ten_fwd_ooc | TEST DRIVE #6 - The Bridge and Ten Forward

The Vengeance was in a barely-controlled suicide plunge, her broken metal corpse screaming through the atmosphere. Khan managed to haul himself up onto the controls, snarling out a new destination - Starfleet Headquarters - and pushing the dying ship to her absolute limit in his rage.

They'd taken everything from him, and he would repay them a hundredfold.

He felt the first impact, hull squealing as the dreadnought cleanly scoured Alcatraz off the map. The viewscreen flickered, alarms blaring, and Khan watched with vicious satisfaction as the San Francisco skyline filled the viewport.

The augment didn't brace himself, didn't even care to try - survival wasn't the goal. He'll go down with his ship, with his crew, and damn the rest of them. So he wasn't surprised when he was thrown forward with the second impact, the behemoth of a warship carving out a path of destruction through the city. His body cracked against the crumbling control panels, bridge warping and tearing in the chaos, until finally, finally, there was a wash of pain and everything went white.

When reality snaps back into focus, the Vengeance is gone. So is San Francisco, and so is Earth. He is in, of all things, a... bar. A Starfleet bar, judging from the uniforms. This is undoubtedly a Federation vessel, and Khan can feel the fury boiling beneath his skin.

On of the patrons notices him, and his physical state - favoring his right side, breath rapid and shallow, streaked in his own blood - and approaches. But the adrenaline from his fight is still coursing through him, and the second the crew member draws near, Khan lashes out. A sweep to the knees gets him on his back, and the augment is instantly upon his prey, hauling him with a crushing grip to his throat.
"Where am I?"

The question is snarled, but directed to the room at large. And if one of them dares to approach... well. Khan's killed hundreds, perhaps thousands today. One more is nothing.

"Well this certainly wasn't my intended destination..." There was an arched eyebrow, a cocked head. An up-tilting of lips, tugging into an amused little smirk. It wasn't her destination, that was true; the pristine setting was far brighter, sharper, with an important bustle to the movement of the cheerfully colored uniforms that occupied the large space. Uniforms that were different from those she'd seen before, like nothing the Alliance had to offer. Uniforms different, but similar in their coloring, and structure, to uniforms from another place, another side. The other side, really. The mirror that she was so fond of- and that she was so often thwarted by. So it wasn't her planned destination, where she'd meant to end up- but it wasn't exactly unwelcome either. Just- a surprise.

A little chuckle- a giggle, almost- escaped. She stepped forward, her movement smooth, practiced, as carefully designed to catch the eye as it was natural and instinctive, and one hand reached out. Fingers skimmed down along the curved railing as she followed the line of it, her sweeping gaze taking in the full sight of the place. It was a bridge, surely of a Federation ship, judging by the crew, and it was a lovely bridge. So much in fact that;

"But I think I'll take it nonetheless."

Edited 2014-11-17 05:15 (UTC)

Gaheris Rhade had resigned himself to a somber fate- he had to betray his captain. His best friend. Somewhere in the back of his mind Dylan Hunt had crossed the borders from friend to extended ideological family; they came from opposing views but Dylan's ideals gave him conflict and a constant drive for improvement. It was only that for as intelligent as Gaheris was, he was also blindly in favor of his people. The same traits that he cursed among the High Guard, their inability to see the threat of the Magog because of their loyalty to the Commonwealth state, he unfortunately was susceptible to.

He didn't realize that he wasn't supporting his real family. He was a tragedy in the making.

But he wasn't a tragedy yet. He hadn't made the final move to betray his captain. He had still been dropping hints to him, in hopes that he would catch on that the Commonwealth's allies were less than pleased and that brute force would not be necessary.

And then suddenly? A bridge he wasn't used to. One with seats that weren't just the pilot's.

He startled in his sudden place, eyes going wide. To his credit, he did't react more than that. He just turned smoothly, examining unfamiliar surroundings and unfamiliar uniforms, his hand loosely near his force lance and his bone blades flared because, predictably, he was suspecting the worst.

"Where is this?" he demanded calmly, though in a voice more boyish than would be expected of a man of his size. "Where am I?"

Niko wasn't taking being far from his family too well. No way to contact his cousin, his mother. The view from the... lounge... bar... restaurant? thing was pretty nice and it was unfortunate that he just couldn't bring himself to properly enjoy it.

So he was enjoying the synthehol instead. Sort of. The drunkeness wasn't sticking.

No one had told him about it, he just knew the drinks tasted odd. He worked his way through several before he realized that something was off. Either he'd developed a constitution that would be enviable among even the most hardened, vodka loving Slavs or something had gone terribly awry here.

"Shit, did I somehow leave my ability to get drunk behind?" He still spoke his accent tinted English instead of Serbian despite translators being available, and he stared down into the dregs of his glass in absolute confusion. "There is something not right about all of this."

He was definitely going to need something that would get him properly sauced.

Even decades into the future the Bridge of a Galaxy class ship is a distinctive place and a place of power.
Shelan looks terribly out of place in her heavy smart cloth and pseudoleather jumpsuit among the clean neutral colors of Federation design. She isn't where she was a moment ago, but that's not a problem. A long - almost infinitely long - moment ago she was being killed b a temporal disruptor. Pulled into non-existence by weapons that no one wants to be caught using under the threat of having them turned against them.
She straightens, PADD held neatly to one side and scans the room.

"Hell."

A temporal displacement was bad enough. The fact that she was on what was clearly an Enterprise? She'll be lucky to finish the paperwork in time to retire.

Loki had always wanted to be a starship captain.

Okay, sure. He hadn't always known it, and it's not like he has a great deal of actual memory to draw upon. But look, sitting here, his lithe body slung across the captain's chair, gazing out at fucking infinity, there was no way he'd admit to anything else.

Why destroy the universe, let alone the world? When there was so much to see?

A bar.

Charles hadn't visited a bar in some time. It went with the whole recluse thing. Besides, who needed a bar when the booze was delivered?

But he wasn't that man anymore. And yet here he was, in his chair, suddenly surrounded by others attempting to drown their sorrows by shoving them forcibly into his brain. He shut his eyes, as if that could drown them out. He wasn't ready for this... this noise. He was still working on controlling his powers, still reconciling himself to the fact he'd taken them on again. A gift? Perhaps. But the cost, in the past, had been too great.

And yet, in a situation like this, suddenly stranded in an unknown land, perhaps it would come in handy.

So, somewhere in between replicating the dumbest - and rudest! - objects he could think of back in the lounge, hanging out and annoying the crap out of his roommate by asking as many space-related questions back in his room, and wandering the halls, one Brooklyn, New York cop of the 99th precinct has found himself on the Bridge.

Don't ask how he got there or what could have possessed him to just enter, but he does.

And it. Is. Awesome.

"H-hoh, man." Jake nearly flies into the captain's chair and settles in, and it's like all his childhood fantasies are suddenly coming to life. In real life. Oh, man, the only thing that would make this moment sweeter is if his team were here to witness him beating Amy Santiago to it.

And maybe Holt.

Yeah.

Excitedly: "Sweet!"

He leans forward, inspecting his armrests full of buttons. He should prooobably refrain from touching them, right? Either way ...

"Good day, Enterprise," he says to no one in particular, putting on a more Holt-like commandeering voice, "this is your Captain speaking." His tone changes to something bordering on maniacal. "Prepare to attack our enemy fleet. Oh, yeah."

Edited 2014-11-18 14:45 (UTC)

Alloran stumbles as he appears on the bridge of an unfamiliar starship--being dropped somewhere mid-run wasn't the best for keeping his hooves under him. Things like this weren't necessarily unheard of, but Alloran is still on edge as his main and stalk eyes study the people around him--Humans almost all, a few scattered exceptions he was not familiar with. The layout of the bridge is also unfamiliar--designed for bipeds, it appeared, aside from the station before which Alloran had appeared himself.

A ship of Humans, designed for them, traveling at faster-than-light if the stars streaking by outside indicated anything. It made his hearts proud--not that he knew many Humans, but he respected their resilience and strength.

His optimism was tempered by the fact that he'd just arrived on what was obviously the bridge of an unfamiliar ship. He should determine which one of these people was the Captain and report to him.

Spike was not looking for anyone in authority. He was kind of miffed at the whole being kidnapped thing, but for now, being kidnapped to a bar seemed like the least of all possible evils. So he'd play it low key, for now.

Low key, in his case, apparently meant arguing with the bartender about the merits of getting shitfaced on Jack Daniels.

[Sickbay]

Q has a startling sense of timing.

A man was zapped onto the floor of Sickbay, looking dusty, beaten up, and incredibly worse for wear... That was including a bloodstained bandage across his head, helping some very serious trauma.

Of course, he was quickly attended to, prepped and sealed up with the best medical technology the 24th Century can provide.

A few hours later, he starts to come to in one of Sickbay's Recovery beds, having being stripped down into hospital clothing that's, surprisingly, pretty comfortable... That's the first thing that had alarm bells ringing in Mack's head.

His vision was blurry, but slowly swimming into focus. It sounded like a hospital.

[Ten Forward]

After his foray in Sickbay, Master Sergeant Gerhardt is given the standard run of the ship given to all Q-affected. Of course, he still, partly, believes this is a delusion caused by his head injury, his memory still being a bit fuzzy, but he was assured that it was likely to clear up in a few days.

He eases himself into a stool facing the bar. "Beer. Anything you got." He grunts, not unkindly, but just wanting something alcoholic to take the edge off things.

Booker stumbled, then stood very still as he appeared, and blinked. This was definitely not what he had been expecting. Most of the time, when you showed up somewhere without an idea how you'd gotten there, there was shock, or possibly sand, or maybe just crazy people yelling at you. At least for the sheer oddness of you standing there in only a towel. Something.

Looking around him at what appeared to be some sort of lounge, he noticed most people were completely unfazed. Continuing his survey, wishing he had his guns on, his gaze was caught by the window. Oh.

That was... stars? How? "Now I know this is definitely not Portland."

Booker, clad in his towel, dripping on the carpet, is going to stare out into space for a few minutes, okay? Anyone who wants to come along and help his brain be less explodey is more than welcome.

"Well now! This is one fancy lookin' Gummi Ship!"

Hello there, don't mind the anthropomorphic dog now on the bridge.

"Hm, don't think I was on one just a minute ago..." A gloved hand scratches at his chin as he looks quite thoughtful. Unlike Donald, Goofy wasn't prone to panicking right away. Surely there was an explanation for this! He grinned. "Aw, shucks, this is probably one of them jokes, huh? Sora, Donald, c'mon on out! You got me!"

Hm, how strange, normally they were quick to come to him. He walked about the bridge, trying his darndest not to disturb anyone at their station. Which, of course, meant he was accidentally bumping into everyone. "Oops, sorry, pardon me!"

Julien blinks quickly, reflexively folding his wings tighter against his body. He's a slightly awkward-looking young man made seven feet tall by his stretched-out legs, and the feathers of his wings and tail make him seem rather large. He somewhat resembles a harpy.

Quiet despite his claws on the floor, he makes a circuit of the bridge, not touching anything but studying it all. It's well-used, he can tell that much, but no one's here now. Julien stops to look out through the viewscreen.

"And I thought the space elevator was science fiction-y," he says quietly, trying to use humor to bolster himself up.

In Ten Forward at the moment, courtesy of Q, is a young Asian woman — Japanese, perhaps? — of eighteen years or so. Her long, dark red hair and red eyes are quite striking, though they may not be the most interesting things about her. For one thing, she looks disheveled, as if she's just come from a fight; and indeed, she's holding a sword in her hand, a long, slim, sharp-edged rapier. Something that looks like it could be a gun is on a belt around her waist.

The look on her face is one of shock, as might be expected if one is suddenly where one was not a few moments ago. She takes inventory of her surroundings: the room, and the people, some of whom are obviously not human at all.

And then she notices the view outside the windows, and pales abruptly. She very nearly drops her sword, fingers clenching tightly on the hilt at the last moment before it slips out of her hand.

Mitsuru isn't sure she ever expected not being in Tartarus to scare her, but it certainly does now.

Nymphadora Tonks, or Tonks as she preferred to the point of getting shirty about it, was having a terrible, no good, very bad day.

It was completely rubbish to be plucked from one's own world and dropped, without so much as a cup of tea, into a world in which one knew nothing about. She was not an Unspeakable. She was an Auror, thank you. No, no. Unspeakables could keep to the Department of Mysteries. She liked knowing what year she was in and the like. Tonks still maintained she had seen one Unspeakable enter and leave the same door six different times.

It was still rubbish by the time, Tonks had made her way to Ten Forward. She looked around. It was a far less rowdy bar than she was used to. The chairs were plush and she thought she might want to stay away from that weird chess set. It looked a bit fragile.

She was still looking around when she reached the set of two steps. The first step was navigated well enough but Tonks was not paying that much attention. The top of her toe caught the bottom lip. Someone should have yelled timber because she went down like a log.

Splat!

Pavel Chekov found his way to the bar, hoping to figure out what was going on. This was the Enterprise, but it wasn't the Enterprise he was familiar with. While he was glad to be in Starfleet territory, he was curious to know what happened. It felt like he was forgetting something very important.

So Chekov found an empty set and ordered himself his favorite standby that others always made fun of him for drinking. He took it all with stride. They just didn't know what they were missing. Nursing his drink, Chekov observed those around him, trying to find a familiar face or someone willing to provide answers.

The last she remembered, she was standing in front of a mirror, eyes trained onto her own imagine within it. Shattered sight, as it were, was giving her notions she never thought possible. When she arrives on the bridge she is holding a very sharp, very cursed, kris dagger in one hand just above her chest. Her breathing is ragged and she hasn't taken her eyes off of one spot on the wall in particular.

When she comes into her own, whether that is from world hopping or otherwise, Belle is suddenly distressed. "Where I am?" She keeps a firm grip on the handle of the dagger but lowers it so that it isn't on the offensive anymore. She stumbles forward catching the side of a wall, her expression wrought with worry. "This isn't--this isn't the Storybrooke." Her free hand comes up to her forehead, gripping at it as if she's experienced a bad headache.

"Oh no, Rumpel. What have I done?" She murmurs to herself, her eyes starting to tear up. "Please someone just tell me where I am."

Emma turned abruptly to take in her new surroundings as the light faded from her abrupt change in location. She'd been heading into the station for another day of mind-numbing work, not in the least expecting the sudden change that had occurred. "Well, shit." The words were muttered quietly, mostly under her breath. She should have realized that after two weeks of normality and peace, something weird and screwed up would happen. Perhaps she should be glad that fate or whatever seemed to like messing with their lives had given her that long to enjoy her new marriage. It could have been worse. This could have happened on her honeymoon.

A sigh escaped and she made her way toward the bar she spotted, seating herself on one of the stools and ordering a beer. Perhaps after a drink and a bit of recon, she could figure out where she was, why and or how she was here and how in the hell she could get back to her family and town.

Aqua held a glass of water as she looked out into the stars. It... felt so different, she thought. She wasn't sure what it was but something told her that these stars were not the same as the ones from home. From what little she learned so far, these stars were not worlds. They were, essentially, like the sun. They brought light to other worlds. She never saw these stars though, whenever she had visited other worlds.

It was all so strange. Even this place, this ship. It reminded her of the ship she landed on while on her journey, meeting the Grand Councilwoman and Experiment 626. A lot less colorful, but the Enterprise was still a ship in its own right. But what was she doing here, was her main concern. She would always be grateful for not being in the Realm of Darkness any longer, but she wanted to leave and help find Terra, to help Sora and his friends. What good was she on this starship?

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her Wayfinder, a glimmer of sadness on her face. "We'll be together soon. Ven. Terra."

[Raven-form]

Diaval could be a very quiet and observant bird when he wished it. At the moment, he didn't particularly. He was rather large, so it wasn't like there was a lack of attention directed his way as he flapped up to land on the back of a chair, feathers rustling. He let out a short, sharp caw--turning his head this way and that to get a better fix on what was in front of him.

He had no idea where he was. He couldn't feel the wind--he was obviously indoors, but even then he could always hear or feel the currents of air rushing by, ebbing and flowing like water. Here, it was constant and unnatural, directed by something, and not nearly enough to be of use in flying. The air was dead.

He also couldn't hear the song of other birds, even from far away. That was just as troubling--his kind could often tell him things that were useful. Nearby sources of food and water. Where to avoid, for fear of dogs or hunters.

Most distressing was that he couldn't feel his mistress' magic, anywhere nearby, save what he carried in his bones. That was cause for concern. And he couldn't even ask what was happening. Well. In a way that he could be understood easily. It was too difficult for him to form human speech with his throat and beak, anything more than simple words and phrases was beyond him.

What was an incredibly clever, resourceful, and beautiful raven to do in this sort of situation?

[Man-form]

The chair Diaval was perched on tilted backwards suddenly as, for the hundredth time, he thought how much simpler it would be if he had a man's capability to speak, fae magic coursing within him. His wings spread wide and he squawked his surprise, but he was already in the throes of transformation and it came out awkward and strangled. He was used to the change, so he didn't find himself writhing around as he had the first time, but he was flat on his back behind an upended chair, head underneath a table--small wonder he didn't crack it on the way down, he must've been still growing at the time.

Well. This was embarrassing. And strange, since he'd never been able to change shape on his own.

He rolled, slid out from under the table, and stood up, hands smoothing down ruffled clothing just like he'd have fussed with his feathers if he still had most of them, glancing around.

Of course he hadn't gone unseen. Puffing himself up, he looked every inch the proud raven he was, utterly unconcerned about the prospects of going back to his natural form. Even if he didn't know how he'd triggered the change in the first place, so he was in reality very concerned.

At least he hadn't been desperately wishing to be a dragon again.

[ Magneto leaned against the wall, eying the bar. Wine and food would be wonderful except for the fact he had no idea where he was and was still winded heavily. Still recovering from the attack on Genosha, still trying to clean up the country he'd built, still praying he'd find survivors.

And he'd taken a risk, trying to open a wormhole. Oh he'd known for years how to do it in theory but in practice? He hadn't tried before. And he didn't think it had...worked like he'd planned. ]

Nate was no exactly expecting things to be normal around his life, not really. After time travel, alien invasions, dreaming several entire lives, and even having an alternate future child, he was pretty used to this. Especially after bouncing to another world once, already.

When he felt the materialization grip him, he just sighed, and let it happen. These things were usually just better not fought. He glanced around and realized where he was, and he started to chuckle. After a few minutes, he sat at the nearest table and shook his head. "Hmm. I wonder if this timeline knows me. It's been a long time, and I looked differently, then. And it was in a different life."

Still chuckling, he looked around, wondering.

Emma wasn't pleased to be somewhere other than her home. No matter how poorly she was getting on with Scott these days she had no interest in running away to some strange. . . oddly authoritarian looking place. She glanced around at the various computers and equipment. Her powers and alternate memories gave her more information than was typically available to her. Each and every console was of extreme interest to her.

Perhaps it was instinct that led Emma to take the captain's chair for her own. Nobody was sitting in it now and it seemed the most obvious choice. Despite being dressed for the gym she sat in the command chair with bearing as proud and regal as any queen. First impressions mattered, after all, and she wanted to make a good one if someone came in to find her.

The command console was difficult to understand. At first she prodded at things, but it never responded to her. That wasn't terribly surprising. She would probably be better off finding another person to question. Though she had some engineering knowledge she truly wasn't up to the task of figuring all these things out.

Thor generally didn't mind when the world was weird at him, but with how things had gone lately, he was ready for a break. This was not going to happen. He found himself, without warning, standing in the middle of a large area. To one side, a giant window filled with stars. To the other, a room full of people, tables, and a bar counter. He was in a bar of some kind, and obviously, in space.

This was a new one for him. While his counterpart had been in space, Thor, himself, had only been to the moon, really, not what he considered true space. And that had been only recently. While he studied the room he was in, he was reminded of the cafe where so many important things had happened in Orange County, and then his eyes were drawn once more to the screen. Or the window... or whatever once called it.

Making his way to the bar, he sat, but before ordering, he simply looked out that window, and drank it in. He would be amazed and annoyed more later.

Khan Noonien Singh | Star Trek AOS | Option One

Intendant Kira Nerys | Star Trek: Deep Space Nine | Option 02

Gaheris Rhade | Andromeda | Option 02