So, uhm. [clearing his throat. Guess what, he isn't drunk this time! Yeah! So he's just as shy as all hell instead.] There's... been talk about everybody coming clean, right? And - given what happened last month, with our memories and all - there's not really much of a point keeping secret. I think.

[He hopes there isn't a point. Pls.]

So, who... who here is a wolf? I don't mean werewolves - although they're perfectly okay! But I mean generally. Any kind of wolf.

[Insert silence.

Really long, awkward silence.]

... I'm a wolf.

If I get drunk, will the other person getting my memories get drunk too?

[He's. Probably already a bit touched by alcohol. Again. Someone needs to take his communicator away from him when he gets into these moods.]

Sorry. [Pff. That was a burp in the making.] It's... hard to deal with. I'm getting headaches. It's like everything's too sharp. Off-balance. I'm not sure how to describe it.

... I wonder what you're seeing. Whoever you are.

[He's... slightly worried about his secrets spilling all over the place, but. Not talking about them specifically is probably the safest bet.]

She's pretty, right? My wife. Her name's Carmo. I bet you would've loved her.

[Hi, Tranquility. Remember Andy? He remembers you. Probably. Doesn't matter, because he found the alcohol and drank to forget his latest woe. Except now he wants to do nothing but talk about it.]

She's - she's a great woman. My wife. Maria do Carmo Correia. That's my wife. You probably jus' knew her as Carmo. It's a really pretty name, isn't it? I like it so much. That's a real Portuguese name.

I love her so much. Y'know? And I guess now she's... gone, or something. Back home, right? That's where people go when they don't wake up like the res' of us. [pause. Something got caught in his throat.

Yep, that was a burp.

Absentmindedly:] Sorry.

[Onwards.] But it's a good thing that she's home. I'm not sad. [just pathetically drunk.] Would've been nice to... say goodbye. Kiss her one last time. But now she's with Tomás and everything's right with the world. He's gonna give her trouble without me around, you can count on that.

[There's a sigh, smile present, but it eventually fades to something thoughtful and... well. Sad. Andy puts the glass down and buries his face between crossed arms, voice muffled by his sleeves.]

I jus' love her so much.

[That would be a weird sounding, strangely animal-like whine.

Then he hiccups.]

I don't really enjoy making these recordings so I'll try and be brief. While things are slow in medbay - and I know I'm probably jinxing it by saying that - I want to remind people that we're open for run of the mill check ups, consultations on existing ailments, examining any strange itches or lumps, help with nutrition or sleeping problems--anything you need. We've seen it all before.

For those of you who frequently put yourselves at risk, the medbay really works better when we have stock of your own blood available, which means coming in and getting it drawn. We have synthetic blood, and all sorts of injections and tablets that can improve the capacity of blood production, but nothing is better than getting your own blood back when you get injured. It's especially important in the case of gunshot wounds where you lose a lot of fluids much too quickly.

And uh, finally... [ Dexter scratches his nose. ] If you have any odd nutritional needs, it'd be better if we could discuss them now rather than have to pick up the bodies later. Medbay can help, just give us a call. I promise we'll be one hundred percent discreet, no matter what.

Oh-- [ Not quite done yet, okay. ] Does anyone know how to make bear claws? Jelly filled donuts? I owe someone an apology, and baked goods have always been the way to go.

[Hello, everyone! It's late, late night, and you're now being treated to the sight of... bare skin!? What?

Yes, it's bare skin, a bit out of focus, but that's what it is. The holder of the device sighs in what she hopes is a thoughtful manner.]

I know the science of it, the biology, yes, but I don't like it. Legs are troublesome enough...

[The feed is flipped over to reveal a young woman with dark, mussed hair and a haughty look. She sounds completely perturbed, but somehow bored at the same time.]

...inefficient as they are. This is a nuisance.

[Camera back to skin, camera back up. Yes, by now you may have figured out that she's showing off one slender leg.]

There's hair. On my leg. On both legs, actually. I don't know whether to be fascinated by the wonder of the human body or completely disgusted.

[ The feed flickers, the sounds of rustling loud over the microphone and the face of a mousy, wide eyed boy appears on the screen. He doesn't seem to understand the technology completely at first. He's seen it before, no doubt, in some strange muggle books his father found for him once, but he taps at it, huffing as he tries to make sense of how to hold it so that the feed shows his face and not his feet. He wrinkles his nose and groans, clearly frustrated with the little device. ]

O-oi! Prongs? Padfoot? S'this some kind of joke? C'mon, I really -- I mean, I need to get some homework done and I'm not really sure where this is or... or what this is. I mean, there were those things when I arrived and, it's just -- do you -- can you help?

[Peter Pettigrew sighs a little bit. Of course they wouldn't answer. This is probably some really bad prank, and he's always the butt of their jokes, really. The feed jerks around as he very nearly drops it, and Peter makes a rather disapproving face. ]

Is anyone there? Honestly, this place -- I'm lost.

[ Well, this has not been a good way to start the day. He's only a tiny bit grumpy, really. ]

I'm starting to wonder if I'll be home in time for my thirtieth birthday.

[Noah still has a couple of years before he really has to worry about it, but time does fly on the Tranquility. Who knows, the next jump might be all it takes.]

I had a lot of plans centered around that number. I was going to have my own studio by then. I wanted my brother to be living with me by the time we were thirty.

[He pauses in his sketching, tips his chin up thoughtfully.]

That lovely wedding dress reminded me that I'd also hoped to be married by then...

Some things are out of my control. I can't bring my brother here to be with me - wouldn't if I could. But being here doesn't have to rob us of everything. So, Cillian-

[Has there ever been a proposal on the network before? Is there about to be one?

Nope.]

I'll be working late tonight. No studio, but I can still do what I love. Tyke, I have a couple of those designs drawn up. Pop in and take a look, and if you're happy we can get started right away.

So Tranquility, what were your plans? Are any of them things you can do here?

I was hoping it wouldn't come to a shipwide transmission, but:

Who exactly keeps sending my droid metal flowers?

[They are ugly as sin and madly made, but Obi-Wan is not going to add that. He finally has his shit under control enough to wonder about this little bit of....well. Whatever this is.]

She wants to know.

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.

[He doesn't often get on the network like this. Responding to things, sure, but he doesn't generally have a reason to put himself out there like this. But he needs something to do now that the fledglings are independent. For those who've been around him the last month or so, he's looking better--more color to his face, definitely sleeping and eating more.]

I am Thranduil Oropherion. [Not my name is because Oropherion isn't a name, just a way of sticking out less in a crowd of Firstname Lastnames as opposed to saying son of Oropher and spurring more questions about how does he keep track of who he is without a last name.]

The number of you who have animals may be glad to know I am skilled in beast-lore and bird-lore. I would like to offer my services as such. If ever you believe something is wrong with your animal, or if they seem disturbed, ill, or uncomfortable, do not hesitate to ask for my help.

[Can't even offer his services without making it sound like a command. This isn't nearly as nostalgic as it should be. He's earned some nostalgia at this point.]

For my qualifications, I have done this a great number of years even for an elf, in three separate kingdoms. I am capable of quickly determining the problem and am an expert in their physical languages. ["I talk to animals."] If you wish for a reference, I have worked in this capacity for the lady Morgana these last two months. She might vouch for me.

[Not that he asked her to do so. Surprise!]

There are three young songbirds in the gardens now. Please do not disturb them.

Thank you for your time.

Recently it seems that some of us have had our origins and experiences on our mind. If there is anything I have learned from my time here, it is that we do not often suffer a dull day, and that we are all abundant with stories. Stories of ourselves, of the lives we've lived at home, and the lives that we've lived here. We've all arrived here from different circumstances, with a vast array of varying experiences between that, and I think that sometimes we do not allow ourselves time to appreciate that. We have an opportunity to learn so much from each other. [ Oxford pauses, calmly, taking a level breath as he goes on. ] Of course, I don't mean to say this is somehow a priority over the general task of surviving, but I feel that while we keep ourselves and our histories as fresh as we can in our minds, perhaps it could serve us some purpose to keep record of it.

[ Even though he has decided to stick to an audio post, Oxford can't help making habitual, sweeping hand gestures as he speaks. ]

I would like to propose beginning a ship-wide archive, to include whatever information that fellow passengers are willing to share of their lives and worlds, as well as a timeline of events since the first jump. First hand accounts of matters we have tackled, [ with a vague amount of strain, said very soberly ] and a memorial to those we lost. As I've said, this is by no means any kind of priority, just... well, to be quite honest, I like the idea of having a project. Though I would not necessarily say no if anyone was willing to join me in maintaining this proposed archive, I know that we all have our own personal worries and jobs to attend to, thus I am quite glad to take up mantle on my own.

All I really aim to do is to put experiences into words. I'm quite certain that many of you have some extraordinary stories to tell, whether they are from your home or from here, and all I would want is for these things to be shared amongst us. You never know what we might find out each other. [ A vague, mirthless smile is audible in his words. ] I only hope they're relatively good things, of course.

The information volunteered to this archive would be exactly that - voluntary. I won't be hounding everyone on the ship for interviews, because that would be incredibly time consuming and as annoying as conducting door to door sales. Anyone who would like to contribute is advised to come to me - in person or across the network, whichever suits you best. If it happens that I hear of someone's actions through another person's contribution, then I may follow that up.

[ He laughs, mildly. ]

Of course, I might have wasted all this time talking and wasting your time only to have no response. Always a possibility. [ For a moment, he sounds a bit warmer and less business-like. ] Good day to you all.

[The device turns on and reveals Alex sitting in front of the screen, a grey cat curled up in his lap. He's looking pretty relaxed, for once, and he gives an actual smile. Running a hand through his hair, he clears his throat, and starts to talk.]

So uh, yeah it's my anniversary, I guess. Time flies when you're trapped on a spaceship on a trip to nowhere, right?

I figure in honor of me not getting myself killed, or anyone else exploded for a whole year, I'm going to be drinking at Space Babylon tomorrow night.

And I'd be totally cool with anyone coming down to join me.

I'd say it's a party, and the drinks are on me--but it's not like the drinks aren't free, and I don't really throw parties.

[And he feels like he might as well add after the conversation he had with Kirk,]

Since booze is free, I'm also totally cool with supporting underage drinking and delinquency.

[Fuck, he still wishes he wasn't so awkward.]


See you tomorrow, I guess?

Or not.

Whatever.

[He gives a little smirk and then turns the device off.

ooc: log is here]

[That's a really nice view of a kitchen ceiling popping up on your comms. Forgive the 90's kid for his lack of experience in smart phones - or maybe don't, because it might just be he's too lazy to hold the thing up while he's talking. Or it might be where he's busy rifling through every food cupboard he can find, his talking punctuated here and there by the sound of food packets being investigated, shaken around, crinkled.]

Not that I want to disrupt all the great work you people've been doing here, but those two assholes you think are in charge - you checked they're human? Might wanna label it some post-traumatic shit, but recent experience has given me a healthy distrust of taking anyone as they appear. And it'd explain this situation better than any of the vague mysterious bullshit you've been going with so far.

[There's a pause, then the sound of a box of something or other getting torn open, and yeah, when he talks again he's obviously doing it around a mouthful of food. It's been a rough couple of days, and he's hungry. It's also good for covering up any glimmers of actual concern in his voice as he carries on.]

I'm missing some people. Yeah, you heard it all before. But you see a short bug-eyed freak called Casey running around, do me a solid and point him my way.

[[ooc: backdated to early on the day after the jump!]]

Oh, my god.

[ stiles' voice has the kind of self-contained excitement in it that someone might get upon being given a quad bike for their fourteenth birthday. or, you know, a pony. there's that same kind of delighted anticipation of fun times ahead. ]

You guys will not believe what I found.

[ his voice is pitchy and he's in close up in the dim light, eyes wide and too-dark in his pale face, before he turns to film... well. ]

An actual freaking body!

[ which is all the warning given for the squeamish before it's on camera. the body is very clearly human, even if all its distinguishing features have been removed. its pieces join unnaturally together, arm sewn to shoulder to torso to leg, and the whole thing hangs suspended from several strings, like a puppet. ]

[ stiles fumbles the camera back to himself. he swallows. it's cool, but also, you know, he's kind of creeped himself out already just wondering if the killer might still be around. but that's not exactly a thought he's about to put voice to. ]

I'm about fifteen minutes heading left from the Shuttle Bay, I think, if someone wants to come cut it down.


(( as per dex and bri's excellent adventure. eta action for investigators. ))

Couldn't imagine a friendlier welcome than getting attacked by space pirates. And here I thought this was going to be more the dinner show and buffet type of cruise. 

Guess that's why they call it the Tranquility.

Anyway, so I've got two questions:

The thing I don't get is-- we've been kidnapped from our... worlds, but where are we going exactly? They kind of forgot to put that on the brochure. [ that, and everything else. like why they need to kidnap someone in the middle of extremely important business ]   Not trying to sound ungrateful, because hey, I'm in space.  Fulfilling the fantasy of every 10 year old kid. Still, it would've been nice if they'd let me clear my schedule first.

And number #2: anyone looking for a bartender?

[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)

[ when the feed begins, there's a teacup on a desk, a lump of fabric in the teacup, and a tiny arm snaking back into the fabric. for a moment, there's nothing more, but then a familiar, blue-eyed face is peeking out. the wide eyes are red-rimmed, probably because he's been curled up in the cup crying off and on since the pirates were all killed. he's a tender-hearted little thing, all right?

lute sniffles, rubbing the back of his wrist over his eyes, his other hand tightening the makeshift blanket around himself. ] I-- I guess that's how big people do things. [ he slumps down in the cup, dragging the blanket over his head to hide. ] .. I-- want to be useful. People were fighting, and people got hurt, and people died, and I couldn't do anything-- But I guess it's kind of stupid to be upset about the way you were born.

[ a long pause, then, more quietly: ] .. What if something happens like this again? We're not all going to keep yelling at one another about it, are we?

[ the feed opens up on, well, nothing actually, the unfortunate consequence of being on audio. you don't get to see tony's face, but what you do get to hear is something akin to a robot moving around and the sound of machinery being fiddled with. there's a moment where there's also an exhale like tony's getting ready to say something before there's a clang. and a few muttered curses, before tony actually says something. it regrettably not the original thing he planned on starting this with. ]

I wanted you to come along and be helpful, Dum-E, not drop things on my foot. I will take you apart don't think I won't. [ ah, and yes, the feed was on, forgot about that. ]

Not actually how I wanted to start this. Disregard any of that, by the way, I'm fighting with something from home. Anyway. You know for all we have a bunch of hero types, leaders, take charge alpha males and females, you think we could have prevented that. I know, we're all displaced people and what, the pirates thought we were insane because we all shouted and threatened to kill them or hurt them and I don't like people taking my shit as much as the next guy, but did you notice that we're forty years behind, according to them. I don't think any of them were forty, I haven't looked at all the dead bodies of course, I'm not that morbid, but this is something they knew about. We're a ghost story to them. We're a ghost story that shouldn't exist. [ a pause and more noises on his end are heard. ] I don't know about you, but I feel pretty solid. No one was supposed to get down to the brig, and yet, how in the fuck do you think we got to hear dead bodies falling down. I'm not advocating law, because guess what, martial law, also known as what you heard but shouldn't have heard, is the only thing you could pull off. And can you guess who's in charge of what your punishment is, who would be your military tribunal. I'll give you a hint, it's not Kirk, it's not me, not Nathan, not Tyke, it's not any of the captains who came or insert military rank here, etc.

Yeah, for those of you listening at home, that leaves Ward. And Resnik. What I'm saying, if I'm saying anything, and I am and I am hoping you are actually listening, is that we're stuck fending for ourselves here. And unless we get our fucking shit together, we're gonna be like sitting ducks. And I'm not a big fan of being a duck. So, you know, maybe you might want to pull your heads out of your asses and stop acting like this is a vacation and, oh I don't know, maybe make sure the next time someone decides to board us or we stop at a hell port, we're not looking like insane idiots and maybe we might learn something. But, hey, what I know, maybe I'm just making this situation worse. Yeah, something tells me I'm okay.

[ there's a beat and another muffled curse before he continues. ]

Oh yeah, in case any of you are not nursing wounds, funny thing about pirates ripping things off the ship, you kind of need to fix them and/or find the parts they took. Those of you who have any sort of actual ability when it comes repairing mechanical things, could use your assistance or maybe the ship will break during a jump and that means we're dead. So, yeah, get in touch now, I don't care about your grieving at the moment, you can grieve later, trust me.

And no, I'm not bothering with a lock, our pirates, our now dead pirates, got into every lock including mine and every other tech person's. And may have pointed out that Ward and Resnik could see it all. So, I'm not bothering with a lock against those two that won't work, because there's always a backdoor they can see through. 

[ stark encryption 100% to pepper potts ]
You're not gonna kill me in my sleep if I spend way too much time trying to fix all of this right? And not exactly sorry about the PR mess this is going to be right now.

[ axvengers encryption 100% ]
I would go on an adventure to their ship, but I'm stuck doing this. Do a bit of recon and steal some loot. Not that you really need the order, but I might as well say it anyway. Stash it 100, and we'll talk when I get a chance. In person. About all of this.