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.]

He hadn't done much laying around as a teenager. He'd always been too busy, one social event to another.

After the Yeerks...well, Temrash had less love for being lazy than Iniss did, but neither of them were really set on protracted periods of inactivity. And there was always something Sharing related, or feeding related, or just...something. Rank play had been a major time suck in his youth, and needing to be somewhere every three days made planning anything else a bit of a suck.

He'd flopped down on the hill next to the garden he had spent so much time losing time in, one hand gripping Bobby's leash to keep the dog from running off, but eyes closed and body relaxed.

Too much stuff was happening, lately. He wasn't used to keeping up with it anymore. Jake was back and Sam was dating Xander and Dean and Kaylee had broken up. He wasn't even sure how to handle half of that, much less all of it at once.

No wonder the garden looked so well tended, the neat rows gave him something to do, something to think about, something that made perfect sense because plants needed like...two things, water and weeding, and they weren't much on demanding an emotional investment beyond that.

Bobby shifted, licking his hand and resting his head on his shoulder, watching the chickens and their chicks poke around nearby.

Why couldn't life just be this simple?

Nervous? Why should he be nervous? They talked before (kind of), they even married (though only for a mission mostly), and slept together( weirdest night EVER). Everything should be great. Full of song and dance... wait no, that's bad because that way leads to people burning up and he already apologized a million times for that demon.

Right, so it's sort of a date. Kind of. Maybe. Well it's just the two of them walking around and talking, it's harder to do the traditional dinner and a movie on the ship. There's not a Bronze-like place to hang out or a coffee place for coffee. Sooo ok, maybe this isn't a great idea, but Sam seemed to like it. He definitely liked it, so it's good.

Good.

Now about the knocking on the door part. He should really do something about that.

(OOC: After Sam's thread, gawkers, popcorn eaters, and the like are welcome to be peanut gallery to comment or run into them.)

He'd asked for directions from Marco and after a little more exploring, Jake had wandered down to the city and found Cassie's house. For a long while he just stared at the familiar building and its accompanying barn. It had been years since he'd actually seen it - after the war ended and everyone went their separate ways, he hadn't had much call to visit it. But here it was, exactly as it had been the first day they'd all met to figure out what they were going to do. A bunch of frightened teenagers trying to deal with something way out of their league and with no one to turn to but each other. He flexed his fingers and swallowed thickly. And he was supposed to meet his brother here.

His real brother, not the slug pretending to be him. The brother he'd ordered killed for the sake of the war. An order that had gotten his own cousin killed. He glanced down at his feet, hoping that maybe he could find some respite from this train of thought - he knew where it lead. Just more questions and more guilt. Maybe if he'd tried harder to find another way, his brother would be alive back home. So would Rachel. Or maybe they'd all be dead.

The self-doubt and the guilt always gnawed at him, but here and now it was hitting him doubly hard. His brother was alive, which meant he was probably pulled from earlier on the timeline. Which meant that i they fixed this, everything would go back to the way it was "supposed" to be. His brother would move on and end up dead by Rachel's hand and Rachel herself would die soon after.

Fantastic. Why was it always him again?

He shoved those thoughts aside, took a deep breath and put his hand on the front door knob.

He kept his eyes closed the entire time, once he regained control of them. It wasn't that he didn't want to see, it was just that there was some sort of childish belief that if he opened his eyes, the entire thing would pop like a bubble and just be a dream.

He really didn't want it to be a dream.

About the time his eyes closed, hands closed tight around his shoulders, holding him firmly in place. Iniss didn't really need to, but the Yeerk was weird about control at times. Weird about physical dominance even though the fake host was really about the same size as him.

There was a sharp pang in his chest as the Yeerk pulled away for the final time-something he didn't want to call loss, something he couldn't quite label relief. "It's done. Now what will you do?" The words were soft, hushed, pressed against his ear in a mockery of an intimate embrace. "You'll miss me. You'll miss being able to yield control and not fight back. You know you will. You'll miss the utter certainty that someone else is there to clean up your messes."

He kept his eyes closed, arms hanging lose at his sides. "It's going to be scary, isn't it? Being all alone in your head, you've never done that before. No one to talk to when you have doubts, no one to watch your back or protect you from repercussions when you screw up- and you will, you always do - I bet that terrifies you, doesn't it?" He swallowed, lips curling into a smile. "I have friends, family. They'll help me. They'll be strong when I can't be. Who's going to help you?"

It took a lot of effort to pull away, not opening his eyes to look at Iniss, not opening them at all until he was sure he was facing towards Sam.

He managed to not look back. It made him feel oddly proud.

ooc: Tag under the headers of person you want to talk to.

For those looking hard enough, the black market on XaXing shouldn't be too incredibly difficult to find - just look for the section of town where people don't look excited to be trading. Everyone in this little section of the market either looks like they just got away with a murder and need to keep glancing over their shoulders, or like they're about to get lined up for an execution. The more experienced traders here are clearly more at ease and looking as casual as possible, but there's still a distinct tension in the air.

An alien clearly designated as a police officer gazes down the street but, after a shopkeeper passes him and discretely slips some contraband into his hand, keeps walking.

An Iskoort and a human man dressed in black are relaxing outside the door to a store titled "Merchandiser, Brother of Hood Ornament Seller, Offers Exotic and Tantalizing Goods from the Far Corners of the Galaxy!". Under that sign, a few more signs detail how no background checks, down payments, identifications or collaterals are necessary. From inside the building, the sounds of a scuffle are audible, followed by the sound of someone choking.

The man in the doorway taps his cane against the window. "Keep it down in there!"

The Iskoort, Merchandiser, looks around a bit skittishly. {If you would allow me to purchase a sample of your superpowers, I could incinerate the body. I would pay a very reasonable price.}

"And leave nothing for your Mortician's Guild to clean up? Hardly."

Across the street, the shop that supposedly sells cactus extracts, but secretly specializes in drugs and hit contracts, lowers their blinds a few inches.


(( OOC: Here, have a criminal underworld! Feel free to tag in and run into other crew members ("what are you doing looking at faerie slaves?"), or into one of the underworld gurus here. If you want one of my NPCs to tag you, just put it in your post title. NPCs are Merchandiser and Dark Thomas Casey. ))

After the briefing, the Orbs Deck disconnected from Stacy, making it's way down to the planet and landing on the top of what looked like...a mall.

Outside, a mismatch of buildings stretched as far as the eye could see on a backdrop of a sunny green sky, a few golden clouds lazily floating across it. Here there was a mall, there there was a endless parade of street shops, and over there was a bazaar. And everywhere you looked there was advertising, selling everything from kitchen knives to starship engines to pet cosmetic surgery.

And populating this world was a practically endless number of species's, all of them brought together by one thing: trading. Credit was being exchanged everywhere you looked, from the shiny exclusive stores to the the dark and dangerous spaces in-between.

As the crew stood around, a peculiar looking alien with a mustache approached them, his oddly-shaped legs and knees making it looks as if he was walking backwards even though he was coming forwards. And as he moved, his accordian-like midsection made moved, making a weird, wheezing noise that might remind some of the crew native to Earth of the sound of Fran Dresser's voice.

<Welcome to XaXing, strangers!> he said to them in thought-speak, eagerly rushing towards everyone. <I am Guide! Your ship has already arranged accommodation for you, and I have been employed to guide you there and answer your questions! But if you would just sell me your memories then I can also guide you to all of the best stores and markets...>

[[ooc: After this post, everyone is free to make their own posts on the planet! Just tag all logs for Shore Leave with !plot: shore leave.

Also, if you have any questions you can ask Guide! ...just be prepared for him to also try to buy your kidney.]]

It was an almost childish desire. At least, Iniss seemed to think so. He hadn't even gotten a chance to talk to Karen yet, and he really wanted to. He wanted to show her the ship. He wanted her to meet his friends and goof around and just be a little kid for once.

< It's a waste of time. >

< It's not a waste of time, she's a little girl. She needs time to be a little girl, Rhiow said. >

< She's just a human child. A useless human child. >

"Aftran? Could I...uh, could I ask a favor, please? Just...I'd like to take Karen to meet some people. I...we won't tell them, promise...I just think-" He swallowed, trying to smile a failing somewhat. "Would you mind? Just for a couple hours?"

He still wasn't sure what to think of this Yeerk, this Yeerk who was supposedly the start of the Peace Movement, or what that even meant. Karen hadn't been willing, so was it willing now that she was too beaten down to fight? Was that what they meant, just taking the leftovers of host-breakers and mental breakdowns?

Iniss didn't really have a problem with allowing Sam time with his host. The younger Winchester was by far one of the tolerable humans on the ship. A useful thing to cultivate, towards any end, and for such a small request, not something that was even worth refusing. The training was useful, Sam himself was a rather useful ally. Therefore, indulge him.

Which meant that less than an hour later, he stood at the Winchester's door. Waiting for someone to open and hoping that it wasn't the older brother. Human families were rather confusing; that two such different people could result from the same breeding pair baffled him. At least Tom and Jake shared many of the same traits, including height and physical appearance. Even if Jake was a better liar than Tom could ever hope to be.

Tom didn't want to do this, whatever 'this' turned out to be. For some reason his host was suffering under the impression that 'we need to talk' always meant something bad had happened, and he was trying not to think about what it might mean in the back of his mostly silent mind.

He felt fairly confident at the moment, despite the recent events. He had a body, Tom was moodily silent in the back of his mind, he had allies, for once. Rather powerful ones, if ones that were liable to hit him with morality (and other similarly blunt objects) if he breathed wrong.

And he had an orange, though at the moment said fruit was simply being passed back and forth between his hands, uneaten as he considered Tom's recent memories. "I'll have to thank the younger Winchester later, you've improved quite a bit."

Tom said nothing, giving every impression of ignoring him. If the past few hours had been liberating for Iniss, they had only been one more trial for his young host to face. "Cheer up, it's not all that bad. You know you missed me."

< Like I miss chickenpox, Iniss, or the flu, or any other parasite. >

"Oh come on, I'm not that bad."

Thinking with portals, indeed. It hadn't taken long for Aftran to get the point; even Karen figured the concept out before long. So what point had there been in keeping them isolated as test subjects for that long? Aside from sadism, of course. That was a possibility.

Either way... here they were, now, having been released into one of Stacy's many hallways. But something was different -- not something about the ship itself, but... something. It was Karen who figured it out, as she was wont to do. The person Aftran had thought she was her entire time on this ship... that wasn't who she was. She knew better now. But why had it taken so long? Why had that memory been obscured to begin with?

Feeling disoriented, she started to stumble toward her bunk.

He avoided the Sensoriums unless he was meeting Sam. Not because he didn't like them, of course, they were fine. Interesting. If he'd trusted his mind not to play a nightmare for public viewing, he'd have likely been more interested.

But as it was, his mind was a trap, and he was only too aware of how dangerous his memories could be to him. Iniss would turn it into battle zones, recreate famous battles, just so he could see, or recreate the pool if he was feeling homesick and lonely. Tom tried to avoid changing it at all and let Sam control the settings.

Today Sam had been late, or he had been early. Either way, he was alone. Alone in something he could easily turn into a weapon of mass mental destruction.

He kept his eyes closed, laying on his back. Thinking very firmly of nothing but the grass under his back, the weight of old jeans on his legs, and the sun warming his face. Nothing else existed. Nothing but him and the empty field he had sprawled in.

Bobby darted ahead of him, happy to be out of the house and out of the tension, or more likely, just happy to run like a fool and find whatever little bit of excitement he could manage.

Tom just hoped no one had decided on today for a picnic, Bobby probably wouldn't care that the food on the ground already had an owner.

He kept his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt, fidgeting with the material between his fingers as he tried to keep track of the dog.

He hoped Kaylee could make Dean see reason, or at least that Dean was willing to meet her half way. At least things would probably be better once they had some time alone. Though he had to wonder what she had done with the tapes and if she would give them back once a little time had passed.

Things could never be simple, could they? Even without an alien in his head, things could never be simple.



((ooc: just after this http://community.livejournal.com/trans_channel/290638.html?thread=5643086#t5653582.))

Aside from the comatose state she reached after Cassie finished her post-exorcism first-aid, sleep hasn't come easily to Eva since the possession. What little she's gotten has been interspersed with nightmares, so it's while all the Animorphs are sleeping that she slips out of Cassie's house and finds herself at the Drunken Dragon.

It's all too much. Too much going through her head and too much space alone in there. When she woke up it was because she was thrashing in her sleep and accidentally smacked her head into the bedpost. She found that she was clawing at her scalp while she dreamed.

She needs to feel a little bit out of control again, by her own doing, because that means less control that other people can take away from her. And she needs to dull the knowledge of how many bad memories she dredged up for Marco by going and getting herself possessed.

"Wine. Whatever you have. Keep it coming," she says, then, as if clarification is necessary, "I'm going to get drunk."

(( OOC: Open post but since Eva's going to be bemoaning the state of everything everywhere, please poke me first if you want to throw a character she's never met before at her. ))

This was very likely the most normal his life had been in the past four years. There was something sad about that, but he wasn't thinking about that right now.

Right now there was Bobby with his head resting on his thigh and a movie from his childhood playing on the TV and his head was completely his own. All good things, comfortable things, safe things.

It was relaxing, and that was all, the wag of Bobby's tail and the quiet voices from the TV. It was nice to do something that didn't need to mean anything.

((OOC: Buyer beware--lots of narrative/introspection going on here. Click at your own risk, and be TL;DRed at.))



These past days--weeks, now? Time seemed to blur together disorientingly here--had been long ones. In spite of being alone--as alone as she ever could be, at least--, however, Edriss still felt she was making progress. To an inferior mind, it must have looked like she was doing nothing but reeling in shock at the sudden catastrophic change that had befallen her, wandering aimlessly and trying to adjust to the new life that had been given to her--but she knew better.

Every hour spent exploring the ship's layout, studying the voluminous backlog of messages on the Omnicomm system, or perusing the offerings of this Media Library was time well-invested in gathering knowledge suitable to this new environment. Every hour spent familiarizing herself with the Hub, the Medical Bay, the Sensoriums, the City.... all of it was vital intelligence to allow her to get where she needed as quickly and quietly as possible, should it become necessary. All of it was useful in establishing herself as a new crew member, lost and bewildered, overwhelmed, innocuous, benign. All of it served a purpose, even the seemingly useless and interminable time spent pacing along the endless catwalks to study the pods that still held people in stasis. The pods from which even she had emerged from, not so long ago. Any human, after all, would doubtless want to search for those they had once known and cared about. And though the effort had proved fruitless, she had thought that perhaps she might be able to look for the familiar and distinctly alien silhouettes of Hork-Bajir, Taxxons, or Gedds within them. (Or even, Heaven forbid, an Andalite. It was better to know one's enemy and be prepared, after all.)

( Is this stuff FDA approved? )

But this too would pass; all would come in good time. As much as she wished she could skip directly to making her ambitions a reality and all her wishes come true, she needed to focus on more directly and practically handling the here and now..... which meant taking care of herself and her immediate circumstances, not dwelling on things she couldn't understand or do anything about. Which meant, unfortunately, yet another serving of--given the ship's nature--what was probably regurgitated nutrients. (If they ate this, then what kind of fuel did Stacy function on? And what could possibly be capable of fueling a ship of this size while still providing nutrients for the entire crew?) Edriss gave the tray that was presented to her a look of silent distaste, before calmly moving to sit down at a table and start eating regardless. She wouldn't have minded so much if they at least had ready access to water to get the taste out of her mouth....

It doesn’t make sense. Or, rather, to be entirely truthful, it makes just enough to bother him and that basically amounts to the same thing.

The Doctor paces in front of the blast shield in the Observation Deck. Right now, he thinks he needs a good pace, something to help him think. No sign of Amy or Rory yet, which is surprising, in its own way. Amy has a habit of managing things all on her own, whether it’s saving him from that stint with the Time Vortex and the Entity or the whole of reality. Rory couldn’t be in better hands. If she is on the ship, he would have expected her to come dragging Rory after her by now. So no, it’s not really like Amy there. As for Rory…actually, the Doctor can see him getting lost here; between forgetting to check for gills, the plant-suits and meeting a load of aliens in a huge living ship, a human like Rory might feel slightly overwhelmed. Probably a bit distracting, yeah…

The howling nothing is still out there, the Doctor turning to look past the shield at it. It’s pretty, in the making-you-feel-slightly-nauseous kind of way.

Or maybe that’s just him.

Vaguely disturbing to look at or not, the Doctor glances out at the void outside of Stacy. It’s hardly the first time worlds, plural, have been destroyed or just generally threatened or in a peril-like sort of state. It's actually quite common. But there are signs or it’s meant to happen (history) except he knows as a fact that this isn’t one of those times. Amy and Rory's Earth has a very specific date of death and "death by Ohm" isn't right. This isn’t just a rogue black hole swallowing a dynasty’s system of planets or a quasar misbehaving. It’s…different. The Doctor turns away from the window, holding up the omnicomm in one hand. By now he’s stopped calling it a Thingie, even if it’s a much better name in his opinion. Useful thing, this omnicomm. Helps to keep in touch. He’s been trying to hack into it and get a direct line to Stacy but so far, no luck. Deadlocked, he supposes. Or maybe the new new sonic is still adjusting. Working out the bugs.

The sonic buzzes green in the Observation Deck as the Doctor continues to pace without looking before the blast shield. Occasionally he stops to twiddle around with the omnicomm, long fingers blurring, before he reads another setting on the sonic and then the cycle starts over. Every now and then he might make a full circle of the room, by some miracle not tripping over the fleshy seats, and might try listening to the walls or poking at where they meet the floor. Or what stands for a floor in a techno-organic ship.

[The Doctor is either poking around or looking serious business at the view, whatever works for you]

A little way off from the Labyrinth in the City, there was an apparently normal farmhouse. Normal, except for the fact that in it's world it (and, more specifically, it's barn) had become a global landmark and it was also occupied by a bunch of teenagers, one middle-aged woman, a bird, and an Andalite.

[[ooc: Okay, so this is basically a post were we plan to stick a whole bunch of threads relating to daily live at the Animorphs house. Its not really set in any particular time, since it's mostly going to be everyday stuff and we'll probably just stick future everyday threads here so we don't spam the comm with it. The post is open though, if anyone else wants to come visit them or something - just make a note in the subject whether you're looking to thread with someone in particular, or are just happy to tag with whoever happens to answer the door]]

Iniss stared at the slop, willing it to turn into something marginally palatable.

The slop remained inert and gray.

< I don't think it's going to magically morph into a cheese burger, Iniss. You may as well eat it before it gets all cold and congealed and starts tasting worse. >

< I can stand the taste, it's the texture that's soul crushing. It's like someone put old tires and used gym socks in a blender and decided to serve it for lunch. >

< I think I'm just glad you get to be the one that actually has to chew it. Yeerks are useful for something after all. >

< You know I could give you control, I'd even give the appearance of being charitable. >

< Give the appearance of being charitable, in reality being sadistic. I bet Dani would be proud. >

Iniss huffed, taking a bite of the food and forcing himself to swallow it without tasting it. His host couldn't help but rub that in, could he? Useless brat.

There are few things in the 'verse Kaylee can't stand. One of them, obviously, is that wonderful little group made up of people like Early and Niska. Another is insults to her ship. Possibly the biggest thing on the list, though, is seeing sad and lonely people, mostly because she knows there isn't much she can do to help outside of offering a friendly smile and shoulder to lean on.

Or, in this case, offering free hugs.

Once again, Kaylee has settled herself down at one of the tables in the Mess Hall with her 'Free Hugs!' sign. Even if hugs aren't wanted, the mechanic is also perfectly willing to lend an ear for a nice chat or just some company for a little while. Anything to boost morale.