[ The feeds starts with a cacophonic reverberation of flesh pounding repeatedly on metal as Hotspur slams his shoulder helplessly against a door. ]

We're jumping - this ship's about to jump and - and - I can't get out. I can't - there's... there's some kind of lock failure...

[ Nails on metal. Driven by desperation Hotspur somehow manages to rip the fascia of the door control panel off and noisily casts it to the floor. A few quiet seconds of rummaging amongst wires and ragged, harsh breathing from a man who knows he's about to die. ]

It - The lock. It's been broken. [ The audio feed lapses in to horrified silence as the realisation hits Hotspur hard. There's a dull rustle of fabric on metal as Hotspur slides miserably down the door to crumple on the ground. ] Not on purpose, surely... They wouldn't, that's... they wouldn't.

[ In the background, behind his words, the ship begins to creak. It's the noise of the metal skin and bones of the Tranquility itself - the brawny hide of a ship that's not going to stop its plotted jump just because one little life form isn't in its gravity couch. Everything begins to groan as the hulking mass prepares itself for the jump...

Hotspur isn't an idiot. He can see how this will end.

The copies of both of the transmissions he had made to his own personal datapad are uploaded on to the network with shaking fingers and a hasty explanation: ]

They said he went mad - Gallagher, the old captain. They said he killed the civilian command staff and it was all because of the jumps but--

[ A building noise, a crescendo of power. and there's just one last horrified, shaking groan as Hotspur breathes out a his final words: ]

'Don't believe everything they tell you.' Oh, Gods help m--

[ A roar of white noise, an angry rushing hiss, as the fabric of reality screams against the organic intruder in its realm as it warps around the Tranquility. If Hotspur screams then it's lost in the noise of the jump itself - a noise that ends abruptly as it started and blanks out into silence as the feed lapses into a long silence. ]

Castiel?

[ There's a pause. John's never met this man, but he's heard him on the network, and heard about him. They call the man an angel. The name, admittedly, suits. John isn't someone who was necessarily devout, nor was he entirely sure of what people told him of demons (he'd been lost in the ship for that fiasco)... But this wasn't about him. ]

Castiel. My name is John Watson - I'm one of the doctors in the medbay. Do you have a moment?

[locked to Crowley]

An amendment to the contract.

Taylor Kee, or Tyke, as she prefers. She isn't to be touched.

[Ignoring the fact that he doesn't actually know her that well. But Dean had wanted Castiel to watch over her, and he still hasn't quite learned how to say no to him.]

[Buffy didn't know Hotspur -- beyond what she could see of his transmissions -- but that doesn't stop her from caring, in part because she's her and in part because that's just...a truly horrific way to die. So she does what she's used to doing: she writes a poem. She sees that poetry could be a touchy subject, given the preponderance the smiley grants it, but its been around and offering comfort to people for thousands of years longer than the smiley has been taunting them with it. She won't let that thing take it from them.

She's torn between reading out the poem to mark the difference, that this comes from a person with a heart and a soul, but she doesn't want her patterns of pronunciation to guide the words.]

"Hotspur"

So gone, so lost, so driven out
So far from home, so close to doubt
Whereby, what for, how and why?

What he made here we won't let go
This knowledge that we have to know
Here to live or come to die.

What hope have we, for what we've lost?
What can we gain for what it's cost?
"Once he was," we can but cry.

[The feed starts and all you see is Superboy's bemused face. He's obviously having second thoughts about this already... but there's no going back.]

Uh, so. Something happened. I know it's been a while since that stuff with the gas happened, but I don't know how to make things better.

And I'm not good with words, either. So I tried to make holograms to explain what happened, but I'm not as good with the machinery in here yet to manage that... have some drawings instead.

( [OOC cut for image heavy] )
 

I totally broke his back. So... uh, how do you say 'sorry' to somebody when you've done something like this?

[The young man on the screen is very, very serious.]

My name is Miles Edgeworth. I am a prosecutor for the city of Los Angeles. I tell you this not only to inform you of my background but also to ensure that those who will suffer my wrath for this kidnapping are aware of precisely how fearsome it will be. Legally speaking.

First: I demand to speak with the so-called captain of this so-called ship.

Second: I demand to see a list of all rules and regulations aboard this ship.

Third: I demand to know precisely what attempts have been made to contact the outside authorities. Kindly provide me with an accounting of attempts made either by you or by others.

Fourth: I - [And here, at least, Miles has the good grace to pause, because maybe "demand" is just a bit too pushy.] Would like to know if anyone else here has a legal, criminal, or governmental background. I heard something about a volunteer security force - a preposterous notion, admittedly, but better than nothing - and I would like to hear from those on it, but I would also like to hear from any who have been abducted to this place who served in some official position at home.

[Despite recent events, Kabuto seems completely unphased by all of this, just keeping to his room which seems to be a bit of a makeshift lab from what he can piece together. He sighs a bit to himself, pushing his glasses up with his middle finger before addressing everyone at large.]

Seeing as things are going as... unfortunate, as we hadn't hoped, I believe it is time for me to say something to the mass at large. My name is Kabuto Yakushi and I am, I believe, the person who's been here the longest when it comes to the xenobiology and genetics group. Thus I would like to propose a theory.

Genetics is a curious creature, one that if used properly can be made to the benefit of everyone around. Everything from curing diseases, fixing genetic problems, making one better and stronger, to even growing replacement limbs or parts in case someone needs them. Thus I ask of those of you on this ship to allow myself to collect a simple piece of DNA in order to have on file in case these become necessary. I assure you that they will not be used towards ill-will as, despite the differences between medical codes, it goes against everything I have been taught.

Also, I may not be a proper member of medical, but I am also available if anyone needs medical attention. I was taught from childhood how to heal and handle medical problems and have only grown in my years, studying under some of the best my world has to offer. Our methods are not invasive, instead using chakra-[He pauses, allowing his hands to gain a blue aura] to heal and handle poisons as well. [He cuts the glow, smiling.] Therefore if you have a problem that you cannot have dealt with via surgery or would rather not be cut open, I offer you that alternative.

[ faith has a cigarette lighter in her hands, and she watches it for a moment. click: open, fire. click: closed, no fire.

click click click. ]

So, this is space. Final frontier, boring crap on NOVA, blah blah blah. I got the jump-- thing, whatever. Here's my issue. I got what they call 'anger management problems', and this kidnapping shit? It's jumping right up and down on my last freaking nerve right now.

[ click. click. click. she sets down the lighter, smiling at the communicator with a grin that looks more like a baring of her teeth than anything resembling pleasure. baby steps! ]

So let's make a deal. Somebody uses the simple words to explain what the hell I just walked into, and I don't have to bust any skulls. Sounds fair to me.

[ and she's out. MAKING FRIENDS AND INFLUENCING PEOPLE WITH FAITH LEHANE. ]

[ Oxford's voice is a lot quieter than it ever has been before, and a great deal heavier. His anger - and his sadness - is very quiet, audible in the hardness of some of his emphasised words. ]

Good god, isn't anyone else quite finished with this damned ship? There are circles of hell reserved for this- this absolutely unfathomable level of bullshit.

I sincerely hope that everyone recognises and acknowledges that the Tranquility has lost a great and incredibly good man today. [ Even quieter: ] Let us pray that we will not have to suffer such a loss again, and that at the very least we may learn something from it.

[ After a pause, a respectful moment of silence, he goes on. This is very much intended to be public, because he wants everyone to hear this, not just his intended audience. ]

Captain Ward, Commander Resnik. In the time that I have spent here, I have firmly believed that you had more right than any of us on board to command and control the goings on of this ship. It is your ship, we are accidental strangers. [ His voice is low and a little strained. ] Hotspur believed that too.

You owe us all explanations, even though I don't believe for a moment that you will give them. I will not believe for a moment that Hotspur's death was coincidental, what with him requesting to speak to you such a short time before it occurred. I was not the only one to see and take note of it - and I'm sure you know that he contacted myself and others just before the jump. He told us not to engage with you.

Even if you're going to play stupid now, I am feeling very incredibly inclined to take his advice, even if I don't yet understand or know why. You ought to stop relying so heavily on whatever it is you seem to think protects you both from the rest of us, whatever makes you think that you can keep us in the dark forever.

( ORDER ENCRYPTION; 95%. )

( ENCRYPTION; 100% )

( Follow the Adventures of Buckrocky and Torowinkle )

Hold on, think I found another button- Yeah, maybe this is it. I say we go ahead an’ try callin’. Best case scenario is they come bust us open a door while we’re tryin’ to sneak out. Worst, it don’t work, right? [And there the video switches on. Good job, Bucky, you think you’re on audio now and you thought it was off five minutes ago. The boys both look a little younger than they are. Bucky’s expression is about as cocky as they come now that he’s figured something out.] Allied Command? This is Bucky and Toro with the Invaders, pass along the message to Captain America and the Human Torch that they got a party to come crash if they can find it. Can’t say we won’t kill all the Nazis before they get here, though.

Hey, Buck, don’t forget to tell them to bring old Fish-Face along, too. [Toro chuckles a bit because mocking Sub-mariner is the best way to make yourself feel better, for sure.] He gets all moody if they leave him behind. ...Moodier. And he’s got our ride out.

Ah, criminey, fine, Subby too. Over an’ out. [He starts fumbling for a way to turn the thing off, scowling a little.] Man, I hate when he comes along on this kinda thing though, he always gives us that snooty look when we get stuck behind enemy lines like this. You know the one.

Yeah, but his flagship is a lot faster than anything the Navy could send for us. And I’ll put up with his fishy scowl if it means getting out of here faster. [He leans over, trying to get a better look at what Bucky’s doing.] Hey try pushing the red button on the side. That’s like "stop," right?

Maybe. Let’s see- [Click.]

{OOC: They are chatty and oblivious, so apologies.}

[Eridan has managed to tone down his usual "Look I Am Being Very Serious And You Need To Listen To Me" pompousness; instead of sounding like a whiny kid, he actually manages to sound kind of level headed and generally not too fucking crazy.]

Givven that wwe all knoww wwhat happened to, uh, Hotspur... [He'd seen the guy around, he's pretty sure he might've talked to him, but more importantly, that final transmission was more mentally scarring than he'd like to let on, so he tries to be a little casual and calm about that.] I think wwe might wwant to look into startin' some neww fuckin' regulations around here.

For those'a you wwho don't knoww, Hotspur wwas one'a the guys wwho came here in the first jump that actually started fuckin' bringin' us all in. An' wwhat happened to him - the screamin', an' the dyin' an' all that - is wwhat happens wwhen you aren't in your gravv couch wwhen the jump hits. You die. You die really fuckin' horribly.

I'm definitely sure wwe're gonna figure out wwho fucked him ovver an' wwe are gonna deal wwith them, [and there's a definite threat,] but until wwe do, wwe gotta consider some neww precautions an' suchlike.

For one, I propose that wwe start filin' ourselvves in for the jump a lot earlier. Say, you gotta be there about an hour before wwe're due, yeah? So that wway, if someone is... lost, or fuckin' stuck, or somethin', wwe'll havve time to go find them. Because... I don't wwanna hear that shit evver again.

[He heaves a sigh that doesn't sound that shaky, thank god.] I knoww like, half'a you are probably goin' "wwhat the fuck is Eridan tryin' to do, bein' all official an' shit," but I'm part'a security, okay? This is like, all I got to offer right noww. The firm, strongly fuckin' wworded suggestion that wwe try not to let ourselvves get caught somewwhere wwhere wwe can't... savve ourselvves. Or be savved.

That's all I got, I guess. Anyone else got any bright ideas?