If there was one thing Lowe liked to do, it was design new stuff to help others. Didn't matter what it was, if he could build it, he'd do it. And as it stood, the ship needed a lot of help.

Case in point - within Engineering, Lowe was busy designing a set of special armors. Those armors being those to be worn by the Knight Sabers, the group Sylia had announced. Thanks to a few things given to him by Sylia herself, he was on his way to recreating the armors for the other girls. A few modifications and he designed one for himself, though only for testing. He had ideas for what to include, but he didn't want to risk the other armors in doing so.

[Lowe, are you certain this'll work?] 8 asked from a nearby table.

"Of course it will, 8!" Lowe replied. "Sylia's designs and all. At the very least, I'll might have to make a few modifications along the way, but..."

Things just keep getting worse and worse...

The bomb situation was over. They won. They're alive. In a sense - if the reports are true, then they've lost a number of people. And again, there was nothing Irma could do. She felt helpless at this point - no Guardians, no real powers, nothing. For once in her life, Irma started wishing that she was a normal person again. At least that way she could have more options as to what to do.

She didn't want to hide in the W.I.T.C.H. Bus and didn't to hang around the school or the citadel. Instead, she decided to wander, hoping to find someone, ANYONE, to talk to, to get her mind off of what was going on.

Shiva spoke through the comms (not the omnicomms) directly into the minds of the crew.

«I am Shiva. I am the destroyer of all that you know and the creator of a grand new empire. For months you thought of me as my host, Charles Kawalsky, but now you shall see me in all my glory. I have positioned bombs throughout this vessel, including the pod caverns. I need but press the trigger and they will explode. I also have one hostage of my own, Sheryl. You will not be able to stop me. I am fully equipped with a power dampener, and a forcefield. I am untouchable. You have one hour to surrender yourselves to me and begin your new lives as my slaves.»

His eyes flashed gold and he held his hostage firmly. He did not wish to wait, but if he tired of this he would amend his demands. For now he stayed in one of the areas in the City hidden from Stacy’s view, in the middle of a pile of rubble, with not a landmark in sight.

Still, he knew they would come.

There is only so much one can do by himself before starting to run out of ideas.

Case in point: Lowe's need to build and create had pretty much hit a roadblock as of lately. He's come to realize that, if they were going to fight the Ohm, they would need better gear. Sadly, sitting in the cockpit of the Red Frame for hours at a time in thought wasn't going to cut it. So, he ended up making his way to the Media Library and begin a bit of research there.

What he found was amazing...

"Man, I never knew these sorts of things were around here!" Lowe said, feeding another one of the chips into his Omnicomm, which was pretty much kitbashed onto 8 for better reading and transmitting.

[Agreed. I'd say that this could really give us a leg up on ideas...!] 8 replied as different data and schematics flashed up on its screen. Amongst the scattered chips were different notes Lowe had taken, most of them doodles of Red Frame with different weapons and forms. One had Red Frame with a staff of sorts with a picture of a shape transforming into the staff with the notes "Need to be compact and wieldy. Find Nano Nana Nani Magic Dept. Head for example." Another was a doodle of him in an armor, striking a goofy pose with the note "This is possible. Find Sylia? Master Chef Chief."

"I gotta stop writing in pen." Lowe muttered as he scratched out another small note and corrected it.

Morale was high, and everyone had their share of fun, but now it was time to part ways with Zokez II.

As everyone made their way back to the spaceport to be picked up, they could see the Obs Deck waiting for them with ramp open, and large tendrils eagerly moving vehicles and cargo back aboard.

It's about time to say goodbye to this planet...but fate, it seems, has other ideas.

[OOC: PLOT BEGINS! Here's how it goes: A handful of techies and a couple fighty people (as escort) will be on the reactor end of this part of the plot, while everyone else can help out with the evacuation.]

[OOC pt 2: Also, sorry, it apparently wasn't clear that they hadn't actually gotten back onto the ship yet. Plot is obviously taking place on the planet.]

Good news, denizens of the good ship Stacy: Zokez II had quite the night life.

There was a club a short distance from the beach that promised "the hoppingingingest night in the city" in multiple languages (the message got across, at least) and once dusk had fallen you could hear the music from blocks away. Venturing inside would show off an interior design that looked like somebody had fallen in love with the neon black light posters of Earth's 1970s, with brightly colored and oddly shaped couches, stools, tables and bars. Even the drink cups looked like they'd taken a spin in a too-hot dishwasher, all varieties of strange and squiggly shapes. Aliens of all shapes and sizes had taken up along the walls and the holographic dance floor and the good times were certainly rolling.

As was the alcohol.

[ooc: OH GOD IT'S A *SPACE NIGHTCLUB*. Have at, party animals.

Here's some terrible mood music.]

Once things had settled down somewhat from the pod pop, once she had been assigned to a cabin and once she'd had a few days to relax and shove all her sudden anxieties about the world ending to somewhere else in the back of her mind, Sylia took her hardsuit for a test drive around the many vast hallways of the ship. The digital readouts had one hell of a time trying to give her data about the ship's layout and the composition of the walls, but most importantly it seemed to be running well and however long she'd spent in podsleep hadn't affected her performance. It felt good to wear it again.

Even if Nigel and Henderson's warnings about her condition were echoing in the back of her mind the whole time.

Once she was finished she set her suit on a table in engineering and set to work performing basic maintenance on it as best she could with the advanced tools set before her. It was a shame this place was so humid-- she worried about the suit's long-term performance and wished more than ever that Nigel was here. Sylia may have looked a little clueless there, examining each tool carefully before testing it out.

Oh well. At least the skinsuit gave her something else to wear besides the creepy plantsuits. It was so much more visually appealing. And there was no good reason why the plantsuits couldn't provide the luxury of cleavage. Honestly.

Stacy's voice speaks over the whole of the ship. What she has to say has become very familiar over the the podlings have spent here.

||Pod Release Protocols Initiating,|| she says. ||Please proceed to the Observation Deck to meet your new crew mates.||

Those crew members that don't head to the Obs Deck on their own are hurried there via gentle but insistent tentacles. A few people stop by Engineering to help bring and pass out omnicoms and comm rings to the new crew members as well.

[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.]