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... )

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.]

"I knew you were lying! There never was any cake!!" A highly annoyed female's voice could be faintly heard before a secret panel slid open and a not very pleased looking, dark haired woman stumbled out into the hallway almost as though she'd been pushed.

Regaining her composure, Temperance Brennan pushed her hair out of her face and offered the space behind the doorway a glare. "Don't get mad at me because I didn't fall for your lies of free cake!" Though the only answer she got was for the secret panel to slide shut again.

She sighed loudly and shook her head. How the AI had managed to even get her in that hidden area was beyond her comprehension. She'd always known that AI lied about things, put people in awkward positions - i.e. the mistletoe incident - and so she should have known better. Though GLaDoS had been in for a complete shock when Temperance had flat out refused to participate in her version of a rat race. No amount of offers of free cake had swayed the stubborn scientist.

"Exasperating moronic machine," Tempe muttered to herself. Almost as soon as the words were uttered the secret panel slid open again. This time a pair of shoes were launched out, right at Tempe's head. "OW! HEY" Tempe cried, lifting her hands to press against her now throbbing forehead.

The crew will see them slinking off, disappearing around hallways--shifting shadow shapes and the backs of heads ducking around corners. They're always people they think they know. Dead loved ones, perhaps, or loved ones they're not sure are dead or alive. They lead crew members into dangerous places, sudden drops, parts of Stacy where things can go wrong.

And they do go wrong. Floors drop out. Ducts become damaged somehow, invisibly, and suddenly spew hot steam. Around the children, items slam into walls--poltergeist activity.

Whether these are really those lost souls, or just illusions, is hard to tell. Either way, those that are part-ghost or have supernatural powers will have a helluva workout. The upside is the presence of the ghosts might disrupt the Waking Dreams to allow people to escape them more easily.

Which is good because the dreams will start to cause injuries now. Real ones.

And refusing to go to sleep doesn't save you when the dreams can happen while you're awake.

[ooc: Waking dreams will continue--and start causing injuries. Furthermore, ghostly apparitions will start to cause poltergeist activity and lead the crew into danger. Start to raise the alarm, meatship. It's starting.]

Slowly but surely, the nightmares have been chipping away at the mental defenses of the crew.

Even those who attempt to stay awake to avoid the nightmares find themselves too on-edge to completely concentrate their defenses.

And the Nightmare King has not been idle during all this, no. He has been slowly feeding off the crew, gathering his strength so that he may yet break free from his prison.

And he now uses that new found power, reaching out to affect the minds of the crew even in the waking world. Even those avoiding sleep will find themselves drifting in and out of their nightmares, bringing everyone a taste of despair.

After all, no one can escape the grasp of the King of Nightmares.

No one.

[ooc: OH NOEZ. As you can guess, the Nightmare King is getting stronger. As such, the crew will start experiencing waking dreams. These are much more subtle than the normal nightmares, however, and are more so depressing and surreal than actually brain-breaking. Mostly they would be miserable versions of the character's normal life, or perhaps even their life on the ship.]

Pressing her lips together, Doctor Temperance Brennan's forehead furrowed as she stared intently through a pair of rather ridiculous glasses at a shard of alien bone. While they might have been old lady's glasses, she had actually found them more useful than some of the microscopes she was use to handling, and she didn't need to be hunched over for quite so long a time.

Turning in her chair, she placed the bone in an advanced bone cutting machine, switched it on and waited while it sliced the bone into different sized pieces. She'd already examined several different types of alien bones - she had been lucky enough to find a storage unit full of hundred of different types of alien bones. Now she just had to familiarize herself with them all.

Turning the machine off, she pulled out the different containers the machine had separated the slices of bone to. Now she could get down to work.

Overall? Today was a good day.

Barring the Adria mix up, he'd been having a pretty good time since the mission to go save Christmas, really. Getting out, stretching his legs and making a difference? It'd felt good. And even with the eeriness of the woman, Inara, and the sobering fact that Adria could be in those pods somewhere, the fact was Adria wasn't awakened.

As long as Cam kept moving, he didn't need to think about the possibility that his world was gone, either. So far, he seemed to be doing pretty well. Lately, when he had slept, his dreams had been full of death raining from the sky, of the Ori and Adria and feeling the universe unravel around him (how, he could only explain when his head was clouded with sleep).

Today, his dream had been good. Maybe he was on the right path after all. Cam Mitchell Therapy 101.

But he wasn't about to dwell on that right now. He was feeling good. Good enough that the Sensorium didn't even creep him out when he set up something home-y. Mind, nothing that would compromise homeworld security, but home-y all the same.

After going to that mission, his desire to just see Earth was somewhat quenched--although it certainly was not his own. But familiar still sounded nice, it brought back to his mind thoughts of his dream. Not that he was one to dwell on dreams, but still. Familiar faces.

He didn't program anyone he knew--that would have been a bit creepy--but the familiar trill of a bird he had no idea what was echoed through the spring air, and it was...nice. He meandered over to a makeshift wooden seat, and grabbed up a power bar from his pocket. It was sort of...pathetically simple, really. He'd almost programmed in a village over the hill, but...he found he liked the silence. There was always some sort of humming sound or people on the ship.

Not that the sound of critters or the brook running a few feet ahead of him really counted as silence, but it was...cleaner. More like home.

Cam gave a sudden laugh, and shook his head. "Still not a nature guy." It was just refreshing next to a living alien spaceship.

Trying not to pout too much, Temperance found her way to the media library so she could spend countless hours watching Zombie movies. Now she liked movies, but Zombie movies? They just didn't appeal to her tastes any. She much preferred classics - like Casablanca and old John Wayne movies. But Zombie movies? And having to watch them with Cameron Mitchell of all people? She was not a happy camper.

Stepping inside, she looked around and didn't see anyone at first. Maybe he hadn't even shown up yet. BETTER! Maybe he'd forgotten and she wouldn't have to watch them. That would work perfectly fine with her. Perfectly.

Looking around the different piles of data padds, she picked one up and brought it over to one of the fleshy couches and sank down. Well since he was probably going to end up not showing, she might as well get a little research done on different alien skeletal structures.

Something...odd is happening on the ship. Plant-like protrusions are occasionally sprouting in places throughout the ship.

They look like mistletoe, but this is purely coincidental. It's not like it's the holidays on the ship, right? It might be for some people, back home (if they still had a home), but others were grabbed from different times. No, it's just coincidence that these little devices look vaguely like mistletoe, and coincidence what they're being used for.

For you see, when this "mistletoe" is overhead, a crew member will be trapped in an invisible forcefield, and won't be able to escape until someone has kissed them or otherwise showed them some equivalent of affection. (Cheek kisses and sloppy puppy kisses from the canine crew members count). The "mistletoe" spring itself is shielded itself and can't be destroyed, the only way out is a kiss.

Why is this all happening? GLaDoS is performing whacky behavioral experiments, that's why. Each time, it happens, she intones messages like the following.

"Please express affection for your fellow crewmate to free them."

"This is of the utmost importance, and part of ongoing Crew Coherency and Cooperation Studies."

"Please do not attempt to leave the vicinity until you have participated."

"Participation is required. Why wouldn't you want to participate?"

"The Transmigration9 AI Complex thanks you for your participation in important research. Unless you don't want to participate, but not participating would make me disappointed. I suppose you just want to disappoint me."

And of course, sometimes she even outright lies.

"There will be cake."

Temperance had stood at the enterance of the sensorium for a few moments before the room suddenly flickered a few times and the labs from the Jeffersonian suddenly appeared before her.

Stepping inside found that she was holding her ID card, and her plant suit had suddenly taken on the more comforting look of her own clothes. Dark slacks, white blouse and sensible shoes. So much better than the clingy plant suit.

She ran her ID card through the security reader, climbed the small set of stairs and grabbed her lab coat which had been tossed over one of the chairs. Slipping it on she wondered why she was even there. Maybe it was to stop thinking about the possibility that her whole wold was lost and to keep busy.

It's not real, I'm going to wake up any minute and find that I was in an accident and have spent the last couple of months in a coma. It just doesn't make any sense, she thought with a bitter shake of her head.

Pulling on a pair of gloves, she leaned over the remains of a young man's skull that was the subject of whatever case Stacy had pulled from her mind. Since she couldn't organize the irrational situation she was in, she could at least keep herself busy with the skull.

She moved the pieces of the maxilar superior bone slowly around with her fingers until they were in order and applied a small bit of glue to a fragment she was holding and contined to slowly glue piece after small piece together.

When the last of the of those fragments had been glued together, Tempe gently placed it on the table and was reaching for another fragment of the skull when she realized someone was watching her.

"What do you want?" she asked barely lifting her gaze away from the tiny shards of bone.

He appreciated having a room to himself, even if it was clearly designed for a second party as well. For now, it was his alone. He appreciated that.

The room was about all he really appreciated since the attack of the crew-zombies. The idea was far more cool on paper than it was actually sitting on the roof of the Vatican, mowing down potential crewmates. Still, it was better than mowing down familiar ones. He appreciated that, too.

He appreciated the cute, glowy new look for Stacy, too.

He didn't appreciate the idea of his universe destroyed by something they'd never even gotten the chance to see--let alone fight. He didn't like the idea of being one of the last survivors of his own universe. Whether or not Ronon and Jackson counted as his own universe or another. He appreciated the cute voice. He didn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it, even if she showed him the destruction. None of this was necessarily real. He functioned within it as he needed to, but he wasn't about to fall for something SG-1 already fell for before. The zombies didn't exactly make the place more credible, either.

He frowned, studying the food goop in front of him.

His home-his family. Everyone and every thing he cared about was not gone. He wouldn't leave it to chance and hope that some of the people he cared about might have been alive--he wouldn't accept that their survival meant the deaths of an entire universe were acceptable losses. He wasn't about to accept a 'might' for saving all of them, if they did someone else's dirty work for them. That wasn't how he did things. He wouldn't be manipulated, and...he refused to believe that SG-1 failed. That Stargate Command, and all of their allies failed to protect not just their galaxy, but their universe.

He refused to believe he'd failed to do the one thing that mattered. He couldn't. Not now...not ever.

...cake? Where was that cake? Wait... that wasn't right. There was no cake. It was a dream. Yeah, a dream. That works. Indiana slipped out of his sleeping pod; he noted that the rest of these were strangely empty. How long was he asleep? He got the feeling that he'd missed something big.

However, Indy didn't care too much about the matters of the ship. He shrugged off any odd suspicions and headed to his might-as-well-be-home on the ship, the media library. He settled in with a datapad containing some ancient texts good thing he practiced his Latin subjunctives

 Between nearly killing himself trying to help people and his talk with Nathan, Peter was exhausted. Even with his upbeat demeanor, it was hard to not say he felt stressed. His flight-breaks no longer helping, he decided he needed to take a few hours. He found himself at the sensoriums, a place he had heard talked about like the holodeck from Star Trek. As he walked in, it was a blank room. He closed his eyes and thought to himself. 

I just need a way to relax.

He suddenly heard music, and opened his eyes to what appeared to be a high class nightclub, but filled with the strangest creatures he had ever seen, even since arriving on the ship. Behind the bar, a green-skinned redhead with horns, more conspicuous for his paisley shirt and purple ascot, was trying to get his attention.  

"Hey, kiddo, didn't you hear them call your name?" The demon said, smiling. "You're up, bubbulah. Don't worry, I picked a good song for you." Peter eyed him warily. Wherever this place had come from, it was not his head. But decided not to question it, and went to stand in front of a karaoke machine on stage. He picked up the mike and saw the song, and smiled. He loved this song. EVERYONE loved this song. Luckily, a few years in boy's choir had given him a sense of tune, and puberty had left him with a decent tenor. So, he began to sing. 

o/` I can't fight this feeling any longer,
      And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow... o/` 

That was all it took. As if suddenly injected with 100 ccs of pure rock ballad awesome, Peter closed his eyes and began letting the music take him, eventually rocking out. He had forgotten what it was like, honestly. Forgotten the fun of just letting go and having fun. And as he finished up the REO Speedwagon classic, breathing heavily and feeling alive, he wished he hadn't. 

But then he opened his eyes to notice more than just his holographic audience had filtered into the "club". 

"Uh... Next?" He said as he hastily replaced the mike and went to get a holo-beer. 

That was embarrassing.  He could only hope someone would follow him up and make it slightly less so.

[ooc: Start a subthread with your character approaching the stage and singing a song. Characters can react to other's performances even if they aren't singing themselves. And any song you'd like, Lorne has the entire mutliverse on karaoke. I'm not asking, and neither should you.]

The Vatican had a lot of ground to cover. Normally covered in expansive gardens (just empty plots on the ship) and comprised of a multitude of buildings, holing up there meant holing up in simply a part of the Vatican. The group was therefore in St. Peter's Basilica, which had had most of its entrances sealed off. Now they had to work on small windows and a few other entrances left neglected, but overall, it was a very defensible position. There were no exits other than the ones leading to the sacristy and treasury--which was their main avenue of escape, and heavily guarded. The prisoners were being kept in this area, and guarded by the rear guards, as leaving them in the prison was deemed too dangerous for their safety. As bad as they'd been with the Yeerk conflict, they were crew, and no one wanted them to die.

The courtyard was a chokepoint. Gunners could sit on the roofs of the buildings running alongside the courtyard to strafe St. Peter's square from the sides.

The various chapels and vestibules along the sides made excellent areas for food, medical, and weapons supplies to be gathered, and most were clustered in the middle of the basilica. The Medical area was in the Chapel of the Column, the main weapons and ammo caches, and Food storage areas were in the two Transepts, respectively, to the sides of the Papal altar. Pews all in the main areas had been converted to sleeping areas, right in the center of the whole place.

There was still work to be done, before the other group could leave. Last minute barricades, blocking more windows, moving the last of the medical supplies, inventorying the food, and so on. Then it would be time to hunker down.

So push up your sleeves and lend someone else a hand, folks.

[ooc: Read instructions for these threads here!]

Despite having grown up in Cambodia, Gauron's never actually been to Angkor Wat before - and the one he's prowling around in now isn't even the real one, though it had been a completely unexpected find. He'd recently begun lengthening his exploration trips into the city to what would've been two-day excursions in his world, though they were more like weeklong trips on the city's timetable; maintaining the pace, it wouldn't be too long before he'd covered all of the streets and major landmarks. Today's trip had taken him out to the city wall, then north along it another few kilometers. When he'd climbed one of the taller buildings to check his bearings, he'd caught sight of the temple's towers.

The holographic sun had been beginning to dip low in the sky as he made his way across the bridge over the dry moat, and he'd decided this was as good a place to finish up his explorations for this trip as any.

There's something a little creepy about seeing the temple complex completely devoid of the vegetation that's supposed to be blanketing it; in the bare dirt, the last traces of the city that stood within its walls centuries ago are clearly visible. He makes his way through them for a little while, mapping out the ancient streets, but as the sun sets he finally heads up to the temple proper, to get a look at the bas-reliefs covering the walls while there's still some light.

Tempe frowns, her nose scrunching up a bit as she looks around at the different temples. Why the ship had put so many different ones all in one are was beyond her comprehension. She knew that there were those who deeply believed in God, but she herself would never be able to. To her it was illogical, and a waste of time. It was a historical fact that Religion was the cause of many of Earth's wars, and in her mind that was not likely to ever change.

Despite her thoughts on religion, she couldn't help but admire the architecture of each of the temples she passed. The simplicity of the doric columns of the Parthenon... The combined architecture of The Church of the Holy Sepulchre... The ornate Muslin craftsmanship of The Dome of the Rock. They were all truly beautiful and awe inspiring.

Shaking her head, she turns and walks toward the Vatican. Her gaze travels upward as she approaches it, and once again Temperance finds herself marveling in the beauty of the building.

She sinks down on a bench outside of the Vatican, content to sit, bask in the artificial sunlight and think. Think about why she could have been chosen, what she can actually offer as skills, and... She thinks about her friends she'd left behind.

Sparhawk has been spending a fair bit of time in the sensoriums, making sure that his shoulder is as fit for duty as any of his old body is. It's healed fully (which amazes him), but he's still wary. Being appointed the leader of Team India means that he wants to be in the best shape that he can be. Leadership is a job that he takes very seriously.

Which is why he is currently sitting in the Obs Deck, precariously balanced on one of the fleshy couches (he's fairly sure that he can feel it moving underneath him). He's looking intently at his Omnicom, and ever so slowly, making notes. He's starting to get the hang of this new technology.

Finally satisfied with whatever he's been working on, he stops, and looks up, pointedly avoiding looking in the direction of the statue. His left hand clenches, his thumb absently running itself over the ruby ring there. Here's it's nothing more than a reminder of his past, but it's comforting. His thumb moves to the new ring, just above it. The comns ring. He's rather unclear on how the things work, but, he'll use it.

Not sure of the best way to use it, he closes his eyes, and concentrates.

Members of Team India, please join me in the Obs Deck for a meeting. If you can't make it, I'll come to you later.

Now he waits to see if he actually managed to work the thing.

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.

Where has Dean been, do you ask?

Well, for one, he's been relaxing. That mission thing? Ridiculous. Dean's pretty sure he's not going to be emotionally traumatized, because hell, obviously he's been through worse, but man, that was one hell of a trip. So he's in the mindset of believing that yes, he deserves some downtime. That's why he's in the Sensoriums, his favorite usual hang out on the giant meatship. The room's turned into Bobby's junkyard again, only this time he's got his Impala. He's working on fixing the problems he'd told Stacy to program into the car, and really, this is probably the most relaxing thing he's done in a while.

Of course, he wouldn't mind having some company. He's thinking about seeing if Stacy can conjure him up a Bobby, just to have someone to banter with, but he hasn't really decided yet. So at the moment, he's under the hood of the Impala, messing with something with a wrench while Led Zeppelin's You Shook Me plays from a boombox nearby. He may or may not be singing along as he works.

Life is good.