<strong>Name</strong>: Alexander Carter<br/><strong>Species</strong>: Human, male<br/><strong>Status</strong>: Undressed<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Second Floor, near the Cryo-statis pods.<br/><strong>Time</strong>: Unknown; a few minutes after the others were revived.<br/><strong>Content</strong>: Conversation<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Open<br/><br/><hr/><br/>“<em>Fuck!</em>”<br/><br/>The word left his lips before his brain even had time to vet it; his hand instinctively shot to his hip, where his trusty sidearm usually rested in its holster, only to find nothing but bare skin. Of all the sights to emerge to, the looming outline of an Ilyassani was among the more alarming. Rembering that he was unarmed and cornered, Alexander instead reverted to Plan B, which was to remain as motionless as possible.<br/><br/>The pair spoke to him – and indeed, his little welcome committee was comprised of a pair, for there was a diminutive goblin standing in the shadow of the towering predator. Alexander had completely missed her at first, though given the circumstances, he felt he could hardly be blamed for the oversight. He blinked slowly, glancing between them. The goblin was asking a question. The Ilyassani wasn’t eviscerating him and, as an aside, was explaining the situation. It took a few moments for their words to filter through the surging blood and adrenaline in his veins. Still, Alexander was nothing if not adaptable, and it was only a few heartbeats later that his pride was piecing itself back together, demanding that he compose himself rather than gawping like some virgin spacefarer seeing their first non-native species.<br/><br/>“Aha, apologies,” Alexander managed, accepting the hand offered to him by the Ilyassani. The reptile hoisted him with impressive ease. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting you to be standing there. Mind you, I suppose that’s something of an understatement, given I didn’t expect<em>any</em>of this.”<br/><br/>Back on his feet, he got his first proper look at his surroundings. An anthrodroid lingered nearby, seemingly waiting on the goblin for something. An Idoid came marching towards them, making a brisk report about finding bedrooms and little else. He was as nude as everyone else, dashing any hopes that he might’ve been a crewmember with an explanation. Alexander offered up his own:<br/><br/>“Well… I suppose nobody’s really sure what’s going on, then? For that it’s worth, I can think of a couple of reasons why a passing ship would randomly collect crewmembers from other vessels,” Alexander said, covering his own uncertainty by projecting a smooth veneer of confidence. “The obvious scenario would be opportunistic piracy, though that seems unlikely for our situation. Take a look around: no guards, no security barriers to corral us, and none of us have restraining collars or shock chips. Besides, if we were hostages, our captors would<em>want</em>us to know about it. They wouldn’t want us edgy and restless like this. That’s unhelpful for everyone involved.”<br/><br/>Alexander scrubbed a hand through his hair, a musing expression on his face. He’d already ruled out the possibility that it was all some sick joke. Would the goblin really go to all the effort of removing her prosthetics just for some petty prank? Conversely, the Ilyassani might be malicious enough to play games with would-be prey, but they were more violent than manipulative: their idea of a joke would’ve been throwing captives into a makeshift fighting ring, not setting up some weird little game of psychological manipulation. Besides, the imposing reptile genuinely seemed to be squinting at everything. Either she was a surprisingly skilled actress, or she really was suffering from some effects of cryo-sleep.<br/><br/>“I think we’ve been rescued,” Alexander continued. “It happens, from time to time. A ship has a catastrophic malfunction when everyone’s in cryo-sleep, the failsafe systems automatically kick everything into emergency stasis, and nobody’s any the wiser until they wake up a month later on whatever salvage vessel picked them up.”<br/><br/>With the last vestiges of his initial alarm wearing off, Alexander was quickly returning back to his normal self. He folded his arms and leaned back against the wall, apparently unbothered by both his nudity and the press of cold metal against his skin. He regarded the others again, his expression more sly this time. They must’ve all been from different ships, given how they were introducing themselves to one another.<br/><br/>“Say… Do any of you remember when that plasma storm spontaneously erupted on the Onra trade route? It made broadcasts everywhere.  Close to a hundred vessels got caught up in it, and the Onran Throne requisitioned every working ship in the sector in the mad scramble to rescue everyone. The survivors would’ve woken up just like this: disoriented, mixed up with the crews of other vessels. Hells, they would’ve been naked too, now that I think about it. In those sorts of catastrophe responses, there’s not time to decontaminate the personal effects of a thousand different survivors – you just incinerate the lot.”<br/><br/>He offered a little shrug to punctuate the end of this hypothesis.<br/><br/>“It’s just a thought – I can’t say for certain what’s going on. Still, there is one thing I do know: shaking off cryo is a damn sight easier once you’ve got some tea in you. Oh, I wouldn’t object to some clothing either, but it’s important to get the priorities straight in a situation like this.”<br/><br/>He pushed off from the wall, and gestured broadly to the corridors. He spoke as he walked, passing by the Idoid as he departed the little gathering to go explore the ship.<br/><br/>“If anyone needs me, I’ll be looking for the refectory… or galley, or dispenser, or whatever else they have here. If there’s any sense to the ship’s design, it shouldn’t be far from the cryo-bay…”