edge_of_forever | Entries tagged with pc:zoe washburne

The middle of the morning usually found Spock in the science labs, where he was continuing work on a wormhole simulator array. Once complete, it was his hope that the simulator would be able to use some of Mr. Isaacs' wormhole equations to plot potential courses for the stations' residents to return home.

Residents: he thought of them thus, although he was certain most of them would balk at the title, as none of them seemed particularly fond of the idea of staying there permanently. However, with over a month gone by and no further clues as to the identity of their kidnappers or the means by which they had been retrieved, it seemed a way home was, as yet, beyond their collective grasp. Spock had been successful thus far in refusing to dwell on their predicament, or to lose focus on the ways in which his skills could be put to use.

He was not the only one in the lab that morning. The scientist named Baltar had been coming and going, and Holmes was sitting at his usual table conducting tests on some blood and tissue samples. It was quiet, save for the occasional murmur of Baltar talking to himself, which made the computer's voice, when it came, even more of a surprise.

"Attention," it announced in a cool voice-- the same female voice that had greeted Spock upon activating his communicator for the first time. "The station has successfully completed docking procedures and the transporters are now active. Please proceed to the Porta Ianualis for transport to the planet's surface."

Simultaneously with the computer's voice airing in the room, the narrow screen that ran the length of the wall like a news ticker lit up and began to display the same message-- first in Standard English, then in German, and from then on in a series of what Spock deduced must be other languages spoken by those on board the station. Glancing at his communicator, he saw the same flashing alert. With no time allowance in which to ponder the implications of such simultaneous syncing between the main computer and their handheld devices, Spock set the issue aside for later consideration.

He looked up as he pocketed the communicator again and found Holmes looking at him with interest. "Let us move quickly," Spock said, starting toward the door. "We do not know how long the transporters will be active, and it would be unfortunate if we were late." He did not need to look back to know that Holmes was right behind him.

somethingwithsomeslink

April 13

Wash and Zoe discuss why Mystique's actions freaked Wash out.

[Here|Rated G]

born_guilty

Her project-- the one that left her standing, now, in front of one of the Proserpina's many massive locked doors, poised with a Molotov cocktail in hand-- had begun rather innocently this morning when she'd demanded a cup of coffee from her replicator.

"Coffee," she'd muttered to it, leaning against the wall with her robe hanging off one shoulder. It didn't seem to hear, so she spoke a little louder and thumped the panel with her palm for good measure. "Coffee!"

When she used the one in her room, it seemed to be pretty good about basic commands-- if it was feeling cranky, she might get coffee ice cream or, if she was lucky, a shot of espresso instead of the traditional morning mug of joe (and she wouldn't really complain about either). She didn't expect the tall, frosty bottle of cola it produced instead. She snatched it from the niche, annoyed.

"Guess again, HAL. I said coffee."

Ten minutes and a six pack of Nozz-a-la later, Raven forced herself into the bathroom to take a hot shower, slamming the door behind her, rather than forcibly dismantle the stupid @#$%ing thing.

But then she had an idea.

After she'd toweled off and dressed herself (borrowing the face of an old friend who she'd noticed holed up in his room as she passed) she headed up to the lab, one of the empty green glass bottles stowed away in a backpack she'd found in one of her drawers. It was early enough that the lab was empty, and she found something she could use almost right away-- methanol, a chemical typically kept in labs for use in formaldehyde, but also just the thing for an improvised explosive. The thickening agent would be trickier. She couldn't find any baking soda, and though she guessed she might be able to take her chances using one of the replicators, after this morning, she wasn't keen on it.

Mystique pulled open the lab fridge, and found a row of blood samples, painstakingly labeled, and smiled as prettily as she could with Sandor's face. That'll do.

"It's been awhile since I've made one of these," she muttered to herself, filling one of the glass bottles and stowing the rest of the plastic jug in her backpack, "but you never forget your first time."

She zipped up the pack and headed back out the way she came, her skin feathering and shrinking from six-foot-seven brute back into her regular self, just in case she accidentally ran into her old roomie. Talk about awkward.

Mystique nestled the volatile backpack up against the wall, behind a pillar at the top of the hallway, before heading down to the door with her science project firmly in hand, a Nozz-a-la bottle lovingly stuffed with enough blood and methanol to set a tank on fire. It certainly wasn't the first time she'd thought about blowing up one of the door locks, but it seemed every other time her thoughts had turned to it, she'd found herself sulking about the C-4 they'd lifted off her when she'd arrived here. Pathetic, in retrospect. But this? This was progress.

She pulled back and took aim.

somethingwithsomeslink

Zoe has had it completely with everything on this station. She's calmed down so the paranoia isn't keeping her in her room, she's accepted the fact she doesn't get a gun and that they're all stuck. She's even talked to a few other people. But what she hates, more than anything right now, are these gǒu shǐ replicators.

All she wants is something alcoholic, and she wants it to be strong. After meeting with that doctor who she now knows more about than she cares to, she just wants a good drink. Not two or three - just one good drink. When she does use the replicator, most days, whatever food comes out doesn't matter. She's lived on solid protein bars before that taste about as good as trying to eat her sweatshirt. So, she never gets too specific. This is the first time she's actually tried asking for whiskey.

The first time she gets apple juice, she puts it aside and tries again, and again she gets juice. She says 'scotch' then, instead of whiskey. That gives her tea. She goes back to whiskey and there it is again. Juice. She tries 'rum' and gets some kind of carbonated thing.

"Gǒu niang yǎng de! Whiskey! WHISKEY. ALCOHOL." There's a kick.

And suddenly an armful of apple juice boxes appear and she hangs her head in defeat, closing her eyes for a second.

(just a whole lot of cussin'. Use your imagination!)

nomoremrnicegaius

Gaius Baltar is standing in the science labs of the third floor of the Prosperina, eye pressed against the eyepiece lens. This felt so familiar to Gaius; in a way, it was almost disconcerting. What was that phrase that Six liked to use? 'All this has happened before, and all this will happen again', was it? It certainly seemed to be the case now. Mostly, anyway. Instead of being surrounded by thousands of blood samples all in need of testing for Cylon pathogens, he was surrounded by four in need of just simple investigation.

One from him, one from Julien, one from someone he hadn't yet had the opportunity to meet, and one from the Commander.

Only one woman aboard the station had deigned to pay a visit to the science labs, and it had to be her of all people. What Gaius wanted was someone young and pretty like the girls he slept with on Caprica. Someone who would think he was all charm and intelligence. Someone who thought he was utterly irresistible.

And the Commander it seemed, had developed an immunity to his charms. In fact, she didn't seem to like him at all. And that alone Gaius couldn't stand; he didn't like the thought of anyone disliking him. Even Shepard.

"Cubit for your thoughts, Gaius." Gaius jerks up quite suddenly to find Six sitting there on the countertop next to him. She's quite lovely, in that red dress that he really loved. The one that seemed to hug every inch of her body, leaving very little to the imagination.

"When did you get here?" he asks her, though it comes out as more of a demand than a question.

"Just a second ago." Six smiles. "Are you going to answer my question?"

Gaius runs a hand over his sweatshirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. He'd feel more comfortable in a suit -- or if that weren't possible, a lab coat would probably do. But unfortunately, the ship had not seen it fit to outfit them appropriately.

Or at least not him. The rest of the space station's denizens could feel just at home in this kind of clothing, for all he knew.

"I was thinking about women," he says, finally. "The only one I've seen since I've cooped myself up in this lab is Shepard and frankly, she left a great deal to be desired." He peers through the eyepiece again and frowns down at a sample of her bloodwork. It sits on a microscope slide, bound to the stage with a set of stage clips.

Six pushes herself out the counter and steps towards him. She leans over him, breasts pressed against his back. Gaius briefly recalls the last time the two of them fooled around in a science lab, and remembers Kara Thrace walking in right in the middle of it.

Any desire he might have felt was killed with that very thought.

"Learn anything new about women by examining their blood?" she asks, her lips so close to his ear that she can feel the warmth of her breath there on his lobe.

"Abnormalities," he answers, somehow managing to squelch his newly-resurrected desire, however barely. "But I've seen a lot of abnormalities from the samples I've taken thusfar. I'll need more samples before I can draw any definitive conclusions."

He's both thankful and remorseful when Six decides to pull away a second later. "Well, then," she says. "I'll leave you to your work."

And in a blink of an eye, Six is gone again, leaving Gaius standing there, wishing very much that he was in some other place -- some private place, rather -- alone and with Six.

morethanshelter

There were benefits to having a communicator bracelet, one of which was the additional areas of the station it seemed to open. Another was the fact that the food delivery devices - replicators she had heard them called - offered more options. It had been Teyla's intention to take her evening meal and go to the observation area when she had seen them. There, at the end of the hall, small creatures massing and heading her way. The light glinted off of parts of them, they were metal and yet also covered in fur. She paused only for a moment before throwing her food toward them and dashing back to the quarters they had all settled in.

Only then Teyla realised these were not the only creatures. She froze, not out of fear, but because she was watching them move. Whatever they were, they were similar to vermin her people knew. Similar but not the same, the light shining off bits that were in no way natural.

"Attack," she called it out as she ran to her room for the makeshift bantos sticks she had shaped from furniture with the help of others. Perhaps not the best weapon but she wielded them well and they were what she knew.

somethingwithsomeslink

When the lights came on in the station, Zoe let herself relax for a few minutes. And then the questions that she'd been asking herself came flooding back. Because someone did all of this - took their things, undressed them, put them in cells. It can't all be done remotely and it bothers her. She's not sure that it bothers her more than anyone else, but so far everyone's been more concerned with the lights and exploring than everything that came before that.

The random signs of previous life, too, are unsettling. Like a ship razed by Reavers, then scavanged for supplies. A small doll in a corner, a book with pages ripped out somewhere else. Almost like an attempt at a clean up that wasn't done by a very thorough group of people. And then there's whatever's in the walls.

In an effort to be...sociable, and avoid Wash calling her paranoid every night before bed, Zoe's wandering, talking randomly to a few people but still, for the most part, keeping to herself. She's met a few others before now - is actually worried about that Alayne girl - and curious as to how Wash's cellmate has been adapting. She roams with arms crossed over her chest, trying to observe unobtrusively. People pass and she gives tight smiles, small nods, until eventually she winds up sitting on the observation deck, staring out into the black. At least that part's familiar.

workworkwork

[3rd March]

Where a husband and wife begin to explore the station, and find out just how different two places in the black can be.

[Here|T|ongoing]

morethanshelter

The time in quarantine had dragged by for Teyla, even with someone else there. Especially, it had seemed at some of the time, with someone else there. The tug of the transporter was one she recognised, though it was again not the Pegasus she found herself on. Rather she was in what looked like some sort of abandoned hub. It was almost like Atlantis when they first found it, only this seemed designed for many people to come and go. There were blank screens on the walls, empty kiosks, and she swore she could see movement in the darker corners but it may have been her imagination.

She looked about her, glancing at Captain Kirk and then to see if there were any others. Surely they could not be the only people in this place, as large as it was?

oneandtogether

The feeling of vertigo accompanying a transporter engaging was familiar to Spock, but disorienting all the same. For a brief moment he thought-- hoped-- he might find himself on board the Enterprise, but as his senses returned to him he realized immediately that it was not so.

The room he found himself in was dark, but he could sense its size, and knew it to be vast. His night vision was decent, and he could see the shape of Amy to the side of him. He turned toward her, and as if in response to his movement, dim lights flickered on the edges of his vision, and began to turn on.

Spock's sense had been correct; the room was enormous. At least as tall as the Enterprise's shuttle bay, a hundred meters or more across, it vaulted over their heads toward a domed apex. At the four cardinal points of the room stood wide doorways with words mounted above; the closest read Cassia Concourse, but he could not make out the others. High up, the walls became great expanses of windows looking out on the pinpricked black of space. The low lights illuminated the room from the floor, giving it an eerie feel. Abandoned, Spock thought, though he had no reasoning to support his instinct.

They were standing on a small square dais big enough for themselves and perhaps two more people; presumably a transporter pad, though the control panel beside him did not respond when he touched it. Glancing at Amy, he stepped off it and began to walk around. His footsteps echoed, and he could hear Amy behind him also begin to explore.

He noted stands like kiosks, empty of merchandise; roped-off areas for directing lines of people leading up to counters with viewscreens above them; more viewscreens mounted on walls and stands, visible all over the room; benches and small tables with chairs; and at the center of the room, six transporter pads similar to those on the Enterprise, with a control station for each. Clearly this had once been a hub of traffic; it reminded him of the Starfleet shuttle hub in San Francisco.

Above the transporters hung a giant metal ring with letters cut out. Spock circled around, reading. "Porta Ianualis," he murmured. The Janus Gate. Interesting. Turning, he sat at one of the transporter controls, picked up the headset left lying on the surface and put it on. The screens here also failed to respond to his touch.

"Computer, activate transporter controls," he said, his voice too loud in the silence. Nothing happened. "Computer, activate subspace communications," he said. Again, nothing. He pushed away a rise of frustration and closed his eyes for a moment. If there are transporters, he thought, there must be sensor arrays and an engineering bay. I must find it, and reprogram it to allow us to communicate.

"Spock," said Amy from a distance away, sounding apprehensive. Letting out a slow breath, he stood and turned toward her, which was when he saw the shadows moving at the edges of the room, heard the quiet voices, and realized that they were no longer alone.

shepard

When Shepard woke up, she wasn't sure to think. She was in an unfamiliar room -- that was for certain. And judging from the barrier covering their exit, it sure looked like whoever put her here didn't want her getting out.

She lifted herself to her feet, brushing off unfamiliar clothes with her hands. The style of these clothes was antiquated compared to what she was used to wearing. Briefly, she wondered if she has been captured. While there are any number of people who lauded her as the hero who saved the Citadel, she had made her share of enemies along the way.

She turned her head away from the door and looked around the room; she felt almost naked without a gun at her side, especially now. And when she turned around, she saw another woman, laying on one of the bed.

And Shepard hoped that her fellow prisoner can provide some much-needed answers.

Shepard sat on the edge of a bed across from the other woman, arms folded in her lap. "Hey," she called out to her, hoping that would be enough to rouse her fellow prisoner from her sleep.

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Edge of Forever RPG

November 2013

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Page generated Jul. 16th, 2025 10:36 pm

the city on the edge of forever

[[ a pan-fandom roleplaying game ]]

Entries tagged with pc:zoe washburne

docking plot : post one

we'll make a mantra [closed]

(no subject)

Gorram everything [[Open]]

Blood Work [Open]

Attack of the Ratborg [Gathering]

Still not settled. [[Open post]]

Out in the black

End of Quarantine Two - Gathering

a whole new world

(no subject)

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November 2013

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