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.]

Who: Crematia and YOU
Where: Everywhere in the City level, take your pick
Summary: Crematia goes on a stroll. Naked.
Warnings: She is quite possibly the most awful person to grace your presence. Expect her to fling mockery from her behalf, threats, temper tantrums, to even possibly bodily and emotional harm. Watch out.

( Wish you never ever met her at all )

The world was busy, and so fast. Always moving faster then Orc could move, or think. It seemed like life was passing in the slow solid blinks of his beady little eyes.

Ever since Howard's death he didn't feel as compelled to be useful. To take care of himself. What was the point really? They were all going to die sooner or later. And it's not like he deserved that second chance Howard was always going on about.

Howard...how long had it been? Between the drinking and Stacy's own peculiar grasp of time he had lost track.

But it didn't matter. All that mattered was forgetting. Forgetting where he was, forgetting what he was. Forgetting about Howard, Betty, home.

And so he kept drinking. And he kept moving. To stay in one place for too long risked trouble. People finding him, feeling bad for him. They were just being nice. But he didn't deserve nice. Not after what he'd done.

The city was perfect for this because there was so much of it. He didn't move fast, and he got tired easily. But he had plucked the beertree clean and drug a cooler with him. One of Howard's last gifts. Maybe Howard had more beer in the warehouse...he would have to stop there and see.

Finding Orc in the Media Library is something that strikes Howard as just about as weird as walking in on hippos wearing tutus and dancing ballet - certainly unusual enough to make him doubletake, but given Stacy and her Stacy-ness, not totally out of the realm of possibilities. Stranger things have happened than the illiterate taking a sudden interest in libraries.

Howard, for his part, is looking for more driver's ed material, so once he's located that he wanders over to the space on the floor Orc's occupying and takes a seat next to him. He has a the numbers to punch into his data pad and bring up some nice instructional videos on defensive driving, although for the life of him he still can't find a good instruction manual for a stick-shift car.

"Hey, man, what's-" Ah, Orc's wearing headphones. Probably can't hear him. Howard taps Orc on the shoulder. "What are you doing around here?"

Howard made sure they arrive to Med Bay early, not just because he doesn't want to be late but because if he impresses on Orc to hurry up, Orc might not have time to get completely smashed before they do this thing. Howard would rather not deal with blackout-drunk Orc, but at the same time he doesn't want Orc sober enough to be obstinate or miserable, so they did a stop at the beer tree before coming here.

He invited Barbara and Ian because they were very game for the food excursion, despite is propensity for total revulsion. He invited Anwei because he wants to be close with her again, at least, as close as he gets to people who aren't Orc. And because she brings a new perspective to Stacy, one that's been proven to be more viable than he presumed.

He wanders through the hospital beds and sets up the coffee pot. No reason not to go into a brand spanking new adventure caffeinated. The Medical Bay is large enough that meeting here doesn't even register on the people working actual shifts.

"You want coffee?" He fills up a mug for himself and glances over at Orc. He hopes they aren't waiting long enough for Orc to get impatient or lose interest.

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.

He's got his passport.

He's also got a fake birth certificate, a fake ID card, a fake driver's license and insurance card, and hopes for a brand new life. And he has the same for Orc. That and a suitcase for each of them.

He has to leave the cats. That is, he thinks, the only downfall to the planet. You can't import live things, and he doesn't know how to smuggle them in, so he's going to entrust them to Cedric. Between that and the food stash, the knowledge that he's leaving things behind, things that he'll never get back, hangs heavy on his mind.

He's leaving people behind too. He can't forget that. He wanders through the streets of Agrestic with his new papers and his suitcase looking for the people he wants to say goodbye to before he and Orc escape this war forever. He's not even thinking about what he's going to say to them, hoping that somehow the magic words will appear on his tongue. But he has to say goodbye before he goes.

Away from the Daligig. Away from Stacy. Away from missions and more importantly, away from the threat of the FAYZ. Scared and sad as he is, there is a little skip in his step.

[OOC: he's looking for his closer CR, so new people may approach him but he'll probably brush them off. If your character hasn't met Howard and would like to thread with me drop me a line and I'll set up something new!]

It's been a long time since Howard engaged in some harmless graffiti. Two years, if not a little more. He's exhausted from a long shift in Med Bay and then hitting the Media Library for his new Leon-appointed position, but it seems like the urge to vandalize things has been pent up for so long that he has all the energy in the world to do this.

The memory-statues and painting under the giant lit-up head in the Art Hall are as good a place as any. Using permanent marker, some pink spraypaint and his knife, he starts to carve and mark things into the shifting wall.

DGIG KILLED 1ST CREW

STACY WIPES MINDS

DON'T TRUST THEM

The paintings and statues shift and mold to his memories, images both calm and terrifying, images he remembers and ones he's long forgotten. There's him playing basketball in his driveway. There's Orc's face torn open by flesh-eating worms. There's a massacre, and there's a busy cafeteria, and there's Disneyland, there's the first time he broke his nose and there's him sleeping in math class. The statue becomes a child's corpse and then an impatient P.E. coach and then his grandmother. On the wall, the images keep shifting, but the marks he's making stay where they are, black and pink and chiseled.

WRITE IT ALL DOWN

When Orc woke up it took him five minutes before he had his first thought.

Dry.

His craggy lips felt entirely too dry. In fact his mouth, throat, his skin felt like he'd been sand blasted and thrown into the desert. The only moisture that he was aware of came when he slowly rose from the table to find a string of drool coming off his lower lip to a puddle on the table. Half of it was on his cheek, but he couldn't feel that.

His head began to pound as another powerful hangover settled in. How long had he been in this bar? He'd lost track of time.

That was fine, it was all fine. There was more beer here. He could wash away the pain in his head and subsequent painful thoughts. All he had to do was get himself out of the booth and over to the bar.

...

That might take more effort. He couldn't seem to will his heavy body to do more then sit up just yet. Days spent in a drunken stupor had caught up with him and were spinning his stomach like a blender full of misery and yuk.

Howard forgot what it's like to walk slowly. Usually he runs, or keeps a quick pace to keep up with taller people always on the move, or jogs to work. He doesn't tend to amble, and he certainly doesn't plod.

But Orc's back now, and that, like many things, is going to have to change.

He should be happy. He really should. This is what he's wanted since showing up on this stupid flying space-wart, right?

And yet instead he feels full of static electricity. Like his body's full of twitches and impulses that go nowhere, glitches and short-circuits and bubbles in the tubes and a complete and utter impatience with the way Orc drags his feet as if walking through Elmer's glue.

And it bothers Howard that he makes sure he's out of arms reach before he gives an impatient huff and says "could you pick it up a little? My bones are fossilizing here, man."