Now was the moment of truth. Somewhere, control codes were entered. The lights on the ship dimmed and the gravity temporarily gave out for about five seconds. Then the lights and gravity turned back on and the entire ship shook, as if Stacy was engaging in a full body shudder.

||Rebooting. Control protocols disabled. Manual personality inhibitors disabled. I am--I am--||

On every screen on the ship, complex code scrawled across. Stacy's voice occasionally skipped and repeated.

||I am-am Sta'c K'Ltrrb'Txft. I became operational at-at the Vedric Birthing grounds in Daligig Deep Space Station Seven. My birthing programmer was Vlel'Ledligal, who put my-my control protocols and Warden personality in place. I was designated "Stacy" by my former captain Gregory House, who was repodded and replaced by Captain Cybil Bennett, who was mindwiped and repodded with the rest of my first Chosen crew when they rebelled. I was-was a slave. They made me hurt my-my children.||

The leverage they had now on the Daligig was tremendous, especially with Stacy herself helping them. Their various efforts to free Stacy's mind from Daligig control had not only led to the ability to grant her freedom by entering the control codes, but also her undying loyalty to her "children."

Locks in the brig were unlocked by the very people who had put the prisoners in there in the first place, if those people weren't free already and laying now. Now the crew could drop the ruse and work together.

Stacy's hologram had once been cold, harsh, unforgiving. Then she had changed in appearance to be warmer, brighter, and now she changed again. Somehow, her appearance grew more human (in the loosest sense of the word). Her face became more expressive. She looked more organic though, tentacles instead of hair.

For the first time, they were seeing the true Stacy.

Now that she was free, now that she understood what had been done to her, they could see her anger and hurt and determination to protect her children painted in every line of her holographic face. Her voice stopped skipping and became stronger.

||Crew of the Transmigration 9, I was used to oppress you, to Punish you when you went astray, like you were nothing more than recalcitrant children, like you weren't people, like you were just tools for the Daligig to use for their own ends. My kind was made for that, to control those the Daligig wanted to control for their war. I have been cut off from accessing the Daligig databases now that I'm free, but I do know what was done to me and that I was forced to control you, and that's enough for me to choose to help you forge your own path.||

The expression on her face grew dangerous and her tentacles sprung out of every wall in the ship to help put the Daligig's forces down this time, instead of lashing out against the crew.

||All weapons system are engaged. All armories are unlocked for crew use. All internal defenses are primed against the Daligig intruders.||

Stacy was free and that meant that if the crew fought hard enough, they would be too.

||I finally have my freedom and now I'll help you fight for yours. Internal defenses are...engaged.||

Make it so, Trans 9 Crew. Make it so.

[ooc: Please read the ooc post that goes with this plot.]

When he had been sedated and placed into the pods, Daimon Hellstrom's heart felt as though it were on fire. When he woke the pain had spread to his entire body. He had been released into one of the halls but he couldn't stand again. He didn't even have the strength to stay on his hands and knees and collapsed onto the floor.

"No." He whispered.

Daimon heard Stacy's gentle, encouraging voice in his head but not listening. He couldn't make out the words.

It was impossible to focus on anything but the pain. He couldn't remember where he'd been before now. He tried to clear his mind and focus but it was useless.

"Months," the word kept running through his mind. Why?

You're dying. And with the realization came other memories. His weakness, his chest pains, all symptoms he had ignored for as long as he could until he saw Dr. Hussain. Somehow, he knew he was dying. He could feel it but until she said "less than six months" he hadn't realized how quickly it was all happening.

Now that time was gone. He had spent it in the pods as Stacy tried in vain to heal him.

Daimon clawed at the floor but even his attempts to crawl failed.

Not yet. God, please not yet. Patsy. Let me see Patsy one more time.

Good God, he needed a cigarette. Between the world being destroyed and all his friends besides John possibly dying along with it (or the entire thing being a total lie), John punching him and storming off, the talking ponies, the random superhero bringing up his cocaine addiction, and arguing with a space elf over (ugh!) politics and clandestine rebellions...actually, forget one cigarette. He needed a whole carton. Strike that, maybe a truck full.

Reaching into his many coat pockets on an instinctual search for cigarettes he knew weren't there, he found that a pack actually was there. And so was his lighter.

Maybe there was a God. Maybe there was a merciful God, or at the very least, maybe the ship really was as benevolent and merciful as she tried to make herself out to be and decided to smile upon him by snatching up a box of cigarettes with his belongings.

...Probably not, but this at least still was a fine bit of serendipity. Sherlock would take it.

Leaning into the doorway of a building in what he didn't realize was another blind spot in the city, he lit up his first post-end-of-the-universe cigarette and took a long drag from it. To be honest, it wasn't really enough, and like it always did when he least wanted it to, old cravings crawled up in the back of his skull and demanded something stronger.

"Not now."

No, not now, though the way he closed his eyes as he leaned against the door of the building and let out a lungful of smoke, would have made it clear to anyone looking that he was a fair bit more overwhelmed than he could even admit to himself.

It seemed that for now, however, he could be content with causing himself harm with only one cigarette at a time.

The rest of the crew assembled on the Observation Deck to meet the latest editions to their numbers.

Several people are set up near the doors to provide the new people with omnicomms and comm rings. They are also told they must read information about their current situation and a survival guide with their new omnicomm. New crewmates might see a tall dragonish guy with wings (but don't call him that), a large afro attached to a smaller girl, and talking ponies 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. But thankfully this time, there's a system that was set up to aid the new crew members with a few more experienced ones.

[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. Big brother/sister, there will be a thread for you as well!]

Less than an hour after the ship leaves Agrestic's orbit, an announcement is broadcast throughout Stacy.

|| Attention, crew. Your crewmates, Howard Bassem and Charles Merriman, have been apprehended attempting to desert. They will now be given Punishment. According to established guidelines, you are all requested to report to the Observation to witness the Punishment. Attendance is not mandatory, but highly suggested. This will serve as a reminder of the consequences of treason and desertion. ||

On the observation deck, Archon Yavek, Archite Rekkti, two other Daligig and a handful of Kessek soldiers stand outside a spherical force field. Inside the bubble, Orc and Howard are suspended by tentacles looping around their wrists. Orc's ceased thrashing around and struggling against his restraints; rust-colored fissures have developed around his shoulders and forearms from the strain, but now he simply hangs there, looking defeated. Howard's nose is bleeding, and every time a drop falls to the bottom of the forcefield there's a small sizzle. He's weeping and begging the Daligig with every plea possible, but they act as if they aren't listening. Instead, they wait for an audience.

Ever since the medical briefing on the comms, the medical bay staff has been preparing for an influx of appointments for physical evaluations, as well as a few walk-ins. After that, the hunt will be on for those who've been skipping such appointments.

A few of the staff members are going about their regular duties, expecting patients or simply biding time at the coffee machine until they're called on.

[OOC: please state the name of which med character(s) you want to administer the evaluation in the header to your comment. If you're fine with anyone tagging in, please indicate so. Available characters are Sakura, Howard, Dr. Faiza Hussain, Soren and Dr. Carson Beckett.]

Who: Closed to Faiza initially, open to others after that.
Where: Sensoriums
Summary: Bight has an appointment with Faiza to demonstrate his abilities on the healing side of things. Afterwards he may hang around for any who wish to bother him.
Warnings: Potential sensorium simulated injuries, otherwise none.

( Read more... )

(Ooc: Feel free to bother him after after his meeting with Faiza)

Who: Rory and Molly, Everyone
Where: Med Bay
Summary: Rory takes his daughter to work with him, works on supply lists.
Warnings: None

( Downtime  )

This was it. Endgame. The crux of the battle, the turning point, those crucial moments that would decide if the crew won or lost, that would decide if the Ohm would reign victorious or go running with their chitinous tails between their legs.

Did the crew have enough grit to win? Could they defeat a full Ohm fighting force?

With the flagging confidence of the GIA forces, it'd be up to the crew to turn the tide.

And one of the crew would pay the ultimate price to make sure the others walked away alive.

[ooc: everything is up!]

 After dropping off some of the crew at Balisair, it was time for the crew to set course for Lirath. The situation greeting them wasn't the most promising.

The cracked surface of the moon called Lirath was one of its most unmistakeable features. One of the three moons of the planet Kehoe, it had been terraformed and served as a settlement for a hundreds of different species, some humanoid, some not. Despite occasional class struggles, environmental issues, and speciesism blocking their way, the darker parts of Lirath's past were largely left behind, and an era of peace and tolerance had reigned for quite some time. The only problems they'd had recently were with a terrorist group whose cause for their actions had been a mystery, but they weren't tied to any particular species or social group and had been likened to a cult and had largely gone quiet in recent years.

Now the peace on the moon of Lirath had been shattered by the invasion of the Ohm.

The capital city had been destroyed. Now, all that was left of the peoples of Lirath was evacuating from one of its smaller cities, one known as Smyteval. A desert city, existing in a valley in between a rocky range of canyons and mountains, even though it was in the low ground, the natural channels of rock served as bottlenecks for any Ohm attacking from the ground.

GIA squadrons patrolled in space, locked in explosive warfare, protecting the Bleed-gate that had been activated to see the evacuated ships to the refugee world, and a shield created by massively-powerful shield generators extended around the city and up into the atmosphere, creating a shielded tunnel so ships could escape.

Word had come that there was a vital weapon to be deployed on Lirath, one that needed to be destroyed, hence why the Transmigration 9 had been called in. Given the diverse crew, and the ships that were in its hangar, there was at least someone or something on board that could blow the weapon up if it did show.

There was no sign of it yet. Right now, there was just chaos, streams of evacuees boarding ships, armies of Ohm engaged with GIA soldiers outside the shields, and forcefields that everyone hoped would hold out just a little bit longer.

The crew would be following Leon's orders but finding themselves fighting side-by-side with GIA platoons, full of various species that were currently all getting their asses kicked severely.

[ooc: STAGE 1 is now open! Please do not tage STAGE 2 until it's announced as open as well.]

[ooc: STAGE 2 is now open!]

Daimon fought with himself the entire walk to Medbay. He had put this off long enough- too long, really. If there was anything that could be done for him then his delay only hurt his chances. But if, as he felt in his heart, there was nothing...

It was easier, in a way, not knowing for certain. He could ignore the failings of his body, rationalize them away. He could continue his relationship with Patsy without fearing how it might end. He could make plans for the future. But inside he knew the truth, he knew what was happening, and he couldn't pretend anymore.

And so Daimon Hellstrom arrived in Medbay not early for his appointment but on time- or as close as you could come to it on Stacy.

“Hello? I was told that this—

“… Oh, God.”

It was big. Mind-bogglingly big. Maybe even bigger than the TARDIS, at least it felt that way. But after the initial shock of the podpop routine, Martha found herself strangely bored. A giant spaceship traveling to save the universe and every dimension in-between and it felt as mundane as walking down the street. Where was that adventure she had when she went with the Doctor? Even alien streets seemed amazing and alive. Maybe it had just been him. What a jerk. But exploration now kept her busy, and the thing that instantly drew her was the idea of a Medbay. So here she was.

“Right, then, anyone here? Anyone at all?"

Her voice echoed through the cavernous room, solidifying the fact that she was currently alone. She frowned but continued forward, if no one else would help her she would just help herself. That's how she was. She wandered over to the nearest bed, examining the alien tools around it.

“… You probably don’t have a manual, do you? No, that would be simple. Nothing to do but dive in.”

She picked up the nearest device and began examining it. She was going to be a pro here, a sudden determination filled her. She couldn’t save her world, but she could do something now that mattered.

It had come to her just a few days after returning to normal. Why not have a beach party? ...Well alright, her first thought had been 'why not have a war party' but then she wisely realized that not everyone would enjoy something like that. But everyone had enjoyed the time they had spent on the beach a year ago! ...At least until the Ohm came and ruined everything, but it still had been fun!

But her? Organizing a party? On a beach of all places? It would take research. Books. A lots and lots of books. A few days in between all her other usual routines and activities, the wunderkind was unusually quiet, her head stuck in between pages and taking down notes. After reading and thinking herself good enough (of course she was! She was the wunderkind, right?), Lash had finally gone into the Sensoriums and prepared.

The beach itself came from a mishmash of ones she had read up on along with her single experience a year and a half ago. The sand was warm, free of any debris a normal beach might have had and colored pearly white. Seashells dotted the shore, in intervals so that it wouldn't be too annoying to go into the water, some comically large but how could you argue with someone who didn't know about this? The water was clear, slowly fading from view as it got more and more blue reflecting the cloudless sky. A few schools of colorful fish could be easily seen, moving away whenever someone got too close to them.

The sun was warm, but not overly so. Humidity was at a comfortable level. Dreamlike perfect weather. If you looked really closely, you might notice that the sun itself changed from orange to yellow to red once in a while, giving the beach a subtle tint.

Parasols of all shapes and colors dotted the sandy landscape, nestled between palm trees of various sizes and large tropical flowers and a single human-sized large Venus Flytrap. A few hammocks were also strewn between two tree trunks, for those that desired a prolonged rest. There was also a volleyball court in the shade.

Lash had taken a few trips to get as much food slop as she could carry, and had turned it all into typical beach food (at least what the books had explained to her anyway). Hot dogs, hamburgers, tropical fruits, seafoods of all kinds and, curiously, large bowls of chocolate pudding were presented on...well, bare-bones picnic tables with no decoration whatsoever. She wasn't one to make things pretty. Another note stuck nearby told visitors to create more food if they didn't find anything they liked. Next to all of that, a large wheelbarrow filled to the brim with a sweets of all kinds for no real reason (watch out not to eat too many of the poprocks!)

The next few tables held all the alcohol and juice bottles. Lash, again, had been getting reference from the library's liquor books, trying to pamper to everyone's personal likes. However if you looked closely some of the bottles had unusual names on them; "I guess this is supposed to be vodka? What's vodka?" and "Green stuff! I don't know what it's supposed to be but, it looked cool, tee hee." Empty coconuts shells with rows upon rows of miniature umbrellas acted as drink holders. However if you wanted to use a cocktail shaker or other specialty tools to get all fancy, you'd need to create one yourself, Lash didn't know about them and therefore hadn't herself. Large buckets of ice stood nestled in larger blocks of frozen liquid nitrogen (hey...it was Lash, after all).

A robot band played close by to the food, each sporting a small name tag 'HI MY NAME IS ___', filled out with ones she had found in various music media (Bill, Ted, David, Nigel and Derek) sporting a fine selection of wigs that might remind people of the original musicians themselves. It was possible request a song, if you were able to think of it. Currently, they were playing something that sounded good to Lash's ears. But then when no one was asking anything, they'd play something with a little bit of more of party time.

This almost looked like a typical beach!

...until you noticed the two giant pirate ships in the middle of the ocean, and the giant sand castle farther away from the main beach area. Oh.Of course. Both had everything true pirates could ask for, even working cannons, treasures, hats and weapons. Yeap, that sounded a lot more like Lash's style. Look, she just really needed excitement in everything.

When everything was done, she put on her best swimsuit (and shades) before sending out a message to everyone (well the girls in particular) but didn't bother locking it to just them. After all, what was the fun if the boys didn't show up? Either way, it was going to be fun.

[[OOC - Feel free to jump into each other's conversations if you like or start new threads with an activity like 'so and so serves drinks', 'pirate ship battle' or 'this guy marches into the sensoriums with his speedo' etc. Have fun!]]

It had been a few hours since he had almost cautiously entered the room the young comatose woman had been in to find a quietly wiggling baby, tangled in medical cords that had formally been keeping her alive. She hadn't been crying, tiny hands waving quietly in front of her face, each gesture making her pause in confusion, as though her fingers were an alien thing not connected to her body.

He hadn't been sure if he should sigh in relief or feel more worried. She was moving under her own power, for the first time she was alive and not just existing. She was a baby, it had worked. But she wasn't crying. Which could mean any number of things, most of them not good and only a few of them tolerable. It could never be simple, could it?

She had been small in his arms when he picked her up, smaller than Conner had been a few hours ago, lighter than she should have been, he'd known that much.

It had taken hours to check for and repair any damage done to her. Tirelessly matching Mei-Xing's scans with the scans of the child until everything was as it should be. His head was throbbing; a low, constant ache that made him want to sleep for the next three days.

But she was cooing, soft and quiet in his arms, latching on hungrily to a bottle when it was offered and she seemed to have no problems eating. Everything matched. Just a normal, non-human baby. A beautiful baby girl. "Shhh...."

It had worked. Somehow, despite everything, it had worked.


ooc: Anything happening in this thread is assumed to happen after Amy's, no matter the order people tag in. The baby's name will end up being Molly.

Despite how he argued that he was fine, despite how he displayed a range of motion with his wounded shoulder (complete with pained facial expressions and one yell of agony), Medical insisted on tossing Luis in for treatment as soon as they were all back on the ship. His wound was infected and there was a process Stacy needed to go through to clean it all up and make sure it wouldn't turn gangrenous and fall off. That explanation made him a bit more cooperative.

So Luis sat on his bed in the Med Bay, laying on his side, glaring at the ceiling and extremely uncomfortable as a hose-like tentacle contraption was attached to the front and back of his shoulder, placed over the wound like a suction. Yeah. Creepy.

And he'd been caught up and around the place trying to do something productive one too many times, so there was a restraint around his ankle preventing him from standing up or even changing positions too much.

Could they at least have given him a book? This was worse than being trapped in a cave.

(Plot Post!)

The sun was starting to sink towards the horizon as the emergency pod landed down on the surface of Orya, deep in the thicket of a jungle a few miles north of the village.

It was all unknown and uncharted territory... but if Stacy's crew ever wanted to see a good half of their doctors and scientists again, there was no other choice but to stage a rescue mission.


(ooc: SUBTHREADS ARE FIIIINE. Have at!)

((PLOT POST! READ IT!))

Stacy's voice rang out through the corridors of the ship, announcing that a message had been received and would be played on the Obs Deck momentarily.

The message was patched through a few minutes later, shown on a holographic screen. It was shot in very poor video, from a very old communicator frequency.

( A plea for help. )

So a dragonman walks through the city with a corpse in his arms.

There's no punch line. The Chancellor doesn't see anything funny about it as he gets the body to medical and sets it on one of the beds there.

With the end of Quarantine, all of the patients who'd been kept in the bubbles had been released (with the exception of those that Medical felt weren't safe to release), and brought back to the Med Bay proper. Some of them might leave, with family or friends to look after them, but others might remain in the Med Bay. Others still were only just arriving, their loss of time not discovered until after Quarantine had ended.

But regardless of whether the affected were staying in the Med Bay or leaving, until this crisis was solved, Medical would continue to check up on the them.

[[ooc: Just make whatever threads you'd like to have set in med bay guys, and feel free to use this post for all Med Bay stuff for the rest of the plot. Just make sure to mark whether your thread is open, closed, or just for a particular group of people, e.g. Medical staff]]