[HELLO, EVERYONE. Nice and trauma-filled from that horrible vacation?

Haymitch isn't here to make it better.]

Judging by all the unhappy faces, I take it didn't go well down there. Maybe next time you'll take a lesson from those of us who were smart enough to stay behind. Might not be the best place, but at least we know the ship wants to kill us all. [Snicker.

Annnd there's a pause, because while he knows Peeta's gone, because he hasn't checked in, and that stings after losing Katniss, (and with Finnick and Annie in bad shape) shock of shocks, he has other people he cares about.]

Anyone happen to notice a little girl tagging along down there? Goes by Mattie Ross. She'd be the one with braids, preaching justice to the locals and making a damned fool of herself. Hard to miss her. 

[Filtered away from Annie and Finnick; 50% Encrypted]

[AND NOW HAYMITCH GETS TO BE AWKWARD.]

Don't know which one of you yanked Annie Cresta out of all that, but it's appreciated. Finnick's in no state to thank you, himself, so I'll save him the trouble. 

[Filtered to Jack Sparrow and Russia; 50% Encrypted]

All right, talk. I know at least one of you went down there and both of you can't be in as bad a shape as the rest of them. How bad was it?

[ Hello, Tranquility! It's been a while since Chase has shared what little of the future she can get with you guys, isn't it? The four-or-maybe-eleven-year-old is currently holed up in a hallway, and if you look very, very carefully her eyes flicker a lavender colour before she speaks. ]

Sheep. Cattle.

Herd us--herd our flock.

[ She squints, narrowing her eyes, looking confused--as if she doesn't realize what, exactly, she's doing. ]

Red. He's there--Mr. Smiley is--and there are more bodies.

[ And, lips pursed, she cuts the feed while she attempts to sort out what, exactly it all means. ]

[The video feed is shaky to start with--a view of a corridor floor, to start with, and then the walls--a flash of grey wolf fur before it comes to fix on the ceiling-- There's whispered conversation in children's voices as well, one more irritated than the other. Whoever is handling this video is not accustomed to doing so, but eventually it straightens out enough to fixate on the subject of the video: Bran Stark, who is, impossibly, standing.

...and also wearing triangular orange sunglasses as well, but it's the standing that ought to be most astonishing.

He doesn't realize that the camera has finally found its focus, not at first. He is looking beyond still, at whoever is making the recording--but then he smiles, and glances self-consciously down at his legs.]

I don't want to make a very long speech. But--I'm Bran Stark. I have been aboard this ship for some months, so I have seen the threats and the dangers that lie on this ship. But I think it is important for people to remember that there are good things as well. [He bites at his lip, aware of how childish this might sound. He pushes his fingers through the thick ruff of fur at Summer's neck. The direwolf is standing beside him, and somehow the contrast of their size--a boy, and a direwolf nearly the size of a small pony--is even greater now, though Bran is standing.]

When I first came here, I was crippled, but as I have come aboard this ship, my friend Dirk Strider has made these robotic legs for me. [The way he pronounces the word is enough to prove that he is yet unfamiliar with it, and he smiles awkwardly to acknowledge that before he takes a deep and steadying breath-- and then he takes a step. It is a little uncertain, but he does not falter and, concentrating, he takes a second step, and then another, and he laughs, so pleased with his own success--he has practiced for this moment, but there is a difference between small steps in secret and a display such as this. His momentum is too great, and he knocks against the wall--Summer is there, pushing against him, and he steadies himself between the direwolf and the wall, his grin exhausted and exuberant all at once.

He gets in a breath to try to recover, but he is still grinning hugely, unable to banish the expression from his face.]

It isn't showing off--it's only proving that there are good things to be found here, too. And it's a surprise--I wanted to show everyone at once, in some way. [This is an unspoken apology, to Robb and Alayne and Jon especially, and he looks down with a little touch of shame, though not enough to quite overtake his smile.] And that's the end. Thank you.

[And with that, with his final little smile, the video turns around toward the ceiling again, shaky--there's a clatter, and it switches off.]

[ Jaye's sitting in the Oxygen Gardens, tucked away in a back corner near some grasses. She's wearing a plaid mens shirt that she hasn't worn out in public before, watching a grasshopper that has landed on one of the leather wristbands she got in her locker this past jump. Unlike her previous network experience this month, she looks more subdued; she's been doing a lot of thinking lately. ]

Nobody knows for sure where people go when they disappear from here, do they? I mean, people say "home", but we don't... know.

[ She turns her wrist, watching the grasshopper. ] And we don't know what the fuck anyone's up to without us, either.

[ The insect hops away, out of sight, and Jaye follows it with her eyes for a moment before looking back at her network device. ] ... Right, well. [ She shakes her head, smiling -- anyone who knows her well enough or who is particularly good at reading expressions should be able to tell it's forced. ] I've got some fun questions now. Favorite animal back home and why? Animal you'd consider the most dangerous and why? [ Yes that is somehow a fun question. Danger is fun, right guys? ... Right? ] All you people who aren't from Earth, you should tell me about the animals you guys have. It'd be interesting to hear about the differences.

((ooc: If you want to have your character find her in the oxygen garden, feel free!))

[ On flips the device and the sound of rustling can be heard, followed by a frustrated sigh and Ariadne asking: ]

Does anyone know if others can gain access to your room? [ a beat ] Because something of mines missing.

[ a long pause and she is cursing under her breath. ] And no, I didn't misplace it.



[ the feed ends at that, as she is quickly going back to looking for her totem and trying to figure out what to do. ]

[Netherlands doesn't bother to do any introduction for this. Just, click, video feed on, and straight to the point - vaguely huffy, businesslike tone and unamused expression solidly along for the ride.]

New people, an' anyone who doesn't know how hydroponics work - don't try to plant anything in the Gardens that still has soil attached to it. It clogs up the whole row, sucks to clean it out. If y'have a plant from home, or whatever, we've got some people who can help. For free. One of 'em can even bring produce up to your floor.

[One tap and suddenly there's a list available.]

Ask them, or me. One of us will prob'ly know. Just don't go screwing up the Gardens because you weren't thinkin'.

Some of 'em didn't know a damn thing when they signed on, but they all learned quick enough - [That. Might be some sort of vague praise for the current crew, there.] - so the rest of you can, too.

We could use the help.

[And off.

Someone else should probably take over the Agriculture PSA and recruiting job in the future.]

---

[ooc: threadjacking is still my favorite thing ever, so anyone in agriculture, feel free to get involved and take over wherever]

A few items of business.

First: We need to start tracking ourselves more precisely. Two people in two months have perished because because they caught outside of the gravity couches at the time of a jump. What I propose is a simple check-in list for the jumps and someone to take roll. If anyone hasn't shown up one hour prior to the jump, then a search party can be organized. Is there any preexisting framework for such a system?

Second - [And here Edgeworth looks perhaps just a bit self-conscious - ] I'm looking for someone adept at construction. Please speak up if you have such skills and are willing to barter for labor.

[He recovers but frowns, just a bit hesitant before the next item.]

Third, a general question; bear with me if it sounds odd or intrusive, and responding to this is, as ever, completely optional. [He looks down; it's clear he's now reading off a page that he's prepared.] Respond in the affirmative or negative: "I would describe my life as 'peaceful' - id est, a life in which I have not witnessed or been subjected to violence."

[He looks up again.]

Your responses are appreciated.

 [Well, Tranquility. I bet you're ALL OF THE THRILLED to have Topher in your lives again... now 100% less soaked in blood and vomit and sweat and all means of terrible things from his adventure in the science labs and as cheerful as... anyone can be post-jump. Given the background of the video you can assume, he's in medbay and that his comm is propped up on something. Why is he not holding it?

...Well, it might have something to do with the fact that he's trying to flip a certain fedora onto his head with concentrated hand gestures- he was not being factitious when he said that was what he wanted it for, Dave. AND NOW THE WORLD KNOWS.] This is way easier in theory-

[Oh right, he's recording. Yes, well. Moving on.] 

Okay, while we're getting all the usual existential "where am I, what is my purpose" post-jump network blues out and the "you are here, ask us how" responses and a few "oh, by the way, the creepy ship is still creepy" things thrown in just in case anyone felt all safe for a half second, I've got to bring out my contribution. 

My name's Topher Brink and I'm the med bay's neurologist. And you're probably wondering, "Topher, how often do you actually need a neurologist.?" Surprisingly, more often than you think. Space crazy can happen to anyone, so consider this your PSA about that. If you feel weirdly homicidal, please tell someone before you flip your biscuits and kill everyone. If you always feel homicidal and this isn't a new development or anything... Thanks for not already flipping your biscuits and killing us all. And keep not doing that for the foreseeable future.

But the real reason I'm putting this out there is neural implants. How many of you actually have them- if you don't wanna say it out loud and you don't have it on the med bay's records for a reason, please filter to me and it'll be strictly patient-doctor confidentiality. I ask, because I'm pretty sure if anything in your coconut gets hacked, screwed with, or otherwise messed with, McCoy, the Watsons, and the rest of the staff are gonna go, W-T-F and it's gonna be a big mess. If I know ahead of time and can run diagnostics, check to make sure everything's the way it's supposed to be working, then we can cut out any sort of horrible side effects being in space could have on them, 'cause frankly, I've never been a space neurologist, but I know implants, while amazingly durable, can break down or stop functioning. ...Don't panic about that though. It's not likely, but it could happen.

That's... pretty much it. Unless you've got questions or concerns regarding brain science and you, 'cause I'm the guy for that. And completely at your service. [He holds up the hat.] And, apparently, I've got too much time on my hands right now.

[MED BAY FILTER// ENCRYPTED 100%]

Speaking of brains... Aberdeen's still in a coma, so... How 'bout we all get together and put our thinking caps on and brainstorm a little on fixing that.

[[OOC: LITERALLY HEADING OUT THE DOOR FOR WORK. But I will hit tags when I return. Blah, blah, blah. I wanted to get it up.]]

[ This time, Erik chooses to don the helmet, which he hasn't worn since his first few weeks aboard the Tranquility, preferring to leave it at his side while his paranoia was temporarily allayed. Unfortunately, those particular events seemed to have flared up his need to renew his helmet use, more so thanks to a series of seemingly unrelated events, starting with Edgeworth's survey, and rounding it out with Tony's latest post. It's not a particular frightening stance, given that Erik is still brooding around in one of the libraries where he's making this broadcast, pacing back and forth as he considers the next move to make, hands behind his back. ]

There's been enough announcements over threats and supposed attempts at cooperation. While I find flaws to that philosophy, [ Sorry, Charles. ] it seems no matter what, we will constantly be tested while we're imprisoned.

[ Because as comforting as the quarters and the kitchens can be, Erik's near constant restlessness brought back distinct memories of a prison, one he was never inclined to ignore. ]

There's already been another death, and it goes without saying, some sort of unity is preferred. However, holding hands gets one nowhere. [ Sorry, Eridan. ] Cooperation is one thing, but a more active stance is necessary to prevent any further casualties or threats.

[ Erik pauses in midstep for a moment, turning his attention back to the camera. ]

Sitting passively by solves nothing. Actions are needed. The best defense here is in the form of an even better offense.

We can't escape one by one; but we can as a whole. I'll extend my hand as an offer of preparation. We need to be prepared; we need to be ready. [ Pause for dramatic effect. ] The question is, are you?

( Filtered; Resnik & Ward | Encrypted, 90% )

( Filtered; CR AU Charles | Encrypted, 90% )

[ There’s a very serious if rather haggard looking boy on the network. His appearance could be due to not getting enough sleep, enough food, or both. It’s hard to say. ]

My name is Miles – uh, Morales. Sorry Mr. Edgeworth, I forgot for a second. I wanted to ask – there aren’t real police here, are there? Not the kind that put people in jail. [ H’s already frowning at his communicator, but that frown gets a little deeper. He’s already got a pretty clear idea of the answer just from reading the network and watching the goings-on in the ship for the last couple of days. Still, he could be wrong… ] There aren’t any jails, either.

Though I don’t know if colony ships are supposed to have that kind of stuff or not. [ Or even if they are, if this one ever did. There’s still too much that he doesn’t know – even if some of it is more mundane and awkward to deal with. Which is why he’s back a little bit later: ]

But there’s, uh…a place to clean your clothes, right?[ An uncomfortable pause. ] And a place to take a shower by yourself?

[ And last but not least, to try to cover up the embarrassment from those last two questions and before he loses his nerve: ] Is there anybody else here from New York?

[It's almost impossible to see her, as the room she's in is dark.  Very dark.  But as one's eyes adjust to the incredibly dim lighting, they might be able to make out the young girl's face and hair.  Expression completely blank, with twin telltale streaks glistening with the occasional shift in movement.  She appears to be sitting on a bed of some kind, sitting with her back against the wall.  But not her room.  No, there was no way she was going back there.]

I spent the last two months wondering what exactly the worst part about this place was.  And I think I've finally figured it out.

[Her voice is slightly hoarse, and eerily calm for the subject at hand.]

It's not the part where our lives are constantly in danger.  It's not the fear, or the uncertainty.  Or even the fact that we've had to watch people die right in front of us.  I'd been through all that even before I came here.

No, the worst part of it is the cruelty of bringing aboard people you think are your friends, until you realize they're nothing more than strangers with familiar faces on them.  That, just when you've managed to find that one little bit of hope that you think could help get you through anything...it's all revealed to be one big lie you fell for.

Well, I'm not falling for it anymore.  So, congratulations, whoever's in charge.  You win.  

I'm done with all of this.

[In a single, swift motion, she ends her speech by hurling the stupid communicator across the room.  It shuts off upon impact.]




((OOC: Takes place shortly after Zatanna and Artemis have a particularly heartwrenching exchange of words post-jump.  Replies will be slightly delayed, as Zatanna would have to muster the will to walk across the room to collect her miraculously not-broken communicator first.  ACTION open to any who would know how and/or want to find her.))

[There's video of a kid coming across screen, looking bored and more than a little ticked off at what's going on, where he'd ended up. He looks... well, to be honest. He probably looks about twelve or something. But rest assured, people of the Tranquility. He's a grand total of sixteen years old.

He's just a hobbit.]

So I've been told we're in space. And this is some stupid ship that we're all stuck on for a really dumb length of time.

Anyway, I guess if there's something to actually do here, let me know.

[There's a long pause as he scratches at the back of his head with gloved hand, scratching at the end of his nose, wrinkling it up and sneezing once, still looking just as bored as ever]

... Okay, fine. I'm James, and if anyone needs any help, just let me know. I have a weapon and a history with smashing robots and fighting Asgardians.

[His expression calms just a little after that, at the mention of Asgard, and with a sigh he holds out his left hand, showing off a ripped into piece of tech, a hole in the metal and wires ripped apart.]

And if anyone thinks they can fix this, I guess I would owe you one.

[The video turns on to a rather up close view of someone's face.]

Is it on? How do I tell if it's... Oh, no, I think I got it!

[She brings the camera away to reveal more than just her nose, then. She's sitting on the bed with a nervous grin, trying not to show just how frightened she is about being here.]

Hi! Um, my name's Ahiru, and I just got here a little while ago. I still don't understand everything about this place, but I wanted to say thank you to everyone who helped me when I first showed up. My head feels a lot better!

[She giggles before continuing on, though it's halfhearted.]

Um, anyways, I know we haven't found a way out yet, but I want to help in any way I can. So, if anybody has an idea on what I could do to be able to get us all home faster, I'd be really grateful. I'm not very good at very many things, but Miles said I might be able to help take care of some of the little kids here, reading to them and stuff.

B-But, if there's anything more important I could do, I'd definitely be willing! I mean, I have to go home soon, it's really more important than anything else to me, so I would do almost anything if it meant there was a chance we could leave faster, because this place really isn't where I need to be, and I won't know what to do if—

[And then she gets overexcited, leaning forward so far that she promptly tips off her bed, falling to the ground with a thud. The communicator hits the ground, too, switching off.]