☆ ᴛᴇsᴛ ᴅʀɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇᴍᴇ 02 ☆

[statusreport]

Welcome, cadets! Wanna dip your toes in the pool? Have a new character you wanna try out? Interested in the setting but not sure if your character's a good fit? Welcome to the second official Test Drive Meme for Illyria, for all your test drive needs! There are a few prompts for you to choose from below, or you can make up your own starter if none of the choices tickle your fancy. Threads from this meme can be counted as game canon if you like, if you apply and are accepted, so you don't have to meet someone again for the first time. Reserves are open at this time, and applications will be open September 8th thru 12th. Have fun!

☆ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛs ☆
A. Arrival: You wake up disoriented, finding yourself on what appears to be a medical bed. As you try and sit up, a young woman with blond hair pulled up in a tight bun stops you, urging you to take it easy. You were found in the cargo bay unconscious with a few other people, and while she's not sure where you came from or how you got here, you're here for the long haul, now. As you look around, you see a few other people in beds like the one you're lying on--do you recognize anyone from home? Or are these people complete strangers? Do any of them know what's going on, or how you got here? The only way to find out is to ask them!

B. Mealtime: While the Illyria has been mostly repaired, there are still some systems that aren't quite back at 100%. Unfortunately, one of these systems runs the replicators in the mess hall. Every order, no matter what you have requested, will result in a nice squirmy plate of Bithool gagh. Hope you're hungry!

C. Going up? You're not sure about these turbolift things, but it beats climbing ladders and crawling through tubes to get to the other decks. Besides, the ship is all fixed now, right? Surely you won't get stuck in it again. As you step into the lift, maybe there's someone already in there--or maybe someone steps in after you, but either way, you're not alone as the lift begins to ascend. Things seem to be going well for a moment, and then there's a loud screeching sound and the lights go dark as the lift stops dead in its shaft. Well, shit. Looks like this lift still needs a bit of work. Do you and your company try and fix the lift? Do you call for help? Do you crawl up into the shaft and try and make your way to another deck through the Jefferies tubes, possibly while humming the theme from Mission: Impossible? Who knows what peril may lie in the corridors between decks--do you take the risk, or wait to be rescued? Time to see if you're Starfleet material or not!

D. Excusez-moi? Maybe you dropped your communicator, or maybe you found the switch that makes it speak nothing but Spanish like Buzz Lightyear, but for some reason or another, your Universal Translator just isn't cutting the mustard. Be it Spanish, French, Klingon, or Vulcan, you just have no idea what this person in front of you is saying. Well, just walking away would be awfully rude, but how do you communicate with someone you can't understand??

Comments

[notanoptimist]

"An android." McCoy repeats it in near disbelief -- not because it's unbelievable. He's seen some weird things out there. Space isn't exactly normal so the disbelief that comes when he's told he's speaking to an android comes from another place entirely. He can't help it; he puts a hand over his face and just laughs.

It's frustrated and maybe a touch hysterical (and that clinical part of him that never really shuts up tells him that he really needs sleep right about now) but he's laughing into his hand. For all the utter shit he gives Spock about having a computer for a brain, suddenly he's faces with an actual Computer-For-Brain. It's almost too much.

The laughter is short-lived and he rubs his hand over his face as it subsides. "Well that certainly wasn't what I was expecting."

[overqualify]

Data blinks, and his brow scrunches back down in a close approximation of confusion.

Humans are still, after all these years he's spent in starfleet, quite mystifying. He briefly replays the memory files of their conversation over, trying to find the point where he said anything funny, but through his (incredibly limited) understanding of comedy, he comes up blank.

"Sir, if I may ask," His head tilts, just slightly. A little twitch. He sound genuinely curious, which is just a smidgen out-of-place. "What is it that you find so humorous?"

[notanoptimist]

Oh, good. He's made himself look like an idiot in front of a walking computer. He waves his hand, dismissing the question entirely. "I doubt you'd understand even if I explained it." He pauses there, and snorts. "I doubt I'd explain it well enough to be understood."

Because, really. It's not actually humorous. It's just... weird. Definitely weird.

... It's time to change the subject. "Can you fix this thing?"

[overqualify]

Data nods. At this point, he's resigned himself to the fact that he will not always understand his human coworkers and companions. They are, after all, a complex people, endlessly fascinating in their variety and sheer incomprehensibility. Many sentients are, of course—most, Data would venture to guess—but humans particularly.

It's why he likes them so much. Though, he was created by one of them and in their image, so perhaps that is only natural.

He gives the replicator a thoughtful look, before obligingly striding forward and sliding his fingers around the edges so he can lift its face off and take a look at its innards, "I will not know until I try."

[notanoptimist]

Well, that's logical and McCoy has to bite back the urge to burst into near-hysterical laughter again. He kneads his temple for a moment, wishing for all that he's worth that he was back on the Enterprise right about now. He'll take flying tin can over all of this.

Failing that, he just wants something to eat and some place to sleep.

"Need a hand? I'm not an engineer but at least I can hold things for you."

[overqualify]

"Thank you, sir," Data says, holding the faceplate of the replicator out to McCoy to take off his hands so he can be free to stick his fingers into the machine's newly revealed circuitry. It's certainly not impossibly heavy, but the android does make it look easier to heft than it actually is. He's about to turn back around to the machine when he seems to remember himself, tilting his head a fraction of an inch towards the doctor. "I am Data."

It's strange to be on a ship where he doesn't have the personnel files for every crewman in his memory banks, but hey, at least he remembered to introduce himself eventually.

[notanoptimist]

Well, the walking computer made that look easy. McCoy fumbles the faceplate for a moment, before deciding that, yeah, it's likely this guy is that much stronger. At least he doesn't drop the thing entirely, but he is left holding it a bit awkwardly during the introductions.

"Of course you are." Why wouldn't he be named Data? "Leonard McCoy, Chief Medical Officer of the Enterprise."