[There's an excited bark over the communicator as the owner falls back with a small thud. Viewers will find themselves face to face with the cold black nose of Winona as an excited southern accent sounds off camera.]

Winona! Where've you bin hidin', ya li'l devil? C'mere!

[The boarder collie - Winona - steps away from the communicator and it shows Applejack sitting up, gathering the dog in her arms a bit awkwardly before she looks at the screen.]

Guess who Ah found wanderin' storage? Ah mean it's a bit of a shame she's not home, but th' extra company's always good.

[The blonde pony-turned-human tilts her head, remembering why she switched the comm on in the first place.]

Oh yeah. Ah kinda gotta request t' make. See, back home ah used mah legs fer apple buckin' - that's kinda like usin' yer hind legs t' kick apples down from trees. Ah don' really want mah skills t'go t' waste, but Ah don't know what th' human equivalent is. Ah do know a bit o' kung fu though, so Ah was wonderin' if there was anyone on this heah ship who could help me get this ol' human body inta fightin' shape?

Hey, guys.

[ Hotspur's looking happy - if a little warily so. Behind him is the gunmetal grey backdrop of the main hangar deck, complete with serried ranks of broken shuttles and throughout the video he glances off screen and in to the shadows. There are noises out there – noises and things – and it is creeping him out, but hell if he's going to let it spoil his fun. ]

For those that don't know me - I'm Max, but call me Hotspur. I'm a flight lieutenant and I reckon the Tranq's pretty cool with that now. [ He juggles his comm device and raises a wrist to show the newly-changed tattoo bearing the initials OPR. ] There's a lot of beaten up old birds down here that could do with some TLC - Tali, you fancy trying your hand at one or two of these? Tony, I reckon you might be interested too... [ There's a meaningful glance in that second invitation. No homo. ]

But I kinda need some help with other things down here too - I'm not happy to let these poor shuttles lie around completely nameless. It's just not right. So if anyone's got any good ship names then let's hear them... but they've got to be related to the Tranquility somehow. So, uh, words that are a bit like Tranquility, but smaller. [ He grins; he knows it sounds a little stupid to those who don't come from a military background but names - especially well-chosen and meaningful names - are important. ] I got one of them named already. Faith, 'cause you gotta have a whole lot of faith that she's going to be spaceworthy one day...

[ He swings the device around in a dizzy swirl of shapes and colours before finally steadying the video feed to show off the powered-down innards of the cockpit. ]

Like I said: in need of some TLC. I can figure out a few basic faults on the controls side of things but I'm no flight techie. Any volunteers to lend a hand?

[ The camera pans back and Hotspur purses his lips, suddenly remembering that he had a bit of bad news for one person in particular: ]

Oh, and hey, Mouse - sorry, kid. Can't get you those gloves after all. Did you manage to find something else that would work?

[You might have seen this guy skulking around the ship both looking like he knows exactly what he’s doing and a lot like he shouldn’t be doing it. Truthfully, he’s not done anything yet that would warrant a spell in the brig, but there’s little hope of that staying the case.

What he has seen is a bunch of people walking around without any idea of how much danger they’re in at any given moment and that’s a problem for Dean. He’s spent his entire adult life working to save people from freaky ass crap that goes bump in the night. Here isn’t any different.]

Any of you get the impression we should be keeping our eyes very freakin’ open 24/7?

I dunno about you, but I know that getting pulled onto a spaceship with no explanation and shoved in a tank of goo is pretty high up my list of pros for constant vigilance. Nobody else is taking responsibility for all the people walkin’ around without a goddamn clue of how to defend themselves. Maybe we should, ‘cause if we got a snowball’s chance of getting off this ship in one piece... time to start payin’ attention.

Interested? Qualified? Talk to me.

[Yeah, he’s aware that there’s a security team already ‘in operation’ around the ship. He just hasn’t seen them do a damn thing yet. And since he knows none of their history, he’s not apologizing for assuming they aren’t capable. Sorry, guys. He is, however, open to introductions and definitely wants to be proved wrong. Maybe then he can start to shake this feeling he’s got of being watched.]

I think I've finally figured out how to properly use this. It's alien to me, as is the rest of the ship. There is so little familiar here, and I can hardly describe the feeling of separation. It's like a dream.

Falling from my liquid bed was uncannily like being reborn. This only makes sense, given that the last I was aware of, I was dead. I panicked at first, but what I assume to be a week of exploration has afforded me a lot of time to be safely alone with my thoughts. Moreover, it has given me time to try to puzzle out devices like this one. I was never a scientist, but I have the feeling that even if I were, these would be far beyond my understanding. For a man who had thought 1839 to be the height of innovation, it's startling, to say the least.

I am writing in hopes of the other residents being able to offer some measure of help. My name is Daniel. I have gathered some information about why we're here, but with how little I understand, it feels like it will never be enough.

[feel free to assume you've seen a scraggly-looking guy wandering around the halls asking stupid questions and then booking it. :')]