☆ 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

sorry this is so late!

[overqualify]

Data's eyes dart back and forth briefly like he's reading something as he scans the comprehensive collection of starfleet records housed in his internal databanks for Commander Tucker of the Enterprise NX-01. He is briefly stuck wondering what the protocol for temporal discretion in this situation would be: Trip is displaced in time, but as a Commander surely has the access to see his own personnel file. Unless he's been barred from it. Then Data is forced to consider that perhaps he has been barred from his own, he hasn't yet bothered to try. After all, he is out of his own time as well, though by a considerably smaller margin than the chief engineer.

Either way he decides (for once) not to run his mouth in front of the important historical figure, merely pausing on the approximation of an inhale before tilting his head slightly and returning the introduction. "I am Lieutenant Commander Data, Second Officer on the Enterprise NCC-1701-D." He sticks out his hand to shake as is the human custom, except there's a gagh-worm dangling off his finger. He sheepishly deposits it back on the plate. "... It is pleasant to make your acquaintance, sir."

[tript]

"Same here." Although Trip gave the worm a look before shaking Data's hand. He was glad he'd refused to hold the plate. Admittedly, he'd had his touched worse things before, but only when he'd had no choice.

He turned back to the replicator, wishing he had a tricorder and the plans, but he'd have to work with what he'd got.

Which, as it turned out, was not a lot. He got it open, but then couldn't see anything wrong. Which didn't mean it was all right, just that he wasn't 100% certain what everything did.

Not wanting to look like he was as useless as he sometimes felt on this ship, he closed it up again and faced Data. He confidently announced, "It's a computer problem. I specialise in mechanical problems, but I will inform the engineering team and they'll send someone along to fix it."