So, how are we now that we're all demon free? I think it's nice that I don't have to carry salt around the hangar, personally, but you know, it might just stay a habit. Pilots-- whether they be steering planes, space craft, or sea-faring ships-- are a superstitious bunch. Dangerous jobs long away from civilization does that to a lot of people.

Not that I'm going to admit to carrying anything lucky, or having little rituals for my ships -- but hey. Nobody wants to know that I like, lick the handles or rub a rock on everything or whatever.

I don't. Lick handles. Just so nobody's confused on that.

Anyway-- I'm doing the obvious thing post jump with all these new fresh faces: how many of you people are proper pilots? Not that you fly by maths types aren't welcome -- you are, especially on this massive ship -- but the shuttles need hands and we need more pilots. So far there's me, Hotspur, and Kara Thrace, and while they're pretty good and I'm the best, we always need more hands down here in the hangars dealing with the shuttles and the smaller ships down here.

And if you are a fly by maths? Uh, yeah. We could probably use you... if Ward and Resnik will ever let us, you know, help us steer the big girl herself. Wouldn't put any credits on that bet though, if you catch my drift.

So? Anybody?

[Adrian faces the camera in his comm device straight on, a pleasant half-smile on his face. He's dressed in a finely made (if somewhat boldly purple) suit over a black turtleneck, and his hair is perfectly styled. All in all, he looks very much like someone who's used to being in front of a camera, and not at all bothered by his unfamiliar surroundings.]

I wish to extend my greetings to my fellow shipmates. My name is Adrian Veidt, and I've just recently arrived on the Tranquility. While I understand that the social and economic system is somewhat different here than what I'm used to, I would like to hope that I can contribute in some small way. I have a background in the hard sciences as well as in marketing and business, and I have some skills I could lend to whatever security enforcement may be in place as well. If any of you have information on how I might best apply my time and abilities in a manner that would benefit us all, I would be very appreciative of your assistance.

[The video clicks on to reveal a rather nervous looking young man, standing awkwardly and holding the camera at arm's length from himself. He coughs, straightens his glasses, adjusts his posture, and yet the suit he's wearing - very well-cut, truly - still manages to look completely ill-fitting on him, and once his attention is elsewhere, his shoulders begin to take on a slump again.]

I apologise greatly for interrupting the session, but I'm afraid I didn't accept any invitation to this game. That is-- what I mean is-- assuming I was sent one. [He looks suddenly quite alarmed at the prospect that he wasn't invited, speaking the next far too quickly.] If I stumbled in then I can only apologise further and hope to remove myself before I cause any more inconvenience.

[A beat, flustered, realising he'd had a slight panic there, trying to compose himself again.]

Only, well. [An attempt at a small smile. It looks uncomfortable on his face.] I apologise but I can't seem to find the exit codes. I'd be very thankful-- grateful, I mean, if someone could point me in the right direction.

[There's a very long pause, wherein he continues looking at the camera, as if he expects something to happen. Eventually he seems to suddenly realise it's not turning off, and gives another rather nervous cough.]

Yes, that's-- that's all. Thank you.

[And he presses the off button this time.]

[She'd held off on putting this video out until she'd gotten the chance to monitor the network a little, figure out who is still here and who's been sent home. When the video feed comes on, Tali is sitting in her quarters with the video feed pointed at her, propped up on a table. She's running through files on her omni-tool and she doesn't -- sound too pleased, at least at first.]

Of course this place wouldn't restore the files on my device pertinent to this place.

[She glances at the screen.]

I'm glad to see we still have some familiar faces, if only because it means that there might be people who remember me.

Fill a quarian in on what's happened in the last few months.

I would appreciate a copy of the most recent map. I can resume my position in Engineering, or help out where things are needed -- but I need that status update first.

[Some of the network posts have been -- worrisome.]

[There's a bit of an uncomfortable silence, and then:] Uh. Hey.

[What do you even. Do with this thing. He's not going to spill his guts over the network, of course, but...]

Seems like we're supposed to make some kind of introduction. So, I'm Sam. You probably know my brother Dean; he's been here a while.

[There's another pause, and he manages to put together the tiniest of smiles, and it's there, although a tad grim-looking.] I'm still figuring out how things work around here, so feel free to through out some advice. Thanks in advance.

[The device crackles on, and a young blond with a scar running down one side of his forehead comes into view. He might look like someone already here--one Alex Summers. But this? Isn't the one already existing.

This one? Looks more than a bit annoyed, but he’s attempting to control it. The muscles in his jaw flex as he presses his lips into a thin line. Once or twice he nearly talks, but stops himself, as if he’s rethinking what he was about to say.

Alex knows the consequences of flying off the handle. It’s happened before; it’s gotten others hurt.

He’ll keep this short, and to the point. Because that’s what he does.]

Look, I don’t know if Genero is running this show or not; I don’t care. I’m tired of the bullshit, and I just want answers.

[He holds up a black mask.]

And this? I’m not wearing this again.

[He tosses it down, then leans forward slightly. There are more troubling things to deal with, than a damn mask. Like after a quick survey of the room, he didn't see Sean, Teddy--any of the others. Maybe he missed them, but he has a sneaking suspicion he didn't.]

I want to know where the others are, and I want them awake.

We’ve been dreaming long enough.

[And as he reaches out for the device, he mutters under his breath, softly]

This is bullshit.

[The feed ends.]

[The feed turns on and you get a slightly awkward smiling face. Those who recognize Peeta will see a completely different guy than the one that freaked out after the jump and didn't even seem able to stand up.]

I'm... sure you're getting a lot of these messages lately and I don't mean to bother you with yet another one but it's become pretty obvious we have to stick together in a place like this, right?

So, hi. [He gives a little wave to the camera. Peeta has always been good at talking to crowds.]

I'm Peeta. If anybody that knows me- from my world, I mean- sees this, please tell me you’re here. And safe.

I'm totally overwhelmed by all this but I'm trying to understand, so if any of you need any kind of help with anything, just ask. You don't even have to give me anything on return; I'm not even sure what would be considered useful.

[A beat, as if he was considering something.]

Actually, does somebody know if there’s some kind of kitchen around I could use? Or maybe some paintings? Because if we’re going to stay in here for a while it’s better to find some distractions.