[when the feed clicks on it's to an off-angled shot of grass, somewhere in the middle of the gardens. he has the camera in one hand, held out at a distance to try and film himself for his upcoming message. the other is busy holding his crosse, the scoop low to the ground as he finally addresses the feed.]

So, back home there's this sport we play at my school called Lacrosse. I don't know how many of you here have ever heard of it before, but it's kinda big where I'm from.

Basically, you take this stick- [he holds it up to show the camera more clearly, before dropping it back to the ball on the ground. the feed shakes (sorry for those prone to motion-sickness) as he picks said ball up with the stick, tossing it in the air a couple of times before he continues.] -and use it to try and get this ball in to your opponent's goal. Sounds easy, right?

[there's a smirk on his face when he looks back up at the (still off-angled) feed. look, it's easier to focus on dumb things like this than the fact that your dead dad is wandering the ship somewhere, your future alpha's best friend has gone missing, and there's a chance a psychopathic hunter could well be prowling the halls.]

It can be pretty violent sometimes- Full contact sport, by the way. And we don't have much padding sitting around here. But we've got everything else we'd need, so me and- A friend, were talking about setting up a game after the jump. The problem is, there's only three [two. but he's not counting out stiles on a public post] of us here from our world, and we kind of need a whole lot more than that if we want to get a good match going.

So, anybody interested?

[there's a sudden blur across the feed as he drops his arm back down. his expression shifts to a serious one for the briefest of moments, before the feed seemingly cuts.]


locked to allison

[it's a quick flip of the feed, and there's another message sent, locked down to just the two of them.]

I know things are kind of weird between us, but I kind of need to ask a favor?

[something he'd be a whole lot more uncomfortable doing if it was for his own sake.]

Could you go talk to Scott? I don't know what he's told you, but Stiles is- [nope, still not saying it.] You know him better than me, and I think he could use that right now.

[the feed opens on a shot of (a slightly sweaty looking) isaac stood in one of the corridors of the ship. he isn't quite in the unexplored areas yet, but he's close. after spending the past month seeking out a certain familiar face from home (and failing so far), he's debating whether it's time to head further afield yet or not. it's the temperature changes that're the issue here, rather than the potential threats those corridors hold. what if it hits either extreme and he's stuck without supplies to combat it. what if the pack stuffed with sweaters isn't enough to keep him from freezing to death in the next cold patch]

So, engineering is too hot for anybody to head in, and some of the rooms here have ended up pretty cold. [UNDERSTATEMENT. though thanks again, hayley]

Are there any other places that've gotten too- [his sentence cuts off there suddenly, his attention shifting further down the hallway. fixing on something off-camera. taking a shaky breath, he glances back at his device briefly, debating whether or not he should be calling for derek now. but by the time his gaze if back down the corridor again, his reasons for the pause are over. whatever it was is gone.

there's another few moments of silence as he makes a move of his own, doubling back a little further in to the explored areas. a strategic retreat, for now]

...uh. Right. So, like I was asking, what's the likelihood of someone getting stuck somewhere that...I don't know. Burns them up or something?

[he may not have found anywhere like that yet, but that doesn't mean the possibility isn't there. but with that question out the way, isaac takes a moment to change the settings of the feed. to lock the rest of this from those from his world (and hayley/ric/jenna). it's a call he should have made weeks ago. months, even. but that hadn't been an option before. not with derek there helping him. now though-

when he speaks again, his voice is far quieter. he knows the others aren't going to take this well. that even though the people here from beacon hills may have never met the man, they undoubtedly know of him. the problem with going to a high school is that rumors spread far quicker than you'd expect.]

...dad, please. I know you're here.

[a pause, and a final-]

I'm sorry.

[because obviously he's staying hidden for a reason. considering just how their last conversation went, just how it ended up. it's with good reason. he just needs the man to understand that this time won't be a repeat. it can't. for all that went wrong, they're still family.

and with that, the connection is finally cut.]

Annie -

[That’s George. That’s George, stinking drunk, gargling his friend’s name.]

Mitchell and I were, were talking, and we agreed that you really...spend too much time with -- with werewolf cultists. Cultists in general, really. It’s -- it’s quite bad. And you really ought to...stop. Now, please don’t...Just hear us, hear us out --

Tell her why.

[That’s Mitchell, equally slurred--a little quieter, because he’s not as near to the device as George is, as he’s mostly slumped against George’s shoulder.]

Tell her why, so she understands--she can’t join any cults, and she can’t just be making tea for cultists, it’s-- Christ, it’s hot, why is it so hot--

Heater’s broken, I expect.

[George gives a little burp. Class act, this one.]

But -- yeah, right. It’s...There are lots of reasons you can’t join cults, Annie. First. First, you’re only joining up because you’re in a...transitional point in your, in your life. And there’s nothing -- we still -- it’s really not...good, doing that just because you want...Erm--

[Yeah, he’s trying to remember what he gleaned about cults from having read Helter Skelter like three times in college. He’s not doing a great job.]

No, it’s...They’re just bad for you, is it. Werewolf cults. They’re never good.

Like any cults are good. They’re cults. If they were good, they’d-- not be cults, they’d be-- clubs. Girl Guides. [And like they didn’t just interrupt themselves, Mitchell returns to his previous concluding thought--] It’s no good tellin’ me the heater’s broken, this is-- this is space. Meant t’ be more technologically advanced, no landlords or breaking heaters. Just smiley faces and werewolf cults.

[George isn’t so drunk he can’t engage in a bit of sarcasm.] Well, that’s the explanation, Mitchell. It’s that or we’ve flown into a sun.

That’s not-- aah, shut up, would you. Cults. Talk about cults. They’re bad for you, brainwashing, all of it-- all of what you said, before--

Right. [Right.] Annie, we’re just...We’re worried about you, because the cultists, well, they’re, they’re bad on the face of it. And the others - there are others - the...You know the ones, Sherlock Holmes and the other one, they’ve - [His voice drops.] Annie, they’re not who they say they are. I’m about certain of it. [And a bit louder.] So this is an...an intervention, proper, like they do it on Intervention.

Not tellin’ you what t’ do. Just-- like on Intervention, yeah, but with less shouting and crying. Please let’s not do any crying, or-- pol… [Poltergeisting, but he loses momentum on the word about 25% of the way through.]

Pol-- [Oh, good, George has caught on and he’s here to help, and he is quite cognizant of the possibility of people hacking into this very private message, so he’s got a quick resolution to the word.] Pol...o matches. In the...the garden. Which is, which is how we-- we-- usually...work out...issues. [There. You’re welcome, Mitchell.]

Polo matches. [Even pissed, Mitchell can sound less-than-impressed with that. Wow, so cool. Polo matches.] Give me another beer, would you, I’m not going t’ discuss polo matches without more to drink.

All right-- [And the crack and hiss of a bottle of beer being opened, and he passes it to Mitchell. But yeah. Yeah. If anyone hacks this private message to Annie, their butts are covered.] Anyway. Annie. It’s...we’re...we’re doing this out of, of care. And worry. And...all that. Just...we are begging you, stop -- with the cults. No more cults. New house rule. No cults, no cultists. For anyone. I will not, not -- not be involved, and Mitchell won’t, and we can get Nina to sign off, too, I’m sure -- no more cults. Or we’ll, we’ll…

[Right, there are always consequences on Intervention if they don’t agree to cut out their bad behavior-- ]

No more cults, or we confiscate space Titanic. [This is serious. Serious consequences and serious threats.]

Right. [Good one.] And no more of the, the...hands-on-head thing. No more of that. So...Yeah. That’s - those are - that’s -- this is the, the trade.

[And that’s it. That’s the intervention.]





[Blue is George, red is Mitchell.]

[The video clicks on to show Cora looking really annoyed about the fact it's video. She'd prefer to go text, but if there's the off chance seeing her face will speed this process up, she's going to take it. It's been several hours since the memories started again, and she's already nursing a migraine. If there was one thing she could say she completely hated, these days, it was feeling ill.]

I'm looking for a guy called Sirius. Padfoot.

[Her tone conveys exactly what she thinks of both these names.]

If that isn't enough I've got a head full of waving sticks around and flying on brooms. And motorcycles. Hogwarts. Gryffindor. Regulus and Slytherin.

[That last one might be straying too close to the things she doesn't think she should broadcast openly, and she frowns, looking even more annoyed - even if it's actually at herself.]

Just respond so I can get rid of this damn headache already.

Contact.

[ will sounds like he's giving a lecture when he comes on the screen. he's looking directly into the camera — it's easier to make eye contact with a device. ]

That's the key to all this. If you're receiving foreign sensation, you need to track down the person it originated with and make skin-to-skin contact. It'll stop the side-effects, and eventually — hopefully — break the connection. Doesn't have to be more personal than a handshake.

[ a pause, and he glances down, off-camera, visibly discomfited by the fact that the hand not holding his device is in the grip of another. ]

An... extended handshake. Whatever timer this thing is working on, we think letting go resets it.

[ the screen’s upended as sherlock hijacks the device, settling on his face (at an admittedly slightly awkward angle) a moment later. ]

But in the meantime— I’m sure you’ve all noticed that the physical links are current, unlike the memories, and arguably offer us a great deal more control. Passive sensations are the exception, but if I were to hypothetically hit my hand — as our resident neurologist has demonstrated — then Mr. Graham would feel it. [ and by hypothetically he means he's tested it, several times. ]

In the case of mutual sensations, like, say, holding one’s hand, this creates a unique feedback loop; the sensation of their hand in yours, and yours in theirs, et cetera. [ speaking of hand-holding, holding will’s hand is getting in the way of his usual gesturing; the screen's unsteady as a result. ] While I'm reluctant to test the theory with present company — no offense — I imagine this could apply to other neutral or positive sensations. If one were to engage in sexual intimacy with their link partner, for instance, then the moment of—

[ in another blur of abrupt motion, will takes his device back — and also his hand. no offense. ]

Better reset the clock to zero, Mr. Holmes.

[Have another odd-hour network post brought to you by rampant insomnia. This one's in the science labs, and thankfully there doesn't appear to be anyone else around to witness what Zeke's been doing with the equipment. He only signed up a week ago, and if nanites can be revoked, he's very possibly on his way to losing them. Not that the prospect seems to be bothering him, looking just as unaffected and confident as usual - even if there might be more of a slouch and sluggishness to him than can be written off as 'bad boy teenager'.]

Looks like the good doctors aren't gonna come back on the air to admit it, but you should all know by now sedatives aren't cutting whatever bullshit's messing with our heads. And I don't know about the rest of you people, but I'm getting sick of feeling like some Dawn of the Dead extra.

[Which will be a really good excuse for why he strayed into the land of bad decisions, when he looks back on this. In the moment, though, he just holds up two little clear plastic pots with a small amount of white powder in them.]

Skat. My own personal recipe, adapted from limited resources, so let's call it version one-point-five. [His hand tips, almost like he's offering the tubes to whoever might be on the other side of the comms.] Guaranteed to crank you up to eleven, burn the fog off, let you do some thinking again. Selling for the low low price of whatever the hell you've got, man.

[He really doesn't sound like he actually cares, because it's not like there's much to do business with here. But he does pause, glance to the side.]

While stocks last.

[Seth has gotten about two hours of sleep in as many days, and he's getting super bored of laying face-down in bed trying to pass out. Also maybe slightly delirious from sleep deprivation but those are just details.

So instead he has settled for dragging everyone who looks at the Network down with him. He's sitting up when he starts the video, his hair is sticking out in all sorts of crazy directions and the fact that he's shooting from the shoulders up makes it obvious that he's bare-chested. Look, it's not his fault Werewolves are naturally allergic to shirts, okay?]

Does this spaceship ever land on planets? If it lands on a planet and there's nobody there, do we get to name it? I'd like to know where to formally submit my suggestions, because I'm thinking Sethtopia.

[For someone who is dead tired, he sure is disgustingly chipper. In fact, he practically bounces in place when he remembers to ask:]

Hey, are there any aliens here?

[Eponine's holding the video upside down. Not that she's aware of that. Actually, she's only just managed to get the thing on and working without a barrage of messages about jumps and vampires and some sort of Smiley. Coupled with men who claim to be dead, no matter how nice they might be, and a woman who hands out silk shifts as if they were dresses - and food - Eponine's just a little bit overwhelmed.]

I cannot be dreaming. It has gone on too long - it is too lovely to be a dream. And it feels too real to be in my mind. But... but only, how can it be true? How can any of this be true? Such things where we can see one another when we are not face to face? And... and the man speaking of a vampire and blood - how can it be? Is it magic? Is magic real?

[ hello again tranquility. three guesses who's back and looking incredibly worse for wear. even in the worst of days with the lack of proper resources during her first time around, she didn't look like this. it's as if someone had slowly been draining life out of her ( and resistance ) — well, that had kind of been the point, but let's not linger on that too much. just try not to mention how dull her hair looks. ]

I knew it was possible to come back. I mean, I saw it happen but— I guess I never thought it would. It wasn't exactly what you'd call top priority.

[ but where one might expect anger or bitterness at thought of being back, she almost sounds a little bit... relieved. if you squint. ]

At least I remember everything. [ she hopes. ] Or maybe we can play a game of twenty questions and work out if there's any gaping holes.

— one last thing. [ the comm's placed down so she can jerk up the frayed bits of a torn sleeve. there's a few bruises here and these ( some old, some from a recent incident in the gardens ), but the tattooed numbers are what she wants attention directed towards. ] This changed from last time. Anyone got a clue how or maybe an answer for why would they even bother?

[ jenna's hair is still wet from the customary post-jump four showers, all way too much of it piled in a knot on top of her head. it's almost a little odd to try and collect her thoughts enough for a post that used to be customary, and her smile flickers for a split second before she shakes her head and it returns, more determined. ]

Welcome, new freshman. [ she can't help huffing out a laugh at her own lame joke. ] Sorry, couldn't resist. More seriously, if we didn't skip another number sorry about the space kidnapping wave twenty one, but welcome to the Tranquility anyway. I'm sure there will be a lot of technical questions I can't answer at all, but the daily life thing is-- god help me, my normal by now so if any of you want to know about where the pool is, feel free to ask.

For anyone who wants to join in, there are dinners down on floor one. They're kind of a everybody pitches in deal, so it's work for food but trust me, after a little while here the work part isn't as bad because it has company attached. No screaming, no weapons, don't even think about starting a fight and no I don't care about the age-old household rivalry and honor right now about covers the basic rules.

[ she looks down, a little hesitant for the first moment. ]

Which brings me to part two: what to do if you don't can't survive on just traditional food. I know last month one of the other members of medical brought this up, but I wanted to add something-- I'm most experienced in dealing with the vampire side of things, but I understand coming forward isn't exactly ingrained for a lot of people. If you're not comfortable just yet and you need-- an advocate in medical, I guess, feel free to contact me.

[ a beat, and then she shakes her head and continues a little more briskly: ]

That's it, sorry again about the space kidnapping for the new kids.

[well hello there, tranquility. meet isaac. again. while he might not be the biggest fan of putting himself out there when he doesn't need to, he knows it's only going to be a matter of time until he's recognized here by people who'd met him before. so it stands to reason that he gets this over and done with now. on his own terms.]

I was told that I've been here before, which is- [a huff of amusement. too bad the humor is missing] Well, it's kinda strange to think about. [UNDERSTATEMENT] But then again, everything about this place is strange anyway, so I guess that's already pretty normal for some of you.

[okay, yes. there is actually a point to all this]

I guess...I'm just wondering how many of you here knew me. Before. And how well, I suppose. I can't promise I'll be the same guy you knew, but-

Yeah. Hi.

[and yes, he actually waves once there. awkwardly. he's trying okay]

[ click! video starts recording, and here's kasukabe carefully setting the camera down on a table, making sure it's angled up. once he sees it's recording properly, he waves a hand into the camera. ]

Hello.

[ and then he reaches down, picks something up, and sets it down on the table so the camera can catch it:



yes, that is one of the rats from the gen lab jury-rigged to a huge, ghetto-ed together battery strapped to its back. despite its evident frankenstein-ification it doesn't seem uncomfortable; it snuffles quietly at the camera, wiggling its nose. the light embedded in its tail glows steadily. ]

This guy doesn't have a name yet. But if you see him around, don't be alarmed! He's very docile and I'm testing out how well he can act as a scout or retriever. He won't bite or attack people.

[ pause. ]

I guess he might be a little slow to react, so if you accidentally step on him or something, let me know. He should be able to take a little wear and tear, but just in case.

Oh, and if you have any name recommendations I'll gladly take them.

[ The feed starts with an orange tabby yawning into it until Carolyn shoos him away, brushing some of the cat hair off her lap as she adjust the screen. She's in her room today, the tomcat who helped start the video settling against her side. Judging by the orange tail sticking out from her other side, there's another cat in with her. ]

Tranquility. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Carolyn Fry. I do what I can to try to teach what I can about living in space and the flight crew, and I'll get to that, but I'm hoping some of you might be able to give some advice of your own first.

[ She pauses, looking distinctly uncomfortable. ]

How do you tell if a cat is pregnant? And how do you stop them from... trying to reproduce? Doctor Tam, maybe?

[ Pets are so out of her league it isn't even funny. Shaking her head, she takes a breath and then continues. ]

Anyway. The flight crew is always looking for more members. If you don't have any experience working with spacecraft, we'll teach you. As of right now, a great deal of what we do is maintenance. Anyone who's interested can talk to me or one of the other members about it.

In addition, I know a lot of you are new to space or to more modern technology in general. I have a series of videos that may help. They include the ship's official evacuation procedures, how to stay healthy and safe, and some of what we know about this universe in general. There will be a live review of all of these, but for anyone who can't make it or would like to review on their own time, the videos can be found in the link I'm attaching.

[ That is, here. ]

In addition to this jump's review, I'd also like to know what you'd like to learn about. It doesn't necessarily have to be about space specifically. If you speak up, I'll see what I can do.

[ For the entirety of the invasion of Iraq, Brad has been wishing for just one mission, one legit recon mission that makes use of his skills and talents. He didn't get one then — but the days since his arrival, he's run through the entire range of his skills. He's done basic reconnaissance, he's stayed out of everyone's way and watched, he's appropriated food, weapons and ammunitions beyond what he'd found in the locker.

Person would have a fucking field day with this, but Brad's conclusions are still tentative. Time to reach out to the local populace: ]

Brad Colbert, Sgt. of the US Marine Corps. My social security number is none of your fucking business, I don't care what the Geneva Conventions say. Any devil dogs aboard?

[ And after a moment's consideration, he adds: ] So. Space?

[ The video comes on and Nolan is putting on a tie over the pink polo he was given in his locker. He's not a fan of the uniform he was given. He has an annoyed half-smile on his face. ]

So let me get this straight. I get abducted, put in what is essentially goo, and then I'm expected to wear a uniform and march around the ship like a happy, obedient person.

[ He shifts a little as he gets the tie neatly in place. ]

I don't do dress codes. I may or may not even be wearing pants.

[ The camera is focused on his upper body for just that reason. ]

At least the rooms are easy to navigate, although the rest of the ship leaves much to be desired. I wonder how many individuals get lost to it. You can skip the 'you can't leave' thing. I've seen movies, and this is all very science-fiction.

( Locked to Emily Thorne | 100% Encryption )

Em. I know you're here. Time to talk.

[The video clicks on and there is a--thing. She looks sort of kind of mostly human, except she's got donkey ears, corkscrew Homestuck-troll horns, slit-pupil cat eyes and a mouthful of sharp, neon teeth. Yeah. Once the video is on and she's sure it's broadcasting, she waves at the camera.]

Hullooooo! Camille here, resident newbie! I'M BACK BITCHES! Is what I'd say if the grand old multiverse could have been arsed to send me to an alternate world that’s actually, yanno, familiar and all! I’m certainly back in space, on what, a spaceship this time? Actually traveling somewhere, it is? And no horrendously bitchy AI this time around, well, not that I’ve seen as yet! Kudos to the multiverse! Oh, and kudos to you good folk, having a good and proper welcome post for us newbies! Right nice of you chaps! Never did get around to that in the last place I was at.

But anyway, let me tell you right now, space chumps! There had best be a place for me to open my café--again--or I’m eating the entire ship! Oh suuuure, they say it’s too big for that, but that’s just because they have never met a hungry shapeshifter before, hu hu!

Oh, yes, let’s just get that out of the way right now: I’m a shapeshifter! A shapeshifter who is also a baker! It’s alright to swoon, I really am that amazing! Best deal with it, sweeties~

[Allison had shown him a few tricks with cellphones back home, so Tom had a basic idea on how this communicator might work, but he's far from proficient.

He leans in close and his voice is raised while he speaks slowly]

Hello. I am Tom McNair. I am new an--

[The communicator falls from his hands and for a moment there's a dizzying sight of legs and then feet as it lands on the floor]

Oi! Sorry! Sorry!

[He picks it back up and looks a bit worried that maybe he hurt the thing, or those watching. This time he's speaking more like normal Tom, but he's still slightly nervous]

I wanted to talk to people. I don't have a lot to say but I figured if we all have to be together then we should try and be friends. So, if you wanna talk and be friends we can do that. Or if you don't wanna talk, but still be friends we can do that too.

Okay. Bye.