Is there anyone still dealing with, uh - bonding issues - since the jump?

I feel like if I start thinking I'm out of the woods, it's gonna bite me in the ass - but it's been a few days since I had the pleasure.

[ grudging sarcasm drips in her voice. the whole connection bit seems to have been fairly constant over the past few weeks - emma had barely gotten a breather, herself - but still, she's hesitant to go the optimistic route when everything's so overwhelmingly sucked for her lately. not even lately - since the curse broke, really. right now, she hasn't entirely ruled out a full-stop hemorrhage and vulcan mindmeld (or your appropriate, un-fourthwally sci-fi equivalent) being some fourth ring of empathy hell. ]

Maybe next time, we can just try trust falls, instead.

[ honestly, she's been trying to dodge coming to the ship's network about this at all for fear that anyone who'd gotten memories from her like irene had might crawl out of the woodwork and recognize her. but at this point, she wants answers more than she wants to hide from her past mistakes, and her present vulnerability. ]

[ The view is of a casually seated man, the comm filming him from a skewed angle on his desk. He never takes much care about how he records these things on the network.

He'd tried to ignore it, and he knew speaking up might not lead to anything—for all he knew everyone on the ship was going to have him singled out as a crazy man after he made this post. But he wasn't one to stay quiet, not over something like this. Not after the last couple of months. ]

Okay, this might sound weird, but well, you know. Not like this is the most normal place, or anything. You know how we all went through some of the same stuff for the last couple of months? Insomnia, and all that? Well, now I'm getting flashes—not dreams, 'cause I'm awake, and they're kind of too real...almost like... Well, it's hard to explain, okay.

Anyway, I'm wondering if anyone else has noticed something like that. 

[ The scene: Space Babylon, a counter-top view with the recording lens pointing at an upward angle. The view of York's face is shadowed from the colored lights on the ceiling, which are starred in the camera's view because of their brightness and proximity.

Your host is a rather inebriated York, whom friends and acquaintances may have noticed has been missing in the week since the jump. The feed opens to him holding a drink, but he sets it down off to the side of the recording lens and leans back in his seat. ]

You ever feel like the ship has it in for you?

[ Until now York's made it an especial point to separate the ship from whatever entity is running it, but now in his drunken and emotional state, he doesn't seem inclined to make the differentiation. ]

Like, hell, at first I thought it wasn't so bad, not like everyone acted like it was. And even when I had something to worry about, the ship ended up fixing it for me—I was given something I'd lost when I showed up here. And since that thing happened to be my best friend, you know, I was pretty chill with it all. I mean, now he's in his own body, and that's kind of weird, but we've been dealing with it, okay? It's all good.

But ever since then; ever since then...

[ Here he reaches for his drink and takes a swallow, setting it back down with a careful clink, blinking at the lens and leaning in a bit. ]

...I don't know how in the hell they know about what our pasts are, but I know I don't appreciate this shit being rubbed in my face. The helmet, okay, the grenade, yeah, that I could handle, leaving D stuck in some kind of coma? That's the last straw with me.

[ York picks up his comms device and moves it to try to get a better angle on his face, but it's off to the side now and more off-kilter even than before. ]

Whoever's in charge of making these decisions, 'cause, yeah, I know you're listening in on this. You come out of hiding. I got a bone to pick with you.

[ As usual York's posture is casual as he appears on the video feed. This time he's set the comm unit farther away from him so that the viewer can see him leaning against his desk, walking a pen end to end between his fingers. ]

So hey, I know it's been a while since we talked about doing this, but Blake disappeared and I never followed up. So I figured I'd take a little informal poll, see who might still be interested. We were going to start a sports league, sort of an informal thing where anybody who feels like tossing a ball around can work off some energy, make new friends, that kind of thing.

[ The pen flipped out of his hand just then, but instead of chasing it he merely lounges back even farther, his hands on the edge of the desk. ]

Any contributions, any suggestions, I'm up for all of it. We'd talked about soccer and basketball originally. We don't have any regulation balls but hell, we've all gotten good at improvising around here, right?

Oh, we need nets and baskets too. Anybody who can help out by making that kind of stuff, I'd like to hear from you too.

So, alright!

[ someone take Wichita's comm away. now. now, now, now. she's sitting in the back room of the bar, not exactly trashed, but on her way. there's 90s music muffled in the background, as always, though she's not paying any attention to what's going on out there at this point. she's been back here, thinking.

how depressing. ]

I know this ship is mostly all doom and gloom, hey, I've had cold proof of that fact shoved down my throat time and time again. I get it. I know. This place sucks. ... Sorry, oh-two-oh's, but it's the truth.

But listen up. It's been way over a year since a lot of us showed up, and apparently our last jump lasted an additional year, so that means.. we've all missed a birthday. If not two! Or more, if more than one jump lasted that long. Which, to me, is a reason to celebrate. And don't give me any crap about not celebrating your birthday, because no, come on. You should party, you should feel pretty damn great about yourself. You've survived. You didn't let this place ruin you.

That's definitely worth celebrating.

[ and that's definitely something she's still working on convincing herself to be true, so. here's the motivation behind this whole transmission. oh boy. ]

And so, I'm declaring that today is, officially, our universal birthday. Everybody on the ship! It's your birthday today. So, go nuts. Forget about the fact that this place sucks for five minutes and have a drink or eat some space cake - if you can find anything like cake here anymore - do whatever you want. Relax. But mostly just try and do whatever you can to forget that this place is eventually going to k-

[ woop, crashbangbam. that's what it looks and sounds like when someone drops their comm in the middle of a sentence, oops. oh well. there's a muttered just do it! before she shuts off the comm. prepare yourselves crewmates, for the best game of pretend Wichita can muster considering.. everything. she'll try and help with the whole chilling out thing. she's not a con artist for nothing. ]

[the feed turns on and chuck is briefly out of frame for a moment as the view focuses on a collection of cup pies sitting on the kitchen counter in a variety of flavors before it turns back to her]

Been a while since I made these but they look good, right? [she just smiles, looking fairly chipper as she continues talking] They're cup pies. Single serving of pie with a honey baked crust.

I have been working with the bees on the upper floors of the oxygen gardens for the last several jumps but just yesterday I was able to harvest most of their honey so I thought I'd put it to some good use.

Though between both these cup pies and the honey, I have quite a lot here actually so if anyone is interested? Just let me know or you can meet me in the kitchens on the fifth floor.

[ Peter's not exactly thrilled to be appearing on film, like handing over his location to the FBI with bells on, and he's not out to try too hard to pretend that he is. But he's taken part in his fair share of interrogations (on both sides) and he can seat himself in front of a camera and look serious.... and entirely well-intentioned, hopefully. ]

I don't do bored. I've never actually done bored very well, but before all of you jump on me and say I should give it a week and there'll be something for me to do- [ he holds up a hand; talk to it. ] I'll save you the time. I believe you.

Absolute chaos and destruction - combined with space's every attempt at a science experiment - should definitely give people something to do. [ Peter talks almost entirely with his hands, gesturing unconsciously all about. ] Not sure i'd expect anything less, but hey, not judging anyone if they choose to keep out of the fray, either. But the rest of the time, in-between one horror movie plot and the next, i'm not capable of sitting around and acting like this is the next best thing to a vacation without the benefits of getting to relax. Even though I can find my fair share of things to do, they won't be accomplishing anything. And at the end of the day there's only so many card tricks I can practice.

[ yes, okay, he's getting on with it. ]

I know there's departments, and I know what most of them are for. [ ... he pauses for a second and then shakes his head. ] Okay, I probably don't know everything they do, and I want to change that. I want to know more. Not sure I know much about farming, i'll just fess up to that now, but what I really want to know, is which departments need the most help. What you're looking for, what I can do to make things easier. Holding down a job isn't exactly a specialty of mine either, but I still want to get involved as much as I just... [ tensing for a moment, he finally sighs. ] -I like a good challenge.

You want to know what I can do? Sure, fine. But i'm only showing you mine if you show me yours.

[ joe's not so much ill at ease on camera as he is just happier off, and the lack of desire to throw his metaphorical hat in to this particular ring bleeds through into his slumped posture. he's got his actual hat off and set to the side, because this calls for company manners which means your nicest flannel and no hat, as you do. ]

Name's Joe Davis, based outta Pernambuco. [ a beat. ] That's just about on the far edge of the farms on Pasiphae, right. [ since as it's been made abundantly clear, he's the only one who knows that sort of thing off-hand. ]

Nobody's wanted to tell me too much, but I get the sense something about this whole thing makes me look dangerous. And I understand that, and whatever questions you gotta ask I'm ready to answer them. [ in part because there's only one of him and a lot of everybody else and it's the smart call, but that can go unsaid. ] I guess I just wanted to say this is all new and confusing to me, too, and seeing as I'd rather not end up pistol whipped, if it's all the same to everybody-- [ yeah, dean, he saw that-- ] I figured maybe I'd make the first move, since it's seeming like maybe I've landed in a tight spot without meaning to here.

[ he looks down, rubbing at the back of his neck with a thumb, a little uncomfortable. ]

I'm not much for speeches, but it seemed like the thing to do-- think that's about it, anyway.

[ and with that, he's out. ]

Has anyone seen Beard-Me?

[




...
Pie Maker, that's not fair. You're not permitted for long pauses and pouty looks with those eyebrows. They just might crawl away and hide in a hole. ] I'm taking that uncomfortable silence as a 'no,' I don't think that ever means 'yes.'

[ Another pause, but he quickly catches with the stillness of it. He clears his throat. ] Say, knock knock...

[ Maybe a joke will help. ]

If you were a superhero, what would you want your power be? And would you tell anyone about it?

I used to read a lot of comic books.

[And by 'used to' he really means right before he came here.]

I guess I've just always liked superheroes. They have powers, gifts, things that make them special. But there's always pain too. They lose people that they love, or they have to hide their true identity. Their lives are never perfect.

Maybe I should've started by asking if you would WANT to be a superhero.

[The feed flickers to life, leaving a fairly weathered face yes he has a face staring into it, appearing rather unimpressed. It's the first time he's used the network for his own transmission, though he's viewed enough at this point to get the general idea - this is how people around here communicate for near any purpose. Now that he's getting at least a little more used to things, he figured he might as well give it a shot.

Plus, it leaves him with at least a chance of seeing if what he'd heard from a certain source is right, if there really are people here that he already knows - people from his "universe."]

Guess I've been here for about two weeks now, so I might as well make myself known, or something. [Considering he's been keeping to himself since he arrived, and since his encounter with Epsilon. He's not exactly the outgoing type, but he figures he at least might learn more about the place if he talks to some of the people who've been here for god only knows how long.]

I'm Agent-- [A pause, in which he purses his lips and releases a breath.] ...I'm Washington. If it really matters to anyone. As I said, I've been here about two weeks, so I guess that makes me one of the new guys. I've been looking around on my own since I got here, and at this point I'm fairly certain I've at least got the basics on the place. Even if the whole thing still seems entirely impossible. I've done space, but I've never been kidnapped to another universe and trapped on a spaceship with no memory of actually arriving. [He deadpans, then shakes his head and wonders again why he's doing this. As much as he doesn't want to admit it, even to himself, he...might be a little starved for some conversation. Though he's already certain he's going to regret this decision.]

Anyway. I'm here, that's about all I wanted to say.

[He scoffs at himself, realizing this was even more pointless than he'd originally expected it to be, and swiftly cuts the feed.]

[it's a question that had come from a time long before this jump. one born from his very arrival; exacerbated by those weeks spent alone in the ship. he needs answers, and he knows that he should be looking to the other jedi for them. but obi-wan isn't an option now. not while he's still dealing with the truths he's learned most recently. quinlan, a master, and still too unapproachable for him. the same again for lucien, a complete stranger. and then there's luke.

no, this is the way it has to go because there is no other option. it's one time where he needs to look beyond the will of the force. he needs to find advice.]

This ship is capable of bringing together those from different dimensions, as we are all aware. But so too is it capable of gathering those from different moments in time.

What do you do, then, if you hear tales of your own future? What if you learn that you will one day go against all that you believe?

[don't worry sw nerds, he isn't talking vader-level issues. more fathering a child-level rule breaking. a child that he isn't around to raise himself.]

Do you take what you have learned as a single, unchangeable future, or do you set all you have learned aside?

Is it even possible to ignore an accomplishment that you know shouldn't have taken place?


[and then, a second post. one unlinked to the first and filtered directly to a single person.]


[locked to luke skywalker]

[despite starting the message, there's a long pause at first. a moment to try and build himself up to it. the force had told him, han had confirmed it. but he still needed to hear it from the one person- the only person -who he knows he can trust completely about this. about their connection.]

I need to hear it from you. I need you to tell me who I am.

[he needs the truth]

[Because she's unsure of herself or just because she doesn't know what else to do, she's using this thing like one of those Real World confession booths at the moment. Good as anything, right?]

Somehow I don’t think I can ever let myself think any variation on “I thought I’d seen it all” ever again. I mean, zombies seem like “it all,” right? Decapitated heads seem like “it all.” Giant, canyon-wide… secret electrical forcefields or something seem like “it all.” And showing up out of nowhere in a giant tube is definitely “it all.” Or it should be.

Okay, so this is not the kind of stuff your parents or teachers prepare you for. But since there’s no other option, I’m – I don’t know. I’m resigned.

Dana Polk, Fearless Adventurer.

Dana Polk, Apparent Survivor of Highly Improbable Death.

Dana Polk, Just Trying To Keep On Surviving. If it’s worth it.

[And it's about now that she registers that someone else might be listening.]

I'm Dana, by the way.

[When the camera turns on, Marty's adjusting it before plopping down in a seat clumsily (grumbling 'fuckin' jelly legs' or something to that effect); he's got dust and oil on him, a little toil and trouble with the clean-up assistance he's been performing on the Tranquility (after pilfering a gun from the Scylla, of course). He's bone-tired and there's a bit of sweat on his brow, but in that weariness he finds temporary redirection from the shitty stuff. He's noticed, of course, people fighting plenty. People looking very tense and unhappy. The halls are even quieter, somehow. And he doesn't fuckin' like it, not one bit. Now, he's not particularly attached to this ship--duh, he's only been here a month and it's a horrible place on top of it--but like hell does he enjoy misery as company. That saying can just go shove it.

I mean, he's barely even smoking it up, lately. In fact, he's stone cold normal right now and empty-handed. They're just clasped in front of him as he leans into his knees.]

You know what I need? A break. A cigarette break, but with more words 'n shit. We've been working our asses off. Keep up the fantastic work, and all that jazz, but how about something else for a second? Juuust a second. I know we've all been stressed out, what with the pirates and the freaky-ass murdering specter captains and the--uh--ship clamped on us like a tumor. So just... Hey, I haven't--really indulged in the fact that we're all from every corner of time and space and universes and all that cool sci-fi stuff.

[He licks his lips as he considers what to say, hands motioning in front of him like he's trying to catch his own thoughts.]

You guys, we have all kinds of worlds on board! Tell me some cool shit about your world. Or about you. Whatever. Can I get some cool facts? Some jokes? Stories? Hell, it doesn't even have to be anything outside of good ol' planet Earth. Or even directed at me. No serious or traumatic stuff needed, just... stuff. Hell, if you're a connoisseur of movies or you have a thing for panda facts or you wanna tell a story about your crazy family reunions.

[He suddenly seems a little more excited, a little less tired, shifting in his seat.]

This entry is now Marty's Share Fair. I'm stuck on a funky space ship and all, so I might as well know more than the bleak stuff.

....

Just don't pull a TMI, okay? I'm sure everyone sees enough floppy nethers after each jump. We don't need to know anything about them other that the promise that you'll find a towel posthaste. Thank you in advance.

(ooc: threadjacking heavily encouraged! it'd be fun to have people find common interests or things to relate to, and I just wanted a kinda free-for-all for the S.S. Solemn Worrywarts)

[...there's a second of white noise, because-- well, this is weird. It's like online chatrooms, which Mitchell has never been keen on, to say the least. One on one communication hasn't been so bad--better, actually, considering he's been mostly holed up in his room, avoiding human/werewolf contact. But, right--necessity--]

If people are going t' go through those tubes and get onto that other ship, do their phones keep on working? These devices, I mean. Do they go that far? If they do, and if this can be heard over there, I'm making a request. Space pirates had to have cigarettes on them, yeah, and I'm in need of cigarettes. Sanctioned looting can include a bit of personal stuff, yeah-- and it's sort of a, a desperate need. Please and thanks in advance.

[Like very desperate. Like the more he talks about it, the more strained his voice goes. Vampires with nicotine addictions, it's a hard life. A pause, then, he might finish there--but instead he sucks in a breath. Right. Normal.]

Actually, there's a lot of questions on how things work around here, and not all of it is out of our control. Like--so there's a cast of, what, a hundred plus of us, and we have t' trade for things that we need, if someone else has got them. But if you don't have anything t' trade, is it just-- begging for it? Hoping for a bit of Christian charity? Every man for himself? Not that I'd be much surprised by that one, given the... [Maybe it's better not to finish that one, in light of recent events, but given his low faith in humanity, and given his own recent exploints, none this is really all that surprising. So, wry once more:] ...given the situation.

[An awkward pause.]

Anyways. Thanks again.