This ship was still a dangerous place. There were a lot of things that were out of their control, and problems they could manage, but few that they could fix. One of the biggest ongoing problems was GLaDOS, who routinely caused crew members to disappear, some for good.

Worst of all, there was nothing that could be done about it.

Until now.

Which was why Leon was putting a team together, the members of which he had called to meet him at the Precinct. They'll be the ones to finally deal with the AI once and for all.

This ship... was huge. And 'huge' didn't even seem to be a big enough word. Gargantuan. Cavernous. Ratchet's logical mind was struggling to understand how something on this scale was possible, but then again, common sense pointed out, they were dealing with interdenominational world eaters and planets full of people sleeping in pods. Logic didn't seem to have a very good hold on this situation.

He had detoured briefly to the medical wing earlier, but he knew better- if he went in there now, he'd be gone. Even a glimpse was enough to convince him that he was going to spend days just figuring the basics out. And the last thing he wanted was a week from now to realize that he didn't even know Stacy's basic layout. So he was starting with the City.

The sky was a nice touch, if somewhat startling at first. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting when he started out, but he was very quickly wondering if he'd taken on more than he could handle. There seemed to be more of this place than he would have thought there to be room for and he was getting the distinct feeling that maybe aimless wandering was going to get him lost.

At least he could say it would be an adventure.

[OOC: Sort of bendytime'd? I'd meant to get this up earlier. 8B Ratch is wandering around the City, sticking his nose into all kinds of places in the name of exploration. Please feel free to tag with impunity! <3 ]

John could have been at the party, but he wasn't. It wasn't because of sour grapes either. He simply had important business to take care of. Business for the Major, and John had done exactly as she had requested, and then some. It had been easy for him to find what she'd requested as he'd already stolen half of it on his first visit to the armory. Of course it was much easier this time as he had the proper access. He'd even managed to dig up a Seburo C-25A submachine gun, and one of the cMN-23 assault rifles for her. Keeping the submachine gun supplied with ammo might be a problem due to the odd round, but it couldn't hurt to impress her a little. It did take him a few days however to move the hardware quietly to the city, but he didn't mind. By not using the armory computer, and moving it himself it was far easier to make them simply vanish.

Once he'd finished securing everything he contacted the Major so she could come inspect some of it. Hopefully she'd approve of his efforts, and the new location. It was some kind of large fallout shelter with one hell of a blast door, and enough room to shelter plenty of the crew should any disaster strike. There wasn't any alternate exits that he had found yet, but they could certainly make one if they had to. Exploration of the place turned up that it was called a Vault, and had been built in some universe's America around 2070. It would take a bit of work to clean out, and make completely ready for the team, but it would be well worth the effort. They simply couldn't have asked for a better base of operations.

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! ]

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.

The fight on the planet had gone rather poorly for Rhiow - some well-meaning but wholly ignorant tourist had scooped her up to toss her with the rest of the planet's animals, thinking she was someone's pet. It had been the work of moments to work a short-transit out of there, but with the Ohm numbers so thick and with her separated from the crew, she had decided that retreat was the better part of valor and gotten on board the nearest shuttle back to Stacy.

Sometimes, it was better to live to fight another day.

Now she trotted through the perpetually empty streets of the City, with one destination in mind. Since she had been staying with Tycho and Wedge in their quarters, she had made frequent visits to Grand Central in a continuing attempt to repair the damage. She saw signs that others had been here to do the same - sometimes when she came back, whole walls that had been crumbled now stood restored. It always made her whiskers quiver with barely contained emotion, and she had to sit and groom to compose herself.

Now, the only thing that still lay in shambles was the facade on the front of the building - the statues lay on the ground in disarray and the giant, flawless panel of Tiffany glass that should have covered the great clock was shattered all around.

That would be first. She had avoided walking in this area for so long, but now she carefully moved around it, scraping the pieces of glass together with the backs of her paws until it lay arranged in a big circle. Then she sat down and looked at it closely.

"Wouldn't you rather be one piece again?" she asked, the Speech rolling off her tongue with a little bit of power behind it. "Have people look at you and admire you, feel the heartbeat of the ticking clock at your back and watch the coming and going of thousands - wouldn't you rather? Here's some energy to put yourself back together - a little heat, to fuse it -"

The atoms in the circle of glass began to vibrate, and as she watched, it began to fuse back into place, little by little, until the sparkling plate of glass was once again whole. Rhiow put her ears forward, pleased, and lay down with her head on her paws, looking very satisfied with herself.

Now to get someone with thumbs to put it back where it belonged.

Any other day, maybe, the Doctor might be wandering the ship, looking for something interesting to pull apart or poke his nose into. He still hasn't had a chance to inspect the brain of the ship, after all, and there's that great big city he'd like to explore as well...

But right now, he'd rather not. He's tired and annoyed, and any place he could wander, it wouldn't be far enough. So instead, the Doctor has sprawled on his back, halfway upside down, on one of the couches on the Obs Deck. It seemed as good a place as any to sit still for a while - maybe not the place to go if he wanted to be alone, but he'll take company over quiet just now.

He doesn't actually seem to be paying attention to anyone who might be in the room, though. Instead, he's playing with an unidentifiable bit of patched-together technology - it's got buttons and flashy lights and a little dish and there is absolutely no outward indication of what it actually does. It's... entirely possible it's not meant to do anything, at least at the moment; he just wanted something to do with his hands, though someone to talk to (or talk at) would undoubtedly be a better distraction.

By this point, the Ohm had spread all across the planet.

Destruction spread throughout the cities of Zokez II. There were evacuees that still needed to escape. People that needed saving.

It was time for the crew to do what they did best.

[ooc: Sub-plots! Check here before tagging.]

Lash was very unused to vacations. Her entire life had been in service to the army, developing weapons and blowing things up (quite possibly with death rays. Alright more like very likely.) and the idea of being somewhere for a few days doing nearly nothing made her oddly confused.

Still, she was appreciative that Stacy had allowed her to use a neotank to move around, even if all the weapon systems had been disabled and gutted out to keep with the rules of the world. It gave her something somewhat familair in an unfamiliar universe. It was hard to imagine where she had all started out, now that she was in a gigantic world ship trying to save the universe from the Ohm. But today wasn't for that! After a bit of shopping and doing what had been asked of her, she was now dressed in a two piece bathing suit, sunglasses covering her eyes. Lash stretched out on top of the neotank on a quiet beach as her pale while skin soaked in the warm rays.

This is nice, she had to admit as she sipped a lemonade. Unlike anything she had seen before, and the smell of the ocean air was quite exhilarating and different from the gasoline, dead bodies and bullets she was used to.

"Relaxing isn't bad at all!" she told no one in particular, content to watch the sea-line horizon. "But maybe I should go get some paper and sketch out a few ideas..."

To say that Kelly was having trouble relaxing would have been an understatement. Perched on the tallest, rocky outcrop she could find, the waves crashing against the smooth stone far below her, she was throwing stones across the water almost absently. The way her eyes refused to remain still however, attested to the fact that she was alert and wary as ever. Unlike the other members of the crew, who seemed to have taken the shore leave well enough, the Spartan had never been comfortable with inaction. Zokez II may have been a rest stop, a play-planet as it were, but to be on a strange planet, disallowed weapons and worst of all, her armor put her slightly on edge. Of course, a Spartan didn't need weapons to be deadly, but they sure as hell helped when it came down to it. In stark contrast to other members of the crew who had happily shed the majority of their clothing in favour of beachwear, Kelly's attire had hardly changed.

Dressed in cargo pants, combat boots, and a tight singlet with 'U.N.S.C.' stamped across the chest (something she had undoubtedly done herself sometime) she was the picture of discomfort. Her too-pale skin seemed to gleam in the sunlight as she sat, ignoring the gleeful cries of the people surrounding her. She kept a watchful eye on any member of Stacy's crew who was within sight, all the while lobbing rock after rock into the sea. At the rate she was going, it was surprising that she hadn't run out of them yet.

R&R simply wasn't her thing. She could appreciate rack time as much as the next person. A good soldier knew when their body needed rest. But this, relaxing, not doing anything. Unarmed and completely open to enemy attack. She didn't like it. The Ohm were out there. Who was to say they wouldn't hit this planet next? And without weapons, completely unprepared for such an attack, how would a single member survive. Her entire life had been a battlefield. Honestly, she couldn't remember a time when she hadn't been fighting, recuperating from a fight, or preparing to fight. This sort of relaxation simply wasn't for her. At the moment however, all she could do was keep a watchful eye out for anything that may have signaled trouble. Leave the others to enjoy the water and the sun. She would make sure they were safe.

John had commandeered a humvee from the selection of vehicles Stacy had loaded for them to use on the planet, and was now driving it down the road looking for the sort of stores he needed. Finally he spotted a sporting goods store with a grocer conveniently nearby. Good, he could save some time. Pulling into the parking lot he parked the rather large vehicle, and turned it off. Once more he checked his list of needed supplies. He'd had to trim it down upon learning of the planet's no weapons policy. Instantly as he thought about weapons his hand drifted to where his holster usually was. Damn it! They were too vulnerable unarmed like this! What if these Ohm actually attacked? How the hell was a world like this supposed to defend itself? Some superior advanced civilization! No shock at all they were being overrun by their enemies so easily.

With a dissatisfied grunt he stepped out of the humvee, and started toward the sporting goods store. First thing to locate would be some rations, and this seemed the most sensible starting place. With any luck they'd have some advanced version of an MRE. Even if it still tasted like cardboard he wouldn't mind. It would be a change from the blandness of the slop.

Suddenly, the usual relative peace of the ship is disrupted by a rather loud announcement from Stacy.

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

It's entirely likely that she won't stop repeating the announcement until, well, everyone reports to Obs Deck. The mouth in the huge statue on the wall opens, revealing a screen. On it, the dossier for the mission flickers into display, understandable to every person there. Smaller copies of the dossier appear in holographic form in front of everyone.

The planet's stats, right next to a rotating picture of it, blue with thousands of small islands just barely visible, are as follows:

( Mission Dossier )

--

...Waitaminute. That's no mission.

It's a goddamn vacation.

[ooc: SHORE LEAVE IS GO.]

The music attached to a MP3 player scavanged from W&P was blasting in Rein's house, some kind of silly J-Pop that she had immediately liked. Having hooked it up to her stereo she had also discovered in said location, she was zipping around the store, looking for her tape measure.

She hadn't done any tailor work in a while, so it was definitely something to look forward to. And snapping her fingers, a slender girl of four-eleven stood there, zipping to the back and soon coming out in a tribal-like top and skirt, something she liked to lounge around in when she could afford to wear her big-person clothing. That, and the extra arms reach was more than encouraged when doing work like this.

"Hope this is alright," said Rein to herself, fingering the soft cloth that she had hanging around. There was a huge bundle of various fabric all rolled together in the corner, and a large roll of black cloth stood there, awaiting use.

With his bugout location secure, and now stocked with some food John decided it was time to get some weapons. Carefully he made his way to the armory making damn sure this time that no one else was around. He wasn't going to slip up again like he had at the Vatican.

Scrolling through the weapons in the armory computer he was impressed with the selection. Hell, some of these hadn't even finished being developed before Judgment Day occurred. If he wasn't god only knows where being ordered around by an AI, and it's slave crew he'd almost be happy about it. In a few minutes he had quite the list assembled. Double checking it one more time he submitted it to the computer.

[Access to that quantity of weapons is restricted. Please see the command staff for authorization. Any furthers attempt to retrieve weapons will result in you being locked out of this system until your access is reauthorized by the captain.]

He glared at the machine, and pulled out his computer. Interfacing it with the omnicomm he started searching for an access panel. Finding one he spent several minutes methodically prying it open enough to get to the console's guts. Patching in he began to run through sub systems one by one looking for a way in. Whoever had designed the security hadn't counted on someone for who information warfare was a way of life. Finally he found a crack in the armor. It wouldn't be pretty, and they'd know he'd been here but he didn't have a choice. It was act now, or let this opportunity slip by.

Running the program the computer began to send out the weapons to the caches John had designated. Now all he had to do was move them again so the crew couldn't track them down by just following the digital trail. Hopefully that would keep them guessing long enough for him to slip back to Grand Central unnoticed.

After another couple of hours he'd managed just that. Already he was prepping the weapons, and loading magazines just in case someone was smart enough to pick up his trail.

[ooc: Once again in case anyone wants it the list of weapons John has stolen is here. Once you see the sub-thread you want your pup in go ahead and tag it. I'll leave it to each thread to sort out their posting order. Have fun everyone!]

After slipping away from everyone else John started to search the ship for some place he could fortify. Eventually he stumbled upon the city. It was perfect for him. The crew would have a hard time finding him here. If they did he'd have the advantage. Walking through the city he searched many of the buildings for something suitable. None of them fit his criteria. That is until he stumbled across something he never expected to see. There was no way it could be real? It was Grand Central Station, and it looked as if it had been moved perfectly brick by brick to here. It was either the real thing or a perfect copy. Stepping inside he found it fairly intact, and well preserved. It was underground, had a large network of maintenance tunnels he could use, and it looked unoccupied. With a bit of work he could have it secure reasonably quickly.

Leaving Grand Central he continued his search through the city just in case a more suitable location presented itself. He so rarely had the luxury of time or choice so he was going to use it while he had it.

He still couldn't believe it. He'd just seen Grand Central Station preserved here, and now the Vatican? Scurrying toward it he noted the obvious fortifications that had been done to the grounds. Signs of battle too, and not that old. Someone had thrown down here big time. That moved it down on the list of possibilities. The fortifications were obvious which means someone else had to notice it. While it would be an advantage in a fight he didn't want them to find him in the first place. Still it was worth looking into. There might be left over supplies inside.

Stepping inside he followed the corridors until he found what probably served as some kind of rally point or command center. The presence of ammo, and food supplies made that clear. After looking around again to confirm his suspicion that the building was indeed empty, he picked up one of the rations. It looked like it was a vacuum sealed version of that slop they served in the mess hall. Not ideal, but it would do. Quickly he started to gather up what he could.

[ooc: Newbie Helpers List | Instructions: Post your character with one post establishing them as being podpopped. Tag each other in groups of 2's, 3's, and 4's, to get some interaction to start with. If a thread doesn't already have 2 or 3 people tagged in, tag it with your character's podpop popping near the other people, rather than making a new subthread. 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 Initiating|| 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... )

Stacy's voice speaks over the whole of the ship. What she has to say has become very familiar over the the podlings have spent here.

||Pod Release Protocols Initiating,|| she says. ||Please proceed to the Observation Deck to meet your new crew mates.||

Those crew members that don't head to the Obs Deck on their own are hurried there via gentle but insistent tentacles. A few people stop by Engineering to help bring and pass out omnicoms and comm rings to the new crew members as well.

[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.]

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.]