Neuropathy sat to one side of Engingeering, dark save for the blue glow of the monitors on all sides displaying brainwaves and technical readouts. Above, trolleys hanging from the framework are sillouetted against the sporadic glow of neurons firing like so many shooting stars. Those who have never been to this area before might wonder why they've never bothered, but to those who have it's just another day at the office.

[[OOC: Kerrigan is in the brig for around three weeks ICly. Characters can come up to her at any point in those three weeks here.]]

Kerrigan was used to cells. At least this time there wasn’t a mass of purple flesh on the floor, pulsing as it spread closer to her. That had been a different place- in another life and yet the memory remained. The fear remained.

She was defenseless. No, that was not true. Even without weapons Kerrigan was far from defenseless. The power dampeners may have taken away what was left of her psychic powers but she could still defend herself if needed, as unlikely as it was. Several weeks in the brig for stabbing someone a dozen times even after she’d told them exactly who they had in custody. It was laughable. It wasn’t what she deserved.

Maybe that was why they’d given her Moby Dick to read. Kerrigan only had her omnicomm for a few hours of the day and there was nothing else to do in here so she was allowed to read selections from the Media Library. She told them she didn’t care and to pick something randomly. They had to have given her this book on purpose. Not only was it torturous but the message was fitting- a man obsessed with revenge. The story had potential if only reading it didn’t leave her wanting to claw her eyes out (if only she still had claws). She would read and toss it aside. Then after hours and hours of nothing but silence and thinking and remembering she would start reading again. Anything to get away from the memories.

After taking Sherlock Holmes to Med Bay, Kerrigan willingly went with Shoutarou to the Precinct. True, she had helped save Sherlock's life but hat didn't change the fact that she was the one who had tried to kill him- a crime she freely admitted.

If the previous Captain were here Kerrigan could have solved them all a lot of trouble. She'd had an arrangement with him. If she ever became the Queen of Blades again he knew how to kill her quickly, preferably before too much blood was spilled. But Kennedy wasn't here. She had no way of knowing if he had informed anyone else of their arrangement.

Even if he had and even though it wasn't clear to Kerrigan, she wasn't the Queen of Blades. She hadn't murdered someone, despite the stab wounds. And she had not sprouted bladed wings and gone on a killing spree. She was quiet and cooperative, if reluctant to share more about what happened than she all ready had.

"He questioned what evidence we had against the Daligig. I... showed him telepathically. What they did to me. It was too much for him. He insulted me and I stabbed him repeatedly."

She showed no outward display of guilt. Her voice was flat. "Emotionless" was the word most would use to describe her. "Numb" was more accurate.

Good God, he needed a cigarette. Between the world being destroyed and all his friends besides John possibly dying along with it (or the entire thing being a total lie), John punching him and storming off, the talking ponies, the random superhero bringing up his cocaine addiction, and arguing with a space elf over (ugh!) politics and clandestine rebellions...actually, forget one cigarette. He needed a whole carton. Strike that, maybe a truck full.

Reaching into his many coat pockets on an instinctual search for cigarettes he knew weren't there, he found that a pack actually was there. And so was his lighter.

Maybe there was a God. Maybe there was a merciful God, or at the very least, maybe the ship really was as benevolent and merciful as she tried to make herself out to be and decided to smile upon him by snatching up a box of cigarettes with his belongings.

...Probably not, but this at least still was a fine bit of serendipity. Sherlock would take it.

Leaning into the doorway of a building in what he didn't realize was another blind spot in the city, he lit up his first post-end-of-the-universe cigarette and took a long drag from it. To be honest, it wasn't really enough, and like it always did when he least wanted it to, old cravings crawled up in the back of his skull and demanded something stronger.

"Not now."

No, not now, though the way he closed his eyes as he leaned against the door of the building and let out a lungful of smoke, would have made it clear to anyone looking that he was a fair bit more overwhelmed than he could even admit to himself.

It seemed that for now, however, he could be content with causing himself harm with only one cigarette at a time.

The Temple of Small Gods was a sizable gathering place -- but more importantly, it was in one of the dead spots on the ship, into which Stacy was apparently unable to spy. It was there that Tarrant waited to address the new crew members.

[This is a briefing meeting for new crew to find out what's goin' on on the ship. Anyone can make subthreads if they want; Tarrant and Ildraniath will be explaining some Rebelliony things. Otherwise feel free to mingle, ask questions, etc etc.]

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.

Ildraniath had found a small park that was out of the way of most of the main streets. It was quiet, shaded. Perfect for a little get together. If people had read her message on the comms, they ought to show up. And if they didn't, she would figure out another way to proceed. Even if she had only a handful of people she could rely on, she would press on. Better than inactivity and waiting for results that never came. She knew patience, but this? Was simply waiting for the sake of waiting.

She folded her hands into the sleeves of her robes and waited, stone still. Once they arrived, she'd have a few words to say to everyone. And then they could begin bandying ideas and organizing.

It's shaping up to be another average day on the Transmigration 9. Crew members are going about their business as usual and all is (to most appearances, at least) about as "well" as things ever are on the ship.

Some crew members are going to be stopped out of the blue by impact with a force field.

"Attention Crewmen: You have been chosen to participate in an experiment!" GLaDOS's voice informs. They're not alone, someone else that was nearby is also caught within the same narrow radius. "Participation is mandatory. Please try to relax and enjoy the experience, as this will improve the quality of the test results."

Clearly this is going to be a wonderful day for science.

"You and your new scientific partner are now on a date," GLaDOS goes on. "As it would be detrimental to our study of the date experience if you were to be separated, you must remain close to your partner for the duration of the experiment. This will be enforced with the Transmigration 9 Crewman Containment Field. Prolonged exposure to the Transmigration 9 Crewman Containment Field may have unexpected side-effects. While any side-effects encountered will be documented and your desire to offer yourself to science is commendable, it is not a necessary part of this experiment."

"You will be informed when the test has been completed. We would like to thank you in advance for your full cooperation in the experiment and failure to attempt to foil it in any way."

"The experiment has begun, so you may begin dating."

( OOC Notes Below Cut! )

The two women had waited until a good number of people had gathered in the sensorium next to where the Tapestry was kept. Sakura glanced toward Howard, wanting a visual reassurance that he was there with a recording device. He was someone she could count on for the paranoid sensibilities that she sometimes put aside in favor of other practicalities. With everyone gathered, they turned toward each other, and the sensorium came alive.
( Such a sight as we have seen... )... leaving everyone standing in the sensorium's blank interface as the mental replay shut down.

[ ooc: Feel free to make your own threads and discuss as your characters are want to do! You are absolutely not required to respond to either Barbara or Sakura's question threads. That is optional! ]

It had taken some time, and a bit of help, but the tavern's repairs were almost done. A full day had been needed to clear the store room of its wreckage (which was still in a large pile outside), and another two to track down materials and construction tools. There were plenty of spare wooden planks and beams in the city in the form of unused buildings; that didn't mean it was all suitable for Kang's purposes or easy for him to take. He'd at least been lucky enough to find a few odd-looking power tools, from some version of Earth, with batteries, saving a bit of work.

The tables, bench and chair had been the first things to be fixed. The stage just needed the new boards hammered in. The store room needed a new door, support beam, and shelving, and stock from the other building moved into it, including some of the full, heavy barrels of ale. He hadn't bothered with putting the various pots back in their proper places yet, though he had at least moved them out of the way and off the floor. The entire building needed swept as well.

It felt good to do a bit of manual labor, and it showed in how quickly and easily the bozak had drawn up detailed blueprints, gotten to work, and made occasional rounds to check on progress and supervise that construction was something he was very experienced with.

[OOC: Threadjacking is very welcome. Tag each other too! :D ]

Thanks to Transmigration 9's crew, Geartopia was fairing much better than a few days ago. The Mayoress having support of her townsmen in near full now thanks to what they had uncovered allowed for most people to go hide into the farms on this day, while everyone else prepared their guns, polished their boots and readied their steam-powered weapons and horses. The air today was dry, with not a cloud in sight. Another typical arid desert afternoon.

Tumbleweed passed by in the city, undaunted by such crazy theatrics that were about to play out.

What they didn't quite expect nor grasp was Snidley's entire plan. They knew of the planned attack. They just didn't know how much he didn't care even for his own men planted there.

First came and earthquake. Or rather, what felt like one. If they looked up at the mountains surrounding the towns, they might notice, slowly, more and more red dots appearing and running down and down towards the city. Shepofalant were, by trade, a very peaceful animals, so much so that most of them had been allowed to stay in gigantic herds of ten of thousands. It made hunting for their meat and clothing that much easier, considering how they could survive practically anywhere.

However, when one allows such things to happen, the consequences can be deadly, if used by the right people with twisted minds.

"Stampede!" Someone yelled out, breaking the silence as they watched.

The townsmen moved frantically, trying to get everyone out of the way. They expected men with guns, not this first wall of frantic, bleating creatures who aren't sure where they are going, just away from what scared them off. Everything stands to be run down by their hooves, buildings, crops...people. There is simply too many animals to shoot everything down without causing the entire ecosystem to crash.

"The farms! We have to go to the farms! Most of the children and the elderly have been kept there!"

[OOC - OKay here's how it's going down. During this phase, there will be giant creatures descending in mass, that should, perhaps, remind you a bit of this scene from the Lion King. Feel free to NPC some goons running around during the chaos trying to attack your characters, making NPC helpless people situations for other characters to rescue, and helping out people using the meat_mooks account! Helpless kids nearly about to be run over, people standing on top of buildings, robots turned to scrap metal for your characters to play their big rescuing heroes on, its all good!

People getting kidnapped (Cazali, Jamie, Kalyee, Punchy), please start your own threads and I will NPC some goons taking you away.]

It had been months since Stacy had released Sarah Kerrigan but the meatship hadn't seen very much of her. It wasn't because she preferred to spend her days alone, at least not solely. It was safer this way. For her and for everyone else on the ship. She had come clean to the Captain, given him a short explanation of her reign as the Queen of Blades. She knew that he could not legally imprison her for crimes she had committed in her own universe but she was still surprised that he hadn't arrested her on the spot. It's what he should have done. Murderers shouldn't go unpunished, especially not when they'd murdered billions people. But then just because Kerrigan wasn't behind locked away didn't mean she wasn't a prisoner. She didn't remember everything but what she did was played out in brief bursts. Images flashing into her mind before vanishing as quickly as they had come. But that was good. That was what she deserved. And slowly she became accustomed to this new life. Barely interacting with others, training, waking up wracked with sobs and shaking.

And then he came. One day. One day with Jim Raynor. Because Stacy hadn't tormented her enough.

If one were to speak in metaphors, you might say that there was a hole in her heart. Kerrigan would say that was a terrible metaphor as she no longer had one. It was more a reminder of what she was missing. What she could have been had the zerg not claimed her.

Now Kerrigan sat in the messhall. It was not as popular as it once was now that there was a supply of real food but it was not as empty as she would have liked. Usually Kerrigan ate quickly and left but today, and in fact every day since Stacy's surprise "gift" to the crew, she sat staring at her slop but not seeing it at all. You would expect more from a telepath. They were supposed to get lost in others' thoughts, not their own.

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.]

In the aftermath of the battle at Lirath, Stacy had been severely damaged. Though she still eventually managed to build up enough power to resume course, she was obviously struggling, her pace far slower than normal. She could barely even manage to directly address those who needed to speak with her, instead allowing the more monotone voice of the Warden to speak up wherever she couldn't.

Several days after the battle, however, she once again stopped course suddenly and without warning, and let out a message throughout the ship.

||Notice to all crew members, Daligig Vessel Horizon is approaching. Archon Yavek is requesting to board so repairs can begin on this vessel. Please report to the Obs deck to recieve Daligig personnel and begin briefing. I repeat, notice to all crew members...||

Those going to the Obs Deck to check out the commotion would see the Horizon just out the observation window. It was massive, nearly half as long as Stacy, and likely had enough room for over a million crew members. The ship was colored a brilliantly bright white, with sleek, smooth lines, making the ships the GIA had that the crew had seen in the battle at Lirath seem like ancient relics.

Not long after the crew had arrived at the Obs Deck, bright, crackling lights began to appear towards the far end of the room as figures began teleporting in.

The first to appear were...not the Daligig. Instead, the first figures to arrive were massive, 9-ft tall reptilian soldiers, each decked in thick armor carrying equally massive battle rifles. At their fore stood one of them wearing lighter armor, carrying a tall metallic staff. He appeared older than the other reptillians, and wore a red sash that seemed to mark him of higher rank than the others. He raised the comm unit on his wrist to speak into it.

"Situation green, Archon. It is safe come over."

At that point, more figures began teleporting over, much smaller than the reptilian soldiers that came before. In fact, they were even somewhat shorter than normal humans, the tallest among them barely six feet tall. These were the Daligig, strange looking and varied in appearance. Each of them had devices on their arms, apparently small but powerful micro computers, each with different colors denoting the rank of the wearer. At their side were numerous tiny beings, each barely 4 feet tall, who almost immediately fanned out, obsessively observing and picking at Stacy's techno-organic structure.

Suddenly, one of the Daligig, wearing a dark blue arm unit, stepped forward with a rather grim, serious expression on his face. This, apparently was Archon Yavek.

"Who is in charge here?" he demanded bluntly.

[ooc: Meant to get this up a week ago, but school got the better of me, so sorry, guys! First thread that I put up will be the main expositionary thread, but feel free to make more threads for you characters to react, talk to each other, or try and talk to the Daligig and their companions. Basic info on the Daligig can be found over here.]

 After dropping off some of the crew at Balisair, it was time for the crew to set course for Lirath. The situation greeting them wasn't the most promising.

The cracked surface of the moon called Lirath was one of its most unmistakeable features. One of the three moons of the planet Kehoe, it had been terraformed and served as a settlement for a hundreds of different species, some humanoid, some not. Despite occasional class struggles, environmental issues, and speciesism blocking their way, the darker parts of Lirath's past were largely left behind, and an era of peace and tolerance had reigned for quite some time. The only problems they'd had recently were with a terrorist group whose cause for their actions had been a mystery, but they weren't tied to any particular species or social group and had been likened to a cult and had largely gone quiet in recent years.

Now the peace on the moon of Lirath had been shattered by the invasion of the Ohm.

The capital city had been destroyed. Now, all that was left of the peoples of Lirath was evacuating from one of its smaller cities, one known as Smyteval. A desert city, existing in a valley in between a rocky range of canyons and mountains, even though it was in the low ground, the natural channels of rock served as bottlenecks for any Ohm attacking from the ground.

GIA squadrons patrolled in space, locked in explosive warfare, protecting the Bleed-gate that had been activated to see the evacuated ships to the refugee world, and a shield created by massively-powerful shield generators extended around the city and up into the atmosphere, creating a shielded tunnel so ships could escape.

Word had come that there was a vital weapon to be deployed on Lirath, one that needed to be destroyed, hence why the Transmigration 9 had been called in. Given the diverse crew, and the ships that were in its hangar, there was at least someone or something on board that could blow the weapon up if it did show.

There was no sign of it yet. Right now, there was just chaos, streams of evacuees boarding ships, armies of Ohm engaged with GIA soldiers outside the shields, and forcefields that everyone hoped would hold out just a little bit longer.

The crew would be following Leon's orders but finding themselves fighting side-by-side with GIA platoons, full of various species that were currently all getting their asses kicked severely.

[ooc: STAGE 1 is now open! Please do not tage STAGE 2 until it's announced as open as well.]

[ooc: STAGE 2 is now open!]

Having seen more of the 'Verse than most people would dream possible in his rather eventful life, Mal had also been a patron of just about every type of drinking establishment there was. From upscale Core World bars to shacks out on the very Rim held together with mud and prayers, it was very likely Mal had at least stepped into it for a drink, and possibly a nice fight. Bars and Taverns were where you could learn a great deal about a person, just by watching how much they chose to abandon their own restrictions and self control in the presence of others. They were also where there was information, business deals, and new contacts to be found, all present in one neat central location, one that many communities revolved around. Whenever he stopped in a new port of call, Mal always made sure to pay the bar a visit sooner rather than later.

Of course, with all his experience with watering holes, he had to admit that the Drunken Dragon was something very new. On the surface it could almost be mistaken for a Rim world bar, with its rough and almost primitive design motif, almost comical dragon decoration, and lack of all the da bian luxuries the Alliance insisted marked them as civilized. Mal had been in enough of those dives, however, to realize that the Dragon was far more well maintained than most of them could afford to be, and that the design itself was not the result of a hodgepodge of whatever materials they could scrounge. It looked more like something out of an ancient Earth That Was picture book. Setting foot inside, Mal took the time to survey the layout of the place, memorizing the locations of all the tables, staff, and exits just in case he needed to leave in a hurry.

Not that he expected to have to do so, given Kaylee and Wash's assurances about the respect the patrons paid the owner of the tavern, but old habits died hard, and if he let them die then he expected he would soon follow. Still, it seemed like he'd arrived a bit early, and with time to spare before the person he was meeting arrived he made his way across the tavern to a place where he could sit with his back to the wall and watch the door. Of course, once he sat he needed a moment to get used to the fit of his suit, as he had for the past few days. He was rather glad the ship had seen fit to save the coat that was a symbol of his continued defiance against the now dead Alliance, but he had to wonder if it would have really hurt to save his pants and shirt too.

[OOC:This thread is mostly for if characters who Mal had arraigned to meet for drinks at the tavern, but if you want to thread with him feel free to have a character run into him while he's waiting. Individual threads can be set at different times too.]

There was an inner battle in her mind (wasn't there always?). On the one hand there was her personal distaste for anything tampering with or influencing her mind and on the other... On the other there was the craving- no, the need to split something in two. In the end, her anger at GLaDOS pushed her over the edge.

She strode into one of the Sensoriums and waited for the door to close behind her.

"I hear you can bring up illusions. And since you're psychic..." And your little friends dug around in my brain. "I want you to show me something from my past."

Several moments later, after giving the sentient spaceship more details, Kerrigan stood on Char, surrounded by her beloved zerg. She was close enough to a hydralisk to feel as well as hear its low growl. It wasn't hostile but welcoming as one would welcome family. She didn't remember most of her reign as the Queen of Blades, but this was familiar, almost soothing.

Kerrigan placed her hand on the hydralisk's carapace, stroking down its head.

Much too familiar.

One telekinetic blast the zerg sprawling backwards. It let out a shriek, one that did not evoke a feeling of comfort in the former Ghost. Good.

"See your Queen of Blades now!" Kerrigan shouted. "They may have mutilated me but my wrath is still the same!" Challenging a brood of zerg to a fight after being deinfested- and after the Ohm had experimented on her and somehow dampened her strength- it was impossible odds, even in the Sensorium. In short, it was nothing she hadn't faced before.

Several hours later, she left the Sensorium both exhausted and wired. And completely confident in the Sensorium's safety precautions.

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 tall man in green armor 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... )