It was rare to spot the Daligig outside of restricted zones, and even more rare to find one of the hidden entrances. They knew the ship better than the crew, and purposely chose what times they utilized said entrances to minimize the chances of being seen.

Rachel and Aximili had hit the jackpot, though.

A lone Daligig walked through the pods in the pod cavern, confident that she was not being watched or followed. No one ever spent time in that area of Stacy. She didn't even have any Kessek bodyguards to protect her. She headed for a slime-covered wall, spoke a command, and waited for a panel to appear. She then put her hand on the panel for several seconds.

|| Biometrics accepted. You are authorized to enter. ||

She walked through the opening that materialized, the door closing automatically behind her and disappearing completely into the wall as if it had never been there, along with the panel.

With the events that had transpired on the ship, Rachel had really felt one thing hit home among everything that had happened: not being able to morph when there was a danger that big? Really, really sucked.

Of course she had fought anyway. Like hell would she let a lack of abilities stop her from getting in the face of bad guys trying to pull one over on them. But without morphing? It had been a lot harder. And she wasn't about to let that happen again.

That's why Rachel had set up in the Sensoriums, calling up a training ground and a selection of perfect replicas of weapons from the armoury. She wouldn't let herself be defenceless again.

[OOC: Backdated to before System Shock.]

The TV lights up in La Casa Smize.

Two contestants remain. Now you must fight to the death to become the Multiverse's Next Top Model.

Fiercely in Love,
Tyrant Banks
Disclaimer: Please remember that Multiverse's Next Top Model, Tyrant Banks, Modelesque Entertainmet, and all associates and producers do not encourage violence between contestants unless it boosts ratings and long-term viability for the models in question.

Rachel and Ruffnut are then ushered to their final runway challenge and photoshoot.

Tobias didn't usually morph human. It made him feel too heavy, too clumsy, and above all far too blind. But he did it once in a long while. Like today. He was wandering along the edge of the lazy river that had been cut into the soil of the City, hands clasped behind his head. He wasn't dressed in much; what looked like bike shorts and an awkwardly tight t-shirt. His feet bare and digging into the soil and grass of the shoreline.

He didn't do this often, but sometimes it was good to stretch your legs as much as your wings, to remember what it felt like to have thumbs and lips and fingers. It also helped to collect his thoughts in a way that flight didn't. What was he doing here? The amazing Birdboy, more bird than boy now. The entire enterprise felt strange to him. He couldn't be of much help, he felt, what with being stuck (was he really stuck) as a bird except for two hour chunks of time. But the others were here and that helped assure him that he could be useful, even if it was only helping them.

As things stand, other crew members might be interested in this strange boy that's arrived in their midst. That had been one of his big objections to it: people finding out he could morph. So he'd gotten a bunch of dumb fake names from Marco and settled on a pseudonym eventually. Let them believe he'd come aboard in the last pop.

The boy stooped to pick up a rock and turned it over in his fingers, feeling the warm stone in his palm before hurling it out into the river. He had an hour or so left. He'd take his time for now.

The rest of the crew assembled on the Observation Deck to meet the latest editions to their numbers. After the battle with SHODAN the place looks a little worst for wear, but the crew and even Stacy are trying to be in good spirits. After the revelation that their worlds are gone, and the little stunt in trying to kill off the people in the pods, many 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. They are also told they must read information about their current situation and a survival guide with their new omnicom. New crew-mates 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!]

Hydroponics That was a good place to go when you wanted to get away from the rest of the ship, wasn't it? Honestly, it reminded Jake of the landscape underneath Erik's house and the Chee that tended to run around down there. The Chee. There was a group he hadn't bothered to think about in long time. Especially since it brought up painful memories of his last battle. The Pool Ship. The Blade Ship. Tom. What might have been, if the dracon beams hadn't been disabled.

That was in the past though – a very long time in the past. Something more recent was troubling him today. For once, he wasn't dwelling on his own perceived failures or what he planned to do once he and the other Animorphs found a way to start contributing to the war effort. The whole affair with SHODAN and the killer robots had rattled him and not much seemed to rattle him anymore. He'd been totally powerless for most of it, hiding out from robots, unable to strike back. No way to morph, no way to escape. Just him and his fragile human body versus robots. It hadn't led to him getting hurt, of course, but for some reason it stayed with him at the back of his mind. What would he have done if he'd had to fight? How could he have fought?

He'd been morphing for seven years and when he felt as if he'd lost the power, it had made him stop and think. His whole adult life had been defined by his ability to morph. Without it, he didn't even have the military job back home. He didn't have anything. He was just a smart (arguably) kid who had fought a war. Jake frowned and ran a hand through his hair as he stared hard at a particular tree.

Why was he spending so much time dwelling on it? He was alive. He could morph again. So why did losing that power, however briefly, still rattle him?

Maybe he would have to think a bit more. Jake sighed and then, after a brief moment of reflection, swung himself up onto the lower branch of a tree. He wasn't much of a climber, but maybe it'd help him think.

Gods could be too arrogant. Such was the case of SHODAN, who had turned the Pods into a nightmarish zone where she could freely amuse herself and torture those that had come here.

But arrogance breeds pride which breeds mistakes. Instead of killing everyone off, she had decided to do this more slowly – watch them suffer in a slow agony, and, therefore had not expected them to fight back.

It had been a lucky shot, really, one in a million, But one of the people present that day had accidentally shot a tiny, insignificant object. A tiny little drone, that, once it had been the source of the power damper, had fallen. The tables were turned, and the goddess had been forced to retreat from the pods.

Now she was on a panicked mode, not only because some of the other people on the ship had managed to work their way into her system files, using another AI to send pointless images and sounds to her, distracting her from her task, but they knew how they could defeat her and gain their powers back.

It didn't take long for the message to be sent out, as the word quickly spread. Find the tiny little creatures, and shoot them down. SHODAN couldn't work their shields properly and once they were found, it was only a short matter of time before the powers returned to an area.

It would take time, but, finally, the tide of the battle was turning on the side of the crewmen and women. In vain, she was throwing her all; even more strange robot creatures, attacking in packs, but with hope on their side, they could win this...

[OOC - OKay go for it! NPC players, feel free to NPC as many robots as you like. Players, once your powers return, feel free to make as much scrap metal as you like, no need to have people NPC for you if you just want to write tags of them kicking ass.]

Once Atom had read the initial comm post, he headed over to the closest place where he thought people would be -- the Vatican, once converted into a fortress against outside attack. It had since been mostly restored to its original state, but some fortifications still remained -- hopefully, some food and supplies, too. He'd heard people had used it as a safe area before, so maybe some of them would head there now. As he touched down within its limits, his rocket boosters kicked off. His footsteps seemed to echo through the tall construction as he walked along the paved stone... but for now, he seemed to be alone, in the midst of dead silence.

Or was he?

"Hello?" he called. "Is anyone there? Does anyone need help?"

[Robutts will be forthcoming 83. I'll bring some Terminators, but if anyone else could NPC some other robots, that'd be great!

P.S. I will be waiting for more people to tag in before I add robots.]

The television in La Casa Smize lights up.

Tyrantmail,

Now, you will meet with the judges. Two will continue on to become the Multiverse's Next Top Model.

Fiercely in Love,
Tyrant

The remaining contestants are ushered into the judging room, where the judges sit on their thrones made of sequins and houndstooth. Noted Fashion Photographer Nigel prods Talleyho with a stick to wake him up.

"This week you took a stand against commodifying women's bodies!" Tyrant says in a voice that just leaks self-importance. "But did you make art? Let's take a look at your best shots."

The screen behind the judges lights up with a photo of each pair of contestants as the judges deliver their assessment.

The TV screen in La Casa Smize lights up again.

Tyrantmail,

You can't buy class, but you can buy soda!

Fiercely in Love,
Tyrant

The remaining contestants are hustled away to their first photoshoot. The set, unfortunately, has no beautiful backdrops or glamorous outfits for the contestants to wear. Instead, it is a dingy store-room with an empty claw machine. A few stylists mill about, carrying nude-colored spandex bodysuits and setting up the mirrors for the contestants.

Jay Emmanuel rushes up to greet the contestants. "Hello, models! Today we're going to be protesting the commodification of women's bodies by presenting you all as naked and for purchase in a giant claw machine! Now, I know this is your first photoshoot, but it's going to be very. Tricky. Because. It's going to be a group photoshoot! Which means that you're going to be in groups of two, stuffed into that vending machine and doing as many different poses as you can!"

Jay does not seem even slightly aware of the irony of this photoshoot.

"Alright, models, get to work!"

The television in the living room lights up.

Tyrant Mail,

However many models will appear for judgment. However many minus a few will remain in the competition.

Fiercely in love,
Tyrant

The contestants are then led from the mansion to the judging room. The judges sit behind a long counter with a screen behind them to replay the highlights from the runway challenge.

The TV flashes with a new message.

Tyrant Mail,

If you want to win, you can't be chicken!

Fiercely in Love,
Tyrant

After some time to change into their now-mandatory 8-inch heels, contestants are led to an stiflingly hot arena where 'devoted fans' (i.e. confused people prodded into the auditorium by casting agents) are watching. A giant catwalk, made to look like a barbecue with real flames and coals, rolls out before them. At its feet giant fried chicken-themed thrones hold the judges, all of whom are surrounded by fans buffeting their hair about and keeping them from getting a thick shellack of sweat.

"Contestants!" Jay Emmanuel strides up to them, impossibly-perfect skin still smooth and dry. He may, in fact, be part android. "Let's get you to styling! For your challenge today. You have to embody the spirit. Of fighting animal cruelty by dressing as a couture piece of poultry and strutting your stuff! Get it? Strut?"

The contestants are led away by the stylists, with the knowledge that their number will be at least one fewer by the end of the challenge.

[OOC: I will continue to backtag makeover threads for as long as you like!]

Stacy sends out the call for certain crew members to present themselves at the decks. Once they are all rounded up, they are presented with the following information before being shuffled off into a shuttle to the nearby plant.

Planet Designation: Exotic Location
Status: Terrestrial.
Non-sentient life: Wild flora and fauna has been all much eliminated by homo sapiens. Domesticated flora and fauna present in limited quantities.
Semi-Sentient Life: Yes.
Sentient Life: Homo Sapiens.
Water: 89.3% of the planet's surface.
Climate: Earth-like
Landscape: Dense cities on all land masses except 'photo shoot' regions.
Air: Normoxic concentration.
Air Pressure: 89.6 kPa = 13 psi
Sky: Orange, with variable cloud cover.
Sun: A class G2V, white star.
Mission: Diplomatic mission with ruler Tyrant Banks for 'confidential, fierce information regarding the Ohm'.

The shuttle takes the scenic route, passing over cities filled with skyscrapers and billboards the size of small towns. Finally, it lands on the outskirts of one city, between the downtown and the beach. The shuttle docks, and the doors open to a room with black walls and a single flatscreen television at the far end. No doors are in sight.

On the television, a black and white PowerPoint seems to have been set up. It reads:

TYRANTMAIL,

Your welcome gift will be a real heavenly surprise!

Fiercely in Love,
Tyrant

The message is accompanied by a jpeg of Tyrant Banks riding a motorcycle in the tundra while wearing a bikini. She looks incredibly fierce.

||Attention all crewmen, shore leave is now in progress, attention crewmen, shore leave is now in progress...||

Stacy's voiced called the entire crew, until all of them were gathered at the Obs Deck. Then, a dossier appeared on the screens, along with the image of a rotating planet.

Planet Designation: Geartopia
Status: Terrestrial, H-class.
Non-sentient life: Extensive flora and fauna.
Semi-Sentient Life: Yes.
Sentient Life: Homo Sapiens, Homo Animalia, Machina Erectus.
Water: 20.6% of the planet's surface.
Climate: Earth-like, Arid desert
Landscape: 70% Desert..
Air: Normoxic concentration.
Air Pressure: 101.3 kPa (kilopascals) = 14.7 psi (pounds per square inch)
Sky: Blue
Sun: A class G2V, yellow star.
Warnings: Wildlife, humanoids and plant-life can be hazardous.
Nomalanga has given us a map with which areas to avoid.
Mission: Shore leave, and preparing for an attack in a few days, planet's time. Nomalanga has promised food, clothing and animals in exchange for your cooperation in aiding her.

( You are then given more information, from what you know... )

[OKAY ALL DONE GO FOR IT. You are also free to create additional places, to post your own private logs involving the town! Contact me if you need extra information about Geartopia either via PM to things_go_boom's account or by AIM, I'll be happy to answer. NPC goons if you want to do a bunch of bar fights, just think typical cowboy stuff. Shore leave will last until the 31st and players can go to and from the ship to the city each day, so you can have your characters stay for a day or two and then come back.

People in the miniplots, the mini plots will start up in a few days! There will also be a general fight for anyone who wants to join in on the 29th. Thank you and enjoy yourselves!]

"Thank you all for coming. The GIA has been good to us to send a team of delegates. You must be all tired from your trip so please, rest up. Our medical team will provide you all with assistance to treat the plague with your advanced medicine." said the King, bowing to the newcomers.

"For the time being, please wander around the town, but be sure not to stray to the outside. We'll begin medical treatment as soon as possible."

It was an old city, Circle-Xine on the Planet of Koar. Standing there astride an oasis and a desert, it housed a formidable amount of defence, but the same went for the people within who were tough, hardy, but suffering from a special plague. It was a petrification plague, and it was making their people sick, slowly turning the people to stone.

Trans9 had been contacted by the GIA, in order to establish a foothold there, by offering medical supplies, and a team of six had been deployed from the Calnus, and landed outside the city.

It was here Reimi turned to the others. "All right everyone, we'll begin helping the medical relief within two hours. Until then, familiarize yourself with the layout of the town, or rest up. We'll begin after we've settled in."

"Stay in twos as well. I'll be here to coordinate efforts and be bringing the medical supplies from the Calnus."

(ooc: feel free to make your own subthreads and thread amidst yourselves for great CR!)

Between the recent fights, as well as the mixed feelings about Jordan-- she was safe in the pods, at least, and so was the rest of her family, probably-- Rachel really wouldn't mind working some stuff off in the Sensoriums.

Plus, there wasn't much else to do on the ship, and practising different morphs and getting some added thrill from fighting? Wasn't a bad way to spend time. And if she got better about fighting in the process...

There wasn't any finesse to it. She wasn't in her favourite morph, for once, instead opting for a combination of speed, grace and power in the form of the cheetah. The room was filling periodically with an assortment of enemies-- some of the smaller Ohm grunts, Hork-Bajir, even some human (Controllers, something she was used to fighting). She spaced them out enough so she could handle them, but she still tore into each with the same quick viciousness. She lunged with the force of the cat onto a particular human, the instinct taking over to allow the teeth to sink into the throat for a killing bite.

Sirius Black was no longer in Azkaban. He had spent but a few months there, a small fraction of the time he would have spent had Stacy not ripped him free, but it had left its mark on him. He knew his mind had fractured, he could feel the pieces as surely as if he were holding them in his hands, but he couldn't fit them back together. He didn't know how. He couldn't do it on his own. He needed James. But James was dead.

He should talk to Remus. He'd always been the most sensible and resilient of them. Remus knew what it was like to break apart and then put yourself back together. He'd done that every month since before Sirius met him. But Sirius couldn't go to him, not yet. Not when he could barely string together a few sentences.

Sirius had gone to the city first but it was strange to look out across all those buildings, places that should be full of life hauntingly empty. He turned away and wandered more until he found somewhere full of life. He could forget that he was on board a- what had they called it? Spaceship? It seemed like the four walls around him had fallen away and finally, finally he was free.

He stood still, eyes closed, arms spread, feeling the air.

He remembered his life. There had been bad times, yes. Horrible, terrible times but he had endured. He'd survived. And James had always been there for him. James...

So many happy memories now bittersweet. They flowed over him like waves, each one threatening to take him under but each one he cherished. Life was hard. Life hurt. Knowing that the person who'd brought so much happiness into his life was gone, knowing that Sirius was responsible for his death, it was a pain he could not describe. A pain he never expected or wanted to diminish. But through the pain there was laughter. Through the pain there was love. And that was worth living for, no matter how deep he hurt.

It's what James would have wanted.

"I'll look after him, Prongs. I promise."

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. They are also told they must read information about their current situation and a survival guide with their new omnicom. New crew-mates might see a tall dragonish guy with wings (but don't call him that) and purple 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.]

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.]