ten_fwd | Entries tagged with steph rogers

There are a lot of people without uniforms walking around.

It's reassuring, in a way, because none of them are recognizable and most of them don't seem to know who Captain America is, male or female. So she and those of her own - or alternate - universes couldn't have been targeted specifically.

(probably)

And it's completely unreassuring since that, at least, would have indicated some sort of pattern, logic, or reason.

Steph has been spending a lot of time in the library where, shockingly enough, information seems to be split between large computer terminals and actual paper books. She is going to hold this over Stark forever, assuming she ever sees him again.

Captain Steph Rogers has learned, in a short amount of time:
-The Great War happened
-World War II happened
-There is no record of any sort of Captain America
-There is no record of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement & Logistics Division (though she was pretty sure there wouldn't be, no matter what)
-There is no record of the Chitauri
-There are a lot of records about other aliens

She's actually enjoying reading up on Vulcan history and the founding of the United Federation of Planets. It's making her feel a lot more confident and relaxed in general about finding herself aboard the Enterprise.

abyssum_invocat

There's this thing children do--known to all adults that must deal with them--called picking the wrong spot entirely to practice whatever holds their interest today.

Today Sinthia's interest in particular is held by marbles; the replicator can make dozens of the pretty glass spheres, all with different designs, and it gave her a pretty velvet bag to hold them all in when she wasn't using them. But, unfortunately for passersby, she was, making them dance and spin and weave in and out of each others' way like people dancing around a quite complex maypole. They don't glow, or they'd be like dancing lights seen in stories, a thought which makes her smile as she watches the colors flick past her field of vision. She's good at it, holding the heavy balls aloft without her hands moving from the safety of her lap--after long practice hours, she ought to be--but she's not always the most observant if she's lost in thought. Such is the toll of telekinesis.

The narration will extend its condolences should you be caught accidentally with a glass golf ball to the head, or the knee.

bestpal

He didn't know how long he stood watching the news reel of the Howling Commanders. People around him came and went but he was transfixed. It felt like he was on the cusp of remembering something important. He pushed against the wall in his mind and caught a flash of Bucky....no himself calling for three cheers for Captain America.

When the visioned cleared, he found he was no longer in Smithsonian. He drew the baseball cap down lower over his eyes as he took stock of the corridor he found himself in. This was not a Hydra holding base. The surfaces and the sounds that echoed off them were different.

"Where the hell am I?"

fallaces_sunt

This is not the smartest idea she's ever had. The library is open; she could be reading, reading just about anything she'd like. She could be in the gym working the edge off her tension. Hell, she could turn this holodeck into a gym that she's familiar with. Test out her ability to actually handle the fake reality with something safe and mundane.

That would be sensible.

Instead, Natasha is sitting on a low pier on the west bank of the Volga River, her slacks rolled up to her knees as she dangles her toes in the water and very carefully monitors her unease.

It's late spring, a vague point in the 1930s. The only people are those working on the occasional cargo ship as they travel up and down the broad expanse of the river, but there are plenty of birds. Location, just south enough from Volgograd that she can't see it.

This might not be the smartest idea she's ever had, but she knows better than to actually go to her hometown. And at least she's got a copy of the complete Sherlock Holmes stories to keep her company.

[OOC: As per normal Trek holodeck set-ups, anyone can walk in as long as they don't mind entering in mid-program.

Open until I say otherwise! :-) ]

queenofmay

This ...

... is not where Marian was supposed to be.

But it says a lot about her last five years, more than the century she comes from, that she scans the room across her vantage point first. Eyebrows faintly furrowing when her lips press. It's not where she's supposed to be, but neither were Milliways, The House of Arch, The London Underground, or Ambergeldar. It's different, entirely different, but the mixed-up crowd is almost familiar enough.

There's sure to be someone in charge somewhere in this group. She just has to figure out which and start from there.

Caspian might agree, except that he's certain he's precisely where he's supposed to be -- only ever a step behind, and no further.

He takes another half-step, enough to come just behind her shoulder, casting a curious look about the strange room, but his hand never strays to the hilt at his hip, and his shoulders never tense.

"Strange," he says, low enough that his voice carries only to her ear. "And here I'd supposed we'd found the last of the doors that might open."

(Memorial Weekend Special: Two darlings for the price of one! Feel free to tag both, or one or the other, just tell us who you want. All threads timed to post Marian & Caspian's first one likely.)

ten_fwd_npcs

[ Captain's Log: a Meeting with the Senior Staff. Wherein Picard discusses what to do with their new, er. "Guests." ]

As you enter sickbay tonight, escorted there by Lieutenant Worf and his security detail, you may notice it isn't all that unusual. There are no terrifying devices or humming machines you could see in a sci-fi thriller. The biobeds along the walls are equipped with biofunction monitors, but look fairly standard. Instead of silver trays filled with metal tools and sawblades, there are an array of small devices that look as harmless as cell phones. As for Chief Medical Officer Crusher herself, she's well-groomed and kindly, wearing her teal uniform and a blue coat. No masks, no rubber gloves. The most dangerous thing about her is that maternal look in her eyes; the one that scolds you for not doing your homework, or leaving your dirty dishes in your room.

The crew makes no promises for Dr. McCoy, on the other hand. He isn't one of ours. You should probably watch your neck.

"All right, don't be shy," Dr. Crusher calls out as you enter. "Come in and sit down. It's just a scan and maybe a hypospray, nothing to worry about."

Probably.

[ooc: This is an open log for everybody. Tagging isn't mandatory, but going to sickbay is. So if you'd prefer to skip threading with one of our doctors, you can handwave that your character got a clean bill of health and a shot and were sent on their merry way. For those who are tagging, we have Bones McCoy and Beverly Crusher (NPC) on deck, so if you'd prefer one over the other just specify it in your tag. If you would like more details about sickbay, here's the wiki page. If you haven't made your OP yet, you can assume the doctors will want to see your character shortly after they arrive.]

therighttime

Everyone deals with stress and complications in different ways. Here's what Steph has to deal with:
-Space
-Another jump in the future
-Confinement to a bar, a stack of elevators, and a living area
-Alternate universe members of her own team - and herself, good Lord

At the moment, she's keeping her mind off things by staying in the busy bar area, doing her best to keep an eye on newcomers and crew alike. She has a tentative partnership established with Romanoff but alternate universe or not, she's yet to prove herself to the agent.

They're both supposed to be collecting intel, so that's what Steph is going to do.

But back on point: dealing with stress. One way is certainly work, and Steph can throw herself into it with the best of them. Working out does the same, though of course, no one offered her a chance at a gym. She could draw, but it's hard enough finding a pencil and pad of paper in the twenty-first century, she hasn't even seen paper on the Enterprise yet.

Luckily, her bag holds more than just her shield.

Unluckily, wi-fi must be a thing of the past.

Steph's phone isn't connecting to Draw Something.

Well.

Now she's really irritated.

zerocharliexray

There sure are a lot of uniforms in this watering hole, but not one of them looks quite like the one clinging to the woman who's hustled her way over to the window to press her hands against what glass she can and peer out at the speckled vastness around them. That skirt's short enough it'd probably cause a traffic accident if she bent over to pick up a penny on the street, but its pleats are razor sharp and her jacket is pressed and neat and her boots and the brim of her hat are both shiny enough to see your reflection in. The whole thing's sharp enough she looks like she'd been lifted straight from a Memorial Day parade.

"Glory-oskie."

She's a bit busy marveling at the sight to be too terribly put out by the fact that she seems to have wandered aboard a different craft entirely than the one she meant -- this is no Aerie One, but mother Mary Mayday! It sure seems like a spiffing ride, whatever it is.

tased_lightning

The woman who appears in Ten Forward is cleaning her glasses with part of sweater. Her hair is damp with the damp of the recently showered.

Darcy looks up, and squints. Then she puts her glasses back on.

"Well," she says, after a long moment. "This is unexpected."

[ooc: Darcy is wearing a big fluffy sweater, jeans, and slipper socks. I'm going to be veeery slow, but :D HI]

tea_earlgrey_hot

[ Previously, on the bridge... ]

It is abundantly clear why Guinan called him to Ten Forward the instant the doors slide open. The room is crawling with people who, last this captain checked, were not part of the ship's complement. None of them are acting violently, but there are some raised voices, and more than a few angry and confused faces.

"What is all this?" he says, voice raised, though he doesn't expect an answer. The security officers accompanying him move into the room immediately, while Lieutenant Worf stops at his side.

"Your orders, sir?" Worf asks, his deep voice strained.

"Do not use force unless absolutely necessary," Picard replies. "These people look confused. I do not believe they are meant to harm us, as some of Q's previous manifestations. Until we know what is going on, assess where the devil they came from, and escort any to the brig if they do not cooperate."

The Lieutenant nods, and joins his underlings among the crowd. Meanwhile, Guinan has approached Captain Picard.

"They just appeared out of nowhere. There was a small flash of light, and one by one..." she says, gesturing to the room. Her brow furrows. "Is it—?"

"Q? Yes," Picard answers. "Has anyone tried to cause any trouble so far?"

She shakes her head, and Picard nods. It is a small blessing, though he's no closer to understanding what Q's game is than he had been when he left the bridge. With all these people, he can't help but feel as though he is looking for a needle in a haystack. Still, there must be a reason for them to be here, and confound it all, he will unravel this puzzle and set his ship back to rights.

"Damn it, Q," he mutters, stepping into the room.

[ooc: Here, have a starship captain! Picard may not be the most helpful right now, as he is also trying to work out what is happening, but he can answer questions for any of the newcomers to the best of his abilities. If you'd like Worf or one of the other security officers, specify whom when you tag in and I'll see what I can do!]

shut_up_dammit

By no means was this Leonard McCoy's day.

First the crew of the Enterprise was starting a five year mission in space with God only knew what facing them and now he was ripped away from the bridge, and not by choice. He was not in the mood for games.

But looking around the room told him that this wasn't a normal game. There was something wrong. There were people here, people he didn't know. Although their five year mission had barely started, he was given the registrar of everyone on board, pictures included. So many unfamiliar places meant, either, the registrar information was incomplete or, more likely, he was taken from the ship. If it was the latter, Jim would be looking for him. Five year mission delayed or not, Leonard would be aboard that ship.

Until then, he'd have to find a way back himself. He started peering around to the people in the room, trying to figure out the least number of people he could talk to in order to figure out what happened.

And he doesn't look happy about any of this at all.

abyssum_invocat

She had been in her father's office--or what passed for it--looking out the wide, wide windows set into the side of the mountain. The snow is quiet and peaceful and she likes spending a while watching the flakes and needles of it falling.

Sinthia is, then, very tense when she appears in Ten Forward, because now, she is most definitely not where she was. There is no snow in the stars here, out the window where she was facing, and she did not move. She's very sure of that; there's a noticeable lack of, well, everything when she teleports that most people would find excessively disturbing.

The little girl in the clean but plain black and grey clothes whirls around to look at the room at large, eyes wide and surprised.

fallaces_sunt

It is being A Day.

Report deadline, report meeting, new assignment, oh Agent Romanoff could you just translate this won't be a moment, the common room has run out of coffee, and her computer is updating. There is a contact to be met in half an hour, and no way is she in any mood to handle her.

Natasha takes a controlled breath, and slowly lets it out. Time to go up to the roof and clear her head.

(She resists climbing the elevator shaft just to avoid people, but only because she likes her jacket.)

She pushes open the door, steps out onto the roof –

This isn't the roof.

Natasha turns around quickly, only there is nothing behind her except a strange wall. There'd been no sensation of movement, no disorientation, no gap in her memory except for the fact that between one breath and the next, she's found herself in a place she has never seen before.

A bar, it looks like. Military, from the few uniforms she sees.

Under the guise of moving her hands, she discreetly turns her taser-bracelets to stand-by. Further activation merely requires her to think it (thank you, Soviet Mad Science, except she's not even being sarcastic), which is always reassuring. Even if this is a hallucination, it's reassuring.

And if this is a joke, someone is going to find themselves assigned to monitoring the underground sea in Antarctica very, very shortly.

[OOC: As she's been plucked from the New York SHIELD HQ, Natasha's wearing pretty normal office clothes, with the jacket covering most of her Widow Bites so that just the fingerless-glove bits are showing.]

S	M	T	W	T	F	S
		1	2	3	4	5
6	7	8	9	10	11	12
13	14	15	16	17	18	19
20	21	22	23	24	25	26
27	28	29	30	31

Ten Forward Social Lounge

(no subject)

pick a hallway, any hallway

Someone's messing with me

Deck Eleven: Holodeck Two (Volga River, circa 1930s)

[Ten Forward] Double Entrance

[Sickbay]: Round One scans and vaccines

Still in Ten Forward

First Entrance

First Entrance (Darcy Lewis)

An Officer and a Gentleman ... of Sorts

1st Doctor Log || The Second Enterprise

First Entrance

First Entrance

Ten Forward

Important Links

Tags

March 2016

Page Summary