So, you know those times when you get really, really restless? Like, to the point where you seriously can't sit still anymore, and you just have to pace around somewhere, or suffer the consequences?

Yeah, Caden's feeling that right now, which is why, at this very moment, he can be found wandering the Hangar, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

Oh. my. God. Why is there nothing to do? There's nothing to do.

Except stare at spaceships, apparently.

Wedge had been shocked, to say the least, to find out that one, his universe was probably gone, and two, that he had been conscripted into the war against those responsible. He had taken some time to think it over, and now that he'd managed to accept what was going on and fight down the rage and despair that Wes, Tycho, Iella...all his friends might be gone, he'd moved onto the next very important issue. Finding his ship and his astromech. R5-G8 (or Gate as Wedge called him) had been pretty easy to find, stored with several other droids in the clutter of the possessions bay. Then it was time for the fighter. He had made his way to the vehicle bay and been a little surprised by the low gravity. He left Gate out in the corridor, then pushed off into the bay himself. He drifted amongst the amazing variety of starfighters, shuttles, and even spotted what looked like a small frigate. It had been quite the relief when he'd found his X-wing, along with what seemed to be twenty-three matching craft in the shadow of a larger ship. He ran his hands across the hull, amazed. It was his fighter, alright. Right down to the kill markers and the Rogue Squadron markings. He had to smile, despite himself.

"At least there's something familiar here..." He sighed.

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.]

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?]

Wyn is Not Happy. Her best-friend-from-the-future is onboard the ship, which is nice, but something clearly goes horribly, horribly awry. Since he won't tell her what's wrong (thanks, Caden!), she's got to do something to take her mind off her questions. The little scout robot idea she's had bouncing around her head sounds like a good plan, but she doesn't quite have the parts she thought she would (thanks, Julian!). So basically, Wyn is glaring staring at her notebook, twirling what looks like an eyeliner pencil between her fingers and trying to come up with a workaround that doesn't involve ridiculous amounts of magic.

... well, she might not have much of a choice on the magic thing, but she'd prefer to avoid writing with her eyeliner if at all possible. She's got priorities.

Asking Stacy a few questions informed Kyle that the best place to work on melting down and rebuilding Yoshimi's SMG would be the Special Weapons Lab, and after a few wrong turns, he ended up there almost by accident.

Thankfully, it was empty, and he looked around thoughtfully, examining the various equipment. It's not a proper weapons-making facility, lacking some equipment and with only primitive versions of others, but he can work with it. Placing the broken SMG, and its small pieces, on a table free of other people's work, he set about finding some equipment. A heat source and a mold of some sort were imperative; he had a small laser chisel in his bag for finer work, but he needed the general shape. Some searching provided him with a small gas burner, a crucible, and a small, cylindrical mold. The last was a lucky find; he could use the laser chisel to make rectangular shapes, but it was harder to use it to make something round.

Using the crucible, he melted the SMG down in pieces, leaving the barrel, chamber, and trigger alone; those were fine, although they needed a good cleaning. After molding a number of the small cylinders, he set to work shaping them into the rest of the gun, with one cylinder set aside to make a silencer with.

He's not sure whether Yoshimi's going to wait for him to send her a message, or just come of her own accord - or, for that matter, whether someone's going to just walk in, and he keeps an ear out just in case. It probably wouldn't end well if he was startled while pouring molten stainless steel.

Caden really wishes that he had pockets. His desire for pockets right now is almost unbelievable. It is so strong that he allows his need to drive him to the Thinky Rooms that he has heard so much about, hoping that maybe he can think himself some pockets to aid him in his routine of frustrated pacing.

Yes, he is frustrated. And he is pacing. Well, actually he is walking to the Sensoriums, but hush with the technicalities. Just like every other newcomer to ever set foot on Stacy (except maybe a few of the calmer ones), Caden is completely lost as to what to do with himself anymore. Especially since there were things that had to be done at home, like, oh, looking for his best friend. It had been almost five months since she had disappeared - had simply been... not there - and even though he had teamed up with her asshole of a boss, they had still found nothing as far as an explanation of her disappearance. Kidnapping was their only guess, and it really hadn't done much for them, other than cause a level of nail-biting and snapping at each other that should have been impossible on a scale of one to stressed.

As if his life couldn't get worse, he's now stuck on a meatship without any pockets, without Hex (as he had taken to calling the aforementioned asshole of a boss as a way to simultaneously irritate and comfort him in Wyn's absence), and without any pockets.

Grumbling about creepy suits and a highly inconvenient lack of an article of clothing with (okay, the plantsuits have pockets, he just doesn't want to admit that because they're so... itty... and not big enough for shoving hands into unless you're willing to try really, really hard) pockets, he shoves his way into the Sensoriums, glaring at the white room at large for a long moment before blinking and asking for his favorite pair of jeans. It is quite obvious that his nervous habits are surfacing.

( Grumblegrumble Wyn grumble )

After being released from stasis, having the slime removed from their bodies and clothed in the creepy, pulsing leaf-suit that everyone wore, and being taken to the Weapons & Possessions lockers to collect their belongings, the new arrivals would find themselves standing in the Observation Deck. Round windows lined the fleshy walls, revealing the bright display of lights that was inter-dimensional travel. They would also discover that there were people--members of the command staff and crew that had woken earlier--waiting for them.

[ooc: Newbie Helpers List | Instructions: Post your character with one post establishing them as being podpopped. If you would like to play out them talking to the AI, please send an email to the mods making the request--we do this only by request. Then move onto the big Newbie Meeting. Once your character has gotten the rundown from the old crew, you may start posting entrance posts and freely tagging.]


||Pod Release Protocols Initating|| Stacy's familiar voice sounds out to all the podmates through the ship.

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

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

--

( There was nothing... )