Of all the places on Stacey that Mal could think of holding a team meeting, there were actually very few he felt comfortable doing it at. He'd gotten the list a few days before and had been mulling it over every since trying to decide how to go about doing this. A team wasn't the same as his actual crew, but in a strange way it was. These were people he was going to have to keep their well being in mind no matter what they were doing on the ship- having River and Kaylee both listed was a comfort all in its self.

Mal had considered a few places as soon as he had picked the sensorium as the meeting spot. The Southdown Docks were nice and had a few good bars even if it would be a high distraction for those of not their 'verse. Haven could also be good but, well, that wasn't going to happen because of Book. However when the Captain discovered the rather detailed showing of Serenity that Kaylee had programed, the former Browncoat knew instantly where it was going to be held at.

So he set about sending out the waves to those on his team with detailed maps of how to navigate from the cargo bay to the kitchen/living room/family room on the ship along with a time for them all to be there. He'd wait, of course, and explore his ship. Sit in the pilots seat, play with Wash's dinosaurs that River had insisted on keeping out, and remember.

She had slept and dreamt the dream curled around the sand filled bin she'd found the tiny Maker in, her sandworm, the one who'd watched her take the Water of Life. Arha knew it was that one like she knew Shai-Hulud from Shai-Hulud. They sounded different in her head, a variance in hum, in pitch, in imagery. This one was barely out of its sandtrout stage, as long as her torso with the girth of it still thickening. Now, she sat Fremen style, meditating on many things and nothing all at once.

This place that she now was in was too humid and both she and the little Maker did not care for it. He opened and closed his small jaws, irritated as he let out a grumbling, if tiny roar. It was not yet impressive and she reached to slide her fingertips over his sandwashed hide, murmuring in soft sing-song hum as he rose to snap at her without malice.

Arha caught its meaning in a flash of imagery.

"I know," she whispered, covering her mouth with a soft huff. "This is not home and you have yet no room. Again, we are trapped, little Maker. I do not know if I can free you from this. I am no wormkiller, though I had no choice the last time."

Her voice was soft, barely audible as she caught the sound of someone approaching. Arha's hand was on a crysknife in an instant, her blue-within-blue eyes narrowed.

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.

Panting heavy, the man dressed in to many layers and more than a little dirty rested his hands against his knees. So far he had managed to run through the entirety of the last three hours of Serenity Valley for his unit a grand total of three and a half times. Rubbing the sleeve of the torn and grimy jacket over his brow Captain Malcolm Reynolds ignored the advice to stop and rest for the tenth time. "No, no, no. Gorramit no!" he snarled forcing himself to stand straighter with a wince. Around him the sounds of gunfire echoed off the rock walls of a valley, over head warbirds roared in greeting causing explosions to light up the night sky. The only person that wasn't in a rush was him. Mal knew the next events by heart and that was not what he was aiming for.

"Stacy. Stop the simulation and rerun it back to the beginning of the three hour mark. Run the calculations again at the rate of speed that the Alliance is advancing to the orders that I've told you." When nothing happened a dark scowl crossed Reynolds face. "Don't make be beg, sweetheart. I'm not in the mood."

When the simulation seemed to stop and fizzle out the former Browncoat turned and walked back to his starting position. Kneeling he shifted the rifle in his hands, closing his eyes and counting. The feeling of heat rushed over him as the sounds of battle started up again. There had to be a way to how this thing could have gone different. There had to be.

It was the best distraction that Mal was able to obtain for himself.

Earlier, somewhere in the Vatican's outbuildings:
Carefully, Murphy poured a little of the precious liquid into a dish, then placed the bottle far, far away. He nodded to his brother who then, with great ceremony (and from a safe distance) lit a match and tossed it in.

The flame burnt fast, bright, and blue.

The twins grinned.

******

The next flame burnt a decidedly different color, and distinctly higher. The boys jumped back, laughed, and Murphy pointed at his twin.

"You're trying it first!"



( Now, nearly everywhere... )

[ooc note]

Picard was sitting, watching television.

To be precise, he was watching episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation. He remembered the Farpoint mission, remembered Q and his 'trial for humanity'. He only grew more sullen when he switched it ahead many episodes to First Contact with the Borg. He watched as a model of the Enterprise was bombarded with weapons fire, glaring when an actor dressed as him came on screen, pleading with Q to help him.

"It's entertainment to them," he said, his voice flat. "It's just entertainment to them."

[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.

Part of the crew might be gone, but life on the ship goes on. In fact, new people have woken up and, eventually, they've been spat out into the mess hall.

Maybe it's better to introduce them to some of the worst aspects of ship life first, right?

Anyway, the word is out that there's new people, and someone should probably go say hello. Before the n00bs mistake the glop for crew.


[ooc: read before tagging, plz]

[[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.