[ooc: Read this before tagging.]

The AI of Seamus Harper's ship, the Andromeda Ascendant was trapped here along with everyone else, her AI core stolen or at least copied to Stacy's systems. Other AIs had been captured along with her. But she did have answers to some questions, and apparently was willing to tell the crew things Stacy wasn't willing to without being questioned.

Apparently, one of those things was that Cybil Bennet, someone who had popped recently, right along with them, and was merely a police officer back home, was the captain of their crew.

Their crew of what, Harper had asked?

Andromeda's answer:

"The crew of this ship, Harper."

It was then that the eyelid-like visors covering the windows of Obs Deck started to separate, letting in the light--and oh, was there light. They were in the currents of a multi-colored cosmic riptide, surfing the stream. Stars shot past beyond the lights, nebulae, galaxies sped along them as if they were what was moving and the ship wasn't.

It was beautiful.

It was horrible, because it meant they were in space--or something like it. That was a very long way away from their homes.

"We are a very, very long way from Commonwealth space."

After the initial confusion of the pod release, the podlings have been allowed to wander at their discretion around the living area.

However, even though no one really pointed it out, people might find themselves drawn to a large oblong room at the one end. All of the hallways just seemed to lead there, for some strange reason.

The ceiling was massively tall, and shaped like a semi-circular dome. This sight would greet anyone who entered. There were fleshy couches and chairs for those that wished to sit down.

It looked, quite accurately, like a place people were meant to gather.

And gather they would.

Pop. Pop pop pop. Poppuhpoppoppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiiiissssss.

There was condensation and mist spraying out from cracks in oblong glowing things that were clustered along the floors and walls of the huge, ancient-looking caverns.

For now, the ones that were cracking were the closest to the floor, but perhaps later, the figures sliding out of the pods would be sliding out onto the slimy walkways and platforms above.

Pop. Poppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiissss.

There was light, and unconscious minds breaking through the top of the briny, harsh waters of consciousness, as their bodies did similarly and broke free from the pods, sliding to the floor, shivering in pools of slime.

Once the temporary blindness that some of them had passed, and once they were free of their sleepy stupors: somebody had some splainin' to do.

But there would be no explanations, as the only thing that could explain was only watching, silently, almost as a mother would look at their child right after it was born.

Pop. KASCHUNKhissss.