[The communicator comes on with a clatter and settles on its side, the screen coming clear with the sound of a distant curse. Eric is floating, for lack of a better word, far above the ground in one of the more expansive areas of the ship. The metal duct he's holding and carefully positioning into place is massive, and easily weighs a ton.

The old pieces of duct, damaged by bullet holes, lay on the floor near Godric, who is looking up at Eric as he works.]

And why exactly is this such a pressing concern? [Eric is clearly displeased with the fact that he's being put to work, even if he is going along with it]

Because we live on this ship too, Eric, and it requires repair. Repair that would take humans far more time and energy than us. Your complaints are more a burden than your labor. [So he says, but Godric is smiling and shaking his head as if he expected nothing less.]

[Eric shoots the other vampire a dubious look over the massive piece of equipment he has lofted in the air that might be accompanied with just a hint of an attitude.] I hardly see how any of this is benefiting me.

They're air ducts, and humans require air. You require human donors. [He says it dryly, because debating the logic of this is silly.] If that isn't enough for you, then do it because it pleases me.

[Eric looks like he wants to complain further, but the last comment does stop him. He turns to the task at hand, clearly still unhappy but at least doing as he's told as he fits the massive piece of duct work into place. Godric watches as the pieces click together, the puzzle-like nature of the design eliminating the need for bolts.]

It is still a mystery to me how someone managed to put bullets into twenty feet of this without once hitting the gas pipes. [He lifts another section of new material and tosses it up to Eric as if he were throwing something no weightier than a book. Eric catches it with the same casual grace as Godric's toss, though he's still not happy having to put any effort into the task at hand whatsoever.] It would have served them right. Then at least I wouldn't have to be cleaning up after their mess.

[Eric shoots another glance down at Godric, obviously displeased with the fact that the other vampire is just standing there smiling at him and brushing off his voicing his displeasure about the situation like it means nothing to him. He may be Godric's Child, but he's not a child in general, and it infuriates him sometimes when Godric pulls the Maker card like this.] Am I to be your workhorse here then?

[Godric smirks at Eric, which widens into a full-blown grin as he replies teasingly] Oh, is that the problem? The Viking King finds his task too difficult to accomplish without the help of his maker? [What comes next is hardly more than a blur by human eyes. Godric reaches over to pick up the last piece of metal, and then he's floating by Eric, the ducting dangling in one hand.] You only had to ask.

[Anyone else and Eric would be more than just frustrated like he is.] The maker is lucky that the 'Viking King' respects him and hasn't told him to piss off and do his own repairs. [Eric knows he's toeing the line of respect with that comment, so after a moment, he takes in a breath to calm himself, before turning back to the task at hand.] You owe me.

[Godric laughs wholeheartedly and swings the section up to slot it in place.] Do I? Later, then.

[ooc: godric and eric are doing repairs after the damage made by the pirate invasion. purple is godric, and green is eric!]

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. ]

[It's taken a few months but Q has finally run out of things to toy and tinker with. He's attempted to hack his communicator to no end, he's wiped his laptop twice already and tetris can only keep him occupied for so long. As such, he needs some more hardware, particularly if he wants to make any discoveries about the ship, and he's forced to make a public post to ask for it. Armed with social shyness under the pretence of security, he's decided to write a text post. At least that way he has enough time to carefully consider what he says before he submits it to the world.

Hello everyone. My name's Charlie and I work in communications. I'm a bit of a hobbyist in regards to technology, though on the Tranquility I'm a little short on supplies. I feel a tad uncomfortable attempting to pull the ship apart. [That and he's already tried.] So I was wondering if anyone had any spare communicators or technology from back home which they don't need which they might be able to lend me. I don't mind if it's broken or functioning incorrectly. If it had a battery or wires in it at some point, I probably want it.

Although it's not much, in return I can offer one of these which I have made:

[He inserts a clip of a handmade version of a piggy cook, though it's definitely more of a robot than a pig. It's crafted out of odd bits of metal and cutlery, with a shirt made out of a bedsheet. Presentation has never quite been Q's forte.]

They aren't particularly beautiful, though the mechanics are good and I thought they might provide some form of novelty.

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.

[he doesn't post to this forum very often, but when he does there's always some meat to it. Tate likes to see what people will do, he's a provocateur, digging at a wound to see what it'll look like as it bleeds and the reaction it'll get.

this is nothing like that.

his hands are trembling and he's bitten his nails down to the quick. there's something raw and volatile in his voice, and it shakes when he speaks. less like tears and more like fear.]

I can't find— I can't find Hayley.

[The video comes on, and without further ado...]

Many of you know me, many of you probably don't. My name is Ianto Jones, and I've been here since the first jump. That's about one and half years now, not counting the time spent in stasis. Back home, I worked for an organization called Torchwood in Cardiff, Wales, on Earth. We were tasked with monitoring a rift in time and space that ran through the city and deposited everything from space debris to living aliens directly on our doorstep. It's safe to say that I have some small experience with the extraterrestrial, many of whom look monstrous but are no better or worse than you or I. In fact, if I've learned anything, it's that the worst monsters aren't the ones who look frightening, they're the ones you least expect. They're the ones who look human, whether or not they really are.

In light of recent events, I thought it prudent to mention that. Many of you haven't been here long enough to remember, but our dear Captain has been implicated in a murder before. A man – a good man – nicknamed Hotspur, discovered a vital piece of information and sought out Ward and Resnik to ask them about it. He was mysteriously locked in a room during the subsequent jump, unable to get out and make it to the gravity couches where he would have been safe. He was able to send us a final message and share what he'd learned before he died horribly.

After Hotspur's death, a small group of us agreed that information needed to be found and shared, but kept from Ward and Resnik's prying eyes. We founded a loose-knit organization called Cambitas in order to share and distribute information anonymously. We started and maintained the information posts, but kept quiet about our identities for our own protection, something that some people took exception to. As it turns out, it was all a bloody useless waste of time anyway. Thanks to the pirates, we've now established that our encryptions are a joke. We can lock things away from each other, but Ward and Resnik have been able to see through us the whole time.

So consider this a coming out party. If we haven't been killed yet, we may as well open the lines of communication completely. The other members of Cambitas will introduce themselves or stay mum as they see fit. They know I'm doing this, but I'm not naming names unless they tell me to.

I've also attached the usual information post, but you'll find it's hopefully somewhat improved. We've been working on it, and plan to keep working on it. This is just step one. Please read it, and no we don't have a Cliffs Notes version. We've tried to make it as easy to navigate as possible. If you have questions, ask. If you have anything to add, tell us. And I'm sorry we got rid of the flowers, but as attention-grabbing as they were, people predictably took the whole thing less seriously.

HELLO You're probably confused. Take some time to read this over. We do our best to keep it up to date, and it should answer most of your questions. THE RUNDOWN » What happened, where you are, what to do REFERENCE » Basic facts about the ship and solar system A TIMELINE OF EVENTS » This will take time to read thoroughly, but we strongly recommend it. FAQ » Please read this before asking a question on the network HEADCOUNT » Our current numbers SPACE TRAINING » If this is your first time aboard a space ship, please watch these helpful videos COMMUNITY NOTICEBOARD » For all your wants and needs

[Locked from the Master for obvious reasons, visible to everyone else]
On a less official note, I'm calling a meeting of anyone who knows the Doctor or is familiar with Torchwood. In other words, those of you from the same world I'm from… or a similar one, at least. I keep running into you lot unexpectedly, and I think it's a good idea if we all introduce ourselves.

[ When the feed comes on, Jo's leaning over the counter of a bar. Wichita's bar, Space Babylon, if anyone recognizes it from that alone. ]

Just to send out a heads up, but I'm gonna take over management of the bar for a few weeks. Same hours, same everything, I'll just be your one and only.

[ Have a very proud, 'I suddenly have all the power' kind of smiles. ]

Name's Jo, if you're interested. And before you start asking, no. I don't know where Wichita is. She just told me to take over and I did. [ they have that kind of agreement. ]

Though if anyone's got some free time and would like to hang around and bounce, it would be much appreciated. As much as I wanna run this place entirely on my own...thanks, but no thanks. And yeah. That's it.

[ And Jo gives a sort of wave/salute/what have you as she cuts the feed back off again. ]


[[ ooc: and here's the open bar log for anyone who wants to come by and hang out with jo, or throw up an open tag or anything. Jo will probably be hanging around, chatting it up with any and everyone. Free alcohol, guys, how can you say no. ]]

[ Judging by the flash of furniture and kneecaps, Carolyn is crouching down next to her bed when she turns the video on. She's smiling today, but there's more than happiness there: there's wonder, awe, and a bit of surprise. ]

Spot had her kittens, [ she breathes, then turns the camera and carefully slides it under the furniture to get as much of an image as she can until the momma cat hisses at her. ]

( cut for image )

I'm not sure how many there are yet. They're so small...

[ Her voice trails off, and Carolyn seems to realize that she's being overly sentimental about a bunch of kittens and shakes herself, standing. The motion seems to smooth her back into something harder, even if it's slightly ruined by her quick glance back toward the bed. ]

I didn't arrive on the ship with cats. Their original owners left, and they stayed behind. It may be a good idea for everyone to come up with a contingency plan for their possessions, in case they return home or something happens to them. This is especially true for animals, but if there's something that you'd especially like certain people to have, it could help guarantee that it gets to them.

[Blake's not using video today - he's still feeling the effects of the illness he contracted after that rat bit him, and he's tired, and he's not interested in showing the entire ship the bags under his eyes. So it's just voice today.]

Blake here. We've been testing the elevators, since Ianto made his post. They all seem to be working now, but I still recommend exercising caution - go with a friend, if you can, and report any possible malfunctions to engineering ASAP.

[That's out of the way, at least. And now for a slight change of subject:]

The jump is in a few days. I know a lot of people are still recovering from what happened. If you're not already in the med bay, and you need help getting to the pods, please ask for help. I know there are a lot of lone ranger-types around here, but maintaining your pride doesn't mean anything if it kills you. For those new this cycle, yes, I'm completely serious - if you're not in a pod when the jump happens, you will be killed. Whether you think this place is real or not, when people die here, they're definitely dead, so don't be stupid about it. If you can't find a friend or acquaintance to help you get there on time, ask someone on security. We'll give you an escort.

We don't have to like each other - but we do need to communicate and cooperate with each other, if we want to live long enough to get back to our homes.

[Private to Bruce Wayne, Selina Kyle - batcryption 85%]

Has Crane been accounted for since the elevator malfunctions?

So the lifts are working correctly now, far as I can tell. I got from the first floor passenger deck to Communications without any problem. And before anyone starts slagging me off for taking the risk of checking them, my defense is that I haven't had any coffee this morning and I was moving on automatic. When any one of you can tell me you've never done anything embarrassingly stupid while half asleep, then you have permission to berate me.

Jack, don't even start.

[Locked to Meg]
I have your chessboard ready, finally. In my defense, the delay was somewhat unavoidable.

[Locked to General Support: Murphy and Ariadne]
We should have a meeting, now that things seem to be in working order again.

[Locked to Nathan Petrelli]
Apparently I'm still in denial, because I looked for her in Communications. But I suppose she really is gone.

Been here almost three months now, and I keep coming back to the same conclusion. Almost none you get it. And by almost, I don't mean some, I mean one, and maybe that's even pushing it.

[ As much as he considered taking the opportunity to full on shout at his comm device in video, Peter still can't find it within himself to splash his face on the network. Especially not right now, when he's busy splitting from any idea of reality. It doesn't really help matters that he's aware this he's bound to be in disagreement with... oh, maybe everyone? You don't exactly get to tell people they don't exist and expect them to like you.

Now, it's time for a reality check. For everyone else, mind, not him. ]

This isn't real. It's never going to be real. I don't even know how many of you are real, but nobody really likes hearing that they might not exist so we'll just stick with the basics.

[ Does it sound like he's being condescending? That's because he is. And he doesn't actually care all that much anymore about potentially hurting someone's feelings. ]

I don't care if you've got reasons, I don't care if you've got explanations. Everyone comes up with some way to convince themselves that what they're stuck in is actually reality. Give someone too much time and something they can't pick apart and eventually they'll tell themselves whatever they have to, just to make it all make sense.

But it doesn't. It's not going to.

And before you even ask, no, I don't think it's a nightmare or a dream. Or even a hallucination. So no, I don't need to get shipped off to the psych department to get my head fixed. [ He's particularly growly about that one. ] It's a construct. It's supposed to look real, and unless you've been in one, I wouldn't expect you to know the difference. Looks real, feels real, it's supposed to make you think it's real.

And fuck, if this one's working just a little too damn well.

You won't believe me, i've already got that down. Nathan's got some of you wrapped around his finger, I already know that much, and I already know what he thinks about all this. But I know a different Nathan, and I know one that'd do things to your brain that you wouldn't believe. Doesn't get any better after that. You don't get fixed.

You get his public service announcements and now you're getting mine.

I don't think this bullshit is real, and I don't think that's going to change anytime soon.

[ Hey tranquility, hope everything is good on your end, because it sure isn’t on Ariadne’s end. Because she is pretty sure she has no idea where she is right now, and might be freaking out a little.

She would have locked this post to a few people that might have been wondering where she was, but her communicator seems to be having issues and she is just hoping this is at least viewable to someone. ]



I'm lost.




((ooc: obviously her communicator isn't getting a signal like it should, so all her replies will be very limited here. sorry about that.))

[ on flips the feed showing the face of a somewhat contemplative and obviously tired ariadne. she’s been thinking – well working really – and is now looking for help or well… maybe some input – she doesn't really care. she just figured it is about time she talked about a few things. ]

Before Chase was killed… [ which yeah, still seems to cause her to frown at the thought of ] she was able to draw a map on one of the walls.

I'm not sure if any of you have actually seen it or have talked about it. But Detective Blake was able to get me a copy of it when he was there and I've been looking at it since then.

[ a small nod in thought, her brow furrowing and she is adding with a sigh. ] I've noticed that it's not matching up to any of the other maps that we have – not even the maze.

It actually seems like it might be a partial map to something else.

[ she actually thinks there might be a room in the map, but she still isn't sure about that part and wants to be positive about it before she mentions that part. ]

So I'm wondering…[ and a flicker of hopefulness suddenly appears in her eyes. ] does anyone have any maps that they would be willing to let me look at if I haven't yet?

I really just want to compare them all to the one Chase left us, as well as the ones that I drew up a while back.

[ yep... that's all. ]

[ here, have a MySpace style shot of Wichita walking own the hall ( actually it's probably more Blair Witch than MySpace, but it's way less creepy than BW. so. ), her voice quiet over a low hum of.. what sounds like wheels, maybe, or just little gears turning. it's weird, basically. ]

Okay, two things. One- R2D2 is on the ship. Yes, that announcement is worth it's own network post because, well, it is. Because two-

[ the camera is flipped around with a touch on the screen, and then just down the hall, maybe fifteen feet away, is R2D2, leading about a dozen Tranquility Roombas, in two lines, down the hallway. Wichita may or may not have been found them on her way out of the bar, and continued following them for about fifteen minutes before she turned on her camera ]

He started with a following of eight, but every time he passes a room that's being cleaned by a bot, it just stops what it's doing and joins the line.

Innocent playtime? Very possible.

Though I must admit that my imagination has concocted something most! sinister. For what they could be planning.

[ someone sounds a tiny bit like Holmes there, for those last few words, because maybe she misses him a lot and this is how she spends her time now okay. detective-ing. ]

-- And before anybody gets all huffy, don't worry, I'm really only recording this because it's kinda cute. They're like.. ducklings, almost. But what are they up to?

[ amuuuused. ]

[ Guess who is in a terrible mood? ]

you're welcome. sweet dreams.

[ It's vague. It's supposed to be vague. Any of you sleeping nicely lately? This is a place of nightmares, of course. But are they suddenly gone? Suddenly vacuumed away like the work of a dream catcher? It's this guy. He's been feasting on them all.

( And gosh, some of you have problems. )

He can't be too specific, but you can say it makes his cranky heart feel a little better. This isn't PostSecret, but let him have this. ]

Look, I don't really care if you go or don't go looking for whatever it is that killed two people this week.

But if you do, at least leave the door to your rooms open so people can loot your stuff after they find the body.

[Yes, he thinks people are pretty stupid for going out]

I didn't know Chase, but I'm assuming no one was watching her because no one thought of her as a kid?

[Well, no one thought of him as a kid, but then, he had a robo!bodyguard so....]

I'm sorry about the people who cared about her.


Encrypted to Cameron; 100%

Two things:

First off, do you know a guy named Josh Levinson? He mentioned my dad. By name.

Second off, how do you feel about moving to the first floor?

Encrypted to Kurt; 100%

Need company?