ten_fwd_meme | TEST DRIVE #16 - Turbolifts and Ten Forward

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test drives

TEST DRIVE #16 - Turbolifts and Ten Forward

Option 001. Trapped in a Turbolift: This space travel thing is new to you, and you're starting to think the ship is purposely out to get you. A turbolift is just a grandiose name for an elevator, which should be the safest way to travel after all! But someone out there is out to get you, you're sure of it. Because the next thing you know, the lights flicker and the lift grinds to a stop. You're trapped, with whomever was unlucky enough to be in the lift with you.

It could be hours before you're rescued. These turbolifts span the entire massive ship, and don't just travel straight up and down. No, they can travel horizontally, vertically, sometimes even diagonally. You could be stuck between any deck now. There is a small access panel on one of the smooth walls, but how good are you with getting these things to work? Let's not forget that sudden stop tossed everyone around a little, and people could be hurt. Time to put your emergency thinking cap on, and make friends with the people beside you fast. You could be the only way back to freedom.

Conversely, you could slide that pack of cards out of your pocket and start a rousing game of gin rummy. Really it's up to you.

Option 002. Ten Forward: You have no idea what just happened. One minute you were home, minding your own business, and now you're on a spaceship in the middle of a crowded room! It looks like a bar. There are people eating and drinking, some in uniform, others not. Some are clearly aliens, and some of the food is looking rather strange too.

You've managed to land in Ten Forward. A long bar with barstools and a bartender span one side of the room, with a bank of strange computers on that same wall. It looks like people are ordering food and drinks from them. Tables are sprinkled throughout, and the far wall is nothing but floor to ceiling windows with a view out to space. It looks like a nice lounge, low conversation making the room hum.

Better ask some questions and find out where you are, or just tap the closest person on the shoulder and try to make friends. The bar is open.

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This... well, this is Topher's dream come true. One of them at least. A place he feels he belongs. That isn't his lab in the house. After all he does have that tattoo on his ankle. This boy is enjoying himself here. So much so he can hardly believe his luck. He's grinning like a fool when he heads into the bar.

Some of that joyous spring in his step goes, and how quickly is something when he sees the familiar shape of Adele propped up at the bar. He hesitates only momentarily, but still he does. He's cautious. Topher doesn't know what sort of mood she's going to be in. Though even he can tell it's likely not to be the best of them given how she's sat. With the promise of a new shiny spaceship. Oh yeah, he was not over the fact he was getting to say spaceship and actually mean it yet. That was still... he focused back on his boss.

Topher sits himself down next to her, with a slight ungracefulness to the action that only he can have. "Think I get a juice box here?" He asks.

Gold ignored the bark, focusing on the question. It was possible the dog knew he wasn't as human as his owner in a manner of speaking.

"Q's the one responsible for bringing all of the ships current displaced guests here. He's apparently someone with a considerable amount of power, but very few morals, from what I've heard."

Once they had arrived at his door, he opened it and gestured for Henry to precede him inside. "I'll show you to the bath and then I'll see if the replicator can't help us out clothing and food wise."

Henry rolled his eyes. "I'm getting rather bored of being kidnapped. This is at least the fourth time." Once they were in the room, Mister Spots wriggled and Henry put him down so he can sniff about.

"He is house trained but I'm not sure where the outside will be. So I apologise if he messes up your carpets." It was the truth after all. "But a bath sounds great. I probably stink, don't I?" They could talk more after.

"There's a room we can take him to that he can do his business in I believe." He chuckled quietly at the question. "Just a little."

He headed toward the door to the bath and directed Henry toward it. The comment about being kidnapped going on four times was a curious one and he wondered if Henry was up to discussing it or not over their lunch.

"Good to know." Henry chuckled and headed into it but came out a moment later. "Perhaps I should get those clean clothes first? I don't want to be running around your quarters in just a towel."

Henry wouldn't mind discussing the kidnappings. The first would be the most amusing as it involved Pan, aka the man's father. He wondered what he did with his life in the world this Gold came from.

And for the woman who has shoved her feelings back to far its not funny she's needed the same thing. So Thea's smaller hand was hooked into Matt's as she attempts to explain things,"Likewise given the shock." she mused,"And consider yourself lucky you simply got thrown for a loop, when I got pulled here I passed out within seconds. Long story." hoping that was enough since it was a ghost she was still facing.

"Ahhhhh!"

Don't nobody say anything about the pitch of his scream, the last thing he expected to see through the branches was a green-eyed monster wielding the remains of her last victim. He wheels backward, but not far enough to escape her grip. "Ahhhh!"

Now that he's lost his hiding place, at least he can see things better. He blinks up at Leeloo.

"Y-y-you!" he shouts, pointing at her with one trembling finger. "I-I know you! You're the girl! Where's Korben?"

"Yes, me." Leeloo released her grip on the emcee's costume--gently, so as not to send him sprawling on his backside--smiling confidently, as if there were no other girl in the universe to which he could be referring. Then she pouted at then mention of Korben Dallas. "I do not know. One moment we are making love in the regeneration chamber, and the next, poof! I am here."

She made a dramatic, and expansive gesture to describe her own arrival--which may have been a slight exaggeration as far as the timing went, since she had obviously had time to dress post-coitus before she had been snatched from her lover's side. She apparently seemed to have no concept of oversharing, either. "I was hoping that he is with you."

"Trust me, I am well aware," Adele answers with scathing disapproval, and just enough grit in her voice one might gather the impression she's been at it long enough she intends to will the synthehol to her bidding. With near petulance, she picks up her glass to punctuate her point, draining the rest of its contents.

It isn't until then that she really looks at her companion, not bothering to lift her head. She frowns as she takes stock of those small details, the Greek psi perhaps the most interesting of them all. She lifts her head, hair smoothing into some semblance of order.

"You are not one of those under this ship's employ," she surmises, accent a little low and loose from its general prim British tenor.

She's quite occupied with her own thoughts, which would account for the annoyance she isn't afraid to display when some bumbling oaf sits next to her with all the grace of a lorry. She rolls her eyes, huffing in indignation and immediately reaching for her glass.

She nearly spits her bourbon back up, however, once the oaf speaks. She whirls on him, eyes wide, for a moment frozen as she is just blinking at him.

"Topher?" she asks at last, turning in her seat to face him. No, this... isn't possible. "What are you doing here? Who is watching the House?"

Oh, god. Not Mr. Langton. Unchecked there's no telling what he will do.

[OOC: s h r i e k ! ! Would an Agent Hill be too intense for your baby muse? I've been dying to thread with a Ward, but I could happily send someone else to make it easier. :D]

Edited 2015-11-23 01:08 (UTC)

"Not at all," Christine says, shaking her head slightly for emphasis. "I came here from somewhere else, the same as you did." She glances back toward the lounge for a moment, and when she turns back to Adele her expression is a rueful one. "I'd say there are quite a few of us, the way things are going."

She doesn't exactly want to be here — she has work to do back home, although she expects ExoCorp will learn to deal with the loss of its prized house telepath — but she has, at least, accepted that she's not going anywhere any time soon. And the crew, at least, have been kind enough to her. She gets the impression none of them find Q's little practical joke particularly funny, either.

"Christine Parrish," she introduces herself, politely, and holds out a gloved hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss...?"

[ooc: Hill is fine. I think same canons might be easier...]

Jadzia laughs then, her smirk returning fully, the one that's always clearly spelled trouble. "Admit it: you like it. I keep you entertained and on your toes." Or kept, really, but who wants to go down that path?

Instead, Jadzia focuses on her amusement and then on explaining the situation. There are things Benjamin needs to know, things that will be easier to swallow coming from his friend Dax and not some stranger. She has to do this a certain way, come to it from a specific angle. Otherwise, things will get very, very ugly very, very quickly.

"That's because we are on the Enterprise," she begins carefully, watching him closely for any signs that he's figuring her out. "Benjamin... we're agreed that no matter where we end up or how or even when, we're still abiding by the Prime Directive?" Jadzia gazes at him seriously. The expression in her eyes should be enough to tell him that whatever she has to tell him, whatever reason she has for saying this, is very important. "Starfleet's rules and protocols are always in effect. So there's no telling me or anyone else about the future. Minimal interference."

She will explain. But first she has to ensnare him. And he likely knows both Jadzia and Dax well enough to smell a trap when he sees one. Knowing what she knows about the timelines... well, she suspects she knows what's coming and it's going to be hardest on Benjamin.

A happy noise tumbles from her lips. As rare as that is, it's becoming less so as time moves forward, but even so hearing Henry tell her he misses her and loves her always takes her a little by surprise. It reminds her there is still a heart that can be warmed by his love.

"I missed you too," she says, holding him tightly, in no rush to let go. When at last she does she only moves far enough to grasp him by either arm and look in his eyes. "I'm so sorry I haven't been there. There's a magic here I haven't been able to undo."

He looks healthy and unhurt, and once she's assured of that she allows herself to smile. "Yet."

He grimaces.

"That sounds familiar," he mutters under his breath. Well, at least up until the asylum escapees. That sounds like a cakewalk compared to Evelyn, her book of the dead, and bloodthirsty mummies coming after everyone in Egypt.

What is it with archivists?

"Looks like you got lucky," he says, once he's confirmed for himself that she isn't bleeding anywhere. "You should pick a less interesting job," he smirks.

"I like creating order from the chaos. But then I work for the police in Gotham." Kristen could not help but make a joke. "But then I could do without the mob war and asylum escapees myself." That was when she finally asked the big question,"So how did I go from the GCPD squad room to what looks like a bar?"

Oh no she did not wrinkle his ensemble. This is chiffon! He gives her the kind of glare someone only does right before they're about to smack their hand away.

"Bzzz! Nuh uh!" he yells, waving his hand in her face. "I do not need to hear the freaky deets of your horizontal mamboing."

He pinches the bridge of his nose. This is not happening. This is not happening. He's going to open his eyes, and he's going to be in his studio okay? and there's going to be prosecco and beautiful people and none of this crazy kung-fu alien madness.

He opens his eyes. "What's wrong with you? Well he ain't here! If he was there'd be bombs going off and people screaming and the whole ship would be blowing up and on fire!"

Ms. Parish holds her curiosity for a few moments longer, though she's not particularly interested in what she's saying. No, she's more interested in what she's doing — namely, acting rather calm for a woman plucked from her own home and transplanted here, of all places. What motivation could someone of her age and grooming possibly have to engage a stranger in a place such as this?

She follows Ms. Parish's glance toward the room, taking stock of its occupants herself. It's not the first time Adele has done this, but now it is with the hue of what Ms. Parish might be seeing.

"Indeed," she answers, feigning indifference. "It's quite the collection."

And she means that in the most literal way possible. She is well acquainted with collectors and their peculiar habits.

"Adele DeWitt," she says, taking the other woman's hand with a touch less grace than she would were she in her office and at her best. "I wish I could say the same, but I'm rather not enjoying my time here."

[OOC: \o/!!!!!]

She knows that voice.

She would never allow herself to forget it.

She vetted him herself. Picked him for Coulson's team. Groomed him. He was her responsibility.

How could she have missed it?

She may spend her days in business-formal now as opposed to the comfort of her SHIELD-issued catsuit, but her heels don't slow her movements at all and it's probably better you don't ask where she pulled that gun from.

Click.

There is one very angry, very deadly agent standing behind you, Ward.

Time to show her you're as good as you are at running your mouth.

"Sounds like a nice place," he comments, his voice as dry as the Sahara. "Never heard of it."

Now that she's on her feet, he can see that the rest of her isn't hard on the eyes either. It makes him wonder what a lady like her is doing in the middle of a place like this Gotham she's describing.

"Beats me, Lady, I just got here myself," he shrugs. "Last I looked it was 1926 and I was climbing around in a 3,000 year old tomb looking for some sort of ... scepter? Or scarab? I stop listening after a while. A minute later, I was here."

He looks around the room ominously. "Wherever the hell 'here' is."

"I'm not the passing out type," Matt says, "going to sleep is bad enough when you are blind I don't need to be dizzy as heck too." A bit of Matt's charm is coming out to play right now and he isn't quite sure why. He doesn't know this young woman and he has just been torn from his friends and his city when they both need him most. Now is not the time for flirting.

Leeloo was not particularly phased by the buzzing or the shouting. She understood that Ruby was upset by this unexpected turn of events, and rightly so! It wasn't every day that one was kidnapped by all-powerful alien trickster-gods, now, was it?

She'd pick up on the whole social propriety thing, too. Eventually. Probably.

"Hmph," she said, nibbling on the remains of her chicken drummy. The only thing physically amiss was that she was mildly hungry. But she tried to resist the urge to explain any of that while her mouth was full. "They were not trying to blow up Korben Dallas," she said, when she had finished chewing, "They were trying to blow up me." On at least one occasion, they'd succeeded.

Clearly she wasn't as good as she thought she was.

He heard the click of the gun and put his hands up.

"I didn't realize that was such a dangerous question to ask," he said, turning around. "Agent Hill! Fancy meeting you here... where ever here is."

Of course, he makes a grab for the gun as he speaks.

It hasn't actually occurred to Christine that Q might be collecting his extradimensional guests, although it's a thought that comes to her, briefly, when Adele uses that word. The logical next question would of course be why... but that is, possibly, a question for another time.

"Ms. DeWitt," she echoes, still with that veneer of easy politeness. To be truthful, she isn't quite sure why she's gotten it into her head to start introducing herself to strangers, either... except perhaps for the simple fact that they are all stuck here, for now, and they may as well get to know one another. Maybe her conversation partner doesn't feel the same way.

Her next words make that clear, of course. If anything, Christine isn't dissuaded; she has the feeling the other woman's discomfort isn't really directed at her. She pauses a moment, then nods, smiling a very slight, diplomatic smile. "I understand. It's not... really the best of circumstances."

She takes a sip of her coffee, then adds, "I hope the crew have been accommodating, at least?"

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TEST DRIVE #16 - Turbolifts and Ten Forward

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