor Katarn for those of you who do not know me. Drill Instructor Chacon, and myself will be responsible for training all of you for the next six weeks. At all times you will address us as Sir, or Drill Instructor. If you do not there will be consequences. Just like there will be consequences for any other breach of military etiquette, or failure to live up to the standards we have set. Am I understood?"

"The following weeks are not going to be easy. Nothing worth doing is. You can look at as an opportunity to grow, and learn something, or you can complain endlessly. Either way I will make sure you graduate this course. I would like to take this opportunity to remind all of you that you are here by choice, and it is choice that is going to keep you here. You are free to step out that door, and quit at anytime. There is however no coming back. You wash out that's it. If you stick it out though, and push yourself to meet the standard you will become members of Rogue Squadron." He paused for a moment to look over all of them trying to lock eyes with as many as he could. They technically shouldn't be meeting his gaze right now being at attention, but if they were he wasn't going to say anything. It was a good sign he had their attention.

Stepping back he pointed to a pile of orange flightsuits. "You will form an orderly line, and each take ONE of these uniforms. You will wear it each, and every day you are in training. It will be clean each morning, but not pressed. It's a combat uniform, and I will not have any of you reducing it's effectiveness by doing that. After that you will see Drill Instructor Chacon to receive your blaster rifle. Don't touch the safety, or mess with it in any way unless told to. A negligent discharge will put you, and someone else in a world of hurt. Now fall out!"

Everyone had their secrets- that was part of life. Some were good, some were bad, and some were so out there that people generally seemed to ignore them. Growing up on Tatooine there had been many things people being raised on the dustball of a planet were expected to be. You were strong or you didn't survive for long. Work was always needed doing when it came to living in the more remote areas of the planet with the constant sand storms that sent people scattering for shelter and devastating the moisture vaporators. Gavin had been a kid when his parents moved their large family to the old Lars Homestead finding the freedom the space brought to them needed as well as doing right by the previous owner after the Lars' had died. Finding space to be himself was beyond possible at times unless the youth found the little nooks and crannies the homestead had to offer.

No one knew that he could draw. Being artistic wasn't something that the planet could offer anyone and his parents had never known their eldest child could do it. Well they had known when he was younger until Biggs had relentlessly teased him for having bigger dreams of doing something other than staying on Tatooine. That was the day Davin had stopped talking to people or showing them what he could do. You couldn't be tough and doodle sketches, his cousin had told him. Secretly he had kept it up though taking what chances or less hours of sleep he could just to capture those little moments that would make the day.

Gavin wasn't exactly sure how he had found the supplies in the city. Poking around enough empty buildings had given him a full sketch book, various colored pencils, and some charcoal sticks. With his old books being gone the memories since leaving Tatooine, even prior to joining the Rogues, were sketchy at best. Which was the reason the young man was curled up in one of the chairs in the observation deck in a back corner facing the stars where hopefully no one he knew could find him out. In only a few hours his fingers had turned black from smudging lines and shading, the book already near half full with things he wanted to remember and faces that he knew. Wes, Hobbie, Lujayne, Corran, Mirax, Ooryl, just to name a few who weren't there, even spreading out to previous planets or combat missions. Then people on the ship with happy expressions before the battle with the Ohm to the more sober looks of near defeated crew members who were just pleased to be alive. Yes, even the cake had made it in to one doodled corner with a knife sticking out of it. Raising his hand, Gavin rubbed at his cheek with his thumb leaving a trail of black that was sort of hard to miss. He was lost in his own little world and very prone to someone walking up on him.

Thrawn had gathered and reviewed every scrap of information Stacy had about the disastrous battle with the Ohm--every after-action report, every camera angle. Now, in the Sensorium, he was watching the skirmish unfold in three unsettling dimensions. It was a reconstruction, only as good as the crews' accounts and his own tactical skill. The latter, at least, was formidable.

Parts of the battlefield were empty, grayed-out in a literal "fog of war," where Thrawn had too little information to fill them in. They shifted and flowed as the fight progressed, crewmembers and Ohm disappearing into them and then popping back into existence where the records picked up again.

Gradually, however, the blank spaces were disappearing, as Thrawn ran various scenarios and decided on the most likely. Combat would pause, reverse itself, and then resume with tiny differences, again and again, as bit by bit, with infinite patience, the Grand Admiral recreated the battle to his satisfaction.

If he had any say in the matter, no confrontation with the Ohm would go so poorly again.

Wedge was tired. He hadn't slept much since they'd gotten back to the ship. He'd been busy going over recordings, sensor-readings and other data from their fight with the Ohm. And in between that he'd been checking up on Shinn in the med bay and moving furniture and other things into the headquarters. But this was important. Discussing what had happened, getting impressions from his people and speaking to them about it would be important. So he waited, leaning against the wall in the briefing room, which had been refurnished, along with the other rooms of the headquarters. At least no one was dead, right?