tea_earlgrey_hot: (surprised)
[personal profile] tea_earlgrey_hot
[ooc: due to a family emergency with Emma Swan's player, this plot has been extended to March 15th & 16th in real time so that those getting involved with the turbolift malfunctions and power outages have plenty of time to post their own logs for the event. The date all of this happens IC remains March 15th, and as always backdating is love. Thanks everyone! If you need more info the plot announcement is right over here!]


There have been unusual readings from the bridge. Small irregularities in the ship's operations, nothing terribly out of the ordinary — and certainly nothing quite so alarming as Q has brought to the ship ever since he has made his stay permanent — but enough to warrant inspection. Mr. La Forge has been running diagnostics all morning, and a dedicated team of engineers has likewise been looking into the fluctuations.

The Captain is on his way to personally receive an update on their progress, leaving the bridge in Commander Riker's very capable hands. He could just as easily be apprised of the situation over the comms, but occasionally he appreciates seeing things for himself.

(And perhaps, too, he gets bored with the command chair every so often.)

Entering a turbolift from Deck 10, he puts in the command to be taken to Main Engineering on Deck 34. There are others in the lift with him — the woman he has come to know as Ms. Swan is treated to a polite smile and nod. Her pregnancy is well along now, and he opens his mouth to make some grasped-for inquiry into the health of the child she is carrying when the turbolift stutters. He barely has time to hold out a bracing hand to ensure she doesn't fall before the lights flicker and the whole cabin grinds to a rocky stop.

Throughout the ship, both simultaneously and with some delay, other turbolifts suffer the same malfunction.
southernreaper: (Default)
[personal profile] southernreaper
Ten Forward:

Kevin steps into Ten Forward, looking to see if his favorite table in the corner is free. It is, thankfully. He settles with his back to the corner and puts the PADD device in front of him, ready to settle in and do a few hours of homework and working on the current art project that's consumed his attention. Alright, mostly to work on the art he's been working on. It's just in light, even if that's hardlight projection, but, it would be nice to be able to work in metal and fire again. He wonders who he talks to about that.

So, he's going to be sitting here a while. Someone bring the boy some food and drink or something, otherwise, he'll forget to eat.

Holodeck:

One thing Kevin has discovered with the holodecks is that he can workout here and no one gets hurt. Well, except for him, and that's okay. So, he works on his hand to hand in here. While he'd like to work on his control, there's something funky about his powers. So, shirtless, he works out with the self-defense programs, and doesn't worry about all that deadly skin to be displayed.

Well, unless he's bothered. Then he'll worry about it.
lastrites: (Default)
[personal profile] lastrites
After her initial arrival, and Lorna's run down of what was going on, all that is left to do is to settle in and see what happens next. Only Legacy can't settle. She has a new life in her head, still adjusting, still settling in, coming to grips. Being in drastically unfamiliar surroundings doesn't help any. The Fortress never really felt safe, but it was a place she knew. All the broken allies and crumbling nooks, they had been familiar at least. This place, even with its soft lights and mellow colors, was jarring and claustrophobic.

She spends most of her time haunting the small spaces she's quarantined in, her temporary quarters and the lounge bar, Ten Forward. She searches for solitude and space, that she can't quite achieve. There's no day or night, not really, not in space. She finds she sleeps little and eats about as much. She suspects everything, even the food. Especially the food. She likes to see her meals prepared, to know what goes in them.

Thus she's like a raw nerve, scratched and bare. The personality of Tempo is restless, agitated by death, and Legacy being thrown out of what little comfort zone she has, makes it all the harder to soothe and settle the new personality, to put it away. Inside of her head it's noisy, messy, emotional, a cacophonous symphony of the restless dead. Outside, she stays quiet mostly, and when she is in Ten Forward, she's in a corner where she can see the whole room. A dramatic figure all in black, with just a hint of green to break up the monotony of color, she watches the stars and sits, sometimes tapping agitatedly on the table top. Sometimes not.

[ooc: Taking her arrival directly from the test drive with Lorna as her meet and greet person.]
startedtheflamewar: (╚ grim)
[personal profile] startedtheflamewar
Cold is devouring its way through his fingers, his arms, his chest. It seems to travel through his scars — all of them fresh — and then grow further, like icicles under his skin. When his sleep isn’t interrupted by visions of dark hands over his face or the sound of a gun being fired at his face, he wakes up freezing in the middle of the night and tries to pour a tiny bit more of his sluggish magic into warming himself. What he has left, he uses to heal others rather than himself. His own bites, scratches and blade marks are simply closed, nothing more. It’s fine, he tells himself. The rest of the group is more important. What other thoughts he has are doused in the bottles of alcohol — moonshine, really — that remain, which is easier than processing them.

And then everything is bright and warm, and Cash Gillingwater, fearing the worst, opens his eyes. He’s sure that he can't trust what meets them. The corridor is clean and quiet, and his group is nowhere to be seen. Is this some trick? Is the ancient creature finally moving on from cold and going into outright hallucinations?

Cash looks as though he’s gone through a blender at some recent time, strong jaw covered in a thick layer of stubble and his dark hair hanging just below his ears. He hasn’t bothered to cut it in quite some time. His grey slacks and white button shirt are in varied states of distress, though intact. The grey vest is just barely intact, some of the bloodstains on it fake and some of them real. His bared hands and forearms are covered in fresh scars, though they don’t look nearly as distressing as the wide slash mark which nearly severed the front of the vest. It’s the newest of any of his wounds, and the mark on his skin — like someone cut him with a blade, though the reality was far worse — is only just barely closed.

Nothing on him is particularly insulating, and he shivers as he tries to decide if he’s going to stand up and move. The warm air has yet to sink in past the layer of cold which has been a constant in his skin. His magic has had to work hard to keep him from hypothermia. The sniper rifle strapped to his back stays there, as does the pistol in his shoulder strap. Is he somewhere new, somewhere controlled by the ancients, or somewhere deep under the frozen hell that the town has become in the past month?

“Well. 'Least there’s no snow here,” he remarks to himself, with a faint Virginian twang, his low voice scratchy from how little it’s been used lately. His words aren’t slurred at all, which is rather impressive considering how much moonshine is still rattling around in his system.

Locked to Luke Skywalker. )
peggy_carter: (pic#9105282)
[personal profile] peggy_carter
[Events in this log follow this PSL ongoing.]

Things had been going well, very well if she did say so herself. All she felt was lacking was for one of them to make a forward move. It seemed that since this was the future perhaps it was time she advanced with the times.

Since she had by now learned his schedule she found it easy enough to put herself where she knew he would be for his morning run. She'd decided to take her time and sleep on it, and when she woke the idea had been solidified in her mind.

So she waited ready to ask a question which would determine the movement of whatever this was between them. Since he persisted in being a gentleman it seemed this step would be her's to make.
stark_spangled: ([Casual] Hope I'm the right guy for the)
[personal profile] stark_spangled
Late last night, in Room #0914 )


When he works up the nerve to ask the computer the time, it responds with 4:45am. A little early for his routine morning workout, but after that dream he doesn't think he'll be getting any more sleep tonight. He dresses efficiently and is out of his room by 4:52am, heading straight for the gym. Today's workout will end up being more punishing than normal.

By the afternoon, he's a little more settled but still restless. Holodeck 5, the one closest to Ten Forward, happens to be free for once. He loads the usual program and steps inside, standing at the outskirts of the bleachers in Ebbets Field as the crowd goes wild. Eyes closed, he listens to the stamping of feet and the crack of wood sending the ball home, the tinny voice of the announcer calling the plays, and the cheers of everyone around him, until he feels like he can breathe again. "Computer? Can we get rid of the crowd?"

With a hum, the stadium empties in a second. Ebbets Field is quiet, chalk lines fresh and undisturbed. Steve smiles softly, and moves down the steps to get to the field, leaving his sweatshirt on the rails. It's been a while since the last time he played ball.


[ooc: Practice game! It's going up a tad late because my weekend exploded, sorry Ten Forward you're gonna get more Steve in a few days. It's terrible of me, I know. Steve's just tossing the ball around tonight, anyone is welcome to join in and practice with him and ICly get invited to play on Wednesday. Wednesday's post will be organized into teams. If you have any questionnns, hit me over here and I'll try to have the teams posted in the OOC comm by Tuesday evening! :D Oh, and if you want to catch Steve before he hits the field just for a chat, you're welcome to do so!]
impossibilities: (Expectant/Waiting/What)
[personal profile] impossibilities
Preamble: In which you would think a UK keyboard would properly suggest Manannán instead of Banana )

Quarters

There was a voice singing, clearly audible outside in the hallway. Grainne's song was crisp and clear. She did not sing with the conventions of normal, modern music, or even any known alien based concept. It was purely ancient, with its own eccentricities and flow, some of it familiar as not everything passed down is lost, some of it definitely unique. Her words were that of Proto-Celtic, bearing the lost beauty of the language and the similarities to each of the languages it spawned. She didn't care any more who heard her or who wondered.

She sat in the midst of the room, lights dim, in a pile of pillows, arranged comfortably around a meditative brazier she had asked from the replicator. It suited the function of what she needed, though little of the substance a real Iron Age hearth provided.

Grainne almost laughed at the thought that she might admit to missing the hearth at Almhuin. Fionn's house it may have been, but it was still her own time, with her own people.

She started to sing louder, the sad, nostalgic music drowning out her own thoughts.

Ten Forward

Feeling particularly better, Grainne decided to at least spend some time among the people of the ship. Cutting herself off from even the appearance of social activity seemed to only make things worse for herself. It was easy to fall into the trap of blaming herself again, wrapping all her thoughts to making herself more miserable. She hadn't had much choice in the Tower as all of the people there had been his friend or at least known him. The one person that...

Frowning, she cut that thought off and sat at a table, merely asking the waiter for a glass of water, and then finally, turned to face the window.

The view of the stars wasn't as bad as she feared it would be... but it was funny that she was thinking of that person, when she had met him in a lounge very much like this one, with a view very much like that one. Gilgamesh had been the least likely person she would have thought to take in an interest in her, however small it was. She wouldn't say he had cared, that wasn't consistent with what she knew of him, but perhaps... perhaps, perhaps. Perhaps he had done something for her after all.

Almost jumping when the waiter brought back her water, she held it in her hands and sipped from it, giving anyone who passed by a conservative smile to mask what she might be thinking.

Arboretum

It was a garden, more or less, and usually she would find comfort from such places. The ship's garden held more unusual things, less familiar, and it reminded her of the garden on Quadratus and made her wonder what happened to the plants there. If Jeffers was still caring for it in the absence of the population of Blackway. Were the roses she had demolished on a regular bases flourishing, or were they dead, finally giving it up to her constant abuse?

Sitting on a bench, she decided not to wander too far into the arboretum. She wasn't sure how she would feel chancing on a rosebush, and she would just as soon stay out of trouble for destruction of ship's property. Still, it was quiet and pleasant enough, though she would have liked maybe a real sun casting its light over the garden.
funnythingsare: (what?)
[personal profile] funnythingsare
Tony didn't remember falling asleep after playing dress-up. But here he was, standing in front of the mirror, in a frilly hat and an eyepatch and, he had to admit, a pretty nice jacket, if you were into that whole period piece thing. Funny part was, every time he tried to change, the items would mysteriously reassert themselves when he wasn't noticing.

But he had things to do, and places to be, and future tech to research and rip off, so he went with it. If the effect was more than a little Pirates of the Caribbean, he hadn't noticed. He knew Johnny Depp, of course, but that didn't mean he wasted his time with Disney movies.

One problem, though--the eyepatch. He kept almost running into people and things. And the damn thing would not come off.

"How does Fury do it?" he muttered to himself as he gave up on schematics for the time being and went into Ten Forward.

Now the rum, he could possibly get used to. Not his drink of choice but weren't they all, in a way?

1st Case ~ Ten Forward

2015-Sep-15, Tuesday 09:42 am
dinosheriff: (serious)
[personal profile] dinosheriff
Jim stops in his tracks, confused…

He waits there for a long moment, listening, frowning under the black fabric cover over his head. His wrists were still bound with cable ties, and his ribs hurt like hell… A couple were fractured, definitely. He could feel one pressing against his lung as he breathes in, wincing slightly with each breath. An automatic reaction. Normally he wouldn’t like to show any weakness in front of Mira and her Sixers, but… this he can’t help.

…Speaking of Sixers, he’s been stopped for a while. If he wasn’t going the pace his Sixer escorts liked, he’d get jabbed in the shoulder with a sonic rifle… At least, that was how it was when they found him. Maybe they were where they wanted him to be?

It didn’t explain the strange noises he was hearing…

Shifting, wincing again, Jim raises his arms, hesitantly. When there was no immediate backlash, he hooks his thumbs under the lip of the fabric bag covering his head and moves to remove it.

To the occupants of Ten Forward, seeing a man remove a sack from his head whilst his hands are tied may be slightly amusing. The rumble of light chatter in the lounge has died down as more people notice the scruffy, dishevelled man, who looks like he’s just been released from prison.

A young Tellarite ensign stands, walking over to Jim, frowning slightly. “Excuse me, sir… Do you need assistance?”

At the words, Jim freezes. He’s not alone, obviously, but that wasn’t something a Sixer would ask. Was he back at Terra Nova? Probably not. He would have had the bag removed and ushered straight to Taylor for a scolding once they noticed it was him. Shifting a bit, he shrugs slightly.

“No, no… It’s fine. I got it.” And he does. He manages to shove off the sack, it falling to the floor behind him… And then he double-takes, stepping back, as he sees the Tellarite standing in front of him.

“Woah-!” A pause, there, as he considers who, or what, is standing there. “S-Sorry.” He manages to blurt out, as the Ensign inclines his head.

“Don’t worry, sir, I’ve had worse reactions from humans. Do you need any more assistance?” He sounds concerned about Jim’s well-being, at the very least… his mental health at worst… At least, that was the impression Jim got.

“No… I’m… I’m fine. Just a bit disorientated. Thank you.” The Tellarite nods and moves on, back to his table, as Jim looks around the lounge, frowning.

“Now… where the hell am I this time?” He mumbles to himself, working to strip his hands of his zipties. Once free, a hand instantly goes to his ribs, tenderly patting at them, wincing. "Definitely broken."
kittened: (Default)
[personal profile] kittened
There is a soft pop that can be heard in Ten forward. Felicity can be seen standing in the middle of the lounge looking somewhat stunned. This wasn't right. Her heart sank as she looked around nothing looking familiar to her at all. What was going on?

"No! This isn't right... No No No!" She shook her head. "Where is Oliver Queen? I need to save him. It's important. Please anyone?"

She is supposed to be in the ATOM suit now, she almost had him.... Oh God... what would happen now?
hoodandarrow: (Oliver and Felicity)
[personal profile] hoodandarrow
[Sickbay: locked to any doctor types]

"If I knew how to take this suit off I'd be kissing you right now," he hear Felicity say and it brought one of his rare smile out to play. He knew he was not good enough for Felicity Smoak and yet he can't help loving her as deeply as he does. She was so brave and smart and funny and his. No matter what happened next, he would have her and that was all that mattered to him. He takes a few steps toward her planning on pulling Palmers helmet off and kissing her himself when the world goes pear shaped. He reaches for Felicity and comes into contact with...

Nothing....Felicity isn't standing in front of him anymore. And the room he's in now is white with strange screens on the walls and noises he doesn't recognize in the slightest. He has to reign in the instinct to reach for a weapon, but he does attempt to drop into a crouch. That turns out to be a bad idea as he realizes his ribs are broken and the crouch sends pain shooting up his body and he straightens up with a wince as he reaches over to grip his ribs. "Little help," he calls out trying not to pass out. He's the Arrow and he's stronger then this.

[Sickbay after being patched up: ota]


Oliver feels completely out of his depth. He was in space and Starling City was centuries away. He'd shake his head if he wasn't feeling a bit dizzy still. He is lying on a bed studying his hand. His wrist had been broken and now not so much. This whole future thing was going to be weird...very very weird.  For a while he wishes Felicity or John was standing beside him, he could really use a friend right now when his life was undergoing yet another major change.
dressmaking: (Default)
[personal profile] dressmaking
( locked to [personal profile] fishermansweater and [personal profile] treadswater )

It's the middle of the 72nd Hunger Games, and Lacey, as a District 8 victor, is at one of those interminable Capitol soirees. Not the overdone galas that mark the start and end of the Games, but a less ostentatious affair — if anything in the Capitol can be referred to with any word other than ostentatious. She's not mentoring this year, but she makes herself go anyway, because otherwise, people will talk. People notice if she's absent, as much as she wishes they wouldn't, and then they gossip. Then word gets back to other people, people who shouldn't hear that she's not behaving, not falling in line like a good victor ought to. So she's there, hating every second of it but resolved not to let that show on her face. She's dressed to fit in — iridescent turquoise jacket with a few rhinestones speckled across the shoulders, silk trousers, high heels, painted nails, unmistakably Capitol makeup. Not as ridiculous as some of the people here, but just enough that she doesn't stand out any more than the rest.

She turns away from the conversation she's been having with some Capitol socialite to fetch herself a drink, and between that moment and the next she's abruptly somewhere she wasn't. Lacey freezes, at first too startled to move, eyes darting around the room she's suddenly found herself in: all neutrals and drab colors, tables and chairs and people, talking, eating, drinking. There's a bar. And the windows—

Lacey knows enough about what the Capitol can do that she doesn't quite believe that what she's seeing is actually space, real stars. Anyone who's been in the arena knows how easy it is to make illusions that seem perfectly real, to make something out of nothing. But to go from the party to this, whatever this is, is overwhelming, and immediately she's in full fight-or-flight mode, breath quickening, pulse speeding up. She wonders how quickly she can get to the door without anyone stopping her. Her eyes flicker over the unoccupied tables — nothing she can use as a weapon, no bottles, not even a stray fork. She'll just have to improvise. One hand grabs the back of the closest chair; if nothing else, she can throw it, maybe trip someone if they try to go for her.

If she were thinking clearly, she might be surprised at how fast she falls back into that mindset, the mindset of the tribute just trying to stay alive. Or maybe she wouldn't be.


( a few hours later, open to all )

Later on, after she's had a few things explained to her, Lacey is back in Ten Forward. If she still looks overwhelmed, maybe it's understandable. She can't quite believe this isn't Panem, that this isn't the Capitol — no matter that Finnick and Annie have told her otherwise. But she's not panicking, and her first reaction on being approached is not going to be lashing out; it's an improvement, if nothing else.

She's got her "temporary quarters" from one of the people in the colored uniforms (uniforms still feel Capitol to her, because she sees uniforms and thinks Peacekeepers and that doesn't exactly help), and she's washed off the makeup and changed into different clothes — a fitted sweater, a knee-length box-pleated skirt, sensible shoes with barely an inch of heel. The closest thing she could get to what she'd normally wear back home in Eight. If nothing else, it's a hundred times more comfortable than what she was wearing when she got here.

She has a glass of water, and is sitting in a corner of the room, back to the wall, alternating between sipping from her glass, watching the lounge warily, and taking glances at that view out the windows. Maybe it's not real (is it?), but at least it's beautiful. More than anything else, she just looks tired.

[ota]

2015-Sep-08, Tuesday 10:12 pm
meimeimechanic: (shiny)
[personal profile] meimeimechanic
Kaylee half stumbles out of the door to the quarters she shares with Simon, swearing as she rights herself quick enough as she makes sure what she's carrying isn't damaged. There are things she needs to go trade for, larger than the replicator can produce for her.

Someone is clearly building something, but what that something is might not be so clear. The box of bits and pieces checked Kaylee can continue on her way to the concourse making her way through the corridors of the Enterprise.

At Loose Ends (OTA!)

2015-Aug-01, Saturday 07:34 pm
redarrowqueen: (6)
[personal profile] redarrowqueen
In the days since being winkled onto the Enterprise Thea was still feeling at loose ends and she could not explain why. Sure she was able to wander around the civilian areas and there was Ten Forward but at the same time a part of her was needing to feel more useful than just camp out in the lounge all day. But at the moment she was back in Ten Forward, half people watching and half gazing out one of the windows as she tried to get her emotions and her brain to actually agree on things. She took a sip of what had to be her 3rd or 4th cup of coffee as she mused,"Just have to find a niche somehow but where do I even start?"
feellikeibelong: (026 - Intrigued)
[personal profile] feellikeibelong
Helena was settling into things here on the Enterprise. It was certainly far more active than the Egime, that was for certain. There was more to see and do, for which she was grateful. There was even good food. No more nutritional paste from the Nysgods to live off of. And there were also windows on this ship that allowed her to look out at the stars and planets around them.

For a woman who had dreamt of the stars all of her life, she was certainly more than excited to have this opportunity. Also knowing that sometimes the ship visited these other planets and they could walk around them was enthralling. Helena was barely containing her excitement over the first such instance she'd be able to experience.

She'd been walking, getting to know more of the ship which she was allowed to explore, when she'd come to a stop in front of a window. She managed to keep herself from plastering her face against it, but she was standing close to see as much of the universe outside of it as she could. She watched the stars with more than a little fascination and awe. There was a smile on her face.

"Perhaps I am needing to write a new novel," she mused, not taking her gaze away from the sight outside for one moment. The woman from the Victorian era was having her mind blown over seeing the stars this close.

OTA | Arrival

2015-May-18, Monday 09:28 pm
super_seal: (Focus - Laser)
[personal profile] super_seal
In the last handful of hours, Steve McGarrett had been in a plane crash, hand-to-hand combat with Wo Fat, a gun fight with the Yakuza, and a stand-off with Adam Noshimuri. He was tired, sore and still bloody, not taking time to clean up after reuniting with his team to escort Wo Fat to his holding cell.

Now that Wo Fat was secure, Steve was looking forward to getting home and having a shower. He expected Danny to show up at some point and the two would share a beer out on the lanai before bed. No better way to finish off what had been a stressful but overall productive day.

Leaving the jail, still dressed in his black cargo pants and T-shirt, he headed out to his truck with a smile on his face. He could feel the pull of the bruises and cuts with the smile - the double angled-line shallow cuts on his right cheek and the split and swollen lip on the left side of his mouth. Using his thumb he gently touched the cut on his left forehead, thankful to find it had stopped bleeding but had no doubt that his left eye and cheek was going to be a nice shade of black and blue by morning.

Suddenly, in between one step and the next, he’s no longer outside crossing the prison parking lot but… He stops short eyes darting around. He has no idea where he actually is.

Crouching slightly he’s instantly ready for action. His right hand instantly moves to rest on his gun in it’s holster on his hip, while his left is held out slightly from his body, ready to defend himself or pull the knife that stored in his boot.

Eyes wide he scans his new surroundings. It looks like a restaurant of some sort. Tables and chairs throughout with a bar running along one wall. The other wall a bank of windows with what appears to be outer space on the other side. Steve frowns, confused. Where the hell is he?!

Where he is exactly is a question that he needs answered but it’s not the current priority. He’s still assessing for threats, although he notices that the people around him seem to be relaxed. Enjoying dinner or a drink at the bar.

What the hell?!

Funday Sundaes!

2015-May-18, Monday 01:11 pm
goofytastic: (If we listen to each other's heart)
[personal profile] goofytastic
Now, Goofy liked to figure that he was good with electronics. He tended to, somehow, fix anything that broken in his home after all! Or he called for help. Either way, he loved to tinker if he could. But this replicator thing... this was definitely something new! And strange. Very, very strange.

Where was Max when you needed him? Or even, Sylvia! She would figure this out no problem. He missed the both of them, but he had to stay strong. He would see them again. He knew he would. So, for now, food. After a moment of scratching his chin, humming as he looked at the machine quite sternly, a lightbulb went off and he had an idea!

Goofy pressed all the buttons, because why not? It was the best way to figure anything out, he always thought.

It was about five minutes later that Goofy had a problem.

"...uh-oh."

That was a lot of hot fudge sundaes! He couldn't eat them all. Again, Goofy scratched his chin and hummed in thought. Lightbulb!!

Ten Forward would find a table full of hot fudge sundaes all neatly placed on about two tables pulled together. There was a sign, clearly written in marker, that said "HOT FUDGE SUNDAES. 25 cents FREE!"

Goofy realized shortly after writing the sign that no one would have a quarter handy. They were in a spaceship with aliens, after all! Besides, ice cream was always good, no use in charging them. He said behind the two tables, eating one of them already. "A-hyuk! Just as tasty as back home, oh boy!"

(no subject)

2015-May-17, Sunday 12:51 pm
southernreaper: (cautious)
[personal profile] 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.

1st Artifact

2015-Apr-28, Tuesday 05:13 pm
myks: (Default)
[personal profile] myks
Myka walked slowly down the corridor, looking around curiously. She had no earthly idea where she was, or by the looks of things, when she was. The only was she knew it was a different time was because she had never seen anything like it before in her life.

She stopped in front of a door, and it slid open, showing a lounge of sorts. It was unlike any lounge Myka had seen before. Stepping inside, she looked around, her eyes catching the windows, as she walked over to them, just staring out.

"Wow."
ten_fwd_npcs: (Default)
[personal profile] ten_fwd_npcs


It's not very often a passenger is taken to Deck 33, and for good reason. Deck 33 is where the brig is located. If you're unlucky enough to find yourself there, you'll notice that there are security officers standing guard outside the brig, as well as one stationed inside. The cells are separated by forcefield to prevent further incident between prisoners, and while it looks and sounds like there is no barrier between the cells and the room at large, there is no crossing over until the forcefields are lowered.

There have been incidents on the ship before, isolated ones and minor infractions, but this is a whole new ballgame. Q's latest game has wreaked havoc among the passengers, turning even the most polite among them into disturbers of the peace, in ways both small and — regrettably and dangerously — large. Security has been scrabbling to keep up (the ones who weren't affected by the events themselves, that is), but it's safe to say the brig has never been this full before.

Should a passenger make an inquiry after someone at one of the computer terminals, or access the directory on their PADDs, if the person they're looking for is here their location will be noted as 'BRIGGED' in bold font. Visitors are allowed entrance after they check in with the guards on duty, but no one is allowed to be alone with the prisoners. Once the prisoners are back to normal, they will be released.

Assuming they cause no further mischief, of course.


[ooc: Bit of a delayed OTA brig log for those who were requesting one. More info here.]
raincoatruinedit: (uniformneutral)
[personal profile] raincoatruinedit
Holodeck 2 is currently in use, but unlocked. The program running is the Yankee Stadium, circa 2009. Empty, for now, barring a figure stood in the middle of the diamond. He's staring out into the stands, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans.

The figure is Det. Jason Walsh, New York Police Department, Second Squad, and he's feeling a tad homesick. He's been spending most of his time reading up on his new surroundings, finding out about the Enterprise and everything he can... or has access to.

Basically... being a detective.

But, sometimes, it just hits home how much he misses, well... home.

"Computer." He calls out, hearing the acknowledging beep. "Load the 4th of May, 2009. New York Yankees vs. Boston Red Sox."

"Program Ready."

He's going to turn, walking up and over to the stands.

"Execute."

A beep, and suddenly, the crowd and team phases into existence. Jason sits down, slumping in his chair. He sighs slightly, smiling.

This was home.
caelus: made by chatona for me dnt (mirror mirror)
[personal profile] caelus
Jim had been on his way to Ten Forward in order to grab a quick bite to eat before heading to his quarters. It'd been a few weeks since he and Khan had their altercation in the passageway, broken up by a few members of the crew and passengers. Jim was still uneasy about that, especially since Khan had seen fit to taunt him about certain changes that might have been taking place for the captain.

He sighed to himself, shaking his head as he neared the doors to the lounge, intent on not giving it any more thought for one evening at least. Of course, having no idea about Q's antics, he doesn't know that as his other self that wanders in, will have other ideas upon wandering out. As soon as he enters, his appearance changes rather drastically. He still holds himself with every bit of the cocky swagger he usually has, but his gold uniform shirt is gone, replaced with simple officer blacks. His eyes are lined with dark lines, and a scar runs along his left cheek. Instead of his usually friendly demeanor, his mannerisms lean more towards a predator stalking prey. He has a gold sash tied around his waist with a dagger strapped to his hip, and a small, strange device called an agonizer clipped there as well.

He takes one look around the room, and hisses in displeasure. What was this place supposed to be? Some soft, delicate version of his own universe? Perhaps some lesson in what happens without the terror of the empire to drive men to their knees in fear? One glance is enough to prove how little he cares for this---place. But perhaps there is some enjoyment to be had here after all.

If this other man's memories serve him well enough, then Khan is on this ship. Not his Khan, of course, but that means little to him. The uniforms are different than his, and it would hardly do for him to be caught so quickly in a new game. He makes his way over to the replicator, manages to get the old command gold uniform he did away with after taking the empire by storm with the ISS Narada, and tugs it on as he's heading out the door. A quick check of the computer confirms the location of the brig, and before he rounds the last corner that will take him just outside of the doors leading in to the brig he ditches the sash and dagger. He'll come back for it after.

It's easy enough to slip by the first guard, some familiarity gives him away, as well as his rank as captain, even if it isn't of this vessel. The doors close behind him, only showing one guard, and one cell in operation. He heads over to the cell, giving a curt nod as he's given a "sir" from the crewman on duty, and cants his head, eyeing the man behind the forcefield. The resemblance is uncanny.

[ooc: eta: warning for violence within to npcs! backdated to the start of the plot! jim will be breaking khan out of the brig for fun times that must be had during this plot (and by fun i mean awful). the actual brig portion is closed to khan. anyone tagging would be running into them after they leave the brig. you can ask for kirk, khan, or both! if you would like both, tagging order will go: jim + khan + player= fun!
if you have any questions or concerns or ideas the plotting comment is here!]

April Fool!

2015-Apr-01, Wednesday 10:19 pm
trial_never_ends: (watching)
[personal profile] trial_never_ends
Oh, this is all so disappointing.

There's a man, in a Starfleet captain's uniform, in the middle of the lounge, and it's not the captain. Not of this vessel anyway. Nor is it any of the other captains who have become such welcome guests aboard the Enterprise.

He also almost certainly wasn't there a moment ago.

Q stands in the middle of the suspiciously empty lounge, hands on his hips.

"This really is very disappointing. You know, it's enough to make a Q feel ignored. Unappreciated, even. You accept my hospitality and my protection and then you just give up. Even my dear Picard has given up the chase."

And the chase, after all, is part of the fun.

Q begins to pace, a petulant look on his face, around the lounge.

"The last few things I did to entertain people didn't change a thing. It's obvious what we need. We need something to really shake up this ... vessel." (That's the word Jean-Luc is so very fond of, after all.) "Turn things around, make them more ... challenging."

Q does so love seeing how the Enterprise manages a challenge.

He stops pacing, a manic gleam in his eyes.

"Oh yes! What a fortuitous opportunity! This is what we need!"

Q gives a wave of his hand in the direction of the doors to the lounge. As of this moment, anyone walking through them will find themselves changed, things in their personality or their history the opposite of what they should be.

Their selves from another universe entirely.

Q's grin fades for a moment, then he sighs. He did, after all, make a promise.

"All right," he tells the air. "I'll set it right at the end of the week. But not until then. I want to see how Picard handles this!"

Then he's gone, with no sign he was ever there. Except the sudden appearance of mirror universe versions of the people who walk into the bar ...


[ And here's the kick-off for our April Fool's mirror universe plot! If your character enters Ten Forward on April 1, they will be transformed into a silly mirror universe version of themselves (characters who do not enter the lounge will be unaffected, but backdating during this week is, of course, okay). Key things about them will be the opposite of their usual selves: heroes could be villains, murderers could be doctors, and the clean-shaven could have ridiculous facial hair! The change will last a week before Q returns things to normal.

Feel free to respond to this post with your character's switch to their mirror self, but threads should be carried out in separate posts throughout the week. Questions? Plots? Looking for ideas? Head on over to the plotting post. ]
stark_spangled: ([Stock] Baseball field)
[personal profile] stark_spangled
Keeping track of the seasons isn't always easy, but Steve knows the date here is for the end of March, and even if the calendar back home says "April" that still means one thing.

Baseball season.

He hasn't used the holodecks in a while. Akito has been taking up a lot of his free time, and while he's fine with that the kid has started getting on his case about brooding too much. Peggy's been gone for a month now. She's probably not walking through his door again, and that's a good thing -- for her. It just reminds him of what he's missing.

To stave off any ill-conceived attempts to set him up on dates or push him around to other people, Steve has left Akito to his own devices for a few hours. He didn't really have a goal in mind when he ended up at the holodeck. He thought maybe he'd stop in Ten Forward for something to eat, but his feet just kept going after he reached the lounge, and didn't stop until he was standing in front of the computer panel currently telling him the holodeck was vacant. He frowns for a few minutes.

"Computer, um. Are there any baseball fields on file?" he asks. The computer gives him an affirmative answer, and starts listing off more baseball fields than he knows what to do with. "Whoa, wait. Uh, sorry. How about Ebbets Field?" Another affirmative, and another long list of options. Steve rubs the back of his neck. "OK. Ebbets Field, Flatbush, New York, Earth, around the year..."

He thinks back over some of the games he's seen, but he doesn't feel up to taking a walk down memory lane tonight. He's tempted to ask about the 1920 World Series, but as he's forming the words another thought occurs to him. "April 15, 1947. Jackie Robinson's first game with the Dodgers."

There is another affirmative chirp, and at last the Computer says, "You may enter when ready." Steve pockets his hands and steps inside the holodeck doors, and with such shocking clarity it almost knocks the wind out of him he finds himself in the bleachers at Ebbets Field, just as he remembers it.

Multitasking [OTA]

2015-Mar-31, Tuesday 12:45 am
electro_kinetic: (dreamer)
[personal profile] electro_kinetic
With recently-dyed hair braided back into a long, loose strip of mohawk down the middle of her scalp, Noriko is sitting at a table in the lounge, several things spread out in front of her. One is a small notebook, moleskine-style, on which she's squiggling out little dots in a way not entirely unfamiliar to anyone who's ever seen either old-world continental battle plans or football plays; the other two are a music player currently blasting the sounds of Vivaldi's Spring remixed with a synth bass into her ears, and a book she's halfway paying attention to reading.

It may seem improbable for one young woman to be paying attention to all of these at once, but if you understand Nori you know why, that being that she literally has so much energy coursing through her that otherwise she'd be flitting around like a bright blue blur, sparking and glowing and unable to contain herself not that she's not doing the last two right now anyway, sorry about that. And that goes for her brain too, not just her body; her thoughts are rapid-fire, too quick for most telepaths to keep up with even if they bother listening.

She's doing good; it's been twenty minutes and she hasn't gotten up, but her legs are pretty rapidly bouncing to the fast techno beat of her music. And have been for the last eighteen minutes.
rhapsoidein: (Of the human cannonball)
[personal profile] rhapsoidein
It just wasn't fair.

Of course, when she found somewhat of a new life here, with an Angeal who loved her, it was taken away from her. Or rather, he was taken away from her. It started a few days ago, when he suddenly wasn't there that morning. She hadn't thought anything of it. Angeal liked to spend time taking a run or working in the hydroponics lab. But when he wasn't at either of those locations, Genesis grew worried. She had asked around but no one had seen him.

She hadn't seen him since then and it had become pretty obvious what happened. Angeal was sent back to his world, where she couldn't go. It was like a knife through her heart and it hurt more than the years of degradation had.

Genesis sat by herself, as far away from anyone as she could, nursing a glass of whatever alcoholic beverage was in it and not really drinking it because what was the point? It wouldn't dull the pain. She couldn't get drunk. She was facing the windows, the blackness of space and twinkle of stars her only company as she sniffled pathetically and wiped at her eyes with a napkin. She wasn't much of a mess as she was earlier that day, but it was hard to keep her composure. She didn't want to go back to her room but she didn't want to be in Ten Forward. Quite frankly, she would have preferred to lock herself away in a library but they didn't have that.

So she had found the next best thing and that was the nearly full grown Banora tree in the hydroponics lab. It made her think about him but also of her own home. It was a small comfort. She sat beneath the tree, leaning against it with the wads of napkins on her lap, both used and new as she swirled the drink in her hands.

"My friend, do you fly away now?
To a world that abhors you and I?
All that awaits you is a somber morrow
No matter where the winds may blow."
stark_spangled: ([Uniform] Star-spangled man with a plan)
[personal profile] stark_spangled
Steve's been spending a lot of time with Akito since he woke up. He feels responsible for the kid, even if the accident wasn't his fault. Since the knock to his head affected his memories, Steve kinda feels like the only guy on this ship who remembers who he is, and when the topic of a health care guardian came up with Dr. Crusher he seemed like the only real choice. Looking over his medical file a few days ago, he looked up and smiled.

"Hey, you've got the same birthday as my best friend," he had said.

Akito had just blinked at him. "I do?"

There was never much folding green* lying around back when he and Bucky were kids, so birthdays were usually marked by the usual pinch-to-grow-an-inch and a 'Happy Birthday, Punk,' and sometimes -- on good years -- a flat cake (because they were always out of baking soda) decorated with candy corn they'd saved from the last fall. He had frowned, realizing Akito and Bucky may have shared something else in common. Neither of them could remember ever having a birthday party.

So there's a cake in Ten Forward. A real one, with layers and frosting and 'Happy Birthday' scrawled across the top in icing. There are some balloons and music, and the bartender has helped out with punch and drinks and other snacks. Next to the cake there are a few wrapped presents. Hey, Steve got Natasha an alien space dog for her birthday; there's no way he was going to forget Bucky and Akito. Even if, to get them to come, he told Bucky the party was for Akito, and told Akito the party was for Bucky. Hey, it's the truth. Sort of.

It's not a huge party -- Steve wouldn't know the first thing about throwing one like that -- but it's festive and open to the whole room. Steve's friendly to everybody, helpful where he can be, and as long as everyone is on this ship he figures that makes them part of the same team. So come get a slice of cake.

(*slang for extra spending cash
ooc: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BUCKY BARNES AND WANIJIMA AKITO!! As if Steve would forget. So this is set up party post style, where we'll have subheadings for various party activities, but if we forget anything fun or you have ideas to add in, start your own header threads! Then tag around wherever you like, using the subject line to say if you're OTA or locked to certain people like Steve, Akito, or Bucky. Steve would have made the invitation to the party public, so there's no need to worry about crashing. EVERYONE IS INVITED!)
savagemind: (pic#8376388)
[personal profile] savagemind
There was no true day and night on the Enterprise, no sun to regulate the natural cycles of light and dark, but starships had long done their best to overcome this. Gamma shift was quiet - the lights dimmer, the noises muted as most of the crew slept. It was an ideal time to wander the ship.

Khan had given his escorts the slip ten minutes before - by now, they were used to his little games. He'd pace circles around them in the corridors, note their confusion and irritation, and eventually allow them to catch up thirty or forty minutes later, as though nothing had happened at all.

Childish, perhaps, but they'd become remarkably complacent remarkably fast. This way was, at least, some small reminder that he wasn't bound by them.

But it wasn't to last. Rounding a corner, Khan was abruptly drawn up short by the bright shock of gold in his vision - a very familiar gold, and the slow, sudden fury that burned under his skin.

"You."

The face was the same, the stride, the stance. Standing in front of him, as easily as he pleased, was one James Tiberius Kirk.


[ The first portion of this is locked to [personal profile] daredtodobetter, but anyone is welcome to come along after their fight and watch/call security/popcorn.gif/etc! ]
stark_spangled: ([Casual] Hope I'm the right guy for the)
[personal profile] stark_spangled
[
Personal Log: Previously, on Risa...
While the Enterprise was docked at Risa, there was an accident that left Akito badly hurt.
Since Steve is the closest thing he has to family, he's been looking out for him ever since.

]



It's been a month. Akito still hasn't woken up, not even when Shark found his way to his side. Steve doesn't know how he knew Akito was here -- maybe some kind of feline sixth sense that alerted him when the kid didn't return to his room for a few days -- but nothing and no one was going to remove the cat from his bed once he was there. He takes turns sleeping on Akito and curled up in Steve's lap, depending on the day and which person he deems most in need of cuddles.

Steve doesn't know Akito well, and the longer he stays in sickbay without anyone coming by to visit the guiltier he feels about that. But he likes the kid, he likes him a lot, and he doesn't want him to be alone. No one should be stuck here alone.

He's spent every day this month in sickbay, a few hours here and a few there. Sometimes he reads to him. Sometimes he just sits and waits for him to wake up. The one thing he doesn't do is lose faith that he will. Dr. Crusher visits often, making sure Akito's hair stays out of his eyes, assuring Steve that he will be OK. His body is just taking time to recover, after years of malnourishment and abuse. Steve nods, watching the way she cares for him.

At least he has that.


[OOC: It's a two-for-the-price-of-one deal tonight in Ten Forward! Come check on Steve in sickbay, make sure he's eating and not spending too much time sleeping in the chair next to Akito's bed, and get a cute kid with a fluffy pet cat who's gonna need some good friends for the next couple of weeks while he recovers. Or come meet them both, goodness knows a guy like Steve spending every day in sickbay is going to pique some curiosity. All threads will be timed to after the one with Akito and Steve. CW: for amnesia.]
sizeofyourbaggage: (looking forward)
[personal profile] sizeofyourbaggage
Sam doesn't spend a lot of time in the bar, but every once in a while, he likes to go grab a drink, especially after the end of a shift in the sickbay.

The fact that it's Valentine's Day hasn't exactly escaped his notice, considering the fact that the people gathered in the longue at the moment are predominantly couples - or noticeably single - but that doesn't bother him at all. If he was back at home, he wouldn't be doing much different, except maybe volunteering to cover someone's shift at the VA, so they could spend the day with their significant other.

Maybe he'll bring Natasha or Steve a gift, something small and silly, just for fun.

But for the moment, he's just going to enjoy the drink he'd ordered at the bar, his attention mostly on taking a sip from it as he moves towards a table.

Ten Forward

 
Welcome to Ten Forward, a pan-galactic, pan-fandom social lounge for the weary intergalactic traveler. Set on the Enterprise (NCC-1701-D), any character from any established or original canon may appear at random. The fun is what happens next.

(This is a role playing community. Please visit the profile for more information.)
 

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