ten_fwd_ooc | TEST DRIVE MEME #4 - The Arboretum/Ten Forward

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test drives

TEST DRIVE MEME #4 - The Arboretum/Ten Forward

Option 01: Aboard the Enterprise, The Arboretum: In exploring the Enterprise, you end up on Deck 17, section 21 alpha: the arboretum. Instantly upon entering you can tell this room is different from all the others. For one thing, you're now standing on grass. It's no illusion, no simulation; it's real grass, leading up to a small pond in the center of the room. All around you grows a variety of plant life, trees and bushes and hanging plants, flowers and herbs and even what one might consider weeds. The arboretum is, for all intents and purposes, a botanic garden, used both recreationally for passengers to relax and enjoy, and scientifically for research and study. After all, the scope of alien plant life is impressive, from the Cyprion cacti down to the Earth variety roses.

The room is well lit and large, with benches to rest on and small walking paths. Children are grouped off in one corner working on botany projects, while some passengers are seen kneeling in the dirt carefully tending to their garden patches. There are even windows along one wall, allowing for a view of space while the room itself gives the illusion of daylight. It's the perfect spot to relax, read a book, or grab a spare spade and dig in the dirt. Or perhaps you've been looking for the right moment to say hello to the passenger standing off by the venus flytraps.

Option 02: Aboard the Enterprise, Ten Forward: Or maybe not. You've just arrived, and you have no idea what just happened. One minute you were somewhere else, and now you're in what looks like a spacious, well-appointed bar. The hum of the crowd is inviting, and the drinks look invigorating. There are people eating and drinking, some in uniform, others not. Some are clearly aliens.

Try to find out why you're here, or catch a drink at the bar; there's always something happening here.

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And there is a woman staring at the man dancing in the Arboretum.

Voyager's aeroponics bay is nowhere this extensive, and it's not a place Seven frequents besides. And she certainly wouldn't be dancing there. Not that she didn't know how, because the Doctor had insisted she learn--he'd called it a vital social skill. Not that she'd believed him.

This didn't look anything like the dancing he'd shown her, which had been highly structured and therefore relatively simple to duplicate. There was a discernible rhythm to it, but not one she could follow. Unpredictable. And the music was different from anything she'd heard before as well.

She would approach, but she's unfamiliar with the weapons on him, and therefore of the mind that discretion is for the best.

And, just as the song comes to an end, he turns to face Seven and opens his eyes...

...And instantly draws a Quadblaster, the weapon humming as it powers up, pulling the headphones down at the same time, his eyes wide.

Because what. The. Fuck, dude.

"Okay, where am I?" He asks, levelling the weapon onto the woman in front of him. "How did I get here, and you best be tellin' me how to get back, hot stuff, or I ain't gonna be happy."

"I would advise you to lower your weapon before Security deems you a threat," Seven says coolly. She doesn't necessarily want to be shot, but she can count on the protection of Starfleet. As such there's not so much of a hint of fear or anger in her voice. More than that, she sounds...annoyed.

"Internal sensors will have recorded your weapon arming itself. You have approximately 30 seconds before a security team arrives." Or at least he would if they were on Voyager, she couldn't speak for the efficiency of this crew.

Quill meets her eyes, assessing, and taking his time about it. He's contemplating the truth behind her words. I mean, she didn't have a reason to lie to him, but folks lie for all sorts of stuff...

It hits twenty-five seconds when Peter lowers his weapon, the audiable hum of the device powering down.

"Alright. You win."

Seven doesn't lie. She doesn't have the experience for it--and even if she did, she doesn't see any reason to in most situations. She tends towards brutal honesty if anything.

And since he acquiesced to her request--she sees no reason not to answer his questions.

"You are aboard a Federation starship. I have not yet determined its designation, as it is not one I am familiar with."

She tilts her head, assessing.

"As I am also unsure as to how we have arrived here, I cannot tell you how to return. There is not enough information for any hypothesis to be made."

She's augmented, that much is clear, by the slightly robotic tone and the cordical implant over her eye. Robotic enhancement isn't exactly uncommon from his universe.

He eyes her, licking his lips. People like this didn't usually lie, so...

"Alright then. Guess I'll have to take you at your word." And the Quadblaster is actually getting holstered.

"Peter Quill, people call me Star-Lord."

It is in this universe. Seven is grateful for the...casual reaction. He'd evaluated and dismissed her implants in a moment, when she was sure if the Starfleet crew recognized their origin, they would be uncomfortable around her. Most people were.

Star-Lord, though. She can't tell if he's being serious.

"I am Seven of Nine. You may refer to me as simply Seven."

"Nice, uh... designation." Because, hey, that's what it sounds like.

He's just going to take a few steps away from and past Seven, looking around, a bit awed. "So, uh... Which Federation are we talkin' about here?"

If Seven wasn't sure already that Peter Quill wasn't from around here, so to speak, she certainly is now. No reaction to Borg implants and designation--because he's right, that is the origin of her name--is one thing. Being, presumably, Human and not knowing of the Federation, though, is another matter entirely.

She turns to follow his trajectory, hands clasped behind her back.

"The United Federation of Planets. Founded by the alliance of Earth, Vulcan, Andor, and Tellar in the 22nd century."

And he looks back, flashing her a grin.

"Now, see, darlin', now I know you're wrong there. Earth ain't never been a part of no Federation." He chuckles, shaking his head. "I bet we don't even know there's life out here yet."

He turns back to face her, folding his arms. "So, I'm either not where I'm s'posed to be, you're lying, or you're just not programmed right. 'cause I've never heard of Vulcan, Andor and Tellar, either."

Seven looks at him and responds flatly. "I am not programmed in any way. And you being 'not where you're supposed to be' is highly likely, as I am not either."

Nothing annoys her more than people calling her a liar. Well. Okay, that's not quite true, because she gets annoyed by rather a lot, really.

"I am Human as well, and I assure you--by this point we are well aware of the existence of other species."

"Alright. Chill, darlin', I didn't mean any offense." He pauses, looking Seven up and down. "Besides, who'm I to argue with someone so beautifully intelligent-looking?"

He's totally flirting with you, Seven, because, seriously? Have you seen you?

"You seem to know an awful lot about this Federation to claim to not be from around here."

She is well aware of her sexual appeal, thanks for making sure it was brought to her attention. She barely reacts to the flirtation, because it's irrelevant and that's just how she is.

"I am the Astrometrics officer of the USS Voyager, which is a Federation starship. This is not Voyager. So your assumption that I am 'not from around here' is accurate, but not entirely informed."

There was no way she could determine that she would suddenly be on an unfamiliar Starfleet vessel without her knowledge. Federation space was thousands of light years from Voyager's current position.

Peter chews the inside of his right cheek, hooking his thumbs into his pockets and frowning slightly. This stunk of a trap, fale imprisonment... but there was enough evidence that the smokin' hot blonde in front of him was not part of whatever the hell is going on.

"So... What do we do now, then?"

"The best place to start would be determining which ship we are on." Stardate would also be information she was interested in. Coordinates. How they got here is a secondary concern, to her. A question she would be pleased to have answered, but she's seen a lot and this isn't surprising.

She might not be in uniform herself, but she has no compunction about going to the nearest crewman in a recognizable uniform--slightly different than the ones worn by Voyager's crew, but not significantly enough to give her any indication of the timeline. The response she gets to her abrupt question of the ship's name and registry, as well as the stardate, does, admittedly, give her pause.

Enterprise was a ship that she knew. Not from personal experience. But the Borg had assimilated enough people who did have that experience, including this ship's captain. But judging from the stardate, that hadn't happened yet.

She turns to her unexpected companion. "There is one answer, at least. We are on the Enterprise, Starfleet's flagship. The year is 2366." She adds the last for his benefit. It's more relevant to him than her.

She'll find that Peter's wandered off to one of the LCARS terminals in the corner and is busy dicking around with it. He seems to have picked up the interface quite well.

"You guys only seem to have one advantage three hundred years on, and that's FTL."

Seven's eyebrow arches upward, incredulous. Not that she's insulted, particularly. There are many areas in which Federation technology was well behind what she was used to--it was inefficient. "I apologize that it does not meet with your approval. I am sure Captain Picard would appreciate your contribution should you make yourself available for consultation."

"Well, I'd hardly call myself an expert hacker. I mean... people say that about me..." He frowns at the display. "I could totally get the navigational sensors up here. See where we're at."

"And as you are unfamiliar with three of the major worlds of the Federation, I am unsure that you would be able to orient yourself using Starfleet maps."

Seven tips forward slightly, watching him watch the display.

"Furthermore, the computer will log the request for information to this terminal and send an alert to the Bridge. Navigational sensors are a coded system. Civilians are generally not granted access."

Seven's broken through them more times than she can count, but she has something of a disregard for playing by the rules.

"That's what I've got you for."

He comments, tapping a few commands into the LCARS console, getting a few bleeps in response, before looking back. "You are curious about exactly where we are, right?" He grins.

"I've seen tech like this. Some of the old-style Nova Corps systems used these for their databases. What is it, some sort of linear chip technology?" Okay, Star-Lord may be smarter than he first seems. He's broken into systems before, he's not going to be stymied by this.

"I ain't lettin' a bunch of 0's and 1's dictate how I get my information."

She just tilts her head, but doesn't stop him. If he wants to get Security called on him, that's his prerogative. Her presence won't help him with that at all, since she's not a commissioned officer, nor part of this crew.

"Isolinear," she says simply. Because that is what the ships' systems use, at least in a ship like this one.

And as she has something of a strange sense of humor, she's not telling him that she'd already gotten coordinates from the Ensign she'd demanded answers from. Seven is already well aware of where they are oriented in space, but she's deemed it irrelevant for the moment.

He taps in a few more commands, bringing up a security diagnostic screen... no alarm bells so far. He turns and starts rummaging in his knapsack for something, bringing out a device which he attaches to the screen of the terminal.

He glances back at Seven, then around the Arboretum, keeping an eye out... just in case. But he's fairly confident...

...At least until the terminal starts bleeping urgently.

"...Shit." And he's grabbing the device to stuff it in his knapsack.

Seven is just looking on in amusement. Or what passes for it with her. She steps forward as he steps back, metal-capped fingers flying over the input screen. The console gives one more irritable shriek before falling silent.

"I suggest we leave before security arrives."

She's completely calm when she says it, voice level. She's not entirely concerned, but she'd rather not make trouble before she's fully settled.

To be fair, he did get pretty far, obtaining a partial view of the telemetry from the aft navigational sensor before the system booted him out.

He swallows, looking a tad nervous. Security. Yeah...

"G-Good idea. Uh... Lead the way?"

Seven sweeps past him towards the doors--she'd also erased the log of his intrusion, and hers. Once people realize her engineering skill it won't prevent her from being suspected, but for now it will throw them off.

He can follow her, or not. She's leading the way just as he asked.

She's not quite as familiar with the layout of a Galaxy-class ship like she is with Voyager, but the turbolifts are the same, and she can request a location of the computer. Most are probably going to be off limits. But the crew lounge surely would not be.

"Deck 10."

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