01 [Holo] Same Dren, Different Day.

[frell_this_dren]

Crichton's reaction to suddenly finding himself in Taxon's arrival room instead of in his quarters on Moya, isn't exactly the norm. He knows where he is. Right here on Moya, still. This is just another damned flash thingy, it's all in his head. Scorpius hanging onto his neural network by his fingernails. Well not for much longer

Comments

[visual]

[gating_across]

Sheppard's head poked onto the screen of the tablet again. No doubt about the background; the Sanctuary. Yet another new arrival. He slowly sat up and watched the man strut around and babble to himself. Probably best to actually introduce himself.

"Not sure who this Scorpy guy is. But you're not where you think you are."

[frell_this_dren]

"I never am." John laughs, having received minimal bits of info from various people now, and the whole situation is just...well just typical.

"Hell, even when I am where I think I am, I still don't know where I am." It made sense to him, at least.

[gating_across]

"City called Taxon. Apparently underground." Sheppard leaned back enough to show the bridge of the Enterprise. Maybe he should set up a tent there. He scratched his cheek.

The guy looked like Mitchell. Sort of sounded like Mitchell. Except that he was pretty sure Mitchell would of recognized him. After all, SG-1 did stop by Atlantis in order to gain intel on the Ori.

"Your name isn't Mitchell, is it?"

[frell_this_dren]

Nothing surprises Crichton anymore, poor guy's been through the wringer more than a few times now, and so far at least the place didn't seem hostile. It gets bonus points just for that.

"That depends," he asks warily, this is the second person to call him that and he's noted that whatever all those controls are behind Sheppard, it's likely this guy is in some kind of command center. "Whatdya want with Mitchell?"

[gating_across]

"Oh, he's a friend. We work in sister missions, you could say." Defiantly not Mitchell. "Name is Lt. Colonel John Sheppard. Welcome to Taxon."

[frell_this_dren]

"Thanks." Crichton offers skeptically, keeping the details he hands out to a minimum. Military title, missions and all that dren, he has more than a few reasons to keep his cards close to his chest.

"What species are you?"

[gating_across]

"Human."