[Leave it to Shepard to not actually check the network out fully before diving in and using it. The feed clicks on, and there's a moment before Shepard's voice comes through, her Commander Mode switched to full-on]

This is Commander Shepard of the SSV Normandy, Alliance Navy. I'm requesting any information available on the current status and location of my ship and crew. Barring that, the name and affiliation of this vessel.

[There's a pause as Shepard lets out a breath, giving the comm device a dubious look, as she pulls it away from her face]

I swear if I'm missing another two years of my life I'm going to - [and you don't get to know what Shepard would do as she cuts the feed and the audio clicks off.]

[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.]

[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.

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?

Guessing everyone's feeling a little closer to compos mentis now. Great, that's gonna make this a whole lot easier.

My name is Nathan Petrelli. I'm Senator for New York, elected representative of the people, and recently made Head of Homeland Security by the President himself. It's my job to do what's in the best interests of the people, and in this case I figure that's gonna be easier said than done.

I don't want any of you to worry. Once I get up to speed on the details of what's going on here, I intend to get to the bottom of how we got here, why we were brought here, and how to go about getting back. And I mean how and why, not the bullshit they've been feeding you about jumping and wormholes and the ship needing a crew. There's a malicious intent here I'm gonna address, and then I'm getting everyone back where we belong.

I realise we're not all Americans here, and maybe you think I have no jurisdiction, but I earned the right to intervene the moment I woke up with a tube shoved down my throat, just like everyone else. I want to speak to people who know the most about this place, or be directed toward them. Captain Kirk: you're on my list for starters, but I'd rather speak to the real Captain, rather than some washed up wannabe.

( Not an IC cut - trigger warnings for mentions of depression and suicide, and Nathan is not delicate )

[ There is a very flat note of boredom in Oxford's voice, and the video is focused on his profile as he idly stares at the wall of his room, slouched in his seat. ]

Seasons of mists and mellow fruitfulness, close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; conspiring with him how to load and bless with fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run... [ He trails off, looking momentarily rueful. ] It's no mystery as to why Keats and his many wonderful contemporaries chose to roam the countryside and marvel at the ever changing landscape. [ HUFFS. ] They weren't trapped on a spaceship where every corridor makes you wonder if you're merely wandering about in circles. There are only so many trips one can make to the oxygen garden before you start recognising individual leaves, for God's sake.

[ He finally sits up, with a quick, smooth movement, the subdued quality of his voice becoming suddenly more efficient and business-like as he looks squarely at the camera feed. ]

In the interests of quelling a certain sense of raging boredom that occasionally grips me - and others, I'm sure - I would like to propose a poker night. I imagine there must be a fair number of us who fancy themselves good with cards. [ He raises his brow curiously. ] Do I have any takers?

...So, who else here has worked with ships of this size? I'm curious if I'm the only one or not.

And - ah, I guess horror stories should probably be exchanged too. You know the type - failure of critical systems, lone engineering jury-rigs with dangerous parts. Zero-G navigation, if you have experience... seems like the kind of thing that might be worth sharing.

I've got my own stories, but they're a little... hard to tell.

[Viewers are greeted by a charmingly dashing white smile, easy and confident without being cocky, shining blue eyes and the face of a 1950's matinee idol. He's dressed in his customary outfit of braces and greatcoat, his very presence commanding your attention]

Hey there, kids. So it's come to my attention that there are some of us a little more used to this whole traveling in space thing, am I right? I mean. There are some of us on here who have literally never even heard of the idea, which. Is charming, really it is. But that means that this whole Tranquility thing has gotta be more than a bit of a shock. So here's where I'm going to be taking a poll.

How many of you are familiar with travel in space? How many of you have heard of it, but never dreamed you'd do it yourself? How many of haven't even dreamed of traveling the stars?

I figure if we cover that much at least, we'll be able to determine how many of us need a bit more explanation than the fact that we seem to be on some sort of large passenger vessel traveling through some undetermined part of some unknown galaxy. Vague, I know, but I haven't exactly found a viewing screen yet, have you? That's where the rest of us come in. Maybe, with your help, we can figure this all out.

[He goes to reach forward to turn off the video feed, before a thought comes to him and he stops, a more mysterious look in his eyes as he does] I don't suppose that any of you are familiar with time travel...?

[ The video opens on the scowling visage of a young man with disheveled, very vibrant orange hair. It’s slightly off-center, and at an upward slanted angle that suggests the comm device is being held in his lap. For a moment, all he does is stare at it. And scowl. The longer he does it, the deeper and more frustrated the scowl becomes before he mutters under his breath. ]

This’s so stupid.

[ He clears his throat and speaks again, this time at a normal volume. His voice is flat, with just the faintest hint of irritation. ]

My name is Kurosaki Ichigo. I arrived three- no, four days ago.

[ He pauses briefly, as though he isn’t sure how to continue. Or maybe he knows and he’s simply trying to choose his words with care. Whatever the case, he works it out quickly enough that his hesitation isn’t particularly noticeable. ]

There’s no way to get in touch with the people back home, right? Or… [ A sigh. ] Does anyone know why we’re here? Or what we’re supposed to do?

[The feed clicks on and Roxanne just looks absolutely resplendent in that jumpsuit, doesn’t she?
 
Right. Well. She’s presentable, at least.]
 
Good afternoon, fellow shipmates of the Tranquility.
 
[She smiles, but it’s tight around the edges.]
 
I’d like to properly introduce myself - My name is Roxanne Ritchi, and and I come from Metro City – though I don’t expect many of you will really know where that is, considering the circumstances we all find ourselves in. It’s a jewel of city, situated on the coast of Lake Michigan and while it has its…strains, like any other major metropolis, I can promise it’s quite the beautiful place, with its golden spires and gleaming white buildings. [She doesn’t launch into much purple prose. It’s hard not to brag on Metro City a little, though. ]
 
Ah. Anyway – the purpose of this transmission is to settle a few…rumors that might be going around. There was, unfortunately, a misunderstanding last night that I’m sure quite a few of you are aware of, but rest assured -- that is all cleared up at this point.
 
[Thank you for kind of humiliating her, Megamind.]
 
I was warned upon my initial arrival that there are many, many people here from different places and times and in the excitement of meeting one such person that happened to be familiar, I…forgot that.
 
To the person that I…miscommunicated with – [Everyone knows who you are, sweetie] – I owe you an apology. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to meet up with you and maybe have a calmer, more…adult talk.
 
[For a moment, it sounds like she’s finished. Then --]
 
Tali’zorah? I’d like to meet up with you, whenever you’re available.

Has anyone encountered anyone 'new' from their worlds on this jump that seem affected, ah-- with anything like-- temporary insanity? I know the grav-couched cause disorientation but this this level of delusion [not pronounced dah-lyuu-zion no matter if Megamind says it that way] is extreme! I don't know quite what to do.

She's not-- dangerous, I don't think, but she seems to have some very peculiar ideas about -- things. It's very entrenched! I mean, it's quite the rich hallucination. Seriously.

[It's been long enough since the grav couches evacuated that she's confident that she can put something like this out. She clears her throat after the camera clicks on before she starts to speak. She's nowhere near as groggy as everyone else, she guesses.]

[The video's unencrypted -- for the most part.]

Hopefully everyone's still with us. If anyone's noticed someone missing, I think we ought to let Ward and Resnik know.

That -- wasn't any less pleasant the second time.

[Not that she's surprised.]

[Standard Normandy-basic encryption (used on the Normandy itself), 85%:] Kasumi? Garrus? This seemed like the easiest way to get to the two of you without having to make encryptions with ping-flags. Let me know if you're both all right. [/Normandy]

[Any of the Normandy-encrypted stuff can be seen by other crew members from the ship - ie, Mordin and Joker - so feel free to jump in here!]

[ The voice is obviously female but beyond that it sounds a little strange, flat, as though someone has run it through a computer program to strip out all other identifying characteristics. The computer program, if that's what it is, can't disguise her sing-song, amused tone, though. ]

That's too bad. And here I was looking forward to the chance to stretch my legs. Too much time spent staring at the same walls and faces is bound to make anyone a little cabin-fever-ish.

Not that I don't enjoy all of your company, but I've never been one for staying in the same place too long.

[ And then, abruptly, the audio feed runs into an encryption wall. ]

( encrypted (level: variable); )

( encrypted to tali and garrus (level: 100%); )

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?

[ The broadcast comes from the interior of the medbay - many will probably recognize the grav couches off to the side. There are three men here, among the machines vaguely resembling metallic stretchers, but one specifically speaking to the camera. ]

Good afternoon, Tranquility. I'm Doctor Watson, and these are my colleagues, Doctor Ratchet and Caleb. We're your medical staff for the time being.

As it happens, it's been about a week since we all woke up. I trust everyone is working to settle as best they can, given the circumstances. Us three have been working to familiarize ourselves with the equipment and inventory the stock so that we can help you with any medical needs.

What we need now, however, is to speak with anyone that may have special conditions to uphold so that we can best be prepared to treat you, should the need arise in the future. Primarily, we're looking for any non-humans aboard the ship to present themselves at this time. Secondarily, anyone that has the need for medication should come consult us to see if we have anything that can help. People with known medical conditions should at least report them to us - I'm speaking of allergies, heart conditions, diabetes, joint troubles, and etcetera.

We're open for check-ups for the rest of today and possibly tomorrow. Schedules beyond that will be subject to change, as we're still arranging to have someone in the medbay at all times. This is quite possibly your only chance to meet us all at once.

Those of you who are recently human: I have spoken with a few of you regarding the conditions you'll need to uphold, but I highly recommend every one of you to check in so that we can see that you're healthy. Don't make us come and find you.

That's all.

(( OOC: In this thread, you have the potential to be speaking to one or three med staff at once. ICly, all three of them are here and will be monitoring the feed/patients coming in, though you may only be actually threading with John. Ratchet!mun is here, but Caleb!mun is on hiatus and may respond little to none. There's no posting order. Open to action, text, and video! ))

[Jim's in engineering, you can see the room behind where he sits. he looks a little tired, but his eyes are as bright as ever as he looks into the camera.]

Hey all, Kirk here.

We've been up here for about a week, ship's time, which probably seems like forever and no time at all for most of you. Trust me when I say that probably won't change much. I know a lot of you are still panicking, but we need to keep in mind that the only way we're going to get out of this situation safely is by staying calm.

Anyone still adjusting to their human body should remember to stop by medical. A week is more than long enough to mess yourself up, even if you know what you're doing. [his tone says, trust me, i've been there.]

If the internal clock is anything to go by, we'll arrive at Tansei Station in about 12 days. I know we don't have much with us, but if you're thinking you need something, you might want to consider what you can barter when we get there. There's no telling when our next chance at shore leave will happen again.

[here, Jim glances away, keying something in, and anyone who expressed interest to Resnik and Ward in their broadcast concerning data collection will get a ping before he goes on.]

> open broadcast > attn $data collection team/$resnik/$ward

I've managed to get the chronometer back online, but she won't give me anything outside of a 24 hour count. [so no stardates or the equivalent thereof.] I've been trying to pull up a map of this place for the passed 78 hours but it's like the damn thing never existed in the first place. I'm starting to wonder if a blueprint was even put in the databanks.



( to: $spock | text | encryption 100% )



( to: $scienceAteam (spock, capa, connor, holmes, watson, chase) | text | encryption 100% )

[Good morning evening indeterminate-time-of-day, Tranquility! It's yet another vaguely informational post, because you all can't possibly be sick of those yet!

… oh. You are?

Welp, that's kind of unfortunate. Sorry. (On the bright side, the guy making this post is visibly shirtless. You're welcome.)]

So I'm just guessing everyone's noticed by now that all the lifts are color-coded—and that would be fine, if they had actual labels. Which they don't. If anyone's got any ideas which buttons lead to which departments, we might as well start keeping a list and stick it up on the network, just so we don't all get hopelessly lost.

I've got a few of them written down, but honestly, there's a lot of buttons, and I'm not that bored yet.

( list after the jump )

[ooc: the ooc list of labels is here, if anyone's curious. :3]

[It's taken Raven a while to get the courage to talk on the Network, not exactly liking the fact that she didn't know who exactly she was talking to, but whatever. Charles could worry enough for the both of them, and she has questions, regarding her abilities. Plus, she has the distinct advantage of looking like whoever she wants, so. She picks a face she's used before (same coloring as her usual shift, just a brandy new face. and shorter hair. she's always wanted to try shorter hair), and flicks on her device.]

So, this might seem like an odd question, but I was wondering...

Has anyone else been feeling a bit off since they arrived here? Not from whatever they dosed us with to sleep, not that sicky feeling we woke up with, but just. After the fact? Like a noticeable difference in your physical or mental capabilities? [She clears her throat, squints a bit.]

Like me, for instance, I-- [Well, someone didn't think of a pretend mutation to use as an example.] --at home, I could run very fast, extraordinarily fast. Like a cheetah fast. [She makes a face, because this all sounds very stupid right now, she's sure of it.] Meanwhile, here? My whole body seems to feel a little off. I tried to run, but my body is sort of weakened, in a way. I use all my strength to hit the speed I used to be able to, but I can't come close to it.

Has anyone else been experiencing this kind of ..limitation? Or should I be freaking out that whatever they used to knock me out might be having some long-term effects? [Like how right now a sheen of sweat is forming along her brow from the effort it's taking to hold this physical form. Ah.]

[ What up, Tranquility. There's a man on your video feed looking pretty damn tired, despite appearing (and acting) otherwise cheerful. Ohhhhh boy, it's been awhile since he's done his Temple TV stuff, but this is. Basically the same. Right? Okay. Just do it. ]

Hi. Connor Temple here. So, starting off, aside from the whole spaceship thing, I wanted to see how everyone's doing. Being lonely's pretty horrible, and if anyone's a bit under the weather, I know how you feel. Might do a film night, actually. There's gotta be some quality material in the media libraries—I haven't checked or anything, but some popcorn and a top 10 list shouldn't be too hard to find. So. Might be nice.

Moving on—I'm pretty good with technology, so if any of you need anything of yours fixed, I'd be happy to help. Otherwise, I'll be in the engineering department, on... well, some level for now, not sure which. So just give me a call if you need me, number zero-zero-one, zero-two-six, and I'll come running.

Okay, now everyone can ignore this next part. It won't apply to you. Unless your name is Abby Maitland. Then it will definitely apply.

[ Connor pauses for a moment, then speaks. His voice slides up a tiny bit in pitch when he does, hopeful and searching; he's looked for Abby, of course, scoured the medbay and passenger rooms within an inch of their lives—but he knows Abby's a smart woman, and she'd have made herself known if she was actually here. One more thing left for him to do, then. And that's ask the entire network. ]

So—if your name is Abby—you there?

[ There's wait of maybe thirty seconds. His eyes dart to the side, as if listening. No answer.

Not like he expected one. 8( ]

Worth a shot. Back to your regularly scheduled network program.

[ W e l p. Weak salute. That wasn't too bad, but he looks pretty crestfallen. Ughhhh, feelings. TIME TO BURY THEM IN WORK. Which brings him to... ]

( > to: $ward / $resnik | TEMPLE encryption | 100%  )