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.]

Despite Superman's suddenly odd penchant for sporting mullets, it was time to have a heart-to-heart chat... between the Council and the rest of the crew. If there was some sort of bond between them and the crew that needed to be made, it needed to be done without hiding behind Omnicomms and other decisions.

Thus, the Council was gathered within La Prefecture and everyone was welcome to come in and make their concerns, questions, complaints and what have you known. Care to join us?

(OoC: This is open to everybody and everyone! Also, don't wait for the Council to address you guys! If your characters have concerns, start up a subthread and we'll gladly tag it!)

Feet propped on a table, leaning back in a rather comfy chair he'd stolen out of Engineering, Zetta absently flipped through the large packet in which he'd compiled his many proposals as he waited for the rest of the Council to arrive.

As he reached the last page in the packet, he snickered. "'Alexander, God of Destructions, smells.' That never gets old!" Not that he actually expected that particular proposal to be passed. It was just bargaining leverage, something that could easily be cut as a concession to get some of the rest of the stuff past the peaceniks and love-and-rainbows crowd.

"I feel like I should have a nameplate," he said, looking down at the table.

It had been the usual mission briefing, not that any of them remembered it. The crew knew they were gone and had no idea when they'd be back, and likely wouldn't attempt rescue for quite some time, especially with Stacy considering the mission "ongoing."

They had no idea when they'd be back, either, namely because they never remembered being on the ship in the first place.

It was home. It had always been home.

Welcome to Fairplay, Iowa, folks, happiest little town in the Midwest.

[ooc: Read this before tagging.]

Leon was, somehow, 900 kajillion light-years away from everything and everyone he ever knew. But what was he doing right now?

Walking through a ruined city that was crawling with raging infected in an attempt to locate and rescue any survivors. Again. Not that this work wasn't his stock and trade, but one would think that fate would have something else in store for him. But what is, is. At least he wasn't completely on his own, this time, having gathered a small group to go in and help.

With the virus having leaked out here initially, there was no telling where the hot zone was, so as a precaution, he (and anyone else who went) was wearing a modified combat-ready environment-suit. It was fairly light weight, but had some added padding in addition to body armor, and had ts own re-breather to supply air. In addition, he had a few weapons with him, as well as several clips of 'specialty' ammo, since he really had to be ready for anyone to be infected.

He moved through cautiously, looking for anyone who needed help.

((OOC: Open thread for anyone, infected or not, stuck in the city, and for anyone helping with the evac. Interacting with Leon isn't required, and you guys can free thread amongst yourselves if you want.))

In a corner of the obs deck, near the windows looking out over the bleed, there was a pile of papers scattered around. Upon closer inspection, they were slightly messy crayon drawings. Several of them tried to depict the view of the bleed out the window with dark smudges of color blended into each other. A few tried to do some perspective including the windows of the obs deck. Slowly they started transitioning to pictures of fields of flowers with animals happily frolicking through them, trees and grasses, birds flying in the sky and insects buzzing around.

There were a few drawings of little people who looked much like the artist, in a myriad of colors and all with smiles on their little faces. And the Prince's current piece was a depiction of two beings holding hands and tango-dancing together; a pretty woman in a pink dress and, in an explosion of colors, a huge figure with a big orange nose and a magnificent cape. Grasping a gold-colored crayon, the Prince carefully added a crown on top of the figure's head.

The Prince set his crayon down and studied the picture beneath his feet, hands on hips as he looked it over. Finally he let out a little sigh and sat down on top of it, setting his hand where the dancers' hands met on the drawing.

He frowned sadly and stared out into the bleed.

Anyone paying attention in the City today will notice a bizarre sight-- a small lump of garbage, roughly a foot and a half in diameter, rolling up and down the streets. It's mostly made out of bits of rubble, broken glass and garbage, the odd misplaced or discarded item, the occasional loose cobblestone that's been dragged up from the street. Several crew members innocently dropped something they were carrying and found it suddenly snatched by the trashy menace and on its way down the street.

Behind the ball of garbage, pushing it along, is a well-meaning but rather misguided little space person with a pad of paper and a magenta colored pencil strapped to him like a backpack. On the paper is written a message:

-----------------------------------

WE ARE SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE!
WE WILL HAVE YOUR PLANETS RESTORED SOON!

-----------------------------------

He looks hard at work, but he would be happy to stop and chat with his subjects.

The rest of the crew assembled on the Observation Deck to meet the latest editions to their numbers. After the revelation that their worlds are gone, many of them are even more eager to see people they knew from home.

Several people are set up near the doors to provide the new people with omnicoms and comm rings. New crew-mates might see a green-skinned alien and snake girl 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.

[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.]

[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 Initating|| 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... )