[ The feed begins with a single tone, low, as if testing the audio capabilities of the devices. On the screen is an older man, white haired with bright blue eyes, standing in front of a deep blue banner emblazoned in gold with a circular symbol containing three five-pointed stars. Though his face now is solemn, there are laughter lines soft at corners of his eyes, the set of his mouth one clearly used to the curve of a smile. He only waits a moment before beginning to speak, voice level, carrying an assured authority, a confidence borne from experience. ]

Residents of the Tranquility, I greet you today after many, many years of waiting. My name is Hendrik van Rijn, Prime Minister of the Miraxian Triad, the people who built and launched the ship you've been trapped on. You may not have heard of me, but I have heard of you, and all the terrible events you've been forced to endure as a result of the unprecedented malfunction which took the Tranquility so far from her intended path. I offer you the deepest sympathies of my people, and myself. Mistakes have been made, and I give you every assurance that now, with your return to us, we will find the cause of this tragedy and set things right.

I know you may have heard promises before, and met with the unfortunate souls in our society who prefer to cheat and steal than offer a helping hand. I know you have no reason to trust me; if I'd been through as much as you have, I wouldn't trust me either. But we have someone else here to speak to you, and I hope hearing from her will help to show the truth of our intentions, and allow us to begin the forging of a strong partnership as we move into the future.

[ With a last look to the camera, he steps back, turning his attention to the side and holding out a hand to greet and guide the woman joining him to take center. The woman's face is one known to many aboard the ship. She's gracious as she steps into view, appearing to squeeze the man's hand before she lets go and takes her place.

Odessa Knutson.

Thank you, Prime Minister.

[ Her attention turns to the camera then, head tilting to one side as a wide smile spreads across her familiar features. She has a look of health to her. A better diet, some proper sunlight, and time will do that. ]

Hello, Tranquility. [ Spoken in the same way one might ask, did you miss me? ] It's been a long time. Too long. For all of us. [ That smile turns a little sad. They've been through some horrors, haven't they? Time and distance has allowed much of it to become a distant memory. ]

The time has come to stop running. When I left the ship, I didn't know what to expect. We received so many conflicting stories, didn't we? I expected all the worst ones to be true, but it was a risk I was willing to take. I'm sure many of you can understand why. Still, I was afraid that I would find monsters. That I would be thrown in a dark cell and never see the light of day again. Now, I don't say this often, but... [ Her hands spread out to her sides, palms up in a gesture that says just look at me. ] I was wrong. After my escape two years ago, Prime Minister van Rijn's people found me. They gave me food, clothing, shelter, a new life and a new purpose...

To find all of you, and help you to be rescued as I had been rescued. I know most of you aren't like me; I'm starting over here, and I'm happier than I've ever been, but many of you have lives you want to return to.
[ The delight she has in sharing this good news seems genuine enough, especially (or even) to those who know her well. She clasps her hands in front of her, a light in her eyes. ] I've seen what the Miraxians have been working on myself. There's hope, so much hope.

Pack your bags, my friends. We're coming to take you home.

[[ OOC: van Rijn exited stage left once off camera, and responses will come from Odessa Knutson only. ]]
07 January 2015 @ 05:27 pm
Boy, that was a close one! That gas formation was a clever trick.

Hello there.

I know I've already spoken to some of you—I had hoped to do this individually—but it appears we need to move things along more quickly than we'd realized. That ship of yours seems eager to shake us, and we simply can't let that happen.

My name is Lina Barnez. The rest of the team and I have been working on contacting the Tranquility for some time. Unfortunately, our tech isn't perfectly compatible with what you're running on. It hasn't been easy, but we're managing. I don't know how long we'll have.

We're here to help you, but in order to do that, we'll need you to help us. You've been through a lot on this ship: it's a miracle so many of you are still with us. We'd like to make sure you stay that way, but we can only do that if you're completely honest with us.

We know about the events on Strela, the Cyllene and Arima, as well as the Scylla. What happened to those poor people was not your fault, and you have my word that we have no plans to hold you responsible for those events.

But we need to work together to make sure it doesn't happen again. The more you tell us about what's been going on aboard the Tranquility, the more we can do.

[ NOTE: All conversations will be cut off before too long by the engines suddenly powering back up, and the jump alarm sounding to alert characters to proceed to medbay immediately. ]
30 October 2014 @ 07:06 am
[ A quiet, muffled crackle of static, and the sound of fabric shifting. There's an inhalation of breath, and then a voice, words hushed and dry, the air of speech long ongoing. ]

—een thinking. What if we [ . . . ] stuck? In between —olds. The ship was too large, or we sna— on something— I know, I know they say there's —ing on the other side, but there's no such thi— as nothing. N—e abhors a vacuum.

[ A pause, and silence. In the background some faint sounds are discernable: a steady thumping, distant but heavy, broken sporadically by a groaning of metal resisting force. When he speaks again, it's in reply, evident the transmission is missing one half of the conversation. ]

You're not —ust security. None of us are just anyth—. You think those —ists were just scientists? [ A beat, and a sudden laugh, short and ragged. ] Oh, what's —gher going to do —out it now? Put [ . . . ] in the brig? Well send him —own to get me, it's probably —er in ther—

[ A heavy crackle of static, and then silence, only breathing and the same sounds in the distance. Quietly, he starts speaking again, subdued. ]

My sis— was just a nurse. —ly joined up for me, because I told her this [ . . . ] the most important event in —one's lifetime. I told her and— [ A break, a harsh exhale. ] she's —ly dead, somewhere. No one's ever going to know what happened here.

[ Silence again, for a long moment. When he speaks again, there's alarm in his voice. ]

Are you st—l there?
29 October 2014 @ 10:22 pm
[ A man's voice, abrupt and sharply annoyed: ]

I know some of you t—k this is funny. Flight don't have —ing to do, let's mess with them. Unlike most of you, we weren't fully prepped on la—ch, and unlike —of you, our work dire— correlates to anyone's ability [ . . . ] off this sh— when we find —round.

[ The transmission dips into static, the voice still discernible as speaking without pause behind the noise, but the words obscured until it clears again. ]

—ototype shuttles. I'm assuming, like me, you'd pr— not to explode in mid-air. So th— one of you that decides to move all our —torches, I don't care w— you are, you're going to [ . . . ] how funny it is to— your balls welded to the hull.
28 October 2014 @ 02:10 pm
[ Over the comm, a woman's voice can be heard. ]

My sis▓r ░ells me they didn't b͎̬̭ͅr̗̻̣̖̫͕i͚̺̳̝̟n͙g̮̲͚̼̮ anyͭ̂̇̐̅͠ỏ̽̅n̸̓ͧ͛e on board who could put th▓▓▒░ mods in.

[ Crackled feedback, the sound of running water. In the background, a quieter voice says something garbled, as if the receiver is underwater. The only audible portion: 'prisoners.' ] I know. Don҉̣̲̦̖̝ͅ'̯̫͘ṯ̗͈͕̞̱̝͝ talk ab̅̔̂̿ôut that.

But she works with ▒░░ says we'll ▓░▓ above g̃ͣr̶͗ͬ̽ound.

[ The voice grows closer to the receiver, directly addressing the comm now. ]

Hey. Looks ▓▒▒░here's something cl̨͖̠͖͕o̶̰̟̞̺͍̬̘g̶͓̗̘̰̲̪̜̩g͏͝͏̗ing the H2O filters. It ▒░░ just be algae. Someone get e̵͉̘̮̔ͥ̂̀̌̊ͮ̂̀͢ń̀̌ͨ͋҉̷̟̯̪̯̠͍̞͚g̍̐̉͑͡҉̡̩̰i̱̩̯̫̍ͤ̽ͭineering do▒ here.
21 June 2014 @ 04:19 am

[ The transmission begins in the middle of a ringing, ear-splitting screech of torn metal, and for a few heartbeats there's nothing but the echo of it. As it fades, muffled sounds can be heard — clipped shrieks and boots scrabbling, interrupted by harsh seconds of static noise — and then all at once is a burst of breath so loud as to distort the sound. ]

—tting closer. I don't w—t to hurt anyone. You heard the —tain. They think there's— people aren't who they say they are. Th— won't listen, I've tried, they just look at me as th—

[ There's a burst of heavy static. When the sound clears enough to be discernible again, his voice is further hushed, a panicked, frantic whisper delivered too close to the microphone. ]

You have to —nd someone. There has to be someone left that [ . . . ] —damn minds. Pl—e, you have to come— help us. We're just —ers, we're not—

[ A few seconds of low static buzz. The transmission ceases. ]