Shuttle/Docking Bay [1]

[deep_space_final]

This is your standard shuttlebay and/or docking station. Going somewhere? Coming from somewhere? Here's where you can come and go, leave your ships, and the like.

This is an open post. It will be replaced when it reaches a certain limit. Until then, create threads for any plot you want!

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[starbucker]

[ It was her prize possession, and really the only thing she had left from home, which was why it had never come up as part of the pot in any of her poker games. One little ship, parked up in the shuttlebay and defended by a hostile blonde with a bad attitude.

Today she just sat on the nose with her lunch, her legs hanging over the edge, chewing on a protein stick and eying passers-by suspiciously, offering various remarks to anyone that got too close. ]

Hey, keep walking. [ Or: ] Your wife know you look at another woman's MECS like that? [ Or just plain: ] Bite me.

[ She's not there to make friends (she is, she just doesn't know it), but she can admire persistence, too. ]

[madmaninabox]

This is one of those places he didn't mean to go -- but then, he doesn't mean to go much of anywhere, not these days. He's happy to drift, let the TARDIS drive.

After all, he might stumble upon something interesting. Who knows?

As always, the TARDIS doesn't land so much as materialize: there's a wind in the docking station, and then a whooshing, humming, clanging. The police box fades into view in time with the pulses of sound, until, with a low bong, it's fully materialized.

There's a pause, and then the door opens with a little creak. The Doctor pokes his head out, craning his neck to try and find the ceiling before he steps through, and neatly closes the door behind him.

[csm_101]

A man stands midst the cargo bay. He looks roughed up, a M-79 grenade launcher at his one side and the ammo belt around him. Scrapes on his skin reveal a silver beneath the flesh if you look close enough but he doesn't seem to limp or show any signs of pain even for his less-than-ideal looking condition.

T-800 extends a slow look around to access the situation and gather data. Coordinates and communication with John and Sarah Connor have been cut. These coordinates are not correct. His mission has been interrupted. This is problematic. He must return to the mission. Connor must survive and T-1000 has not been terminated.

So he simply continues to among the gathered people. His systems analysis indicates none of these lifeforms are hostile threats. He has identified that he is on a space station but he has not identified how. So, T-800 approaches someone.

Aren't you lucky. The automated voice speaks up, "What year is it."

[notbychoice]

There has to be a word or sentence to describe what is currently happening, but all the Doctor can think of is wrong. He knows he was about to change, doing that little trick Time Lords have to cheat death, but here he is inside his TARDIS, unchanged and as far as he can tell, whole.

But that's only the first part of the problem: the second is that he has no idea where the TARDIS is going, only that she's going somewhere. But when the TARDIS materializes on the station, preceded by the usual whooshing sounds and distinctive sound that she makes when traveling anywhere, there's a second's pause and then the police box door creaks open.

He peers out from around the door, upon which two conclusions occur to him: 1) this is a space station, and 2) if there are any Daleks here, he's getting right back inside the TARDIS and leaving without a second's thought. He's had enough of Daleks to last several lifetimes, thanks.

[Locked in a Room event] [locked to Malekith]

[idolstolemylook]

Okay, so maybe he wasn't evil anymore. But that didn't mean he had to be good. Spike was a survivor. And sometimes that meant surviving on other peoples' dime. Actually he wasn't really sure what anyone was doing for money around here. He did know that an awful lot of shit was just left lying around, there for the taking.

The cargo bay was one such place. How did anyone expect him to leave it alone? A man needed things, after all. And if you left bloody great boxes of merchandise just lying around, well, he was going to take advantage.

This particular box was proving a little more difficult. It was fairly large, which was exciting, but the only way into it he'd found was through the top. Which led to him rummaging around inside, sorting through various familiar and unfamiliar items in the hopes of finding something useful, or at least fun. And if he was caught at it? He'd just put on his best innocent "I'm a poor ignorant sod from the past who doesn't know your strange alien customs" face.