With the Council having laid down the groundwork with the Daligig to gain their trust in the uprising, the crew prepared to put on a show, and the Daligig at their wit's end and impatient with the crew of the Transmigation 9, it was time to act.

The plans were clear. Allenby would be leading some of the crew in what looked like a hotheaded attempt the attack the Daligig and Kessek and oust them off the ship. Those that wanted to stay out of the fighting and take a neutral position of some kind were to make sure they stayed safe or acted their parts as the horrified crew-members that wanted everyone to make peace. And of course, anyone else was going to play a roll in pretending to side with the Council and the Daligig to put their fellow crew members down (without hurting them) making it look like it wasn't a clear-cut issue, so the Council could get the command codes necessary to start the crew's true takeover of the ship.

More observant members of the crew had noticed where the Daligig, Ghyll, and Kessek had been entering and leaving the restricted areas of the ship. The attack was to start at one of those entrances, as the fake rebels tried to storm in and take on the Daligig forces. After that, as the Kessek were drawn into the ship itself to put down the rebellion, it was going to be a free-for-all, a faux civil war of sorts, as flashy and convincing as they could make it without anyone actually dying.

Lights! Cameras! Action, people! It was time to put on a show and hope it was convincing enough for the Daligig to give the crew what they needed to truly be free.

[ooc: Go Go Go!]

|| Attention, crew, Attention. All personnel who wish to attend the funeral of Howard Bassem and Cedric Diggory, please report to the Observation Deck. ||

Once again, the Observation Deck is prepared for a sending-off of the dead. A hard pod containing Howard's body sits in the center of the room, with a much smaller pod containing Cedric's wand sitting beside it. The observation window is open, showing the attending crew a stunning view of a nearby fiery red star: the final resting place of the two fallen crew members.

Before the launch, though, there are goodbyes to be said.

Who: Allenby and open
Where: Pod caverns
Summary: Allenby is pissed at being abruptly short a best friend.
Warnings: Some cursing.

( This is not one of them. )

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!]

Who: Starfire and anyone who wants to join her!
Where: Media Library
Summary: Starfire's received news that her love has returned to stasis in the pod caverns. Her escape is the bright and colorful world of cartoons.
Warnings: Nothing too serious here! Some potential sadness if that line of conversation is followed, but a little fun can be had here.

( Unfortunately, ice cream is not available for this occasion. The brightness and color must come from the little screen. )

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.

Howard's nervous. It's not as if this is a new feeling for him, or even one that's unusual, but he's more nervous than he typically is. He sits in a far-off section of the Medical Bay with Sakura, away from prying eyes, and chews on his pen. He's currently on his second pot of coffee.

"Worst thing about Stacy time is that I can't even bitch that they're late."

Behind them, on a giant lab table, rests the thawing body of their dissected Ohm. It's clearly spent a little too long in the freezer, because one of its toes actually broke off during the transportation, and true to his nature Howard's wondering if said digit is edible. The corpse also stinks up this section of the Medical Bay a little like dead fish.

If the damn thing weren't so hard to move around, and if they weren't guaranteed a relative amount of privacy here, Howard would suggest they do this somewhere else (somewhere with a big windshield he could hide behind while everyone else does the dangerous stuff and possibly deals with crazy Ohmed up Jaime), but there really isn't another place that would work for it.

So they sit and wait for Kon and Jaime.

[Tag order is Sakura, Jaime, Kon, then we go from there.]

Somewhere in the hallways, a chute opened up in the wall, and unceremoniously deposited Clark Kent flat on his back before promptly closing up.

Clark picked himself up, rubbing the back of his neck out of reflex rather than any sort of pain.

"Y'know, ONE of these days someone's not gonna take so kindly to you lying about that cake GlaDOS." he said, glaring at the spot the exit had disappeared from.

Welcome, dear visitor, to a world consisting entirely of plastic-looking city sets. My, don't they look ready to blast apart at a moment''s notice? It's almost as if an attack is expected in this sector.

But not to worry! The 'attacks' here are just goofy entertainment. Lovably laughable employees in dull green suits may make menacing gestures at times, but they're just a nuisance. The visitors to this section are protected by the Masked Rangers, the people in heavy helmets and spandex suits you might see from time to time. The acrobat-types, the ones in the flimsy suits, perform tricky stunts and wave 'blasters' that shoot a cheap spark effect from time to time. Driver-types wear heavier armor and traverse this section of the park in their specialized motorcycles, zipping down specialized roadways seemingly from nowhere.

Other than that, the environment is fairly industrial. The main attractions are in the 'abandoned warehouse district'. It features greasy food (and surprisingly good smoothies, strangely enough), alarm bells every now and then, and the crowning ride of this sector: an exciting cart ride through the warehouses that culminates in riding atop a giant mecha. The vibrations as the mech carrying the vehicle shoots its lasers are quite unsettling the first time or two, and riding through the smoke cloud of a post-henshin explosion can cause mild fits of coughing. This adventure is not for the faint of heart.

Simpler shows are done in the park-like area, where a few of the more acrobatic employees in helmets and flimsy costumes seems to dance-fight with several of the mooks. It's a cute show, and the only exciting thing is the spread of the explosion. It shoots up in a rainbow of colors when the heroes make a pose. Games can be played here, but always be ready to clear out and make way for the heroes! A little parade of motorcycles and mecha comes through several times a day, and masked characters address the audience with well-prepared safety tips and suggestions for community service.

Gift shops in this area feature knockoff Masked Ranger costumes, transformation toys that light up, toy mecha and motorcycles that combine in many very expensive combinations, and little sparkler lights. Fortunately, actual material for an explosion is not sold.

This nonsense might feel strangely familiar...

Let it never be said that Stacy was not benevolent toward her crew. Truth was, she loved them, to the point of risking her own life. And thus, she'd been busy for quite some time... silently she had worked, trying to get into her own archives and cross-checking references. She was going to help boost morale and give them a gift - show them people they cared about, wake them up for a single day as proof that, yes, they were there, close by. She was going to give them a day to awaken, to see their loved ones again and to go back, knowing that their time would come one day or another...

It sounded so beautiful and poetic on theory. In reality, it could become a true disaster. Spent of most of the energies doing this task, in complete secrecy to keep it as a surprise, Stacy's never-ending work was only stopped by its own Warden program, which pulled the plug on the ship's search to find everyone at least someone they cared about. That, unfortunately, left her not only spent of energy which was dangerous in itself - but it also meant that some of the crew would be deprived of seeing their close ones, no doubt leaving some of them bitter.

The road to hell has always been paved by good intentions.

Stacy's voice was decidedly more cheerful than normal as she spoke to the entire ship.

|| Transmigration Nine crew, please report to the Observation Deck. I have a gift for you. ||

She repeated the request, and waited.

Once most of the crew had made their way there, she continued.

||I have been working on a...|| she couldn't quite find the proper word and settled on the next one, || present for you. While many of your records are locked to even me, I have worked to find the pods which contain people close to you. I...apologize if some of you may end up with no one, it is not my fault I...|| suddenly Stacy's voice seemed a little less cheerful, ||The Warden stopped me before I could finish everything completely. Please do not feel like I targeted you specifically, I really did my best to get as many of your friends and companions awake as possible for today.||

Now was the hardest part to explain.

||And that is, unfortunately, all that can be given to you. Because their avia are not yet ready to be properly awakened, they'll be here for a single day. Please make the most of it, so you can feel better and continue our mission with renewed vigor . I hope that meeting those that care about you will give you a boost of energy that you all need.|| Spoken like a mother who put her children before herself. ||But if you can...look at it this way, it means that they are here, and one day I will proudly awaken them properly when they are ready.||

Her voice was becoming strange as she went on. Not static-like, but raspy, like someone who was running out of breath.

||And I am afraid that I must go offline for a few hours due to the strain this is putting on...me...|| It sounded really painful for her to speak, completely spent and only going because she wanted to at least give them a proper last word. ||I...hope...you...will...be...happy...a...lit--||

For the first time in a long while, Stacy was completely silent.

[OOC: GO FOR IT.]

As much as he hated to really admit it, Jake was settling in aboard the ship. There was a strange sense of normalcy that followed him around - he was at war, he was trying to avoid getting people killed, he was thinking about strategies, thinking about the future - and that all seemed perfectly normal to him. He had slipped back into the patterns and the habits he'd formed over the War very easily and that bothered him, in some little corner of his mind. But the rest of him? The rest of him was happy he had something to do that he was good at.

He was wary, paranoid again, watching everyone who said they were a friend with a trained suspicion. And sometimes at night, it made him sick to realize that he accepted that as a normal part of everyday life. It was 'late'. Late being relative when there was no way to really gauge what time it was or how much time had passed, so he went wandering to settle his mind. He found his way to a large hall, filled with strange and surreal sculptures and images. It was like a twisted sort of art gallery.

That was exactly what it was, he realized as he slowly drifted through the various pieces of art, staring at pieces that caught his attention. He finally paused to stare at a strange, shifting piece that stood underneath a sculpture of a head. It didn't really look like anything, though. Just inky blackness that seemed to shimmer strangely in the dim lighting.

He was about to turn away, when it finally coalesced into something he recognized. A scene he remembered very well. Probably too well. The bridge of the Pool Ship on that last, horrible day of the war. He was staring at the viewscreen, free hork-bajir and the other Animorphs standing around him. A defeated and weary-looking Visser Three. And on the view-screen, Tom.

That moment when he had condemned his brother and his cousin to death.

But that had all changed here. They were both alive, his brother was free - but that didn't stop the memories. Or the guilt. Or the second-guessing. What if he'd been a bit faster? Or a bit more careful? Or tried a different way?

The scene changed. Now it was the Animorphs locked in combat with Hork-Bajir. And then a Howler. It changed again - the auxiliaries being shot down one after the other by the Pool Ship's dracon beams. Sharks, swimming in an alien sea. Rachel's funeral. The smoking remains of the Yeerk Pool after they'd blown it to smithereens-

He tore himself away.

He shouldn't dwell. He had the present to think about. He flexed his hands and for a moment, he stared down at them. Was this all he was going to be good at for the rest of his life? Planning for war? Fighting war?

Jake shook himself off and turned to walk deeper into the strange gallery. He didn't want to spend anymore time next to this particular piece of artwork.

The light of the yellow sun that warmed Balisair shone brightly into Obs Deck. It was almost cheerful, like they weren't on a creepy ship made of meat, like they were somewhere that could have had wheat fields under a bright Kansas sky.

It felt like morning.

For a moment, Kon's hand pressed against the surface of the funeral pod, and those that had viewed the Tapestry would suddenly see what they'd seen once before--a hand on a funeral pod, a portent of a death of one of their own, now come to pass.

Inside the pod, barely visible through the clear membrane, Superman's cape covered his body. Superboy had found that he just couldn't keep the original, sewn by Ma Kent herself. No, it belonged with him. Kon planned to have another made out of the cloak given to him by Rory.

It was time to send the Councilor off into the bright light of that sun, to his final rest.

After the battle, the warriors' task was over. Their job, for now, was to rest and recover for the time being.

The healers' job, on the other hand, was far from over. Some exhausted from the battle, others rotating in, they took to their bay and continued the process of treating the wounded. Some patients were free to leave in a few minutes, while others would have some time (or quite some time) on the cots. Their mission: relax. Stay as still as possible.

Unfortunately, the temptation of so many familiar faces alive and about would ultimately prove to be too great. Keeping track of this group was going to be a third task all its own.

[this is a free for all for all your injured! Have them socialize, be thorns in the medics' side, try to escape, or bring the medics together for some action. Just note in your post if you'd like a medic to visit your character---if not, it's time for a chat!]

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!]

 After receiving the warning the Tapestry had provided them, along the order to begin preparations from Councillor Kang, the crew had been getting ready for upcoming combat with the Ohm.

Unfortunately, the rather vague nature of the warning they received meant they had no particular way of knowing exactly when this battle would occur. Understandably, this put some of the crew on edge, but at the very least they had some prior warning that they would be facing the Ohm, rather than being thrown blind into such a dangerous situation. Combat drills, vehicle maintenance and armory inspections seemed to be regular sights for the week or so following Kang's message. Not much time to prepare, but the crew worked with what was given to them.

Eventually, however, the call came.

||Alert, Alert,|| Stacy called out throughout the ship, ||Priority One message from GIA High Command. All crew members please report to the Obs Deck. Repeat, Priority One message from GIA High Command, All crew members please report to the Obs Deck...||

Stacy kept repeating the message over and over until the crew began making their way towards the Obs Deck to receive the message.

[ooc: As implied by the post, we're assuming the crew's ICly had a one-to-two week heads-up about the battle. It was supposed to be played out, but RL timing prevented this from working out. Feel free to come up with the details of your character's preparations on your own

Also, as usual, please wait for subthreads to go up before tagging in.

Edit: It's up! Feel free to start tagging in!]

The Bleed looked a lot the same whether you were looking at it upside down or right side up. Good to know.

Steve was sitting on one of the chairs in the obs deck... slouching, really, a typical teenage slouch, his head tilted off to the side and his hair hanging in his face as he stared out the window. He was fighting off the end of one of his dizzy spells, the ones that always hit about an hour after his weekly treatments in medbay. He looked a little more pale than usual, and a close inspection would notice the greenish veins trailing up his left arm towards his tattoo, but the spell was finally passing and he'd be back on his feet in a little bit.

He already knew from past experience that there was little point in trying to exert himself until it was over... otherwise they might find him unconscious in the middle of the mess hall again. That had stirred up a few conspiracies about what was really in the food, and was really more trouble than it was worth. He didn't want to freak out Kaylee, either, particularly when she'd been so nice in helping get him situated in the Engineering department.

Yes... for once, Steve didn't have a whole lot to be cynical about.

Hell, it might even be safe to make some small talk with him.

The first thing he'd insisted on them fixing was the clone brand, but the surgery to fix his arm had come first, to allow all the tissue to heal right. His tendency towards fast healing was taking care of the rest. Then they got rid of the stupid clone brand after.

His hand was gone.

It was still a thought he had to get used to. One second it'd been there and now it was gone. It hadn't even been all the dramatic, like things like that were in the movies. It wasn't some moment over a gaping pit, with a villain chopping off his hand and revealing he was his father. He didn't have to saw it off to escape from some deadly trap, horror movie style.

There'd been a fight, he'd fallen on the teleporter pad, there'd been a bright light in front of his face and that was it. Apparently, it could happen just that easily.

Then again, it wasn't the first time he'd lost a hand--that same hand, in fact--but after healing for a thousand years under the North Pole, all the damage from the fight that had killed him had disappeared, and the thing had apparently regrown. So losing limbs wasn't exactly something he never expected would happen, when it already happened once. This time, he was fairly sure it wasn't going to grow back, though.

Ultimately, he decided that was okay. He was a little freaked out about it, but he'd cope. You rolled with the punches, right?

Sometimes you have to roll with the accidental amputations, too.

It was war. This stuff happened, it was going to keep happening, and at least it hadn't been his head.

It was war, and people got hurt in wars, just like you made decisions you weren't sure were the right ones. Just like his decision to let Moses free all the clones was one that was weighing on his mind. (He was just WAITING to hear from Leon on that one).

Superboy sat upright on his bed in Medbay, arm bandaged and in a sling, and played Tetris on his omnicom one-handed. Hopefully, they'd let him out of Medbay soon, and then...then he'd figure out the rest.

He hadn't expected to find it. Not here. It wasn't important. It didn't turn into a robot or do anything particularly special except take people from one place to another. But all the same, it was here. Jaime looked at the worn truck his father had driven for years, the one that had vanished in a ball of flame when the Reach had blown up his old house in an attempt to destroy his family. He clambered into the bed, touching at the worn paint. And looking at that truck, feeling it under his hands, it hit him like a ton of bricks.

He was alone. Very alone. Only one person he really, truly knew was here, and that was Paco. Sure there was Tim and Kara and the others, but it wasn't the same. Not the same as family. he could still see Milagro and her smile, the brightest smile that he could think of, even when she was a little pill. His mom, nagging at him to make sure he got his homework done before going out to save the world, supporting him through all the danger and stress that this life put him through. His father, telling him that he was a good man, even when he couldn't possibly save everybody. The worst part was that he didn't even know for sure. Were they in the pods? People said they probably were but there was no guarantee, no way of checking on them. They could be gone, all of them, erased from existence.

He teetered across the truck and sat heavily against the back of the cab. With a quiet sob, he put his head in his hands and very quietly began to cry, shoulders shaking.

The plan was...well, it wasn't simple, but it sort of was.

While the CLF attacked multiple Clone Processing centers to distract the government, the group with the CLF would target one particular one in the region that'd once been New Jersey. The group with the government would offer their services in putting down their own people.

In the center, they'd split up into several groups. One would fight a fake fight, create a massive diversion, and blow up the room where the samples their DNA were being kept in the process. Another group would secure a teleporter pad. That team would teleport out other teams to steal a ship, steal some med tech to teleport to said ship, and steal a medical database. Another team would go to the main command center and hack into the government mainframe to down the sensornet around the planet so they could escape. And Nightwing himself would accompany the clones to upload the harvested memories to the Mother Brains, left unguarded because of the diversionary fighting, and make sure that was all they did.

Meanwhile, there'd be a standing order for all teams to avoid killing other crewmates, and avoid killing guards unless absolutely necessary.

It was a complicated plan. If a single part fouled up, they might find themselves dead, trapped, or worse. But if it worked, it'd work pretty spectacularly and leave them with medtech, a medical database, the clones helped, and possibly a grateful Council depending on how the fight went, because of the ones seemingly aiding the government.

In some worlds, things that were a million-to-one-chance (exactly a million-to-one) by their nature had to work. Let's hope this world is one of them, eh, mission crew?

[ooc: Only comment to threads if it says they are open here. All threads: OPEN. Characters may get injuries up to and including 7 on the Injury Scale (scroll to the bottom). Any higher, and they must ask permission of the plot-runners, just to make sure everyone isn't immobilized without enough people to help move them.]