ic Test Site II (IC)

[Electra]

"I don't either," Wander agreed, "but that ship doesn't look too banged up. It might still be able to fly." Wander had waited for the others to catch up, but she hadn't been idle. She'd gotten a look at the ship from all sides, then kept an eye on it for movement. Other than stray wisps of smoke, there'd been nothing at all. She looked at the others. "If that ship can fly in space, it could be our ticket. Might be a much surer ticket than a spaceship buried in a dead base that hasn't flown in who knows how long. I think at least some of us should go and take a look at it." She waited, figuring that the others would have thoughts on the matter as well.

[SpicyWaffle]

Following Wander in her clandestine act of laying low, the Bee-Keeper remained as still as a rock, watching the smoking remnants of the intact vessel from behind the safety of one of the remaining dead trees. Clearly the same kind as the ones he saw back at the other Freedom City, Baxter couldn't help but wonder what might have knocked it out of the heavens. Then again, it usually wasn't a good idea to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"I'm with Wander on thizz one. We're not gettin' anywhere juzzt zzitting here looking at it," he whispered as best as he was able through the shared communications channel. The prospect of getting home was right there in front of them; if some fluke by the Curator meant they could get off of his little playground of stolen worlds, then Baxter was all too happy to use his captors' assets against him.

Giving the scene a quick ocular sweep, the Bee-Keeper rose from his hunched position and started to make his way slowly towards the foreign craft, eyes peeled for trouble -- the last thing he needed right now.

[Raveled]

Blue Jay crept up to the vantage point and scanned the wreckage, though she didn't really know what she was looking for. Little green men with ray guns climbing out to shoot them? For the ship to sprout robot arms and legs and blast them where they stood? She had problems operating her smartphone most days, this was entirely beyond her.

However, the plan they were suggesting wasn't. "Stay up here, then," she said, slipping around the lip of the crater to find a place to descend. "I'll take a look around and be back. They'll never see me."

[Gizmo]

Jill hissed softly in frustration from her vantage point with the rest of the group. The convenient arrival of a spaceworthy vessel was beyond suspicious, especially given her suspicions that they'd been manipulated throughout the entire horrible affair, but she couldn't afford to pass up the opportunity or play it safe by approaching the proverbial gift horse cautiously. For some unknown amount of time Mara had been at the mercy of malicious forces with the power to create entire worlds for their own inscrutable reasons and every moment they were stranded away from home was another moment she was in danger. "Watch your tail, birdie," she told Blue Jay as the younger girl jogged off to scout, biting back on her better judgement.

[Electra]

"Don't go inside," Wander advised. "But see if you can spot a way in." Her instinct was to do the inspection herself, or at least go with, but she restrained herself. Blue Jay had proven to be an admirable survivalist herself in the days they'd been stranded here, and reasonably adept at handling herself despite the rocky first encounter with the group from HAX. She'd do the job well enough, hopefully without doing anything stupid. And if the worst did happen, it would be folly to risk losing both team members who were most capable of surviving and navigating the deserted urban jungles of the ringworld. "Beekeeper, you stay back," she ordered. "You're too loud, you'll give yourself and Blue Jay away."

[Avenger Assembled]

The ship remained dead even as the heroes approached, a grimly silent black arrowhead laying on its flank amid this copy of Chicago. To Harrier's surprise, a panel on the side swung open at their approach, exposing a darkened interior lit only by the glow of alien computer panels. Harrier studied the interior for a moment, using his armor's sensors to peer closer. "This is an intersystem craft, I think, sent from the Curator's control centers out on the surface of his world. The power systems appear to be intact...and there is a habitable compartment in the rear. Probably for specimen gathering. But there is no master computer." He looked back at the others. "This is all dumb systems. There is no internal guidance, no system to send commands here and there."

[Raveled]

Blue Jay remained tense as they approached the crashed ship, even though it didn't show any signs of life or animation. She brought her bow up when the access panel swung open, but nothing came out of it and the Omegadrone didn't seem too disturbed by it. Of course this was an Omegadrone making an assessment, but if they stood there all day waiting for something bad to happen they'd never escape the world. Its assessment didn't raise her spirits very much, though. "Are you... are you saying we can't fly this thing? Can't control it at all?"

[Gizmo]

Jill looked crestfallen for a brief moment at Harrier's analysis before abruptly straightening to her full height in realization and snapping her fingers. "Looks like the Interceptors are going to have to drag everybody's butts out of the fire yet again," she announced, slinging the knapsack over her shoulder down and unzipping it, confidence flowing back into her voice like hot ginger tea down a sore throat. "Who needs clumsy meat pilots when you've got Mr. Fifth Iteration Networked Computer Entity himself!" With a flourish, the medic produced the hard drive holding the alternate version of VINCE.

[Electra]

Wander brightened at Jill's idea, which seemed like a ray of hope in a plan that had looked doomed. If Trevor had been here, he could've gotten the ship going... she pushed the thoughts of him aside, before the thought of him misled and in danger could become overwhelming. None of the people here had enough tech savvy to build an Earth computer, much less pilot a curator ship, but Vince just might. "Great idea, " she told Jill, stepping away from the console. "It's definitely worth a try." She shone her flashlight on the console and underneath it, looking for anywhere that might be a suitable connection port for the AI.

[Avenger Assembled]

It turned out that there was such a thing as a universal computer port, or close enough one that it made no difference. After a moment's pause, the various triangular monitors in the control center lit up with a familiar face: VINCE, sitting in what looked like a simplified cockpit, wearing aviator goggles and a scarf over his Archetech jumpsuit. "Well, this is new...hey kids!" he waved. He wasn't the cheerful fellow who hung around with Jill's Interceptors, but time by himself in his drive, or maybe the new surroundings, had taken some of the naked despair they'd seen on his face the first time they'd met. "I guess this is your ride home?" He pressed a few buttons on the 'console' before him, the lights outside flickering back and forth as he did so. "Ah...well, sorry, kids, but this isn't that kind of rocketship. I can fly you back to this thing's home base, maybe tool around on this, hey, ringworld? Neat! Anyway.." He shrugged. "If I'm reading this right, the top speed won't get you to another star for about fifty years, and the computer in here is so dumb it doesn't even know what star that is. Some alien hypertech, amirite?" He pulled the goggles back down and began to fiddle around with his cockpit again.

"Can you tell what severed its link to the Curator?" asked Steve, thinking about mindless machines and their cosmic masters.

"Maybe, something about an emergency protocol..." VINCE shrugged. "As near as I can tell, the big AI upstairs just stopped sending, so this thing came crashing down.Like I said, the hard drive's about as dumb as a box of rocks."

[Raveled]

Blue Jay stayed outside, covering the entrance and the lip of the crater. She wasn't very comfortable being in the inside of a ship that, just a few days ago, was trying to kidnap her and everyone else to take them who-knows-where. Besides, she didn't take well to being crammed into tiny spaces where she couldn't defend herself. She had her commlink tuned to the same frequency as the rest of the group, so she could hear everything they were saying anyway. "So, the ship can fly, but it can't go between stars? So it's kind of useless to us, right? Shouldn't we at least go on to the Defenders base and check out their spaceship, before trying to steal one of the Curator's ships?"

[Avenger Assembled]

"No, it..." Steve put his hand on the ship's flank for a moment, considering. "This is a short-range craft. Interplanetary, not interstellar. But we know the Curator _has_ such ships, otherwise how could he have attacked your Earth, or taken us from our homes?" Speaking out in public wasn't his strength, but this was an emergency. His mind fell back to what he knew of the Curator, and more what he remembered of dark intelligences with cosmic power and their machine slaves. "A short-range ship has a base. A central base, with more ships, and possibly access to the Curator's processors. This ship cannot return us to Earth, but it can take us to where we can fight the Curator. If his defenses have been weakened, this may be our only chance. We are far from home and we know our enemy has placed spies on our world, among those we love. Fighting him, stopping his plan, that must be our priority." He'd expected Dorothy to look fearful at the words, but her brave nod and snap to attention made his heart twist. "VINCE, can you guide this ship to its home base?"

"Yeah, I can," said VINCE seriously. "Looks like...half a day at this thing's average speed. You guys'll be riding blind, but I can get you in the door."

[SpicyWaffle]

Riding the highs and lows of the alien craft's pros-and-cons, Baxter had remained for the most part morbidly silent, only suffering a swear here and there at the initial prospect of it being unable to fly by human means. Thankfully, Jill had a trick up her sleeve - and what a doozy of a trick it was! But still, it didn't feel right. Awfully convenient for the Curator to just stop bothering with this particular craft; then again, it might very well be the only way off this godforsaken rock.

"Zzo, what? We all juzzt cram in and zzing campfire zzongzz while we fly right into the clutchezz of thizz Curator guy who wantzz to do who-knowzz-what to uzz?" he repeated, nodding towards Blue Jay even as the prospect of stealing one of their foes' crafts remained one of their best options.

"Not to, y'know, doubt you guyzz or anything, but I'm with Jay. Azz much azz I'd like to zzock thizz guy right in the fazze for what he'zz done, I don't wanna..." he began, cutting himself off as he tried to find the right words for it. "I don't want to put all our eggzz in one bazzket. I mean, it'd be nizze if thezze Defenderzz had a ship we could snag inzztead of the alternative. There'zz no telling what the Curator'zz got on hizz bazze; zzure, he could have a zzhip we could uzze... but he could alzzo have a bazzillion robotzz with deathrayzz guarding them! And judging by what he'zz got going already for himzzelf, I'm not all that interezzted in finding out if we can avoid it. Zzo I zzay - if we can - we find thizz Defender zzhip, and if it workzz, we come back and look for Zztratozz and anyone elzze that might be zztuck on that Fake Freedom. Then we can high-tail it outta here and get back home."

Pausing for a moment, the Bee-Keeper panned between the gaggle of heroes and heroes-in-training, gauging their reactions.

"We leave zzomeone or a couple of zzomeonezz here to guard thizz zzhip juzzt in-cazze, and the rezzt can look into the interzztellar zzhip the Defenderzz might zztill have zzitting around."

[Electra]

Before Baxter was even finished speaking, Erin was shaking her head. "No, that's just a waste of time we don't have. Don't you understand? We don't even know how long we've been gone ,or how much time passed between when we were taken and when we woke up here. If we were replaced like Dorothy, there are people or things with our faces in Freedom City right now, getting close to the people we love, doing God knows what damage! We wanted to get to the Defenders ship because even though it was a long shot, it was the only chance we had. You saw how much time it took us to fuel up and jump a simple bus, now imagine trying to do that to a spaceship that hasn't run in months or years, that none of us can even drive, much less repair."

Looking into the ship, she set her hand on her hips. "Traveling like this isn't my first choice either," she admitted. "But if we can get to the Curator's ship, at least we have something to fight. Right now we're like ants running around on the surface of a tire, making no progress and not even knowing when we're about to get squashed. We need to get moving, get off this world, and do whatever it takes to get home. I say we grab the food supplies we have and get on the ship. It's not even that much riskier than staying here, and at least we have a chance to win."

[SpicyWaffle]

Once again, Baxter began to say something; his lips moved with purpose and even a bit of fiery contempt at the situation... but nothing came out. There was only silence as he sighed, head sinking down as Wander relayed their urgency again. He had to face the facts: she was right.

"I know... I juzzt... I know, okay?" he conceded even as his voice faded, rubbing his helmeted eyes as best as he was able as he straightened himself up. He was tired and haggard, mental and physical duress alike taking their toll on the boy. He didn't like the prospect of walking into the lion's maw anymore than any of the other survivors of this fiasco likely did, forced to ponder what his replacement - if he'd even been replaced at all and not just taken for some sick form of sport - was up to every waking moment since Dorothy clued them all in. Even now, he couldn't help but glance at the Claremont student who must have been even more perturbed knowing she was causing havoc back home.

"Alright. Let'zz do it. What'zz the worzzt that could happen, right?"

[Raveled]

"We die alone," Blue Jay whispered to herself. "At length, and in great pain." It had been a truth for her, for nearly her entire life. Except for these last few months at Claremont, she had always lived with the knowledge that any day she lived could be her very last. Which is why she went into every fight with all her strength and skill, because if something was going to kill her she was sure going to make it remember her.

And now this Curator was trying to take it all away from her. Take away Claremont, and Mali and Cerys, and Sam. Tona felt a fire begin building in her limbs and in her gut. All of a sudden she wanted to see the Curator in pain, see it smashed to pieces in front of her, and if she needed to sit in a cramped spaceship for a little while to do it, then she was even willing to sit alongside an Omegadrone to do it.

It didn't take long for Wander to bring back their scant supplies from the campsite, back to the spaceship. Jay helped her load it and find places for everything, then took a seat in the cargo bay. There were scraps and shards of metal on floor, and the archer say down with a honing stone, some wire, and some carbon fiber shafts. Soon she was engrossed in the preparation of even more arrows for her quiver.

[Avenger Assembled]

The cargo containers had enough space for the heroes, their supplies, and a prayer, albeit without any means of securing themselves in. As he stepped inside and found a place in the corner, securing himself to a handle inside the cold grey steel walls, he had a brief but vivid flashback of people being loaded into cargo containers and being taken to...by the time he was listening again, VINCE was talking. "Okay, everybody, hang on tight! We're on our way to Curator central!" The doors closed, shutting out the sunlight from outside, and casting them into the actinide white overhead glow that the Curator seemed to prefer for his ships. It wasn't blinding bright, but the glow was sharp enough that everyone's features stood out in vivid detail. With no windows, there was no way to look outside to check their progress. With a faint vibration, and brief sense of momentum, VINCE announced over the intercom again, "Next stop, bad guy town! We'll be there in about ten hours Earth time."

[Electra]

"Thanks, Vince." With no bad guys to fight and nothing to do, Erin settled in to pass the time as best she could. She watched Blue Jay for awhile as the latter made arrows from the scrap on the ship, asking questions occasionally about notching and fletching but mostly just studying technique. Erin was much better with her hands or her bat than with any ranged weapon, but it never hurt to take an opportunity to pick up a new skill. She spent some time reading a mystery novel she'd picked up from a gas station on one of their supply runs. She had looked at it but not bought it back on Prime because it was too expensive, but that was a bit of a moot point now.

After awhile, though, she began to drag out the sleeping bags and food supplies and set them up as best she could in the crowded space. "Now's the time to get a meal and a little rest," she told the others. "We probably won't be able to do either once we get to the ship. Chemical toilet's set up in the back behind the boxes." With that, she settled in crosslegged on her sleeping bag and opened a pack of granola bars. While she ate, though, she kept an eye on Baxter and Dorothy, both young and inexperienced, both looking the worse for wear from the adventure. "Hey Bax," she asked, "what's the first thing you'll do when we're back on Earth?"

[SpicyWaffle]

Having piled in and de-armored almost immediately after the ship had freed itself from the orbit on its path with destiny, Baxter had plenty of time to think about what he was going to do when he got home. So many things came to mind; and each one seemed more important than the last as they drifted along their course. It had been quite the ride up to that point, between waking up in an apocalyptic Freedom City, the miscommunication with Dorothy, Harrier, Jill and Wander, and his regrouping with a former ally in Blue Jay. Trying to busy himself was something that felt almost alien. Baxter had no skills to hone, per se, nor colorful anecdotes to share. He was morose, worn-out, and irked in every sense of the word; a teenager ripped from his element alongside Dorothy and thrust into a situation he had no control over - a sensation that left him feeling vulnerable and weak by comparison to almost everyone else present.

He'd been content to mostly sit and sulk in his own thoughts until Wander prodded him. For a moment, it seemed like Baxter hadn't heard her, eyes downcast and sullen. Before long, though, he mustered a response, though he still continued to stare at the floor of the Curator's space-faring vessel.

"First thing?" he repeated like a parrot, eyebrows arched as he struggled to find the right words. "First thing is if we've been, y'know, replaced like Dorothy? I'm gonna punch my other smug self right in the face. I'm gonna punch it till' it stops being me," began the disillusioned teen boy, his voice surprisingly monotone and flat despite the intense inflection.

"After that? I don't know. See my parents, probably. Spill the beans; tell em' the truth about why I've been failing all my classes. Tell them I've been out playing hero and stuff. Haha, man! Are they gonna be mad!" Baxter laughed, though it remained almost distant in his voice, rife with exhaustion. Running a hand through his hair, the dark-skinned teen cocked his head a little, as if debating momentarily on his next course of action after he got home. "Then... then I'm gonna hang up the armor. It was a good run, y'know? Got a chance to live the dream for almost a year. But this is just... this whole thing just puts stuff in perspective, I guess," the Bee-Keeper bemoaned, trailing off for a moment as he gathered his thoughts.

"Maybe after all that, I'll finally talk to that cute foreign girl who I take this class with. But, y'know, baby steps. Have to avoid getting killed and get back home first, I guess."

[Gizmo]

Pacing nearby as Baxter spoke, Jill gave him a silent, nonplussed look for a moment as the morose youth suggested an early retirement. The young woman's crimson jacket had held up fairly well throughout their ordeal, while her bandana mask hung around her neck where it could be more useful in case she needed to cover her nose and mouth, the time for hiding their faces having long since passed. Calmly, she walked over to the unarmored teenager and bent her knees enough to crouch down next to him, her expression sympathetic. Then she promptly smacked him forcefully upside the back of him head.

"I know you're barely old enough for them to have dropped, but reach around for a minute and nut up, buzz brain," she told him firmly, looking him straight in the eye and using a tone that was oddly calm and reassuring for its aggressive wording. "You. Are. A. Super. Hero. Okay? You stuff that stripey tin can in a closet when you get home and I guarantee you you'll be pulling it out again before the week is out." She pointed a thumb over her shoulder at most of the other occupants of the cramped ship. "The inter-dimensional stone cold badass club members here are one thing, but you and I know the score. Being out there, helping people, it gets under your skin." She stood up again and spread her arms to encompass the immensity of the Curator's world ship. "There's bad stuff out there. There is some ridiculously huge, need-a-fresh-pair-of-panties terrifying stuff out there. And we are going to stab it in the face." She poked a finger into Baxter's forehead. "Superhero. Remember that."

Folding her hands behind her head, the medic's sober expression melted into a lopsided smirk. "But less about that and more about the cute foreign girl. I'm thinking... redhead?"

[Avenger Assembled]

They flew together for hours, sharing the small space. Steve had thought about saying something about the crisis they were facing, or offering some comfort to Baxter, but opted to remain silent as the rest traded catnaps and prepared to likely fight for their lives in the heart of the Curator's complex. Steve believed in the heroes of Freedom City more than perhaps any other superhero, but he also knew intimately well how easily last stands and long-shot attacks could be brutally and agonizingly crushed by the mindless forces of murderous, overwhelming cosmic power. He did think of Gina, however, so far away and facing such adversity, perhaps wearing his face, or his hands as they closed around her neck...He closed his eyes. I did not realize that I had something I could lose. But I do now. If I lost Gina, it would be...devastating. Because I love her. Sitting there, alone in a crowd as always, Steve decided that the first thing he would do when he got back was to tell Gina Evans that he loved her.

Finally, just when Steve was considering a nap himself, VINCE's voice came over the intercom just as the ship began to slow. "Okay, guys, we're coming up on Bad Guy Central right now. It's, wow, it's big. It's like somebody took the Moon and turned it all into one big computer. It dropped some kind of automatic cloak when I got close. I'm trying to raise the systems inside, but so far they're not talking. Everything's automated." A pause, and a faint feeling of vibration. "We're heading into some kind of bay now, okay, the doors are opening..." VINCE talked them through landing in a big cargo bay as big around as a super-tanker on Earth, full of row after row of triangular ships like the one they'd arrived in. "Lots of people-shaped drones, but none of them are movin'. Air is good, but I bet it'll smell funny to you guys, lights are bright...you want me to open the door?"

[SpicyWaffle]

Maybe it was the shock from the sudden smacking. Perhaps it was the way Jill O'Cure plainly laid out the facts with clinical precision. Yet still, it could have solely been the conviction behind them, or some amalgam of all three. Regardless, the young Bee-Keeper couldn't help but take the doctor's words to heart, clinging to her every syllable like some sycophantic puppy. Maybe she was right. Maybe behind that morose exterior, a mind mired in doubt, and that beleaguered, exhausted shell that composed Baxter Bowles, there was still something more. Something... undefinable. With a grim nod of silent determination, the Bee-Keeper felt himself at least somewhat reaffirmed in his beliefs. He needed to take charge of his own situation - he was, after all, a superhero!

Being a superhero didn't stop him from growing incredibly red in the face though when Jill popped her next query. Indeed, Baxter almost opened his mouth, ready to say something either in his defense or actually answer, but at the last moment, serendipity struck as VINCE interrupted the awkward pow-wow. They were here; and it was time to put an end to this nightmare.

Standing up from the corner he'd managed to procure, the dark-skinned teenager called on the Bee-Keeper armor one more time. Whatever was on the other side of the cargo ship's doors was the Curator's mecca of his nefarious plans; and Baxter was going to be damned if he didn't get some answers and a way off of this Ringworld he'd been conscripted to. Armored up and eager to see this through to the end, the Bee-Keeper looked on to his colleagues, gauging their response to VINCE's announcement even as he maneuvered his way to the door that would lead them all into the Curator's inner sanctum. He gave one final glance over his shoulder, taking a deep breath and steeling his nerves before facing the hatch.

"Make it zzo, Number One."

[Electra]

As the ship began to slow to a halt, Erin started rolling up and stowing the equipment, packing the most essential supplies into backpacks for herself and Steve to carry. On a ship the size of a moon, with possibly no living things on board, it would be unwise to go out without food and water. "Hey Jill," she called, "better grab VINCE as we head out, we don't know if we're going to make it back here."

Passing Steve his bag, she slipped hers on and nudged her way past the suited up Beekeeper. "You're our air support," she reminded him. "We can't risk letting you step out there first." She drew her bat and held it ready, then looked to make sure everyone else was ready as the door in front of them slowly opened. "Nothing here is alive," she reminded the motley team of heroes. "Do what you have to do." As soon as the door was open wide enough she stepped out, immediately taking a defensive position as she scanned for any hostile activity.