I NEEd chains.

[ That's it. That's what you get. Oh, no, wait. She knows exactly what Stiles and Kira would suggest in this moment. She should ask nicely. It's less effort over text than in person, so even though she's rolling around miserably right now because she had it on good authority that weres don't really get sick unless it's wolfsbane, she can manage. ]

Please. :)

[ Be friendly!! ]

[ It's a bit past time since Sam should've introduced himself to the network. He's been running himself ragged exploring this ship, trying to understand it, and especially what caused the disappearances in those corridors. But it came and went like the wind; no source, no logic, nothing. He was used to the unusual, was dealing with a whole 'nother ball game, here. ]

I'm told that there's a Gunnery Crew on this ship. Does anyone have any other information on it and possibly joining?

Additionally, since I'm run into a few people here who have never held a gun before, if anyone is interested in a lesson or two, I'm happy to provide. [ Not that his gun made much of a difference in that...darkness fiasco. He has no illusions that his model will protect him from everything on this ship. But having it on him settles him, as it always has. Maybe some others here would feel safer with a thin veil of protection, as well. ]

Finally, does anyone know where the gardens are? I can't seem to find them. [ Considering this place is as big as Manhattan, it's unsurprising, but he was hoping he'd find it on his adventures on this ship. ]

Oh, and I'm Sam, by the way.

[for anyone who has had the pleasure of being around stiles in the last couple months, he's suddenly looking far better. less panicky, less wan, and perhaps a bit more determined as well.

for anyone who is particularly familiar with stiles as a person (and considering how out of sorts he's been since being brought to the tranquility, that's really only going to be the people he knows from back home) they'll know that a determined stiles is almost always a dangerous one.]

So it's good to hear that at least some of us aren't willing to just lay down and accept our abduction without a little bit of a fight. [a little fiercely] I for one am through with letting myself be manipulated or toyed with by our mysterious evil overlords.

I wasn't in the hallways when everyone started disappearing last month, mostly because I had just come back from being lost in the hallways. But I saw a brief mention of paintings in the latest recon report and I thought I should share with anyone who was interested to know the details of the mural I came across while I was wandering in the hallways.

Y'know, just in case it helps with any part of the deeper mystery of this place.

[he moves away from the comm for a moment now before coming back with a rough sketch (he's no artist like lydia) to show everyone: a blocky figure standing firmly, with a thin neck that seems to support nineteen heads, each with sharp red eyes. he keeps the image in view for a beat before setting it aside.]

Not sure what it means, apart from being super trippy, but it never hurts to have all the information, right?

[he pauses, considering, before continuing with a slightly more forcefully upbeat tone.] And I guess on a completely different note, anybody here a psychologist, or have any sort of experience in that kind of capacity?

In India, there are villages where the people wear masks on the the backs of their heads, because tigers won't attack someone who is facing them. It's functional, and it's real, but you can take it as a metaphor. You face something that will eat you, and you do it by not turning away. By showing them your eyes.

Wolves are different. Wolves will attack something facing them, but not the way you think. It's a hunting tactic, you know. Wolves attack faces - that's just how to get an elk down, to bring it down by the nose. How do you even deal with something like that? You face it down and it aims for your nose. There's not even logic in that!

Frankly-

[There's a sigh]

Frankly, this place is getting to me. Tigers and wolves be damned. I didn't think anything was worse than a fifteen hour international flight into Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport but apparently what's worst is a pleasure cruise to God knows where through the far reaches of space.

Man.

Fuck anything that attacks you by biting you on the nose.

By the way, who's taking care of all the farm animals in the O2 Gardens, and are you willing to trade for them?

Good morning, Tranquility.

[ Erik is seated at his desk, eyes fixed flat upon the camera. ]

I’m conducting a poll.

[ The suit he’s wearing is dove grey and freshly pressed. The dress shirt beneath it is discolored about the collar, faded brown blotched behind the (flagrant) purple of his tie. He could stand to shave. He could stand to sleep for more than a few hours before addressing the entire network. ]

On a scale from one to ten, with one being the perpetuation of a meaningless existence at the mandate of an invisible hand for some unknown and likely terrible purpose, and ten being, [ he pauses to take a breath and to check down after his notes, ] ten being no harm done with a side of unlikely survival courtesy of a confusing -- but benevolent -- presence, [ he reads directly: ]

How would you rate the outcome of last month’s attempted mutiny?

[ A show of his teeth when he looks up can’t quite pass for a smile, fleeting and thin as it is. ]

Just curious.

So we're all up in each other's heads, which blows, obviously. I feel like I'm ten people right now, and I have no idea who half those ten people are. I was gonna ask around, try and figure it out, but I have a better idea.

[ for a certain definition of "better". ]

Presenting, The Tranquility's Freaky Memory Swap Directory.

Here's how it works: you drop the details of stuff that doesn't belong in your brain. You know, names, places, events, incriminating secrets. Then comb through what other people leave and work out who got all your dirty laundry so you can bribe or threaten them into silence. Got it? Great.

<font face=courier><strong>My name is:</strong>  <strong>Seeking:</strong> M/F/? <strong>Do these names mean anything to you?</strong>  <strong>I know about your:</strong> </font>

(( i won't be back to this post for a few hours for any tags meant specifically for stiles, but i turned comment emailing off so tag each other!!! you are welcome to ignore the form.))

[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?

I have a question: does anyone else here have a camera? Like not a digital camera, and honest-to-goodness film camera? Has anyone processed photos on board before? Inquiring minds want to know if mine is the only one, or if anyone's noticed anything about the photos.

[Because that isn't suspicious at all]

On a similar vein, for people who are interested - I've got shots of a lot of strange corners of the ship. Including the murals and the labs, I know you can go down there and look yourselves but I figure on board this place, I should probably get documentation. I'm kind of looking for someone willing to help me out with glass frames - I don't have any knowledge of glassworks or glassblowing so seriously, anyone who can get me that kind of thing, I'd be in your debt.

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.

[ Close up on Quinlan's face as he frowns in to the video feed and adjusts his comms device. Seemingly satisfied with the feed he sits back from the video feed and levels it with a stony look. His default expression, nowadays. ]

This ship has a habit of turning your mind against you. For those of you who find it useful - [ hey fellow jedi heyy ] - the oxygen gardens are good for meditation, especially the upper levels. Ground yourself, respect the life there, be mindful of the Living Force around you - and perhaps you'll find some peace.

[ And for the majority of the ship that's the end of the message! Those damn hippy Jedi! But for a select few from a galaxy far, far away there's an additional message attached: ]

FILTERED to Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Bail Organa, Han Solo, Luke Skywalker & Lucien Draay:

So. We've got five Jedi, a senator, and - [ deadeyes ] - whatever Solo is. So that's seven -- seven of us, all from the same galaxy and all from different points in time. Small paths in one long journey.

For my own part, I know enough about the future - [ his expression turns grim, distant, ] - the Clone Wars end, peace returns to the galaxy. I know the role I play in the events. The Force guides me -- and I will do what I must. You needn't tell me any more. [ A pause, a gruff nod. ] Each one of you can decide for yourself how much of your future you want to know. I won't make that decision for you. But we all need to be clear.

I haven't spent a lot of time here, but I have noticed this trend people have. They get stressed out, and I don't blame them, and then they decide that it's okay to be nasty to each other?

Is it possible we all just stay calm and remember that there's such a thing as manners? For instance, I for one, am sorry I brought up pirates at all. Ever. Never again. I'll keep my big mouth shut.

I'm just saying that this is worse than living in a college dorm, it would really be helpful if we didn't antagonize each other just to prove how smart we are.

Also, who around here keeps pets? Is there a list? A ship manifest of animals? For the curious, really.

[ close on stiles stilinski, wearing a party hat with the elastic under his chin and looking more keyed up and happy than he has in at least a month. ]

Check it out. For those of you who haven’t met him, I’m pleased to introduce my bestest of best bros... Scott McCall!

[ come on down! he turns the communicator around to film scott, who’s seated on the bed and reading (in theory). he’s got a matching party hat on, and he flashes a broad smile in greeting. ]

Go team Jacob.

[ which is as much of a hello as he’s giving, apparently, but it might clarify exactly what book he’s got. stiles is still doing voice-over: ]

He’s totally brand spanking new, fresh off the production line, so if you think you’ve met him before? Bzzt, nope, you’re wrong, keep it to yourself.

[ with shakycam to rival cloverfield, the camera swings back around to stiles, whose general hyperactivity slips, for a moment, into a no-i’m-serious-do-not-fuck-with-me face. judgmental eyebrows and everything. it’s intense. ]

It’s this whole alternate universe schtick. Crazy, huh? I know, way too sci-fi. We’re on a spaceship, deal with it. Uh, so...

[ he’s interrupted by scott jumping off the bed to hijack the communicator. once he’s got it, he holds it slightly too close to his face while declaring in a very solemn, very official (except for the part where he’s almost laughing) voice: ]

May the Force be wi—

[ stiles’ hand slaps abruptly over his mouth because that isn't a funny joke when there are actual jedi on board, scott, and the communicator, after a brief staticky scramble, goes dead. that’s all folks! ]

[She has a deep voice, with a slight hint of a Mexican cadence to her words - not an accent, just a musicality to the words that isn't exactly 100% middle America]

I didn't think that space would be this climatic, honestly.

Who ever thinks oh, I'm going to space to fight going crazy, to find a place where people die by monster attacks and red emotes? I don't know when you grew up but when the kids in elementary school said I want to be an astronaut I think they thought I want to go to the moon and pee in my spacesuit and not I want to fight against the next thing a hellboat throws at me. But I'm just guessing.

[A pause, and a laugh, pleased]

I never wanted to be an astronaut.

I always kind of wanted to be a pirate.

It always sounded much cooler.