[ In a string of familiar faces, two more appear on the video to join in. Devon Resnik, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, crew jumpsuit stained with some mixture of grease and blood, looks tired as she speaks. ] He makes an impression, doesn’t he? By now, what he’s offering might have started to sound pretty good, but you can’t let yourselves be blinded by desperation.

[ With her warning out of the way, Ward steps in, expression flat and hard. ] You can't let him have the ship. You know what you're capable of now. You'll be putting that power in his hands.

[ Side-by-side, in an indistinct hallway of the ship, broadcasting from what seems to be a sturdy, built-in terminal, Ward and Resnik continue to snowball one another’s comments, picking up from the end of one another’s sentences as fluidly as if they were their own. ]

And all that control you think you’ve gained over the ship will be for nothing. Do you think it was an accident that it wound up back in Miraxian space?

It wants to be here. You've been fighting. This isn't where you stop.

[ The emphatic insistence in his voice edges on hard desperation. This isn't a day they'd ever wanted to see. ]

We have no intentions of letting van Rijn get his hands on this ship or any of its tech. You don’t want that either, so let’s figure out a plan and stop him.

[ There’s less darkness in the video this time, revealing some grease and blood stains on Resnik and Ward’s faces, and more of the hallway behind them. ]

So you finally get it? We’re all connected.

[ She seems somewhat relieved, but there’s a tired flatness to her voice as she carries on. ]

That membrane Charles was referring to is a link between all of us: it’s been there since you boarded this ship. [ A glance at Ward accompanies the mention of ‘us.’ ] I know you blame us for not explaining. [ She sounds fairly resigned to that, as if she doesn’t expect to change their minds, but she does want to explain now that she can. ] We couldn’t. But it’s trying to cut you off because you’re gaining control over it. It’s because of you that we can explain now—hold onto that. You have the power to change things, just like it’s had the power to look into you.

[ Ward's expression is grim lines edged with weariness, a lingering caution that doesn't leave his eyes. There's a thin trail of dried blood drawing a line down the side of his neck. ]

This isn't what it wanted, and this won't be the last time it tries to stop you. [ A warning. More warning than Resnik had wanted, but he doesn't look to her as he continues. Resnik, on the other hand, sends a tight, sidelong glance his way. ] You know what it can do.

So you know why we can’t let a man like van Rijn get his hands on it.

[ Rough around the edges in an oil-stained jumpsuit with rolled up sleeves, Devon Resnik broadcasts from a darkened corridor—she sounds grim and looks even more frustrated, like this was the "I told you so" she didn't want coming. One hand reaches up to scratch the spot between her eyebrows. ]

We expanded your access because we thought you had the common sense to keep yourselves alive, not so you could cast off one another's warnings and dig yourselves an early grave. Everyone on this ship is aware of our smiling friend: what makes you want to chat up an anomalous transmission on the network?

[ Her hand drops, and she fixes the screen with a serious look. The frustration drains into her usual: flat, no bullshit. Just the facts. ]

Don't fool yourselves into believing that Van Rijn's people want to help you.

[ From behind her, a much more clean-cut figure with dark hair and broad shoulders approaches. As Resnik takes a half-step to the side of the frame to make room for him, Ward explains further, though his voice is no less flat. ] They want the Tranquility. They're going to try anything to get it, including making promises they can't keep. If you receive any messages from them, don't engage or antagonize. You have no idea what these people are capable of.

[ Resnik turns to glance at Ward over her shoulder, something wary in her eyes: it's met with an equally dour look in his. The look holds for a moment before she turns back to the terminal. ] Seems like we've lost them for now, but they're persistent. Report all communications with individuals identifying themselves as agents of Van Rijn immediately.

[ With those orders stated, she cuts the feed. ]

[ OOC NOTE ▒ Direct your comments to either Resnik or Ward by specifying their name in the subject line. Comments without a name in the subject line will be treated as a question for both. ]

[ At exactly midnight—(not that there is a midnight, in space)—there's a ship-wide sonorous whirr, as if a gigantic switch has been flipped. All power has simultaneously flooded back on, lights flickering to life, from red to white. Passengers will find themselves feeling progressively heavier as the gravity increases. It's already a little warmer.

Almost immediately after the change, Resnik's voice chimes in over the PA system. She sounds exhausted, not to mention frustrated; it's not something you might expect to hear from a bearer of otherwise very good news, but then again, she hasn't slept in a few days. In the background, you can just make out a familiar mechanical humming noise—with a slight echo, as if she's up several stories. ]

Power's been restored. It wasn't us. We still don't know what caused the problem, but we'll [ I'll ] keep looking. Temperatures should normalize within the hour.

Crew, especially engineers: good work. I'll be making department rounds in about twenty minutes.

[ There's a pause, in which Resnik debates mentioning anything at all—but it's better to err on the side of caution, isn't it. There's always something. ]

I've been informed of the abnormalities in the passenger quarters.

Use your common sense.

[ In other words: don't be morons.

Resnik outtie. ]

[ First, the ever-present hum of the ship ceases completely. Lights shut off. There is nothing but pure (dead) silence; you could hear a pin drop. Then, after a long moment, the lights flicker dimly back — red, this time — and the hum stutters up again, but with the added unmistakably deafening sound of a siren going off. Passengers who are sleeping are going to get a very rude awakening.

Resnik's voice not only pops up as a post on the network, but is being pumped through the ship over the bridge's ship-wide PA system. She sounds calm, but there's an authoritative, sour note to her tone that says she's not entirely pleased with the situation. The klaxon stops abruptly. ]

USC Tranquility has entered emergency standby mode. The reactor has ceased generating power, and we are running solely on backup generators. Certain areas will be inaccessible to those without clearance. The gardens will continue to filter air and water, but ship temperatures will drop, and lights will remain dim until the reactor has been repaired. Artificial gravity is holding stable at 85%. Pressure is 100%. Passengers should gather in groups — make every effort to stay healthy and warm.

The source of the issue is unknown at this time. We have enough power to last us a year in space, but I'm sure it won't come to that. Excessive changes in atmosphere or the physical condition of the ship will be reported over the public address system. We'll keep you updated as soon as more information becomes available.

[ And, in text pings to every communicator: ]

! ALL ENGINEERING STAFF REPORT TO THE ENGINEERING DEPARTMENT.
! ALL AGRICULTURE STAFF REPORT TO THE O2 GARDENS.
! ALL SEC AND MED STAFF ARE TO ENSURE PASSENGER SAFETY AT ALL TIMES.
! DO NOT ENGAGE IN EXCESSIVE OR STRENUOUS PHYSICAL ACTIVITY.
! CONSERVE OXYGEN. RATION FOOD. BE AWARE OF YOUR SURROUNDINGS. REMAIN CALM.

[ when she sees Moran with his rifle, strutting down the hallway like he's all that and a bag of sliced bread with potato chips, Wichita knows that he is up to Absolutely No Good. she can just tell. so naturally, she follows, maybe hoping to discover some blackmail material, or something she could make fun of him for later on when he least expects it. you know, the usual. but after a while ( where the hell are they going? ) she gets bored, and turns on her communicator. she switches the video feed to show ( kind of ) what she's looking at, which is Moran making his way through the hallways, her stalking casually following him a few yards behind.

when she talks, it's in a dramatic stage whisper. ]

Oi viewers! You've just tuned in for another cracking good episode of Wild Safari Adventures With Sebastian Moran. This week, we follow the wild Maroonie into uncharted territories! [ nah let's not try for an accent here. she laughs, as quietly as she can, then starts again. ] No, but seriously. I know this is creepy as shit, but this guy's been creepy as shit too, so it evens out.

[ Moran has his rifle balanced rather jauntily on his shoulder, but his ears are tuned into Wichita's entire commentary and his mood is slowly souring. Thanks, Wichita. He sounds nothing like that. He gives an exasperated sigh and eyes her over his shoulder. Gurl, you in trouble now. ]

I've heard sneakier footsteps from an elephant. An especially large one. With a limp. Have nothing better to do with your time, then?

( --hup! Discovered. )



[ooc: the cut is ooc, just to save your flist. UM. Moran is ORANGE, Wichita is BLUE. replies will come from both once Hannah wakes up again and Moran is done, um, running. have made plans for someone to come pick her up, but she'll be talking ( kinda! ) to anybody that answers. i'll include random notes in the tags as we go. idek.

BUT YEAH. YAY GUN RANGE! underneath all this ridiculousness, the ship's actual gun range has been discovered! Wichita will give directions once she's got medical attention. :D ]

[ Feed: on. The familiar sight of Ward and Resnik on the bridge begins broadcasting on the network, lights from the nearby consoles tinging their faces blue in the dull light. In contrast from their last post, they both look steady, alert, and well-rested.

Resnik is closest to the camera, her arms folded. Ward, by contrast, is behind and to the left of her, half-hidden in the shadows. She begins: ]

We'll keep this short. Within the next 24 hours, we'll be arriving at Strela outpost. The five shuttles that have been repaired have been pre-programmed to dock safely at the station, so those of you who'd like to come on shore leave, now's your chance.

[ Ward walks up behind her, seemingly to check a console to the feed's right. ] We'll be there a few days. Resnik and I will restock the ship's stores, and you can stretch your legs. [ His eyes flick to the camera. ]

Meet us at the shuttle bay tomorrow at 1200 hours. We'll proceed from there.

OOC NOTE ▒ Direct your comments to either Ward or Resnik by placing their name in the subject line, along with the type of return transmission (video, audio, or text). Comments without a specific name in the subject line will be treated as a question directed to the both of them.

[HELLO, TRANQUILITY.

Topher looks... well, the phrase "like hell" would be apt. He just arrived in medbay roughly ten minutes ago and after making sure his supply of the cure was properly handed out to the staff to resupply, he has retreated to some dark corner to scream at the network. He hasn't showered or bothered to get much of the horrible combination of blood, vomit, and various other terrible substances off of him, so he... Looks quite a lot like this. This is not a happy Topher. Happy Tophers go shower immediately and fuck the fact that there's probably forty people down there getting their showers on.

It takes him a minute to get past teeth-baring, heavy-breathing, nerd-rage, and when he does, it's very clear he had to put the communicator up on top of something so everyone can see his wild, frustrated gesturing.]

I think- I really think we need to sit down and have a little lunchtime poll, Tranquility. I don't... I don't even know if it's lunchtime, because my sense of time is a little shot to complete hell, but for this particular argument's sake, let's pretend it's lunchtime.

Now here's your poll question- and remember, there are no stupid questions, so don't just immediately write this off as me just babbling like a crazy person, 'cause that's not what this is at all.

Okay. You're building a big spaceship for God only knows what purpose. What do you put in it? Kitchens? Holodecks? A really fancy bridge that has that one button and a couple levers that seem to do everything? Those are reasonable answers. I commend you for having those answers. Good for you. You're a sane person. Gold stars for the sane people on the ship.

But if you answered black holes and terrifying hellbeasts, then you have brought me to my next question as well as proved any and all points I might have about who the real insane people are.

So Captain, my freakin' psycho Captain and his little engineer too. What the hell is wrong with this ship? 'Cause a bunch of us just nearly died to fix something that went wrong with your systems and then nearly got eaten by something that got loose in your labs- labs we didn't know even know existed until now, because no one tells us anything. I think we deserve a lot more than a pat on the head and a bunch of vague answers.

But maybe that's just me. I mean, it's not like me and a bunch of other people didn't just risk our lives to save our friends or anything. It's not like they deserve to know what they nearly died of.

[ Hotspur's never been brilliant at encryptions and, to be fair to the man, he's having to encyrpt and transmit the message whilst moving. Moving with a purpose, too; behind the stammered words of the transmission there's the sound of booted feet against metal as he strides his way along the corridors in the direction of the Tranquility's bridge. ]

AUDIO ( "MSG-RECIPIENT: WARD, RESNIK; MSG-ENCRYP: USER MAX;" )
Sir, ma'am - I've found something. [ And he doesn't sound particularly pleased about it, either. Behind his breathless words there's a world of worry and confusion; minor crises of faith aside, Hotspur isn't usually all that easily ruffled. ] I think - I think it's really important. Can we talk?

[ A pause as Hotspur's grip briefly tightens on what he carries in his hands: a blackbox device, salvaged from one of the shuttles. Despite his words he knows it isn't a matter of 'think'; he's convinced it's important. ]

Please?

[ tranquility, red smiley, everyone who even remotely being a creeper and stalking, hello, haven't you missed tony? no? well that's fair he needs to keep his nose out of everyone's business anyway. but yeah, no, that's not ever going to happen. sorry guys. the red smiley putting him on the list has actually accomplished something awesome, because while tony likes using text, some of you are really stupid about using it or you just like another setting better. guess whose voice you get to hear today? tony's. send your regards to red smiley at 1005 creeper avenue, if you insist on thanking them. 

it's weird, you know, being at the top of the list and with such awesome company, but tony has been notorious way too many times in his life to really be too bothered by it. yes, the element of try not to die is bothersome, but he figures that he's three for three in the try not to die race, and he'd like to think he's good enough to be four for four. it's okay everyone, you can be jealous, after all not everyone can be him. it's a terrible privilege. ] 

Shockingly, though not to some of you, the elite few of you who have really heard it, I do have a voice. Some of you probably thought I was mute and sorry to disappoint and/or make you lose a bet if you thought that. I'd say that I'd pay you back but my money is at home and other than, like what, less than ten of you, we don't share a home world. Can't say I'm sorry about that bit though, since some of you are actually the worst company. But you probably already knew that. I'm digressing from my original point here, let me just do something.

[ and after he says that there is a text packet going to everyone with a easily read version with only the numbers of the list entitled, click me twice for i am an important list. ]

That's for those of you who haven't seen it. And those of who have been pinging me since Caffrey was nice and namedropped me as someone to go to so you could read it. It was in morse code originally, it was disgusting to decipher because morse code is stupid. In any case, yes, some of us are on here, and yes, I'm on it. In fact, I'm at the top of the list. Isn't that red smile just charming?

Rhetorical question, by the way. So don't answer it. Not even you Bacon Guy. 

Because I have a sneaking suspicion that some of you are just that paranoid, no, this is not some stupid list of people who we need to do something to prevent the red smiley from doing fuck knows what to us. Because, I'll let you in on a little newsflash, this list is filled with some people who are kind of important to the ship. Including me, because I don't know how many of you have been trying to fix up shuttles, but I have. So. Let's calm down for, oh I don't know five minutes or days or I don't know, until the next jump maybe? I'd be good with that. Think everyone else would to. Crazy idiots notwithstanding.

And if one person sends a single message of "I told you so." this is not my fault and I'll have you know it didn't talk to me this time. That confession sucked, but if you guys want to read, it, it is sitting there, unencrypted. Just saying.

( 100% stark listmate encryption to listmates (including wasnik) minus megamind + JARVIS, natasha romanoff, and bruce banner )

( 100% stark encryption to banner, romanoff and JARVIS )

Tranquility, this is Jim Kirk.

Anyone injured or still suffering side effects from the fear gas should check in with medical. Scans are showing the gas is out of the ship's circulation now, but we can never be too careful. For anyone wondering, we do have a suspect in custody, but he's currently recovering from a high dosage of the toxin.

[he pauses, a clear indication that he's changing topics.]

We all knew we were being watched. Despite this recent information, nothing's really changed. Nevertheless I encourage everyone to stay alert and try not to travel alone. This thing is trying to make us nervous, lets try not to give it what it wants.


( filtered message to: Enterprise Crew, Re-l, Chase, John, Sherlock, Natasha, Kasumi, Dean || eta 'Nick', Jack Harkness, Ianto, Magneto, Raven, Megamind, Roxanne, Tali, Hotspur, Isaac Clarke, Tony Stark, Aberdeen || flags to WARD and RESNIK  )

[ you know what this network needs, denizens of the uss creepy spaceship? 100% more hipsters.

LUCKILY, chapel is here to provide. everyone please mock his cardigan—or listen to what he's got to say. either/or, really. ]

Hey, fellow space kidnappees. If anybody else is interested, I've been organizing all the scientific books I can find—well, I say book; they're more like little holographic USB sticks—and putting them in one place. A lot of 'em are pretty kiddie, but there are some college-level textbooks scattered around, too. Nobody's going to be teaching themselves doctorate-level physics off this library or anything, but there's enough here to kinda get caught up on hundreds of years of scientific development.

There's really only one rule: if you take something, bring it back—and when you bring it back, put it back where you got it. I'm not actually a librarian, and I really don't wanna have to organize all this more than once.

And I think when you close the books, they default to opening on the page they were open to last rather than at the beginning, so be kind and rewind. That's more of a guideline than an actual rule, but you should really do it anyway.

Anyway, that's about it. It's in the 25th floor rec room, right off the green lift. Can't miss it.



[ ooc: also open to action tags/moving into a log if people want. :|b

UPDATE 5/11: tags will probably be a little slow and/or nonexistent until monday. sorry, guys. :c ]

[ Well hello, network. Here, have the dulcet tones of a woman who is both livid and mildly terrified at the idea of being taken away from her newly assigned starship and crew, as well as being stripped of her hard-earned Starfleet uniform and forced to wear a jumpsuit that might possibly be worse than the ones used for the Kobayashi Maru test. After her arrival, Uhura basically just showered, got dressed, and pretended not to be sick until she found her room and composed herself enough to record this message. It's the first time she's spoken since she got dumped onto the floor in a pile of goo. ]

This is Lt. Uhura of the USS Enterprise, and I would like to formally request a direct conversation with whomever is in charge of this operation. I would at the very least like to be given a reasonable explanation for this kidnapping, as well as the whereabouts and status of my fellow crew members, and-- and my uniform, I would like my uniform back now, please.

[ DAMMIT. ]

Thank you.

[ When the video feed flickers to life, it bobs for a moment, accompanied by the sound of hissing breath. As it rights itself, Petyr's face comes into view, his features unusually drawn and the expression upon his face unmistakably something close to grief, to panic (and if it is feigned, if it is another lie, then it is one of the greatest that he has told). There's dark red staining his hands, or at least what is visible of them through the comms device. His voice is hushed but urgent, its tone unsteady but still clear enough. ]

My daughter— Alayne Stone has been gravely injured. I fear to move her — I fear for her life. Please, should anyone possess the capability to help—

[ He glances away, now, out of the frame of the screen. Even through the feed, one can see the hollows of his cheeks cast a stronger shadow as he clenches his jaw, the stricken father played to the hilt. (He doesn't have the time to play coy or cautious.) ]

— please hurry.

[ ooc: after this. ]

[the video, as per usual, clicks on to one dapper James T. Kirk. this time he's clothed differently, in a green shirt complete with Starfleet insignia.]

Welcome aboard the Tranquility everyone. To everyone new, we've got a few things that might be relevant to your interests available for transfer.

[and at the bottom of everybody's communicator who might tune into this post blink to life two links:]

• MAP.jpg
  
• FAQ.txt

If you've got any other questions feel free to ask around. Name's Jim Kirk.

[then he sobers, takes a breath before he goes on. a bit of grimness makes it's way into his face; because this is a life or death situation and it makes it into his tone.]

I do have a favor to call on, though. I asked for volunteers about a month ago in regards to one of our passenger's dietary needs. Anyone still interested, please let me know.



( private to Cassie | encrypt 100% )



( private team filter: Spock, Re-l, Chase, Claudio, Watson (001 197), Holmes (001 198), Cassie, Natasha, Kasumi, Dean | encrypt 100% )



( private filter: Dean, Tommy, Tillman | encrypt 50% )



( private filter: WARD & RESNIK | hackable, unencrypted )

It's about time you two came out of the woodwork.

I don't know if you noticed, but you had a mutiny on your hands last month. Wanna share why you didn't step in?

Or better yet, what the hell is on this ship with us?

[ Two familiar faces flicker to life in video. This’ll be short and what passes for sweet; they don’t have time enough to do anything else. ]

We’ll be stopping at Tansei Station in about an hour.

[ A sigh. Now, the other part. ] Unfortunately, the ship’s too big to dock at that station safely—we’ll need to dock with a shuttle. There’s only one working at the moment, and we’re taking it.

We apologize. That’s just the way things are. [ They can't fit all of you on it, and they're not playing favorites. ]

In addition to fuel, we’ll be stocking our food stores with meat and dairy products, plus a few other things. We’re also taking requests for personal items. We’ll get what we can, but we can’t promise anything; just tell us what you want and we'll see if we can get it. [ Within reason. ]

Try not to break anything while we’re gone.

OOC NOTE ▒ Direct your comments to either Ward or Resnik by placing their name in the subject line, along with the type of return transmission (video, audio, or text). Comments without a specific name in the subject line will be treated as a question directed to the both of them.