It wasn't that the ship, Stacy, was silent. There were people running about, engines groaning and the walls creaking. Stacy was far from that. however, there was no... life. No mothers coddling babes or work-men selling their wares. There was children, but they were older than their ages permitted, and she didn't exactly know what to make of them.

Thus, she had found the sensoriums, and with a relieved sigh, she took in the false sights of home, the pigeons gathering on the window sills, the rats running in the muck to the side of the road. It might not be real, but it was close and all she needed now was a way to find bread, hopefully feed the birds, and pretend.

While events unfolded on the other side of the door, the Rearguard team would soon find that things were going to hell in a hand basket for them as well.

Not long after the Quarantine section was opened, the lurching, prowling, and mostly-rotting figures began pouring through the ship, a significant portion of which found their way to the Hub. This, of course, meant the zombies were now being sent to nearly every level of the ship.

Which means that now, they were making their way to the upper level where Team GTFO were, coming through the team's only way back.

Life's a bitch sometimes, ain't it?

They'd soon start to hear them approaching, some moaning and shuffling slowly towards them, while others could be heard growling and gibbering madly as they quickly rushed forward, running the whole gamut of zombie archetypes.

The 'bots and Khel didn't have too much to worry about from them, though, as they couldn't be infected, but they weren't what the zombies were after.

No, they were hungry, looking for the nearest source of fresh meat.

Mei Ling.

They'd best get themselves ready for a shitstorm, 'cause there's some clouds a-brewin'.

Team GTFO gathers in the Living Area Level, near what appears to be a blank wall near the Sensoriums, and now it's time to distribute equipment, go over the specifics of the plan, and get ready to commence Operations. With a capital 'O'.

There's a multitude of robot drones and other equipment about.


[ooc: Read instructions for these threads here! Edit: Srsly. Read 'em. Try to keep all the subthreads as one consecutive thread. Please?]

In her sealed, silent, sensory-deprived meditation room, Roxie is sleeping. It's a special sleep: for all dreams are connected, she knows, and by spinning her mind out along the web of thought, she might step into others...

[Roxie is dream-hopping, getting a look at the subconsciousnesses of the other people on the ship. So, how it works - if you're interested, go ahead and post with a dream your character is having, and Roxie will slip into it, subtle at first but more obvious as she tries to satisfy her curiosity. Just her being around will make the dreamer more lucid and more likely to remember the whole thing when they wake up.

Also, feel free to ask any OOC questions in a thread here, or poke me on AIM at 'anagramarye'.]

Meet n' Greet, smell my feet, gimme something good to eat! Unfortunately, the newbie meet and greet takes place the same time the command staff is congregating, so they might be a little late to the party.

But the crew is there to welcome the newcomers and explain their situation. At the end of the milling and spilling about, the command staff is going to start a general meeting to apprise everyone of their situation and discuss their next course of action:

Getting off the damn ship.

12 - 1700 hours - Crew Work. Check.
17 - 1800 hours - Visit Leels in the hoosegow. Check.
18-2000 hours - personal projects. In progress.

Over in the Engineering department, Allen is putting the finishing touches on a small, nondescript device. It's sleek, black, has a lense, and when he engages it, it floats, then zips over his shoulder and down Stacy's halls.

"Control, f, my wife," he murmurs as he saunters after it. He turns off as the device zips on its way and comes to a stop in the Media Lab, where he flops down to wait, either for updates, or tentacles.

In the meantime, he puts on Casablanca. For the fourth time this month.

Kyle has been oblivious to the miniature civil war that had erupted, but it's likely that even if he had known, he would have taken no part in it. He's had enough of war for a while, especially considering he wasn't around for the events that precipitated this particular fight, and he's not about to go jumping into any fray without a good reason.

Instead, he's been holed up in the Sensoriums, in a replica of his old workroom, finally making all the half-baked concept weapons that he just never had time for back where he comes from. At the moment, he's got a small, working railgun prototype sitting in the middle of a clear space. A search through the media library had turned up some interesting facts about superconductors, and after running tests on the various suggestions, he's fitting the prototype with superconducting wires. They still require some cooling, but not as extensively as other superconductors, eliminating the need for liquid nitrogen.

He's completely engrossed in the delicate work, and has almost forgotten why he'd come today in particular -- Yoshimi is going to try out the SMG he rebuilt.

Having spent the last week or so exploring this odd vessel, Roy is hardly surprised when he finally manages to get to the Sensoriums in one shot. Getting lost has become a part of his routine, but out of sheer determination he has figured Stacy's confusing hallways out.

He allows himself a small smile, a miniscule quirk of his lips in recognition of this small triumph against his captor. Pulling his gloves from the pocket of his greatcoat, he exhales steadily, loudly, his eyes narrowing as the room summons a series of moving targets in the shape of various creatures. He eyes one, internally forming an alchemic equation suited to large explosions, and dodges out of the way as it lunges at him. A snap is barely heard over the sounds of running feet, snarling, and the nearest set of targets explodes in a ball of flame directed from Roy's index finger.

As the room continually summons more targets for him to singe, his equations shift from explosions to slow burning flames to lakes of fire to something akin to lightning, a technique he was still perfecting.

A smirk blossoms, his telltale cockiness showing through as he incinerates yet another target.

[Instructions: Here.]

The fighting begins in earnest, as bystanders get dragged in, have to duck out of the way, or join in to help out, but with more people entering the fray, there's even more chaos.

Buildings have been cracked, a nearby fountain has been smashed, causing water to pour over the ground and make things even more of a mess.

Can anyone, Security or the Conspirators, keep the situation under control?

Indy did not like this ship. He did not like the meatiness. He did not like the tentacles that looked like snakes. He did not like the people who greeted him by yelling "Snake!" He did not like green eggs and ham the fact that he was wandering around hatless.

As much as he disliked the ship, he did like the fact that there was so much to explore on this ship. A quick look around the city revealed lost temples, old ruins, basically everything Indiana lives for.

Unfortunately, such explorations would have to wait. At least, explorations other than the weapons and possessions locker would have to wait. The good archaeologist was looking for something. Not some priceless artifact or unknown relic, he was looking for a hat. A simple, brown hat.

But it was Indy's most important possession, and he had to find it.

The Sensorium was dark around him, its empty, featureless state as the default.

Kira closed his eyes for a moment, a part of his mind telling him to not do this - it had been almost two years since he'd last flown, and why just accept war like that? But no, he shook that off. There were things worth fighting for, and this world was one worth protecting. He would need to keep his skills sharp.

All that was left was a proper test of the program he'd written. "Stacy," Kira said aloud, his voice quiet. "Please run program KI_YA_SIMU.01... Setting: Space, Earth Orbit; Craft: ZGMF-X10A Freedom."

As the words left his mouth, the room around him transformed, becoming a cavernous hangar bay that lay open to the star-speckled black of space and the small blue-white-and-green orb that was the Earth as viewed from one of the Lagrange points. His clothes, too, changed - the teal-and-white flightsuit that he had once worn, and it was remarkable how accurate it was to his memory.

He was standing on a walkway forty or so feet above the floor of the hangar bay, a walkway which led to an open cockpit in the chest of the machine standing sixty feet tall in front of him: His Freedom Gundam.

Kira stood there, looking at the familiar Mobile Suit, and felt... nostalgic, in a way. It had been almost a partner to him, hadn't it? And if what he'd been told was true... it would be his partner here, too.

He tightened the seals on the helmet of his flight suit as he walked forward, climbing into the cockpit and strapping himself in. The door slid shut, and the small chamber was dark for a split second before the viewscreens that surrounded him lit up, providing him with an unobstructed view of the hangar bay. For a moment, his breath caught in his throat as he reached to touch the ignition... and then he pressed it.

"Kira Yamato, Freedom. Heading out!"

(ooc: The door to the sensorium is programmed to open into a viewing chamber. Come bug Kira, talk about giant robots, or use your own!)

Roxie has claimed a small niche by a window to spread out a wide array of things from the pockets of her denim jacket--candies, staple remover, scroll case, pencils, small stuffed animals, empty glass soda bottle, strips of tinfoil, binoculars, pocket change from a dozen countries... There's enough stuff to fill a good-sized suitcase, collections of household and office and street detritus differentiated from random junk only by the obvious care given to the items involved.

And between and connecting them, and circling herself, are red lines drawn on the floor with what looks suspiciously like slowly-drying blood. The jean jacket she usually wears is loose, with one of the oversized arms tied around one of her arms as a makeshift tourniquet--despite it, the long, deep-looking cut along that palm is still dripping. Beside her, in one of the drawn circles, lies a butcher's knife encrusted with dried blood. There's a certain sense of historical occultism to the blood-drawn designs: one might recognize things almost but not quite like thaumaturgical symbols, or Sumer-era glyphs, or even a few distorted pop-cult commercial brand symbols.

Feel free to come say hello and ask what she's doing, or perhaps panic a little that she's bled herself enough to make most people her (small even for her age) size start going into shock. Your choice, really.

"Stupid slagging diode-blooming meatship downgrading meee-eeeeee!" Sentinel roared his displeasure as he veered around another corner. He was still getting used to the different sense of balance with his reduced size. The change in mass was playing havoc on his handling. How did the damn Bumbler deal with the change?

He clipped another corner, not slowing down as he refused to give up. Hopefully none of those skittering organics would get in his way this time.

"A book holds a house of gold," Mei Ling sighs. She was talking to herself again, but she couldn't stop herself. Granted, there weren't actual books per se. She admitted she missed that feeling of the pages beneath her fingers, but this was good enough for the moment.

She had been inspecting one of the novel pads. Having mastered copious amounts of world literature from her native planet Earth, she had turned her attention to a piece of fine literature from a distant planet that she now had access to due to the wonders of Stacy. To Mei Ling, it was as close to heaven on Earth (or in space rather) as she was ever going to get.

Of course, feel free to pluck the happy little literature buff from her book-induced euphoria.

There is an empty spot at a table. Completely and utterly empty. Everyone knows no one is sitting there and there's no obvious sign someone IS going to sit there.

That is until someone is suddenly THERE with no prior sign of being anywhere near there. In fact, not many may recognize him. He wasn't around for any of the pod popped meetings, and he certainly wasn't the same ninja who was a doctor. For one, this one had a hat and no lab coat. Also a bit shorter too.

Dark Smoke Puncher figured since people DID know he was here now, he might as well try to get to know the crew. If it really was a secret ninja battle royale, than at least he could get to know his opponents instead of getting jumped because it was harder to hide from ninjas.

People may notice that his glop that was called food was decreasing in volume, yet he never moved his mask. It was clear he was eating too as he stated, "dawg, this stuff is rank!" Really, he'd prefer his mom's 'famous stewed beats.'

The final group, Mal, Prince, Blitzwing, Soundwave, Kaylee, and Elle went off in the direction of the sixth and final pod. They were very shortly out of the trees and underbrush, and there was something up ahead on the horizon.

Looked a bit like a civilization. But Stacy had said "no sentient life forms", hadn't she?

Blitzwing has, rather enthusiastically, taken well to the Sensoriums. He's avoided the occupied rooms, preferring his own company (as usual). He's also been through the Media Library and at Icy's behest has spent most of his time there, occupying himself with whatever reading material he can get his hands on and that he actually likes. Random, much to his siblings' annoyance, has spent his share of time giggling happily and letting the pod read his mood.

This usually consisted of Caramelldansen and other energetic pop songs (most of them Japanese) playing constantly, and Icy and Hothead were in mutual agreement after the first hour to never let Random in here again.
When it was Hothead's turn, he spent most of it watching military films.

After that little adventure was over, the triplechanger , with Icy in charge, went off to the Sensoriums. He wasn't quite sure what he wanted, so he just said 'a place to relax.'
He really wasn't expecting this.

It's New Kaon, exactly as he remembered it, oh yes that was a vivid memory-all twisted structures of Cybertronian metal and glass, glittering in the light of a Cybertronian sunset.
Which is almost like an Earth sunset, really.

In any case, he's currently sitting on the lip of the balcony, legs hanging off the side and breathing in the ambience of the place.
(Random and Hothead are too busy complaining about the lack of explosions to bother themselves with looking up 'ambience'.)

There's a slight breeze springing up, and he can feel it. Oh yes.  He used to love the place, for different reasons; maybe he still does.

Even a Decepticon appreciates peace, and quiet, and maybe even beauty-once in a while. Even if the Decepticon in question is crazy. Blitzwing shutters his optics briefly and swings his legs idly, toying with the idea of going for a flight or even blowing things up please please please?

Icy refuses to let Hothead and Random run rampant, promising they can change it to something else once it's their turn, and continues to quietly enjoy the scenery.

The Chief found something out while fighting the Taxxons, and that's that his aim isn't quite as sharp as he wants it to be right now. Whether that's because of being in the pod for a while or what, he doesn't know. It's just a detriment to his survival odds and so he's going to FIX it.

The thing he didn't anticipate, however, is what the Sensorium did when he asked it for a gun range.

He's standing behind a rather futuristic if unremarkable firing line, a massive room with the walls heavily insulated to absorb sound with a control system along one wall for various courses of fire.

He knows this place, and it sort of knocks the breath out of him a little bit. He stands in silence, just looking at it for a moment like a man who's seen a ghost. Because... he sort of has. This room probably doesn't even exist anymore, it's the range on Reach. He was trained here.

It's a fragile reverie, though. The next thing that catches his attention will break it and business will be got down to.

Down in the city, behind a holographic wall, an epic battle for the whole of Stacy was taking place.

The Yeerks had dug out a portion of Stacy's 'brain' and built a machine that would let them wipe it clean, let them take her over and control her. It would also probably destroy the coordinates that would let the rest of the crew find their way home, but the Yeerks didn't particularly care about that. They knew their own coordinates, that was all that mattered.

Bumblebee, the Doctor, and the Master had found the machine, following the directions of the very unfortunate Yeerk that had wound up in the Master's hands. They'd brought an unconscious West with them and were shortly confronted by Sub-Visser 7, the leader of this particular batch of Yeerks. Scorpius had apparently attempted to first team up with and then betray the Sub-Visser -- what the result of that was, the Sub-Visser hadn't said.

But between two Time Lords and an Autobot, they should have no problems taking down one baseline human, right?

Well, that was before he'd brought out the Taxxons. Giant, flesh-eating alien centipedes, driven by a mad hunger to devour anything that couldn't run away fast enough. They weren't very sturdy, and they would immediately fall upon any Taxxon unfortunate enough to be injured, but there were hundreds of them. And they just. Kept. Coming.

And over all the fighting, the machine that would wipe Stacy's brain was slowly charging up...

((OOC note.))

There are three major things happening. One of them is that the crew is sweeping through the ship, scanning whoever they find, and shipping the restrained Controllers back to the MedBay with some crew members.

Another is Paco--or his Yeerk, at least--is leading Scorpius, who appears to have betrayed the crew, towards the machine, hidden away in an alcove in the city, attached to one of the fleshy walls near one of Stacy's nerve clusters. It took them quite a while to find it.

The Yeerks do so love collaborators.

The last thing happening is the Doctor, Master, and Bumblebee, with the last one carrying an unconscious West, are hunting for that same machine and closing in.

With all these thing happening at once, the shit is, as they say, about to hit the fan.