[A brief silence, and then a rather hoarse voice:] If you are near the Gardens, and capable of carrying a man-- [Wait a moment, while he gets his stomach under control, thanks.] --assistance would be appreciated.

[Could have locked that to Rebecca, feel too sick to care.]

[backdated to the 5th, during this.]

This place is cursed.

[An irate looking Thor is looking into the device feed, holding his weapon tightly in one hand.]

There are... things--devils--stalking this ship. I haven't caught them yet, but I will.

[There's a flicker of doubt in his expression. He wouldn't ask so openly, but Tony didn't wake up, and now he's alone.]

Has no one else seen them...? [Maybe it really is just him. He can't tell. Thor grows surly again.]

At the very least, there shall be a few less monsters in the halls.

I'm sure you must all see a lot've messages like this.

[ The man who appears is one who has appeared on the network before -- soft-faced and earnest, anxiety tested in the lines next to his eyes and a direct sort of stare that manages not to miss the tiny camera embedded in the device he's holding. Still, he smiles, just a little.

His address is slow and not exactly formal, just considered. ]

My name is Charles Xavier, and I'm newly arrived. You'll have to forgive me if I ask any questions you've heard before, though I'm doing my utmost to gather what I can on my own. I believe I've got the basic picture, although any advice is of course appreciated.

What I would most like to know is how many are here that had some sort of... [ He hesitates. ] ...gift. A natural ability of some kind, beyond the usual human faculties. A conversation would be of great interest to me.

Thank you.

[ the camera comes on to show guinevere in the gardens, who, even after so much time on the ship still looks a little ill at ease on camera. it could be the technology or perhaps she's just modest and what she's about to do may seem otherwise, in a way. Biting her lip for a moment, she quickly gathers her words to speak--]

I know that there are many that are... not used to the clothing that ship may provide us. [wait, she's going to scramble not to insult anyone] Not that it is poorly made or unseemly, only that-- [ she lets out a breath, reminding herself to take a breath and that having a task is better than sitting around doing nothing.] What I mean to say is, I wish again to offer my services as a seamstress to any who would require new clothing or clothing that is better suited to what they are accustomed.  I have many fabrics to work with or I can alter clothing you already have.

[ she offers a gentle smile before she seems to remember--] Oh, and my name is Gwen, if you wish to contact me.

[There’s a soft, muffled expletive, then a few seconds of near-silence during which the transmission’s sender is obviously fumbling with his communicator.

When he speaks, Ryuuzaki’s English-accented voice sounds weak, rough, and exasperated: he’s been throwing up for the past few minutes.]

I could use some help with something.

[A beat of hesitation--]

It’s urgent, but you’ll need a strong stomach.

[He knows his condition isn’t too serious, but while he’s in this state, he’d rather not start by broadcasting his location to the entire network if he doesn’t have to. Never mind the fact that someone could probably find him by the reek... it’s as likely to keep people away as it is to cause them to investigate. He's considered just leaving the can in the kitchen, getting himself to medbay or at least a different kitchen for fluids, and allowing the entire situation to be someone else's problem, but that would only work if it couldn't be traced back to him. Just now, it probably could be.]

[OOC: L has fallen victim to a locker horror with an appalling stench: an unlabeled can of surströmming. He might need medical assistance (see this video, this video, or this video for what I mean, but be aware that it’s a lot of people vomiting). His current empathy link isn't helping matters.

However, he’s also looking for help with/advice on disposing of the fish, preferably without carrying it through the ship. It’s technically edible, if you’re interested in having your character feed it to a pet, or if your character wouldn’t waste food, no matter how disgusting; it could probably also be buried as fertilizer in the Oxygen Gardens, but it'll stink up the route between points A and B for a while. A character who eats the surströmming wins a more edible prize! Further details will emerge in tags.]

[Eponine appears on the network, obviously a little panicked about something. She had been trying to reach Jehan, but unfortunately, she was not adept enough at technology to filter it to him.]

Monsieur? Monsieur, I have done a bad thing - but we are friends, are we not? You will not listen to the Inspector, will you? We will still be friends, won't we?

[Impatiently, she pushed her messy fringe out of her eyes.]

He is a horrible man, you know. He deserved it, I think. [She shrugged and sighed]

I wish he were gone; life here, even when I bled from my eyes, was pleasant before he came. I do not think it will remain so now.

[There are several orders of business, here, and Lisbeth gets right down to them: no greeting, no please, no thank you.]

I want to know how many people have left the ship and then returned. With or without memories of being here before, and how long they were gone. Firsthand accounts or otherwise.

I also want to know how often our brains and bodies are fucked with and whether anyone's unaffected. I know this isn't the first time. [And if you're stupid enough to go blabbing to a stranger about the memories you're experiencing, be her guest, but she's not asking for that.]

I need these items:
- disposable camera
- soldering iron
- copper wire
- electrical tape

Contact me privately and we'll arrange something.

[Connor's voice is soft and thoughtful. Actually, it sounds distinctly more like he's monologuing to himself than talking to his little glowing box. In fact, if he hadn't heard other voices coming out of it (and seen words on the glass front that disappeared when he touched it), monologuing would be exactly what he's doing, but he did hear voices so he suspects maybe his voice will come out of other glowing boxes somehow.

He's still pretty monotone, though.]

I find myself in need of a teacher. The...machines here are strange to me. Everything here is strange to me. In the absence of things familiar, I will need... allies-- [Not friends. Not yet, anyway.] --who are willing to help me.

[A brief silence and then:] There is a light on here. How is that made?