(no subject)

[fromearth]

Okay, is this thing worki--yeah, it's... I'm in the frame? I... yeah. Right.

[The cowboy straightens, clears his throat, hooks his thumb in his belt, and gives the communicator his most calm and collected scowl. All a matter of looking like none of this bothers you, even when it's a hideous mess. Which this is looking like it is. Business as usual.]

All right, folks, this is Marshall Sparks Nevada, representative of the Mars-Earth coalition. I know this place likely ain't on either planet, but this whole business jumped up to the top of my priority list. Mostly on account've all my other business is in another dimension, so you know, whatever.

Point is, here, I'm gonna hafta ask all've you to provide a list of your name, your home planet... the planet you were last on, if'n those two ain't the same... what space-year you're from, and your dimensional zip code.

Reckon I may have a ways afore we're gettin' out of here proper, but more I can know about how far-spread a problem this is, the more appropriate charges can be put on the culprits for this nonsense once I wrap it all up.

Comments

[Video - still "Not Riku"]

[rampantfantasy]

I can't give you any of that on account of what you just said makes no sense.

[Well, and he doesn't have a name to give, yet. That's an issue, too.]

Unless by "home planet" you're talking about the worlds we came from.

[Which. Is also complicated in his circumstances.]

[fromearth]

Eh. 'Tain't exactly complicated, kid. Name, date, place... not sure where you're gettin' tripped up, Mister... [Squints at window label] ...Not.

Far as "home planet"... I mean, yeah, if'n you wanna call it worlds, that's right. Unless you're referring to your dimensional origin. See that's, that's sort of why I used those particular words, seein' as they're a lot clearer than what you're sayin'.

[rampantfantasy]

[Dude you have no idea how complicated a little thing like a name can be.]

They're the same thing to everyone I know.

[fromearth]

[Sigh. Maybe some kinda underdeveloped planet with a less developed language than his.]

Fine, sure, whatever, what world're you from.

[video]

[juniorganymedian]

Good day, Marshall Nevada. My name is Jeeves. My apologies, but while the communications network is a most useful tool for arranging meetings, gathering large stores of information on it in one location about the persons just arrived here may not be wholly prudent. It is monitored by the enemy.

[video]

[fromearth]

Well, this just is a plasma shot in the dark, but if they nabbed us from wherever we were, likely is they already knew this stuff already, and just 'cause they know how much trouble they're in don't mean we shouldn't.

[video]

[juniorganymedian]

['Plasma shot?' Jeeves raises a brow ever so slightly.]

It is unclear who is actually bringing us here, sir. Only that there is a person or persons on the network who occasionally make their presence known in as confrontational a manner as possible. They may simply be taking advantage of our unfortunate situation.

[grifshot]

Uh, Grif, Earth, Chorus....kinda lost track of what year it is and I don't know what the fuck a dimensional zip code is so I'm just gonna say banana.

[fromearth]

[He'd been marking things down on a notepad until about halfway through. Then he just gives an unimpressed scowl.]

Yeah, fruit ain't the usual sort of identifier that's any type'a useful. Gimme a ballpark on year, at least.

[grifshot]

[Grif pauses, having to work things out. Being on the move constantly made it hard to keep track of dates. And Simmons wasn't here to help him out. And his Game of Thrones countdown (he'd had to replace Battlestar Galactica somehow) wouldn't be of any help here.]

2556...I think? I've been on the move a lot, hard to keep track.

[video]

[allpurposescarf]

The Doctor; home planet, Gallifrey; last planet visited... Zanax. Or Calufrax. It depends a little on how you want to actually count it. Year also depends on how you wanted it counted.


Oh, and which planet's coordinates?

[fromearth]

[When The Doctor provides the most coherent answer yet, you know you've got it bad.]

Come on, Doc, I'm not tryin' to make this complicated. You had to be on one or the other when you popped in here. Or somewhere in between. I don't know. I'm working off the proper space-Earth calendar, here, just try and give me a ballpark and I'll try converting it best I can.

[allpurposescarf]

No, I didn't. I was in my TARDIS. But Zanak and Calufrax were occupying the same spatial coordinates when I was there. Besides, I've never heard of a space-Earth calender.

But it should be... Rassilon Era 6243.5, plus or minus a few decimals.

[unrecovered]

[Agent Washington, commander of the S. S. Notfuckingimpressed, checking in. No helmet this time, so his face is visible.]

Good job asking for private information on a monitored public network. Maybe you should leave the info gathering to people who've been here for more than an hour. It'll probably take about that long for it to sink in that your rules don't apply here.

[fromearth]

Not--not exactly private stuff, is it... Like, this is get-to-know-you-games stuff, really, so...

[Seriously, who spat in everyone's space sarsaparilla today.]

Yeah, right, the ways around here seem to be storming off from people trying to get a clear picture of what's going on here. Maybe it's just me, but that way don't seem particular helpful, so maybe I'll stick to my methods until someone can show me a proper improvement that don't involve throwin' a tantrum.

[unrecovered]

[He's rubbing his forehead with one hand. He's getting a headache over this guy.]

Did you look at the network at all before you did this? Because not even an hour ago I put up a post with information on this place and what to do if you have questions. Like find someone who's been here for a while and ask questions. Which is what I told you to do when I ran into you. Which you're still not doing.

audio;

[spaceracist]

Callsign's Noble-Four, I'm from [there's a pause; does this person mean where he was born or where he was raised? Emile decides to go with where he was born] Eridanus II, last location was Reach. 2552. You?

[fromearth]

3014. And, y'know, like I said, I'm the marshal on Mars, but I'm.... from Earth.

Dang, ain't seen this wide a range a' aliens in one place outside'a politics in years...

[spaceracist]

[Annnd that's why Emile sticks to audio.]

Oh, hell. I ain't no alien. Hundred percent human, just like everyone else in the UN. Well, everyone other than AIs, anyway. Which means I'm guessin' you ain't from my own timeline.

[If he had to defend that he was from Earth but serving on Mars, well, that's a good sign. The only ones who did that were Earth supremicists, and they were a hell of an annoying bunch.]

[voice]

[battleborndr]

[He's trying very hard to not sound grumpy due to his Time Lord self above, but instead he ends up sounding like this is the most hilarious thing he's heard in awhile.]

Wow, I applaud you. [sarcasm] This must add up to a lot of paperwork for you. How do all these multiple and alternate universe factor in, hm?

[fromearth]

[If he's picked up on the sarcasm, he's not responding to it.]

Well, a mass consciousness kidnapping already ran up a pretty hefty charge--best they could hope for was a massive fine, like a few mil space-dollars, if they got the best space-lawyers out there. Once there's interdimensional embezzling, though, we've got at least four counts of paradox baiting and a dangerous case of fanficsm. Ain't no chance of keeping out of space-jail. No one knows their dang zip code, though, hard to figure out exactly how far this goes. Seems basic, just smart to keep up on, but whatever...

[battleborndr]

Space-jail, yeah, that's definitely where you're going to put everyone who did this. [Yeah he thinks you're full of shit.] How often have you done this sort of thing? Is this your first case?

[journaldesignated]

[Oh, look! A familiar face!]

Sparks Nevada! I had not realized you were here as well.

[He may as well ask the obvious question.]

Is this your dream?

[fromearth]

Oh. Croach. You're here. That's... super great.

Eh. Dunno. You here to eat my guts, or do something really gross? [Wait.] Gross... grosser than usual.

[journaldesignated]

Not by choice.

[Do you see this expression, Sparks Nevada? It should adequately convey his utter lack of amusement at the question.]

No. I only asked because you had mentioned my presence in your dreams before, and this is obviously a human dream.