ten_fwd_meme | TEST DRIVE #15 - Holodeck and Ten Forward

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test drives

TEST DRIVE #15 - Holodeck and Ten Forward

001: Where were you a minute ago? Well, you aren't there anymore. Instead, you're standing in a very large, dark room lined with yellow. There are doors at either end of it.

Here's where things get a little choose your own adventure-y. You could:

1: Approach a console filled with buttons, located a few feet away. Press one, and it'll let you out of the room. Travel down a long hallway and you'll be in Ten Forward, the Enterprises' entertainment lounge. Have a drink, mingle and try to figure out why you're here.

OR

2: Maybe you just muttered some vague request under your breath. Maybe you wished aloud you were somewhere else. Or for help? If you did, might be in a fire station. Muttered something about killing whoever dumped you here? Surprise - you're in a slasher movie!

Though they're confusing, these visions feel about as real as they can be. And guess what - other people can experience those fantasies with you, as if they too were really there. How ever will you escape? Or do you want to?

[OOC: Welcome to the Holodeck! If you choose this option, whatever your character chooses to say out loud will cause a virtual reality program to load and play. While your character feels as if what they're experiencing and seeing is quite real, they're purely living through the latest and best in what he Enterprise has to offer in entertainment. Make sure to detail what your character's fantasy is, so that those threading with them will know how to react.

Open til next month's test drive!]

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He slid his arms around her, hugging her close, almost onto his lap as he listened, nodding. "I'm sorry Thea, that I wasn't here, or there, for you."

He gently stroked her hair. "But no matter what, you're not alone now, and I won't let you face this alone, ever again."

... Right, then.

The narration would like to recant its earlier published assurances. It's entirely possible someone is having Amy on.

It's not, however, the case here.

She stops when the other Amy does the same, turns and blinks at her.

"Are you all right?" she asks.

Of course, she did just materialize in an alien bar, but besides that.

"What's your poison? I'll see if I can't get the real stuff, they usually let newcomers 'ave at least one to help with the shock," she says.

And Amy squints right back.

"I'd like to see that," she says, though it's not entirely meant as a challenge.

She would quite like to see the Doctor and Q battle it out.

But he goes on, and he has infinitely more interesting (and amusing) things to say after that.

"You're tellin' me," she laughs, folding her arms across her chest; "but Timelords are the only aliens I know who have those."

She tilts her chin in the direction of the TARDIS.

"And only one of them has a TARDIS with a broken chameleon circuit," she adds.

"A broken... why would it be broken?" He stared at her, incredulous. "I invented the Tardis, myself! In a time when some of these old things were being sold off. It worked perfectly ass a model base, and even on other planets, it helps bolster the space time containment fields."

Doctor Who was frowning now. "These Time Lords... they have these you say? You know, I'll bet they stole my invention!" He was all annoyance and indignation now, and something a little angrier, deep down in those eyes.

"There are always aliens coming to Earth, stealing whatever isn't tied down."

He paused. "Wait. One of them is here? You know.. I think I'll have to have a chat with them, first." He wanted some answers!

Her eyes widen.

"Wait a minute, you're from Earth? And you invented TARDISes?" she asks, hands held out in disbelief.

Okay, so either he's having her on, or he's definitely not her Doctor.

(But boy is her Doctor going to love this.)

"If it makes any difference, the TARDIS was broken when he stole it—found it," she corrects sharply.

Not the best choice of words right now, Amy.

"Yes, and there was only one, that I knew of, until now, and yes, I invented it. The personality core isn't finished, but that's mostly because I lost the prime core stopping the Daleks from conquering Earth." And yes, there is another word for you, Amy.

His eyes narrowed at her words.

"Yes I do think we should have a talk, this young man and me. I have a feeling we shall both need some answers." He brought his hands together in a clap and the blue door shut behind him, and there was a shimmering as the Tardis faded from view.

"My Chameleon circuit is not broken."

A click is a subtle sound, in the grand scheme of things. Innocuous. It can be from anything: a pin dropping, for example. One would think that all clicks would sound roughly the same.

No. There's something about a gun that is unmistakeable.

Loki goes still, the muscles in the back of his neck immediately knotted. (He doesn't freeze, exactly, but shifts into some deeper stillness, combination of tension and extremely careful relaxation.) Both of his hands are visible, on the table.

"Not to my knowledge," he says, in soft and careful tones. His eyes flick to the side, and his head turns, slow enough not to provoke a reaction. He doesn't recognize her immediately, but the next time his eyes close for a blink, the memories rise like acid in his gullet. He's dreamed about her, yes. He remembers. The god in him remembers. He takes a breath to say her name, but thinks better of it.

That question? Is going to take a while. Steve arches his eyebrows, his smile going a lot more crooked as he dryly asks: "You got an hour or two?"

But he lets Roy get settled in before he starts on the explanation. He frowns at Roy's follow-up questions, not able to place the name Damian Darhk or the League of Assassins, but he's been with S.H.I.E.L.D. for enough years now that the title automatically pings 'supervillain organization' without needing further explanation. He makes a note to ask Roy more about both later, as his expression is already melting from serious into amused when he draws his hand back. There's a self-deprecating little nod to the sketchbook before he responds.

"Thanks, they serve me pretty well both on and off duty," he says. "The drawing's more a hobby these days. I can't say I know who the League of Assassins are, or this Damian Darhk guy. The person you're looking for goes by the name Q, and if you haven't started traveling off your own planet yet, this is where it gets complicated. Q is an alien. A pretty powerful alien, from a race called -- and get this -- 'The Q'. As I understand it, he and the captain of the ship you're now on have sort of a history of making each other's lives difficult."

Hill reflects his careful tension, poised like a big cat on the hunt.

(If you look closely, you can almost see the coiled muscle under sleek fur.)

The only movement she makes is a slight narrowing of her eyes when he turns to look at her.

"What about your brother?" she asks

Captain Golden God of the USS Dreamboat might have something different to say, she imagines.

But there's something different about him. She can't place her finger on it, but he's ... subdued. Instead of speaking without thought, he aborts whatever was on the tip of his tongue.

"Do the people here know what you are?"

Roy made the motions of looking left, then looking right, then looking at the man, with a lopsided grin. "Looks like I got the time, yeah."

"What do you do on duty?" Roy smiled as he canted his head to the side, and nodded to the sketchbook. "Not a bad hobby at all. Q, huh? Where does he live? And why is he creatively blocked? I mean, 'Q', really?"

Roy sighed. "Sounds like all too much fun. " He was already considering looking for a place to make a bow and arrows. Or jury rig them, if need be.

"The personality core ... you know the Daleks, then?" she says, not sure which part of his tirade to hold onto first.

He might not be thrilled with her at the mo, but she almost looks delighted.

Until the doors snap shut, and the TARDIS fades from sight. Bollocks.

"I won't stop you, I'm sure the Doctor would like to know how a human from Earth ended up inventin' a TARDIS and defeating his greatest enemy," she says, arms folded over her chest; "but I'm not his keeper. He's around here somewhere."

Without asking, she starts to pace a circle around him, twirling in place where the TARDIS should be.

"You can really make her look like anything?" she breathes.

And yes, she said 'her'.

"I do, of course, yes. Rather nasty things. I take it you've encountered them as well?" He was beginning to think she was from his future, somehow. Or the future of his timeline, so to speak.

Or... something.

He frowned.

"I'm sure I'll find him. I have a certain... sense for such things." He nodded then, eyes warming, and a much friendlier expression coming to his face.

"Her, eh? Hmmm. And oh, yes. Rather. Anything I can imagine, so far. If I get the core refused and repowered, ...she'll be able to do it on her own, without me. For right now, I have to control it."

I'm an only child, he wants to return. He finds it hard to focus, actually, on the faces of his human parents. Like they're washed away a little more every time the god's memories surge forth. Sand washed to sea.

But he doesn't want to - to be this. To be this cowardly, hiding thing. And he does know who she's talking about.

"Shouldn't be in a galactic prison, either," he says, archly. "As far as I know." Yes, he's going to be kind of a bitch about it.

Myka couldn't help but blush. She really was hoping that the floor of Ten Forward would just swallow her up whole. She couldn't believe that she just assumed that.... She froze then.

"Muy Caliente? Oh God..... right..." She barked out an embarrassed laugh. "That's exactly that. Nothing more... nope," She said shaking her head.

"You're okay?"

The corner of her mouth twitches.

(It could be classified as a smirk if you squint.)

Once she's decided he's not going to turn on a dime, she lets herself roll her eyes and affect a dramatic sigh.

If he can be a bitch, then she can be a child.

"You didn't answer my last question," she points out.

And in an instant, she's back to stony seriousness.

"I would think a ship of about 1,000 would be small potatoes for the guy who tried to take over the world, but you did do a number on my helicarrier." Yeah, she's not letting that one go. That? Was her baby. "I won't wait around for a repeat performance."

Her fingers tighten ever so slightly on the leather safety keeping her gun holstered.

Well aside from the suspicion narrowing his eyes?

"Me? Fit as a fiddle," he says, shoulders back and chest out. "Nothing wrong with me. One hundred per cent." He does kind of wish he had Atlas' underpants or Clark Gable's ascot so that he felt a little manlier. Maybe then the urge to run away wouldn't be so strong. "Can't speak a word of Spanish, just the way it's meant to be. What about you? Are you, uh."

Whatever you do, don't think about when you offered to be her baby daddy. Gah, you're thinking about it! "You okay?"

A thousand people. It gives a rough size for the ship, at least. He absorbs this.

"How is the helicarrier?" he says. "Seems you've abandoned it for larger things." Arrogant tilt of his head, and when he faces her straight it's easier to see that his eyes lack the sickly blue glow they once had.

Roy's feint pulls a rare laugh out of Steve. It's bright enough to make the corners of his eyes crinkle, but just tinged with enough black humor to acknowledge the fact that, for better or worse, they're all stuck here in one way or another.

"You could say I work with a private contractor, on loan from the U.S. government," he says. Broaching S.H.I.E.L.D. always takes a little finesse -- admittedly not one of Steve's many talents. "It's an international agency committed to protecting the people of Earth. So if anybody like Q ever tries to take over, I'm one of the guys who's gonna stop him."

His lips twist into another smile. "'Q', really. No idea where he lives. I don't think it's on the same plane you and I do. He's made the Enterprise like a home, though. We're all here to amuse him, in one way or another. For the most part, he's not dangerous. Which I haven't figured out yet. He has the power to be, but instead he plays games with us. Whatever his move is, he's kept it hidden."

He leans back in his chair, giving Roy a careful once-over.

"What's your story?" he asks. 'League of Assassins', 'I've seen weirder', so far this kid talks like he's got more experience with this kind of thing than the average bagger at a grocery store. "I don't think I caught your name."

Roy raised his eyebrows, stiffening just a little at that description. It sounded a whole hell of a lot like Argus to him. A whole lot. But he forced himself to act like it was nothing and nodded. "Sounds ambitious, and hopeful." He canted his head to the side.

"Not the same plane?" Excuse Roy as he caught up to the crazy. "Is he immune to arrows?" I mean, had anyone ever actually shot him with one? Inquiring minds wanted to know... for no reason at all, really!

"Me? Just a kid from the streets who lives in a world where weird shit happens, a lot." Roy smirked. "I didn't throw it. But you can call me Roy."

Myka looked back out the window, anything to avoid Pete's eyes if she could. She couldn't believe she had just kissed him.... especially without finding out what he remembered. So stupid Myka!

She looked at him again. "Did you say something?"

"Hmm," Ian said, generally unimpressed. "I feel like we're being herded into a trap." Which was only confirmed from him when the next fork of their maze revealed the left corridor to end a few metres away, leaving the right corridor as their only option.

"I have, of course, yes," Amy parrots in a rather stuffy tone of voice.

Sorry, John. She can be a bit petulant, but there's still delight on her face.

"I could tell you stories about the Doctor, the Daleks, Winston Churchill and me, shall I?" she adds a moment later, though she's already on to the next thing before she even has a chance to continue.

She spins to face him again.

"Her," she confirms with a confident little nod, practically beaming at him; "you see, in a different world, maybe even a different universe, I have a best friend who calls himself the Doctor, and he flies around in a beautiful blue box he calls the TARDIS, and he saves people ... and I help him."

She's rather proud of that.

"So welcome, Doctor, to This Is Your Life," she adds, stretching her arms out.

"Or Could've Been Your Life, a hop, skip, and a jump over the timelines."

"Well, then, you do have some spirit in you, don't you?" Sorry, Amy, he was from the fifties, originally. He delighted in her way and smiled.

"I would be interested in hearing those stories, though I imagine they would give me a headache." He chuckled, and raised an eyebrow at her. "Well, then, that is something to be rather proud of, isn't it. Not a bad thing. Not at all. Would you like to say hello to Her? My Tardis, that is."

He chuckled. "Or maybe is the life of someone who belongs to a race who stole my work." His grin was shrewd, and not a little intrigued.

He'll see all the answer he needs in her smile, wild and bright. No decade can confine her or define her.

"Only the best stories do that," she preens, ready to suggest they chat over tea, perhaps in the control room, when he makes his offer; "Oh, you read my mind."

She holds out her hand, chin held high. "I'd be delighted."

Truth be told, she's humming with excitement. She has missed her home, even if it's not the same home she remembers.

"If anyone could give you the answer, it's the Doctor, though he might yell a bit," she says.

That smile is nice, and he snapped his fingers again. The blue box appeared again, this time closer behind him. Without fail, he put his hand out and patted it, without looking. It was clear, really, to anyone who would see them, the connection there. He visibly drew strength from touching his ship.

"Come, then." And he turned and stepped to the TARDIS, whose door opened before him and he stepped in. The inside was, yes, bigger on the inside. The control room was far more scientific than she might be used to, with several very large computer banks dominating the sides, but the central console, though different, was very alike the one she had known.

"This is the TARDIS. She is a few years old now, but she's only getting better." To one side, interrupted by the sudden teleport, was his current repair job, a panel open to an alcove of circuitry both more and less advanced than that on the Enterprise. John had been working on the inner workings of the TARDIS for a very long time.

To one side, there was a table, and chairs, and yes, there was a tea set, one that was operated electrically.

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TEST DRIVE #15 - Holodeck and Ten Forward

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<3 <3 <3

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I am! I was on vacation, hence delay. <33

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Huzzah! No worries, I can backtag forever <3

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Okay he is kind of awesome :3

Why thank you.

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of course, it would help if I wasn't slow as treacle, wouldn't it? sorry for disappearing!

No worries!

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