Worf paced in the dining hall, waiting (with some impatience) for the team under his command to arrive. He was aggravated by the disrespect shown earlier by one Ron Stoppable and was concerned that the same flippant attitude would permeate the team. He would have to ensure that such a thing did not happen. A glance towards the entrance and a firm nod is the only greeting the first arrivals receive.

For the newbies, there are people waiting for them in the Obs Deck. A whole gaggle of people. Behind them is the nasty statue, and the beautiful sight through the windows of the stars streaming past and the swirling vortex of collars that was interdimensional travel.

There are more questions than answers, but the crew is willing to help, especially the Command Staff and greeters.

Anyone who ventures near the bathrooms will hear odd, strained clanking noises, to the point of possibly making some wonder if one of the Transformers is trying to go and having a hard time of it.

This is not a sign of one of the 'bots on board needing more robo-fiber, however.

Brainiac 5 is up to something.

Surprisingly, his techie hijinks are something he's been ordered to do--Jaime, the one in charge of the team trying to open up more of the ship has tasked him with building things to scout out where the waste goes, to use that to find out more about Stacy's hidden structures and ductwork, and that's exactly what he's doing--building an array in the bathroom to control and track the sensor-bots he's about to send where the sun don't shine.

"Hmm...still losing signal strength..."

Since coming onto the ship there had been many things that had captured the young navigator's attention ranging from his Captain being there and an older version of Spock to the various tech stuffs that were throughout the ship. Needless to say he hadn't even made it to the city that was within the ship yet either having found his calling being in the upper level so far. These areas mostly included the labs and the library.

But presently he found himself sitting in the Observation Deck with his PADD in hand working rather intently on some project or another he had managed to pick up in his few adventures about the ship. With stylus pen in hand he navigated through the screens sometimes stopping to scribble something down or move a file elsewhere. Pavel hoped down the road he would be able to take a look at one of the devices that Billy had told him about- the ones that were like the PADDs. If he could figure out a way to help upgrade them..

"Ah.." the youth said as he dropped the pen to the table and rubbed at his eyes. "Zhis is going to zake a vhile.." Eye strain much, Chekov?

Well, the joy of meeting new engineers certainly didn't last long.

A grouchy-looking Billy emerges from a strenuous training session in the Sensoriums, face coated in sweat and grime. Stacy's suggestions to go out and get some rest had begun to sound perilously similar to threats, and so he had reluctantly obeyed.

Now he intends to proceed directly to Special Weapons and begin work on the sampling equipment they had so sorely needed on the last mission. His mind is churning out idea after idea, straining to find a reasonable way to convert their very limited scrap material into vials and air-tight containers. It probably wouldn't hurt to fashion waterproof gloves either, if they could.

After a quick race through the tubes he's holed up in the laboratory in comfortable solitude, securing his glasses as he makes his first attempt to synthesize a containment material. In his mind, to defend his worth as a member of this crew, he absolutely must succeed. Superficial things like exhaustion and aching muscles won't stand in his way.

[ooc: Read this bit.]

Something happens outside the ship. There's a concussive noise like something docking, and then the doors to Obs open again, to reveal a mostly intact, but somewhat bedraggled away team. One of them is injured, and part of the group works to get her down to MedBay, some of the others look stoic and a touch upset with what they've learned.

Some look pissed off that their various morphers and power suits have been stolen away from them again by Stacy's tentacles or dampened.

Something happens INSIDE the ship. A handful of individuals are released from their pods after quite some time of running imaginary mazes.

[[OOC: Read this before tagging.]]

It seems like things around the ship have been getting rather lively lately.

And now, it's about to get even more lively.

||Pod Release Protocols Initating|| Stacy's familiar voice sounded out to all the podmates.

In the Pod Caverns, there were the sounds of: Pop. Pop pop pop. Poppuhpoppoppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiiiissssss.

There was condensation and mist spraying out from cracks in the pods, as the people inside slid out onto the floors, covered in slime.