[The camera cuts on to reveal a very displeased looking young woman who looks, for those who might recognize the features, like a rather curious mixture of one Han Solo and one Leia Organa.

She stares at the screen for a second, as though expecting it to do something else and, when it doesn't, she just sighs heavily and mutters something that probably isn't meant to be heard by young ears before looking back to the camera once more.]

For the record, this entire situation is a giant, steaming pile of bantha poodoo. [Please, ask what she means by that. Go ahead. Ask.]

If someone's programmed a ship to kidnap people, the least they can do is program it to kidnap the right people. Bringing me here without my brother? [A slight shake of her head and the slow twist of her features into a dangerous looking smirk.] That never ends well.

[There's a pause but, nope, she isn't about to explain what she means by that. Instead she gives a resigned sigh, her expression fades into one of reluctance, and she finally gets to her real point for all of this.]

And now that I have that off my chest, where can I help out around here? If I'm going to be stuck on this floating pile of space junk, I guess I should pull my weight. [Not to mention, this place is going to get old, fast, if she doesn't stay busy.]

[ When she flicks the device on, she's pulling away, like she very obviously set it onto something so she could look slightly down at it. When she pulls away, the camera gives a sight of a woman who looks like she's in her mid-thirties. She's dressed in, well, something close to a black catsuit, and she folds her arms over her chest while she looks at the item. If anything, she looks a touch annoyed, but that's the last of the emotion on her face, and when she speaks, her voice is painfully level. The most important thing to note is that at her hip, there's a flash of metal that could just be a rather sophisticated, cylyndrical weapon. ]

I've done my research, so I don't need the basics. I'm looking for details, or specs, if you have them. I've figured out that whoever took me has to be an idiot for giving me an opportunity to talk over these things, and leave me with my weapons.

[ A quirk of an eyebrow. ]

It's messy.

So, has anyone met them? Has anyone said why, or are they just idiots? If not, then I guess there's at least some mystery to whatever it is I've stepped into this time. I don't suppose it's too much to ask about who's on here, is it? Getting a scope of the field will help out more than anything else.

[That he's tired goes without saying: everyone's tired these days, or at least it seems that way between network posts and the worn-down faces passed in hallways. So Garrus skips discussing it when he snaps on the feed, managing to set his communicator down for a decent view of himself settled near the ship's pools. The lighting's too dim for it but really, try asking if he cares.] 

Considering the fact that I've spent my life going from point A to point B between star systems, I think it's fairly safe to assume that just about every culture out there has their customs. And no, I'm not about to ask you to give me an in-depth lecture on what yours are or where they came from, so don't feel obligated to-- or at least try not to be offended when I fall asleep just before you get to 'the good part'. It's been a long week.

But I do need help. 

See, for turians, being barefaced like this isn't exactly a plus. Usually we wear tattoos representing the place where we were born, but at this point I'll take just about anything you've got that'll leave a mark on human skin as a substitute. Preferably in bulk.

[ Good space evening, Tranquility! Did you say you wanted two exasperated, vaguely concerned doctors this evening? Yes? Good! Because there are two of them. Simon and Bones are broadcasting from the familiar backdrop of the Medbay, and it's clear that what they're about to say is very important. Simon speaks first, rubbing the bridge of his nose between two fingers before addressing the camera. ]

If the recent network posts have been any indication, it seems that many of you have been experiencing insomnia. We're not sure if it's a result of the most recent jump, but Doctor McCoy and I wanted to take a moment to remind everyone that we do have treatment available in the Medbay for anyone who’s been having trouble sleeping.

[ There's a moment when Bones looks at Simon to make sure he's done mentioning the insomnia and the fact that there is the sleeping aids available from them. Unlike the other remedies from everyone's various homes, Bones thinks they may be more effective at combating the issue. He ends up rubbing at his eyes and picks up where Simon had left off. ]

We'd start you off at the smallest doses, of course, and if that doesn't work, tell us and we'll work up from there. In addition, there's been a rash of several of you all coming in with bloody noses, ears and occasional burst vessel in your eye or eyes. Or if you're supremely unlucky, you may have been caught on camera suddenly bleeding. Chances that all of you who've had those issues are coming into Medbay is slim to none, but both Doctor Tam and I are wondering just how many of you all— [ Not us, because clearly neither of them have dealt with it, really. ] have had that happen at least once or twice since this past jump. And if it's happened, how many times, as well as, where. Meaning your actual location and the place you were bleeding from.

We can't stress enough how important it is for you to come to Medbay if you think you're ill. Burst blood vessels in the eye will usually heal on their own, but a checkup never hurts.

[ Well, except when they do, but that's obviously not the point he’s trying to make. ]

[ But Simon, a little suffering is good for the soul! Except fine, valid point to make, even if Bones ends up giving him a bit of a look. ]

And if it actually does, then wouldn't you know it, we can fix that. [ But right, yes, they got what they needed to say out and someone's gotta end this feed with something better than that so as Bones is reaching over to cut the feed, he does say one thing as if to say goodbye. ]

At the off chance you're ill and you don't come by and I find out, I'm not above coming to find you and dragging you down here for that check-up.

[ And then the screen goes black. ]


( Green for Simon, Blue for Bones! )

[here's the thing with han; han doesn't like it when he tells people to do things and then they do the exact opposite. so while padmé IS DOING SOMETHING PADME ISH, han is just staring at her with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.]

What? [Compared to her usual, polite countenance it's a lot more direct- flat out impatient, a combination of exhaustion and present circumstances both. The things she's currently concerning herself with, happen to be fiddling with the feed device, and shifting the sleeping young preteen higher up on her hip, into a far more comfortable position. It's clear that despite her asking, she doesn't really care for the answer]

I'm not saying anything. Because if I had said something, then it would mean that it was perfectly normal for you to get lost in a ship.

[Not that he’s being extremely passive aggressive about this at all.]

You didn't have to. You were staring. [She's not even going to address the last part of this, because she's tired enough to stoop to his level in her own way] The way out, Mr. Solo?

Follow me, your Grace.

Don't call me that. [It's automatic. She’s gotten used to correcting him- And she's fast approaching the point she feels she should just start ignoring him. She will however, follow after him and direct her attention to the feed, you know- the whole reason she turned it on] Cat wandered into the ship, and- we got a little lost. My- [A pause, and she side eyes Han. Flatly] friend here, is going to get us to the main part of the ship. Whoever is responsible for her- If you would meet us there, I would be happy to return her to you.

Seriously, come pick up your kid.

Shut up! [A small, tired voice enters the picture, raising her head briefly off of Padmé's shoulder to address them both, before lowering it again, hand curled stubbornly around the woman's braid. A small trickle of blood appears over the curve of Arya's ear]

[There is an orange-skinned girl on the feed with white facial tattoos. Please do not adjust your communication devices, she is actually orange. Since her arrival she's shed her many layers of clothes and right now she appears to be in the lift.]

I'm Padawan Ahsoka Tano. For those of you who are wondering, I am an alien. A species called a Togruta. I'm also a Jedi apprentice and helping out in the shuttlebay.

[She hasn't been sleeping well for the last six days but that shouldn't give her hallucinations already. Which means what she saw was real. Plus hallucinations don't try to lock her in her room.]

Master Kenobi, Skyguy. We've got a bit of a problem. There's this droid, an R3 unit that's sort of out to get us on board the ship. He's a Sep spy and a stubby, little back-stabber. I can catch him but I don't have the skills to reprogram him.

Everyone else should be on the lookout for a gold and black droid - he looks exactly like Artooie except for the color. Don't let him near anything he can sabotage. If you see him electric shocks work best to put him out of commission. Try not to shoot him or slice him in half. Stubby can be a big help once he's not working against us.

[Text]

Will eating a burnt cake make you sick?

[Video]

[There is then a shot of the cake in question. You can see Chell in one of the kitchens as she arranges the screen to show off the burnt chocolate thing in a pan. Nope, doesn't look edible. She may try anyway. Because her cake.

No really this is important.]

[Filtered from Leia, Luke, Anakin, Padme and Han. Oh Force from Han.]

I know there are others here with friends out of time. And some who have children on board.

[He speaks slowly. He's been sleeping poorly. The stress of all this, perhaps.]

Has anyone had the two combine? I'm finding it difficult to know what to do with my daughter being a woman grown when she was three years old the last time I saw her.

[He pinches the bridge of his nose. He is way too tired to figure this out.]

[Seth has gotten about two hours of sleep in as many days, and he's getting super bored of laying face-down in bed trying to pass out. Also maybe slightly delirious from sleep deprivation but those are just details.

So instead he has settled for dragging everyone who looks at the Network down with him. He's sitting up when he starts the video, his hair is sticking out in all sorts of crazy directions and the fact that he's shooting from the shoulders up makes it obvious that he's bare-chested. Look, it's not his fault Werewolves are naturally allergic to shirts, okay?]

Does this spaceship ever land on planets? If it lands on a planet and there's nobody there, do we get to name it? I'd like to know where to formally submit my suggestions, because I'm thinking Sethtopia.

[For someone who is dead tired, he sure is disgustingly chipper. In fact, he practically bounces in place when he remembers to ask:]

Hey, are there any aliens here?

[so about that insomnia. no, okay, anakin looks pretty much the same as always when he starts the feed (bar the fact he's down to his inner tunic and has a few smudges of grease on his face. and there may still be a few remnants of stasis fluid in his hair. this is what happens when you have a sudden brainwave and forego your usual rituals in order to follow through.]

Has anybody here ever received something in their locker that they know belongs to them, even though they've never seen it before?

[yes, that might be a strange question to ask, normally. but in a place like this? not so much. he's referring to the lightsaber he's currently inspecting (again). one almost identical to his own, bar the larger size and the abundance of black. (and that sith-like blade he isn't going to mention to anybody. nbd)]

Did any of you ever find out how you got it in the first place?

[because seriously. synthetic crystal. red blade. this is not a good thing.

there's a few pings now; ones sent to those from his world, past, present, and future. (or at least those he's already met). it's left open though because he knows there are more of you out there.]

So, how many of us does that make now? How many people who are familiar with Jedi, back in your home galaxy?

[and then a moment's pause before-]

Luke, I know you're here again.

[there's more he wants to say. there always is when it comes to the matter of his future son. but this one feels different. he knows he isn't the same man who was here the last time. and so he also knows he needs to play this carefully.

a slow exhale, a half smile, and then he's locking down the feed for one last transmission.]

[locked to carolyn; viewable to flight crew]

It didn't work.

[okay, no. perhaps some context]

The power cells do hold a charge, and that should be enough to power a shuttle. But it doesn't work. Every time they're plugged back in to the shuttles, the charge disappears completely, and even Artoo can't track where it goes.

Maybe it's... [huff] I don't know. It could be because we're leeching power from the Tranquility, so maybe we could try charging them some other way. But right now, this whole plan isn't working.

[but! he's anakin skywalker. giving up isn't in his vocabulary.]

I'll come up with something else.

[ Pale and tired are words that describe Nathan perfectly today. Haunted would work too. He appears on the network with hollow eyes and a resigned attitude. Look closely, and the salt and pepper of gray hair is beginning to become visible in his too long sideburns. This. This is what I'm talking about. He needs some TLC.

Oh, and he's in a lousy ass mood. ]

Another month, another Jump. That means more surprises from the ship, both good and bad. [ He sounds like he's had both, but enough about that. ] I know you're still picking yourselves up, but I'd like to offer a reminder of the need for a cohesive, community centered approach to your stay here. You're carrying over a vendetta from home? Let it go. Prefer to live alone, surviving off your own means? It's not going to cut it here. Selfishness and arrogance get left at the door. This ship will kill you, we saw that just last month, didn't we? Any one of you people complaining about my hard line still want me to treat it with kid gloves, after what happened with the Cyllene?

My name is Nathan Petrelli, former Senator to the State of New York. I run the Communications department here. No, we don't have a government. We run this place like a ship, which means if you want to be anything more than a passenger it's best to join up with a department. Other than Communications, there's Security, Agriculture, Science, Gunnery, Flight Crew, Medical, Engineering--Pick one. I know, you don't wanna settle down, you just got here and it's a bit too much like admitting you don't want to try to escape. Might be I believe you if I weren't also addressing people who'd been here longer, and have no such excuse. Still here?

It's not a joke. I'm not fucking around. Let me make an example here: gunnery and the shuttle bay are running with a skeleton crew, and if they go, there won't be anyone around to teach newcomers how to defend the ship, or fly survivors out of here if the engines go critical or the walls start closing in. We've already been taken by surprise once, next time we might not be so fortunate as to outnumber the invaders. That means your survival may well depend on your willingness to pull your own weight.

[ And breathe. ]

Any constructive ideas people have about encouraging participation would be appreciated. I've considered the possibility that the less well equipped departments might instruct the crews of others how to do their jobs; that way in the worst case scenario we can transfer someone over to fill any empty places. That would all depend on willingness to participate from the other Department Heads, of course, so let me know where you all stand. I'm in, for the sake of argument--I'll be dredging up volunteers outta my own team first thing tomorrow.

Petrelli out.