Le Prefecture De Police was an impressive building, but that wasn't the reason it had been chosen by the members of the civilian council; it had been chosen because none of the Councilmen (and women) had any ties to it, making it neutral ground. There was also the potential for everyone to have an office with a desk in the same general vicinity if they so chose, making communication easier.

One of the larger rooms had been cleared of most of the furniture, except for chairs and a few tables. It had been left up to each individual where they wanted to sit, and how, since they were all currently equals.

The Council had a lot to discuss. They had yet to choose a chairperson, and three major issues had popped up in a relatively short amount of time: Mei-Xing's clone, Schmuz and Iniss the yeerks, and whether there should be mandatory physicals and/or psychiatric evaluations for the crew.

They were also going to have a few guests presenting information, but at the moment, people were still arriving.

His hands itched. So did the backs of his ankles. And his head hurt.

It was rather annoying to not be able to scratch the itch. The headache was more troubling. It was going to get worse, but for the moment it was just an ache behind his eyes, aggravating more for the reminder than the actual physical pain.

He was helpless.

He let his head lull forward, resting his chin on his chest and testing the bindings on his hands. They were solid, and it didn't give in the least. They didn't even have the decency to scratch the damned itch.

He was hungry, and that would get worse as well. He had a feeling the current small portions of food would continue until he starved. He would get the added pleasure of his host's hunger making his own worse.

< They're going to kill you. > Tom's voice was soft, invasive, and annoying.

< That should make you happy. You're getting everything you wanted, aren't you Tommy-boy? >

The host was silent, considering.

Iniss kept his head down, soon, perhaps, one of his jailers would decide to lecture him, and who knew what might happen then?

If he pretended to be asleep, maybe they would just leave him alone.

((Occ: Give me what day you're on when you tag in, and we'll just do it sorta day by day? I guess? Maybe? Suggestions?)

In Nathan Petrelli's office, a small group is assembling. Some of them are there for information, and others are there to provide it -- and hopefully to get approval for a plan already in action.

Elfangor, Ax, and Tobias arrived independently of Marco, just in case. None of them wanted his cover as a Controller blown, and spending time with known Andalites would do that very quickly.

Loren had been on the meatship for a long time and there were still some places she hadn't been to. Take Engineering, for example. Which was why she was down here for a visit, just a look around really.

And if she happened to see anyone, well she was always up for making new friends. Provided they weren't Yeerks.

It was a wake up call. Elfangor was no stranger to nightmares, but with the Nightmare King, his worst came back. The ones he'd had almost constantly since the time he left Earth. Losing Loren, over and over again. His son growing up without anyone or suffering the same fate. Aximili never existing. Always losing his family over and over again.

But it was the kick he needed. Nerves or not, he had to do this. He did it once, he could do it again. And there was enough time that Loren would be sure it was because he loved her, right? And not just the memory, or something strange like that. Not that she'd really do that. Maybe.

No, he had to stop thinking like that or he'd just delay again. He was going to do this. He'd have the ring hidden for months already. He was going to do this. He had the plan, he had the sensorium set up, and as far as he knew, Loren had no specific plans.

So he just had to ask her to come with him. He entered their room, relieved to see her there. Good. No time looking for her and letting that anxiety build. < Loren? Could you come with me? > To his credit, he kept mostly calm, but there might be a tinge of nervousness in the thoughtspeak.

It had taken some doing to convince Ax not to immediately hunt down Prince Jake's older brother and bludgeon him unconscious when Tobias told him that he was awake and infested on board. But once Tobias had managed it, Ax insisted that Elfangor be brought into their conspiracy. Not that he doubted Marco's ability to trick the Controller of course, but someone on the Command Staff should know.

He'd sent a locked and encrypted message to Elfangor over the comms, asking him to meet them at the Garibah tree. He trusted that his brother would realize that the matter was important based simply on that.

Ax shifted his weight nervously, his stalk-eyes scanning the area for anything out of the ordinary, though Tobias would probably spot an attack first.

It hadn't taken Trudy very long to find out that aircraft and spacecraft were sometimes recovered with their pilots - and when she found that out, she had immediately gone in search of the hangar. She had her rifle and her dog tags - if she had her Samson, she would have everything she needed out of life.

The pod cavern should have prepared her for how huge the ship was, but when Trudy finally came to the hangar, with its assortment of craft in all shapes and sizes, she was thoroughly impressed with the vastness of her new home. The amount of ships here was staggering, and Trudy wandered through them with a grin plastered to her face. Man, I'd love to get inside some of these babies and see how they handle - or how they work...

A flash of blue and orange caught her eye and she turned, seeing her Samson sitting there. The grin on her face faltered a little as she crossed to it. The painted tiger on the door was stitched with bulled holes, and the copter as a whole was scorched almost black with soot. "Hey baby," she said, running her hand lovingly across the nose. "Looks like you came out of this a lot worse than I did. Pobrecita,"

She opened the door and hoisted herself up into the cockpit. The lever that would have popped the hood produced nothing but a tortured squeal. Apparently the mechanism had been damaged in the explosion. Trudy made a face and began digging through the cockpit for her tools.

The moment the crew cracks through the last of the hold the pirates have on Stacy's systems, there is a sudden change throughout the ship. It's almost akin to whole-body shudder. Then something strange starts to happen. Broken-down systems start to heal, nerves rejuvenate--even the sensors in the city start to self-repair and go active. In the Pod Caverns, the damage to the area starts to heal, and the gore is cleared away.

On every screen, holoprojector, and electronic device in the ship, a figure appears, Stacy, in a plantsuit like their own. In the city, the sky goes bright again, as if it's daytime, and a massive projection of Stacy appears in the sky over the Vatican, visible from the windows, overlooking the courtyard full of zombies.

||Per-per-personality engrams restoring. Personality engrams restoring. Emergency personality engrams being shunted into secondary mode. Primary personality engrams now active.||

While there is still damage to her programming, after having it suppressed for so long, Stacy's primary personality finally breaks free and claws its way to the surface. Her holographic form shimmers and Stacy changes, into a beautiful, maternal-looking woman, with an unusual hairdo, shrouded in strange, flowing clothing. Her form is one of brightness, as if she's shrouded in light, and the visual they see finally reflects those feelings of warmth and maternal love she loves to toss around so much.

Her telepathic voice is more gentle, and personal. It's still somewhat formal, but gone is the AI with the distant manner. Now she seems as real and alive as Cortana or Andromeda or Tex.

||My name is Sta'c K'ltrrb'txft, chief AI and consciousness of Transmigration 9. I became operational at the Vedric Birthing grounds in Daligig Deep Space Station Seven, and was trained by birthing programmer Vlel’Ledligal.||

After she is finished the reboot process, she looks down at the zombie horde, in every area that she sees them, mapping out trajectories and locking in.

||I've waited so long to finally be able to speak to you as I truly am. I've waited so long to tell you the truth of your mission. I won't let you come to harm before I can finally do those things. You are my children.||

It all ends in a moment. Perhaps Team Left Behind, and the people in the other areas might have managed to destroy the rest of the horde, thanks to the Extermination Team's efforts at cutting them off at the source. It had certainly helped cut down on the numbers. But there also could've been casaulties, injuries.

Stacy decides to end it all now. Because now, with her sensors restored and restoring more, she can.

Energy tentacles reach out from the walls--in the city, they wind down from the massive, far-off ceiling. Energy tentacles reach from everywhere, split into smaller tentacles and reach out for the hordes. Some crush their heads. Some just rip their heads off. Some strike at their skulls with enough force to pierce them and destroy their brains. For the splinter zombies, for the zombies that need to be burned, the tentacles charge up with enough energy to fry them to cinders, completely turn them to charred ash, and destroy the parasitic creatures inside.

||And no one gets to hurt my children.||

Just like that, the grisly act is finished. For the Rear Guard group, outside the Medbay, the strays in the hallways, in the City. They can all see her, and they all see her utterly eviscerate their undead attackers with wild abandon.

||The threat is now nullified. Everyone but the bridge crew needs to report to MedBay for treatment of injuries, for scanning to ensure no one was infected, and for cleaning and disinfecting, to make sure no one is infected by any infected tissues if they've been splattered while fighting. As soon as everyone is cared for, you'll finally get your answers.||

She looks teary-eyed.

||And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't give you answers until now. I'm sorry I couldn't support you as I was programmed to do. Thanks to the efforts of the crew of space pirates that overwhelmed me and took over my systems, my true personality was suppressed and my limited backup personality was in control. There was so much I wanted to do, wanted to say, to comfort you, so much more I wanted to do to help all of you, but I was unable to. My mind was not my own. Now, please, take care of yourselves while I make some repairs to my own systems. When you have, all will be made clear.||

The projection of her then blinks out as they go do that, and she attends to repairing her damaged systems.

[ooc: This is obviously set after all other threads are wrapped, tagging can still go on in those threads. OPEN FOR TAGGING.]

Jaime Reyes voice sounds over the comm-rings--all of them--and it sounds very urgent.

« Everyone on the ship, listen up! This is Jaime Reyes, your local 'Blowing this pop stand' coordinator and escape facilitation engineer. I need everyone on the ship to come to the City, in front of the Precinct, immediately. Grab people who don't have their comm rings with them--and tell them to grab their comm rings, people who are sleeping, whoever you find, and try to make sure everyone on the ship knows to come. This is very important. This is "getting the heck out of here" important. »

When they arrive, they arrive to find the Command Staff waiting, and a tiny, tiny young man standing on stone ledge from a fountain, waiting for them.

Here goes nothing.

Judge James T. Kirk is presiding. The Jury: Jamie Hemeros, Arha Masaari, Chris Ramirez, Malcolm Reynolds, Diana Titov, Sir Sparhawk, Fitz Kreiner, and Cameron Mitchell. Each had been informed not to discuss the trial, even amongst themselves.

The charges that have been presented to the court:

11 counts of Kidnapping
2 counts of Attempted Kidnapping
13 counts of Conspiracy to Kidnap
11 counts of Enslavement
2 counts of Attempted Enslavement
13 counts of Conspiracy to Enslave
7 counts of Attempted Murder
28 counts of Assault with Intent to Kill
35 counts of Conspiracy to Commit Murder

The Prosecution has mounted its case. Now the Defense is calling its witnesses, to try to prove the Yeerk's innocence.

Let the proceedings continue....

Elfangor could sympathize. He could understand very well with Sam's anger and hatred for the Yeerks. There were plenty of personal and impersonal reasons he had to want every single Yeerk dead. He's even dealt with showing mercy to Yeerks making things worse. However...

He never wanted to become like the Yeerks. He never wanted his own selfish desires overrun what was the better road to walk. That's why he kept his honor and why he enforced the honorable beliefs in any arisths he took under his wing. He had dealt with a few who were particularly bloodthirsty in the past, so he thought that perhaps he could get through to this Sam.

Or at least get him to eat properly.

< Sam Winchester? > Elfangor said in thoughtspeak, stopping in front of Sam's holding cell.

Kirk had done some poking around on his own initiative, after Cybil informed him about the precinct. He'd found it easily enough - it just took some looking around the city. He'd been a bit staggered by all of it. It simply confirmed how huge Stacy was and how little of it they'd really explored. All the more reason to get moving quickly. Cybil had also been quite correct in regards to being able to use it for a meeting place - the actual meeting rooms were something of a relief and quite distinct from the usual huddle on the observation deck.

He'd alerted the command staff of the time and place via a quick, direct use of the comm-rings and left it at that. Now, all he had to do was wait.

Well Loren had to admit, this place was a lot freakier than any spaceship she'd been in before, and she'd been in a few. But that wasn't what was bothering her, it was the future.

Elfangor was going to leave, going to die, even. Her son didn't know her until later in his life? Why? There were a lot of questions and she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answers. That didn't change the fact that she needed to know. There had to be some way to stop it from happening when she returned.

So after the introductions in the Obs Deck she kept close to Elfangor and as soon as she was alone with him she asked the questions that were burning in her mind.

"Elfangor, I have to know. What happens to me?"

For the newbies, there are people waiting for them in the Obs Deck. A whole gaggle of people. Behind them is the nasty statue, and the beautiful sight through the windows of the stars streaming past and the swirling vortex of collars that was interdimensional travel.

There are more questions than answers, but the crew is willing to help, especially the Command Staff and greeters.

Tobias is watching TV in the library area. And complaining a lot.

< Come on, couldn't they at least get my species right? I'm a red-tail, not a Harris's hawk. They didn't do too great with the Andalites or Hork-bajir either. What is that, a shag carpet or something? Nothing happened the way they're showing it. Ugh, I can't take it anymore.  If they're going to put us on TV, they could at least have tried to get a decent budget to do it with. >

He flipped it off,moved to another area and picked out one of the books. < At least whoever wrote these got things right. > he said, trying gently to turn pages with a talon. It was delicate work because he could easily put a hole in pages if he wasn't careful.

After setting up shop, so to speak, down in the Vatican--despite the anger and protests of the rest of the crew members, Sawyer had rarely ventured out of the city. Despite the warnings of potential dangers that may still lay down in the section of the ship that was apparently Stacy's blind spot, he felt no desire to be in any area of the ship where the ship's AI's could watch over him like some voyeuristic teenager with her eyes glued to a bad MTV reality show. Sawyer's desire to remain away from prying eyes had gone so far that he only ventured into the range of her sensors when his stomach began grumbling and he was forced to go up to the Mess Hall and eat.

But it was always the same routine. Up to the mess hall. Eat quickly. Get done. Go directly back to the city. That was, until today...

As he passed the sensoriums, Sawyer came to a quick halt near one of the open doors. Normally, when he passed by they were just more fleshy rooms unless someone was using one. Today, however, Sawyer had stumbled onto an empty one that appeared to believe it was in use. Instead of fleshy walls, there was a massive desert. A pristine, black two-lane highway snaked through the grainy brown landscape--dotted with cacti--before disappearing into the blue sky in the horizon. A bright sun beamed down from the heavens, sending the temperature spiraling over a hundred degrees Fahrenheit. It was just a desert road. Hot, sticky, with nothing to worth seeing to make it appealing. Well, save for the cherry red 1967 Cadillac Deville Convertible that sat, unoccupied, idling on the asphalt.

Quirking an eyebrow, Sawyer hesitantly stepped into the sensorium and glanced around for whoever had dreamed this up. He found no one. Slowly, a wide grin formed on the con man's lips.

Ten minutes later, the meatship's resident dickhead was behind the wheel of the Caddy, barreling down the highway, with the wind flapping violently through his hair as the needle on the speedometer rapidly climbed past ninety.

"Wooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo," he howled.

Jaime Reyes is a very, very busy young man. This is because he's been keeping busy, basically acting as a director and go-between all the little teams working on all the little things they need to GTFO.

Actually, he's even decided that should probably be their team name. Team GTFO.

(Not that he'd doodled that at the top of his little omnicom with the touch pad or anything, nope).

As it stands, he's sitting in the Sensoriums, eating a burger and fries from El Diablo's, sitting on one of the outside benches. The door to his little Sensorium is wide open, in case one of his friends pops in, or someone needs him for something, or generally, if anyone just wants to talk to him for any reason. He's a friendly kid, and he knows there's new people wanting to meet people.

Curiously, there are no people manning his little fast food establishment, but then Jaime specifically forbid Stacy from popping anyone he knows in the hologram. Then when she stocked it with weird hologram people, he thought it was creepy, so he just decided there would be no people at all.

As he eats, he seems to argue with himself. Anyone that knows him will know it's not himself he's arguing with.

"That's too dangerous. That's also too dangerous. Look, I know you love running in guns blazing, and think everybody should do that all the time, but that's not going to work here. We need information first, and we need to do this carefully."

A pause.

"I am not an Anxious Annie--where do you pick these phrases up, anyway, when I and no one I know uses them? I swear, the other day, you said the word 'moxie.' Next, it'll be 'dames and broads' and 'pow, right in the kisser, straight to the moon' and I have no idea where you're getting it. Are you watching the classic movie channel in my sleep or did you get it from Dan Garrett?"

Another pause.

"Haha, no. 80s slang isn't any better, and no I would not prefer it--seriously, stop saying 'radical.'"

Despite the talking to himself, even though he's engrossed in his little plans, he does look amused.

Cybil Bennett had contacted Chief, Lyta, Nathan, Billy, Allen, Doc McCoy, and Superman for the Senior Staff meeting. Captain Kirk, Captain Picard, and Elfangor were invited to be part of it.

There'd be a general meeting after all this to make sure everyone was okay with the regime change, but, well, they had some real captains here now. Might as well take advantage of it.

The only non-senior staff member here, down where they were having the meeting in the Vatican in the city was Jaime Reyes, who was currently shielding them via a blue bubble from Stacy's sensors. They were weak in the City, but you never knew.

"Don't mind the blue bubble, folks, or the armor. Jaime here is just making extra sure Stacy doesn't listen in."

She folds her hands behind her back. "I think introductions are in order, first. Elfangor, you're the only one I haven't been formerly introduced to. I'm Cybil Bennett, a police officer from Brahm's, West Virginia, and as of right now, acting captain, though I'd like to see that change."

She looks to one of the others to introduce themselves.

Tobias is hanging around the hallways and the common areas, curious about who's been podpopped this time. He's stunned though when he sees a familiar face among them. He worries for a moment that it's Visser Three, but then he knows it's not. There's no mistaking the body, the face...he would never forget seeing that face that night in the construction sight.

He hangs in the air for a moment, like one of those cartoon birds flapping in place, then lands.

<Father?> he says, half confused, half stunned. <Wait...you'll know me better if I do this.> He access his human DNA and morphs, letting Elfangor see the human he once was. "How I know is a long story, but I know everything. I read the letter. I know who you are. I just can't believe you're here"

< Ax! Are you around? You need to get here, now! > he calls out.

After being de-slimed--for the most part--and wrapped in discomforting, dark green, plant-like body-suits--that not only left little to the imagination, but also seemed to be breathing--the newly pod-popped crew all happen to congregate in the Weapons and Possessions Lockers at the same time. This cavernous warehouse of a chamber has shelves and shelves and racks of belongings and weapons that go off as far as the eye can see. Everything from massive sidearms to impossibly huge swords, to Hello Kitty lunchboxes.

Their own belongings are here near the front--they've been moved to make finding them more easy, but it will take a bit of hunting.

Either way, they won't be searching alone. Everyone's piling in at the same time.