Another day, another explosion - OTA

[agathaheterodyne]

Agatha had been working in the lounge, as she so often did, when she got hungry. It was a good way to eat somewhere that wasn't COMPLETELY filthy. She would have to apologize to Tasha about her half of the Quarters and find a way to clean it up. Well, she had that pizza maker maid bot that never got picked up... maybe she would use that. And if Percy ever came for it, she could give him the used one or make him a new one, bigger and better.

Yeah, that worked!

But first, lunch, and a smaller project. She had dreamed up the most marvelous invention and just had to try it, a self-perpetuating steam powered steam creation engine! The thing would produce just enough steam to power itself, to produce steam! Oh, she knew the rules as well as anyone else, energy would always be lost, but rules were meant to be broken. Sparks had a special fondness for the laws of physics specifically. The laws of nature too, but physics fascinated Agatha more.

So she was eating her meal, whatever the waitress had thought she might enjoy, and sipping her drink as she worked, lost in the fugue state. She didn't notice what the waitress had given her. So sure that she wouldn't eat it, the impish waitress, filling in for a friend, and not part of the regular staff, had given her Gagh. And was standing at the bar, amazed, as Agatha absently ate from the dish as she worked, seemingly unaware of what she was putting into her mouth.

She almost had the rotators working the way that she wanted. The trick would be the lubrication, she had to keep the oil that cleared the gears away from the spark plate that would keep the water heated. She was focused on that as she reached for her screwdriver and accidentally took the fork instead. 

Instead of a thin plastic tipped tool, the metal of the fork hit the spark plate, and was large enough that the side touched the oil.....




BOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM


There went the whole tool, her meal, her drink, the table, and her tools.

Agatha pushed her over-sized goggles up onto her slightly singed hair, leaving the area around her glasses as the only clean part on the front of her, as she stared at what used to be a table, trying to figure out what had just happened....

(no subject)

[southernreaper]

Arrival (Locked to Magneto):

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” The scream echoes down the hallway, shrill in the way that only a teenage boy can reach. One who is terrified. He’s not sure what is going on, but he wants to not be touched. There are too many people, too close to him.

Kevin tries the calming techniques that Miss Frost had taught him. Nothing is working. His mind swirls around a morass of terror and the need to strike out. But if he strikes out, if he reaches, then his power wins and he’s going to be lost again.

His most recent home has been an FBI holding cell. Now, he’s… he doesn’t know where he is. There’s a starfield outside the windows opposite him. To either side, cool grey hallways go on to infinity. Or maybe that’s the panic talking.

He stares at the people surrounding him. Some are wearing uniforms that he doesn’t understand and doesn’t recognize. Others are wearing clothes that he doesn’t know either. Had the Shi’ar captured him? Skrulls? Who else is supposed to be their extraterrestrial allies and foes? He’d missed that class, probably. What with being arrested by the FBI.

His hand creaks inside of his glove. “Stay back. Don’t touch me.” He orders, much less shrill, but no less panicked. If they touch him… he doesn’t want to think of the consequences. He’s seen them too much already.

Kevin has many questions. Like where is he? Who are these people? But he can’t ask. He wants them to stay back, because his power… his touch… it’ll all go wrong. “Please, just stay back.” The last is almost pleading. The roaring inside his mind is getting worse. He wants to touch. All it would take is an inch of skin showing at the edge of his glove. It’d be so simple.

“I said stay back. Can’t you listen?” He knows that this will probably get very bad, very quickly. Kevin raises scared green eyes to the person approaching him. “What’s going on?” The panic is receding, the coldness of the want of his power beginning to take its place.

After Med Bay (OTA):

Kevin finally slips his minder and goes exploring himself. He ends up in Ten Forward, looking out the windows at the starfield. He can't believe that this is actually happening to him. He's in a starship, in space, and he's no longer in that FBI cell. He cannot believe it.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he takes a deep breath then looks around. Well, at least, he can see people again. He hears a noise behind him and turns to look, taking an instinctive step back. He doesn't want to hurt anyone. Not now, not ever.

Ten Forward

[queenofmay]

Marian is holding a padd, and her fingertips are resting around the lip of her cup.

She could be said to be reading a book, and drinking a cup of a tea.

The little black screen is not as good as bound paper and leather, and the tea is from a magic from the wall that is a science that looks like The Lady's work with flashing light. The replicator's Lily Tea tastes nothing like the one she's missed, but she doesn't dislike the Earl Grey the woman behind the bar suggested she try tonight.

It may not be perfect. But neither is being on a starship.

Yet she has a seat. She has Caspian and Kate. She has tea and a book.






No one could ever say Marian hasn't always been very good at compromise.

Mountie on the Enterprise

[bob_fraser_rcmp]

 Bob is sitting out looking at the stars studiously examining them, fascinated, and a little alarmed that he recognises none of them. He's humming 'I was born under a wandering star' with the odd word thrown in for good measure, just to ground himself. 

He's not eating, because he doesn't need to (though any attempts would be pretty tasteless anyway) and the waiting staff mostly ignore him. 

That, as he's perfectly willing to tell you, is because Bob is quite dead. Not in a vampire way. Or a zombie way. But in a ghostly way. 

And as he doesn't particularly want the attention of the waiting staff, he's not getting it. 

That is, apart from Guinan. 

"Long way from home," she said, standing nearby, looking at the window. 

Somehow, Bob knew she was talking to him. "Can't navigate my way by the stars," he agreed. 

"Twentieth century Earth?" she asked, turning around. 

"Dead," he nodded. 

"Looking well," she smirked.

He patted his stomach. "Keeping up my regiment."

At that she laughed outright. He was so sincere about his regiment that it was almost as if he thought he wasn't a spirit. "It shows!" He smiled back. 

"Thank you...?"

"Guinan."

"Bob Fraser."

"Nice to meet you, Bob."

[OOC: If you want to play with Bob not being visible to your character, you can, and wonder why Guinan has taken leave of her senses.]

A Not-Dead Acting Captain Rolls into a Bar... { open }

[daddykirk]

------ >> Arrival - Ten Forward

( Warning! non-graphic detailing of blood, lacerations/cuts and 1st degree burns; cut just in case )

------ >> Post Sickbay - Observation Lounge

Healed and cleared, George.... feels out of sorts. And not just because he's survived a collision of deathly and epic proportions or even because he crash landed in a lounge filled with people, but because this isn't his world—this isn't his time. For the third time in his life words are difficult to produce although that isn't to say he goes out of his way to avoid talking to others. He isn't rude to people who want to talk but he's new and new is easy to avoid, especially when that friendly nature of his is muted, smothered in worry.

Thoughts are heavy and sapping, appetite for food lessened and for sleep grown, all while his heart aches constantly in his chest. And somehow that's all easier than the alternative; finding out what happened that day. So being alone is easier. Or trying to be is, anyway. Observation decks aren't private, after all, and only some people don't get tired of looking at the wonder that is space after a time.

George Kirk is one of them and  he sits, reclined, his head tilted as he looks out to the glittering black. It was nothing like they ever had on the Kelvin, or even the stations he'd been at before then, and it's nothing short of spectacular. Maybe that's what steals his action today, makes him still and calm. Maybe it's enough for an easy conversation with someone this time.