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ten_fwd_ooc2014-03-28 02:56 am
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TEST DRIVE #1 - Ten Forward

You know how you were standing there, back in your home world, just minding your own business?
Time to forget all about that.
Instead of doing whatever the heck you were just doing, you're standing in the middle of this very stylish, sedate barroom. Happily, you're not alone there - in fact you're surrounded by people who seem to be as confused as you are...and some of them look a little, well unusual
Now would be a great time to do....well, something. Ask some questions of the person nearest you, throw a fit, stage a coup....maybe do a little exploring? No matter what you do, you're going to be here for a very long time.
For others might call it the USS Enterprise, but for the foreseeable future, you'll be calling it home.
[OOC: this test drive's open until the next app period.]
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There's suddenly a guy in the room. Just a guy, no crazy alien tentacles or blue skin; white t-shirt, flight pants, heavy shoes. The silhouette of dog tags around his neck.
He blinks, spins on his heel, spends a minute looking at the other side of the room and spins back. He lacks all subtlety and almost all grace. On his face he wears confusion, alarm, and just a dash of indignation.
"What in the hell — guys. When was somebody gonna tell me we had the bar from The Love Boat on-board?" he hollers, scanning the room for familiar faces. Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? "Hello, I'm Isaac Washington, and I'll be Your Bartender for tonight."
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"Uh," he chuckles. "Hi. No, I'm a — a scientist. Astronaut. It was a ... TV show."
Put down another mark for Obscure References Nobody Else Gets But Him. He glances at Ian, then back out at the room. "This isn't Moya, is it?"
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"You're an astronaut?" he asked, wide-eyed. "Have you ever been into space? Before now," he added a little sheepishly.
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"Yeah, you could say that. Are you — Sebacean?" he asks, voice rising to a near squeak on the last syllable. It's not the question he wants to ask; the guy knows astronauts, but John doesn't want to jinx himself by asking are you human?
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I'm sorry, did he hear you right? A broad smile spreads across his face. He laughs — he can't help it. He's spent the last several solar months looking for a way home, and hell, this guy is practically his neighbor. Howdy, neighbor!
John claps him on the shoulder, "Boy, am I glad to see you! How did you get here? ... Where is here, anyway?"
As an afterthought: "No, haven't stepped on the moon, but my dad did. Flown around the Earth a few times, though."
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"I don't know where here is," he admitted, "except for a spaceship in space in the 24th century." He was going to say they were in the future, but if the man's father had been to the moon he was already from Ian's future. But it was good to know that humans made it to the moon eventually.
"Seeing Earth from orbit must have been an amazing sight."
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He spies an officer in red and black sitting at a table. There's a little starfleet comm link on his breast. "Hot damn," he mutters, blinking hard. "What? No, yeah, it was amazing. Most amazing thing I'd seen until..."
He squints at that officer and starts laughing again, but this time it's low and forced and slightly manic. "Great googly-moogly. How the hell did I get here?"
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"I wish I knew," he replied. "I don't know how I got here either." Ian was more calm. He'd been in strange places before and something would present itself sooner or later.
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"Do you know where we are?" he giggles, with all the weight of somebody who's got a secret. "No, you know what? I can't even say it out loud. One minute I was on Moya, and the next ... boom, hailing frequencies open. Wait a second, the same thing happened to you? You don't know where Earth is?"
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"Damn. Back to the drawing board," he mutters. So close, and yet so far. "I'm sorry ... hi, I'm John Crichton."
He holds out his hand for a proper handshake. "This is all a little weird. I've been trying to find a way back to Earth for a while now, and Friend, you're as close as I've gotten."
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Oh. And did we mention the primed pulse pistol?
That will probably look as familiar as this face to John.
Especially when the holder of both is narrowing her eyes and inclined only to the offensive at both the man in front of her blundering into things he shouldn't but always does and a room where she's already spotted two races she can't even place. She doesn't need to place them to know this is all his frelling fault. Again.
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"Whoa whoa whoa Aeryn," he hollers, hands out and defensive. "Put that thing away, would you? For crying out loud, you're going to get us shot!"
Despite the obvious threat on his life, he moves closer. Out of the line of fire. Closer to the trigger if he needs to ... right, John, you're going to disarm the Ultimate Peacekeeper Barbie. Better to just reason with...
Frell.
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Or necessity for peace if she returned to Moya without him. Or point of pride.
Because if anyone was going to shoot John, it was going to be her. For saying things like that.
Which is why she ignores the dren he's saying now, for restating, colder and sharper, as it's obviously more important than ever disarming herself in unknown environment. "You didn't answer my question. What did you do this time? Where are we?"
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"Nothing," he says, and it comes out slightly annoyed. He's always teetering between the two with her. Amused, annoyed. Confused. Terrified. Excited. Okay, so there's a few more emotions than two. "Aeryn, I didn't do anything. I was just walking, and this place showed up. I thought maybe it was normal."
How the heck would he know? Weirder stuff has happened.
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The answer is no. The edge of sharp scorn in the question makes it one that doesn't ask for answering.
But the fact he answered her first question means she can turn her attention from him, and onto the room.
Where absolutely no one is actually paying their arrival any attention in the slightest.
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He's standing next to one of the lunatics right now. "Now, would you please," he begins, voice low, even, every word punctuated; "put down the gun? If you haven't noticed, nobody here is trying to shoot us. Hell, that guy was just trying to eat a meal in peace."
It even looks like real food. Was John hungry before? Because he sure is now.
"Maybe it would be a good idea to figure out what happened to Moya before we mow everyone down."
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But.
Maybe.
Just maybe.
She lowers her pistol.
Which isn't to say she holsters it. Or looks like she's getting to that any second soon. Her fingers don't slip anywhere from their grip toward loose. She's not certain John should ever be the person trusted with what counts as a safe situation. But maybe he's been right once, or twice, before. If that. Or. Only that.
Enough that maybe she lowers it from straight in front of her, and is looking toward the person he gestured to and back to John, her tone starched even for admitting her might be right inside her head. Spinning that back on him for it. "Fine. Where do you think we start, then?"
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He breathes out a puff, like maybe it'll disguise the sarcasm, and lets his arms relax. Funny how they're standing in a strange place filled with strange people, and the biggest threat he feels is coming from Aeryn. Maybe he's hit full capacity on the Weird-o-Meter, and nothing fazes him anymore. Or maybe he's kidding himself, and he trusts her more than he's willing to admit.
"Well," he says, setting his hands on his hips. "First we see if the communicators work, try to get D'Argo or Zhaan on the horn. Then we start asking questions. Since your people skills are fantastic, I should probably handle the questions while you work out the comms."
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"Fine." Again. Puncture down like a knife blade or a shot.
While reaching up with her other hand to tap her comm badge. "Zhaan, D'Argo, come in." But there is only silence after it. Not that she was expecting much from the appearing room. With it's strange, subtle sophistication that also looked nothing like a Peacekeeper ship. "Pilot? Can anyone hear me?"
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Or closed, it looks like.
He faces the room, his back now to Aeryn, and surveys the crowd. "'Scuse me!" he hollers. "Can anybody tell us where we are?"
No, it isn't subtle, but it'll get the job done. Eyes are already turning on them, and one guy in a really familiar red and black jumpsuit is looking particularly promising. John blinks. "Well, butter my bottom and call me toast."
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But then what else is new with John, and the strange things that come out of his mouth.
Inane, obviously untranslatable, witticisms aside, she doesn't miss the way his expression shifts. Because as much as she says she doesn't take the time to notice him, or the rest of the crew, she can't not either. She was trained to be a good soldier, a good team member. One of many. To know the weaknesses and strengths of her teams. Until they could read each other in battle, and out.
And John looks...amused. Surprised. But pleasantly. Like he's suddenly pleased with this place, and whatever he just spotted. Which just confuses her more. Especially when she's looks at the same group of milling people in uniforms and not, including one unsurprisingly headed for them now, and back to John. "What?"
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"This is too good," he says, voice hitting that higher register he gets when he's about to get his geek on. "Hey, Aeryn, watch this. I'm about to show you some mind-reading voodoo I bet you never learned in commando boot camp. Ten bucks says the next few words out of this guy's mouth are Enterprise, Starfleet, and Federation."
He straightens his shirt and clears his throat, biting back his grin as much as he can. The officer stops and asks how he can be of assistance, and John answers: "Greetings! My friend and I come from a, uh, galaxy far, far away. How did we end up here? Oh, and uh, where is here?"
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