Hey. [ HELLO, TRANQUILITY. someone appears to have found a razor since their last post. someone also appears to have not slept in the past... well, sleeping's overrated. connor's eyes are droopy and dark, and if the communicator could communicate smell, it'd probably be producing a intense odor of coffee. which is pretty much all he's been drinking lately.

off the side of the feed, there appears to be some kind of shifting, golden light—it's throwing cheerful, twinkly shapes against the walls of his room, lending a pleasant atmosphere to the feed, despite connor's obvious discomfort. the source of this light remains offscreen, but the mask is there nonetheless, sat innocently on connor's bed. despite telling abby he would... he hasn't yet locked it away. he can't seem to make himself do it. (it's got to be there for a reason, right?)

anyway. not the point. ]

Right. Couple of things. I'll try to be quick.( TL;DR AHEAD )

[ Carolyn is sitting in her room instead of lurking around the shuttle bay for once. The reason why should be clear after a few minutes, when an orange tabby pokes his head out from behind her before plopping himself on her lap. Carolyn honestly just looks like she has no idea what to do for a moment before reaching to scratch him behind the ears, speaking to the camera as she does. ]

Some of you might recognize this cat as Jones, who belongs to Ellen Ripley. For those of you who knew her, it appears that she's gone home. I'll be looking after him for her.

[ Still petting the cat, she clears her throat. ]

For those of you who don't know me, my name is Carolyn Fry. On the Tranquility I'm part of the flight crew, but back home I was a pilot and captain of a merchant ship -- a spaceship. As a result, I've been helping people out with basic skills to work on in space. Last month we held a training session on health, fitness, nutrition, shuttle procedures, and basic evacuation. In the case that either myself or Ripley vanished and to keep a copy for anyone who wasn't able to make it or wasn't on the ship, we recorded the session.

[ A link pops up, opening an area on the network that contains a brief description of the session and a link to the video. ]

I'll be posting the videos of future sessions in this spot, if everyone would like to keep an eye on it and update their information posts, that sort of thing. If you have any questions, about this or anything else, feel free to ask.

[ locked to 005 » 075 ]
I need a drink. You in?

[ locked to FLIGHT CREW ]
We should all get together.

[ Data appears on screen. As before, to those who have never seen him (for the most part those who don't frequent the science department or sickbay), Data is almost indiscernible from being human at first glance, but the second impression is further from it. There are slight mannerisms he can't get quite right, his head is rigid, his attention fixed, his hair too perfect, and though there are imperfections to his skin, it's noticeably tinted gold, like his eyes. ]

With the decline of our medical staff, it is imperative that efforts be made to create a baseline model of all individual life forms on board. Such precautions may help to stymy another outbreak of stasis sickness, or counteract an otherwise similar ailment in the future.

Doctor McCoy employed me to build him secure quarters in which to safely contain not only this information, but medical histories and samples from the Tranquility's passengers. This construction is now complete, meaning that willing patients may now place their complete trust in doctor/patient confidentiality.

[ There is a brief delay. Spot, his ginger cat, jumps up onto the counter, but is quickly shooed down out of the way, and Data resumes his speech. ]

I would like to suggest that any of those on board with rare or unique physiology report to either Xenobiology in the Science Department, or Medbay itself in regard to collecting samples, cataloging DNA and performing scans of your skeletal and biological structures. All information gathered shall make treating you easier in case of illness or injury, and may indeed save your life.

Data out.

------

( Filtered to medbay staff )

[ An audio transmission kicks on around four in the morning. Cibo sounds out of breath and her voice is shaking. There's not much other than the shuffling of sheets. ]

Every time I fall into my restful state, I have these terrible... visions.

[ More shuffling. She sniffs up her runny nose. Sounds juicy. Gross. Then a cough. Now it's obvious that her voice was dry and suffering from the exhaustion. ]

In them, I'm in The City again. Killy is still gone, passengers of the Tranquility are there and the Safeguard have — I just feel like we're all really there. That we're all...

[ Her voice trails off. A small hum and the occasional zapping sound of her electrical prod breaks the silence and coaxes her to speak over it. ]

I've never felt like this before. Never so... I'm so tired. Can someone please tell me what this means? What's happening to me? Why do they feel so real?

[ The transmission cuts. Text to follow. ]

I am looking for RESNIK or WARD regarding my wire-cables for connection to the Tranquility's technology. Sulu said that they may be able to help me. I am also still looking for XAVIER or DATA for information on the Science Department. I have already spoken with Doctor Elizabeth Ross, but I am looking for further confirmation.

( TEXT → SCOUT )

( TEXT → BLAKE )

( TEXT → MURPHY )

[His face is way too close, but it's a friendly face, if nothing else.]

Nearly two weeks aboard by my count. I don't suppose there's any celebration for that. But I did hear something about a birthday or two. So. Happy belated, I hope it was a good one.

[He speaks with an undeniable English accent, tries to sound cheerful about it. But he knows that a lot of people would probably rather be celebrating their birthdays back home, or...anywhere but here. Tales of murder and being inked against one's will makes the name Tranquility a bit dubious at best. Speaking of names:]

I'm Noah, hullo, no relation to the guy with the ark. Just the one little beast with me, who's really missing his tins of tuna right about now.

Let me know if you come across any? Appreciate it.

[it's been a while since Anne has shown her face on the network, and she doesn't look any less grumpy now than she did last time. She's sitting with her back up against a wall, and she's not wearing her uniform jacket, so with her short-sleeved buttonup, her forearms are visible. She's stating at the identifying tattoo there, and then after a moment she holds her arm out to make the mark readable to the camera]

So a while back, I joined security, and the next morning I woke up with "sec" added to the beginning of this thing. But how exactly do they do it? Because I sure as hell don't remember it happening. Does anybody else? I know these numbers are basically an ID badge. But what I want to know is how they get to us to change them. Any information would be great.

[with that, she cuts the feed]

[Private video to Murphy Pendleton, sent out some time later]

How're you holding up, Pendleton?

[she knows he's a grown man (hell, he's probably ten years her senior), but she can't help feeling a little responsible for him, after how much her father cared about him]

It's been a while. Just want to check and see how you were doing. I might stop by and see you, if you wouldn't mind.

[Hello, ship. Have a Scotsman. A Scotsman who is no longer covered in goo, has had plenty of time getting more familiar than he'd like with the ship's towels, and is feeling marginally better for having had a shower and getting dressed.

Anyone with an ounce of common sense would be wary of using an unknown communications device to contact an unknown group of people who may or may not be responsible for the waking-up-in-goo fiasco, but Scotty's never exactly been known for his common sense.]

I don't suppose anyone'd be interested in tellin' me what's goin' on. [Do you see this angry pout? Do you?] An' if you're no' interested in tellin' me what's goin' on, would you mind directin' me t'the nearest source of a good stiff drink? [Because demanding alcohol from your captors is sure to work, Scotty.]

[ Several people on board have met Data already, however after this jump there have been a few small changes, namely when he activates the viewsceen there is a large ginger tabby cat taking up most of the shot. ]

Down, Spot.

[ Even after all this time, Data still doesn't have his cat 'trained'. It is a bone of contention with him, actually. He reaches up and lifts the cat into his lap, frowning. He should be happy, but having Spot on board causes all kinds of issues. ]

I discovered Spot in the Jump Bay shortly after my arrival, however I am at a loss as to how I am to be expected to convince her to behave herself without the necessary feline treats. Nor am I certain how to provide her meals, given the absence of a replicator on board; Spot requires quite specific dietary supplements.

[ The cat wriggles out of Data's arms and jumps out of view, and for a moment Data's eyes follow after her before returning to the screen. ]

Further to having been delivered my violin, I wish to propose a meeting of the musicians on board. Aboard the Enterprise, a short recital was often performed for those interested in attending each Friday, and it may not be outside the bounds of possibility to do much the same thing here, should there be sufficient interest.

[FILTERED AWAY FROM CASTMATES]

[This has been something that's been plaguing Alex for a while. Things had been different, in Promenade, when he had been the one being given new information. Now that he is the keeper of certain...info, he wants some advice. Charles seems to have some pieces too, but as usual, he hasn't directly inquired with the telepath, rather wanting to strike out on his own, first.]

Let's say you know the future of some people here. Maybe not their future, but a future. One that might end up theirs--or might not.

[Alex sighs; the way he's describing it, he could see why people might say it doesn't matter, but--]

I guess what I'm saying is that if you know what someone might do in the future--or you've learned things that tell you about their past...

...do you tell them?

Or is it better just to kinda.... [He goes silent for a moment, before speaking again] keep that shit to yourself.

You know, avoid messing with the time space continuum.

[End filter.]

[Now onto something that covers up for his random question. Something that his team mates can answer, too.]

Is anyone else starting to go a bit stir crazy?

[Alex spent almost a year sitting in solitary. The windowless rooms here remind him too much of his own cell--yeah he can get out, do things around here, but he's still sleeping in a place that makes him wake up and remember times he had tried to put behind him.]

Can't imagine how some of you six month-ers feel.

[A beat.]

We don't have a basketball court in this weird place, do we?

[ The feed begins without preamble, and on the left of the screen, Spock is visible- seated beside one Charles Xavier. One of them looks slightly more empathetic than the other, especially given a combination of the subject matter, and time spent in medical bay. Three guesses who. Spock is the first to speak regardless, what has likely become a familiar address after these many months. ]

Greetings Tranquility, this is Spock.

As we have been made aware by passenger Banner’s informative briefing the science lab has provided as many intriguing theoreticals as it has presently unanswerable questions. All attempted scans of the computers therein were inconclusive. Data not in print appeared to have been wiped. [ His fingers steeple in his lap. Someone is less than thrilled by this. ] Documents recovered, appear to focus primarily upon cosmology, quantum chromodynamics, dimensional theory, particle acceleration, and medicine- with the inclusion of research upon the stasis sickness that affected our crew.

[Charles is listening with a pensive and equally thwarted looking expression on his face, though at Spock’s pause on the subject of the more biological end of their findings, he’ll sit forward, drawing a sheet of what looks like bloodied paper towards himself.]

Many of these notes, the ones not rendered illegible by blood, appear to be in various states of completion. It appears as if there was a good deal of work being performed on medicines, including the ‘cure’ we were lead to find a week ago.

[Shifting through the bloodied sheets, Charles frowns thoughtfully before he continues.]

There are other chemical equations that lead me to believe that there was also a dedicated effort being made to stabilize a compound meant to have a calming effect on humans. [Glancing up at the device, Charles tapped the paper before he looked over at Spock and then continued.]

In particular, it appears these compounds were being specialized to treat and prevent psychotic breaks.

Dr. Ross? If you are listening, I would like to discuss something with you.

[He then sits back to allow Spock to continue to debriefing.]

The science department presents an unparalleled opportunity for development, exploration, and study, but not without challenge.

Given an adequate number of interested individuals, I believe the laboratories will be significantly operational in a matter of days. I understand that passenger Clarke has already lead a party through the newly accessible deck and secured the location, however I do not believe it unwise to continue to seek accompaniment from our security team. [ He doesn’t need to elaborate, as he expects it goes unsaid. Their safety has never been guaranteed. ]


( filter to bruce banner &issac clarke | )

[ This is Chuck's first time on film around here so he looks a little shifty, but he gives a nervous sort of smile. Oh yeah, he's totally about to give a poignant speech. Watch out. ]

So, I guess we’re all stuck in space, huh. [ so poignant. ] Not exactly how I pictured my first space-mission going, especially the part about the potentially deadly space illness or being stuck in the goo-filled pods. Without clothes. And almost being choked to death. Just an average day around here, I guess.

[ .... cue crickets before Chuck finally clears his throat. ]

Maybe we should think about changing that part up. Beaming people up to space with their clothes might be a gentler transition. Baby steps, you know? First space, then goo filled pods, then the fact that we might die or get eaten by intergalactic beasts if we're not careful.

Yes? No? Could I get a vote from the members of my audience?

[ After a second, Chuck just sort of sighs. Not really expecting a response, his tone changes ever so slightly when he continues, leaning more towards the serious. ] Look, i’ve been through enough life changing experiences in my life already, ending up in space wasn’t really on my list of things I wanted to do before I died. I mean, yeah sure, I like Galaga and Asteroids as much as the next guy, but i’m pretty sure the whole... space thing isn’t for me. [ At this point he just looks kind of done with this whole thing, but he's trying to get it over with. ]

Since i’m pretty sure i’m not up here for any reason other than to see just how badly i’ll fail, think i’ll be trying to find the next... pod out of here. But before that, has anyone been able to phone home yet?

[ bruce does not much like posting on the network. mostly because it involves people looking at him, people not his team. but betty asked, and there's not a whole lot he won't do under that particular duress.

so he taps on a video feed, trying not to let how much this whole mess feels personal show on his face. ]

I know we're all tired and run down, but there have been some developments. Bet-- Dr. Ross and her colleagues have discovered some. [ he pauses, sighs. ] Some disturbing news. In the interest of full disclosure and transparency-- [ and isn't that politician double speak. he sighs, starts again. ] Sorry, habit. I'll try and speak plainly: none of this is reassuring, but we all at least deserve answers.

The creatures-- [ his mouth twists at that, but he doesn't stop speaking this time. ] appear to be a product of some kind of experimentation. Overwhelmingly-- by a margin of eighty percent-- their genetic makeup is simple, baseline human, but there's another twenty left that appears to be a cocktail of lion, dingo, and crocodile. Their organs were... largely human in appearance, with tweaks here and there. We can't tell you how or why just yet, but we can tell you they weren't doing well even before we got there. Based on the sample brought back by Mr. Clarke and his team, there was a high rate of malnutrition, as well as clear evidence of cannibalism. Whether that was by necessity or not, we can't say. What we can say is that they were most likely dying before we got there-- their cells were deteriorating, in what if I had to hazard a guess would be a side effect of whatever process made them into hybrids. There was also a shared high rate of some pretty nasty infected wounds, and I'd recommend anyone who was bitten or scratched and hasn't already done so should stop into Medbay and make sure they'll heal cleanly.

[ his back straightened during that little speech-- science is easy. now it's just bruce, and he takes off his glasses and cleans them on the front of his shirt, slumping a little again. ]

I wish I had more comforting answers, or even just complete ones. And to keep the hits coming, the computers in the newly cleared labs were wiped clean. We're looking into digging harder or establishing a timeline, but it's slow going. If anything new turns up, someone will make another announcement. Until then, it's hurry up and wait.

[ and as a slender hand reaches into frame to squeeze his shoulder, bruce cuts the feed. ]

( text | filtered to the axvengers ( and jarvis + betty ) | 95 % unhackable )

[ ENCRYPTED 75% TO MEDICAL AND XENOBIOLOGY/GENETICS STAFF + BRUCE BANNER: ]
I took the liberty of checking out the blood samples we were able to get from the creatures at the end of the maze. Some of them seemed to have bacterial infections, which isn't surprising, but I also checked them against known DNA samples from Earth.

I don't want to alarm anyone, which is why I've encrypted this for now, but so far the results are all coming back in essentially the same manner. The DNA of these creatures is a mix between Earth creatures -- the lion is a large component, and there are also what appears to be genetic material from the Australian dingo and some sort of crocodile. However, at the present time it appears as though the largest genetic contribution comes from human beings.

Obviously the samples may have been compromised, as I've really only been able to work off their blood and some hair. I'm going to request a larger sample, preferably an entire specimen -- dead, obviously. Hopefully we can get more answers, and hopefully the human genetic material was just cross-contamination.

[ OPEN: ]
I've heard a few things about people returning to the end of the maze to clear out the rest of the creatures, in addition to a possible salvage operation. My name is Elizabeth Ross -- I'm a cellular biologist and university professor back home. If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to request a mostly intact -- though definitely dead -- specimen of the creatures. I'm sure there are a lot of people who are wondering just what they are and how they got here, not to mention how they've survived the jumps, and I'm hoping that an entire specimen might be able to give us some answers.

How is everyone feeling?

[HELLO, TRANQUILITY.

Topher looks... well, the phrase "like hell" would be apt. He just arrived in medbay roughly ten minutes ago and after making sure his supply of the cure was properly handed out to the staff to resupply, he has retreated to some dark corner to scream at the network. He hasn't showered or bothered to get much of the horrible combination of blood, vomit, and various other terrible substances off of him, so he... Looks quite a lot like this. This is not a happy Topher. Happy Tophers go shower immediately and fuck the fact that there's probably forty people down there getting their showers on.

It takes him a minute to get past teeth-baring, heavy-breathing, nerd-rage, and when he does, it's very clear he had to put the communicator up on top of something so everyone can see his wild, frustrated gesturing.]

I think- I really think we need to sit down and have a little lunchtime poll, Tranquility. I don't... I don't even know if it's lunchtime, because my sense of time is a little shot to complete hell, but for this particular argument's sake, let's pretend it's lunchtime.

Now here's your poll question- and remember, there are no stupid questions, so don't just immediately write this off as me just babbling like a crazy person, 'cause that's not what this is at all.

Okay. You're building a big spaceship for God only knows what purpose. What do you put in it? Kitchens? Holodecks? A really fancy bridge that has that one button and a couple levers that seem to do everything? Those are reasonable answers. I commend you for having those answers. Good for you. You're a sane person. Gold stars for the sane people on the ship.

But if you answered black holes and terrifying hellbeasts, then you have brought me to my next question as well as proved any and all points I might have about who the real insane people are.

So Captain, my freakin' psycho Captain and his little engineer too. What the hell is wrong with this ship? 'Cause a bunch of us just nearly died to fix something that went wrong with your systems and then nearly got eaten by something that got loose in your labs- labs we didn't know even know existed until now, because no one tells us anything. I think we deserve a lot more than a pat on the head and a bunch of vague answers.

But maybe that's just me. I mean, it's not like me and a bunch of other people didn't just risk our lives to save our friends or anything. It's not like they deserve to know what they nearly died of.

[ Filtered to ENG and SCI stamps | Filter 30% ]

[ John is standing with his arms crossed, in the Medbay. One can see only the faintest hint of the patient beds behind him. ]

Right. Hello, I'm Doctor Watson, obviously signaling you out of the medbay. You may have heard Doctor McCoy put out a call earlier announcing the illness that's been seen in a few passengers lately.

We're currently exploring all outlets of possible transmission for this disease, and we haven't ruled out environmental factors like radiation or air contamination.

I was wondering if any of the engineers wouldn't mind trying to do a sort of... system's check or something? See if there's not a leak somewhere, any radioactive contaminants...

Also, we need someone who's knowledgeable to come and have a look over our medical machinery. We don't know how many people we're going to be getting in here, but we definitely don't need any of the things going bust on us. There's no problem at the moment, but better safe than sorry, yeah?

Thanks.

[ It's the third day that passengers aboard the Tranquility have shown up in medbay with symptoms of some kind of illness. Taken individually, none of them have appeared life-threatening -- physical weakness, loss of coordination, nausea and a mild fever, some ringing in the ears. Things that could be attributed to any number of minor ailments.

When they started presenting with a blue tint to the eyes, lips and nails, that got the medical staff more worried. When someone put it all together and realized that the symptoms all seemed to be linked...well that has the earmarks of an epidemic.

How McCoy ended up with the task of making a general announcement he's not certain, but maybe everyone figures his general doom-and-gloom attitude when it comes to space travel will convey the sense that it's probably not as bad as it sounds, more so than if it came from someone less prone to pronouncements about how they're all likely to die out here.

When the video begins transmitting, it shows him in his blue Starfleet uniform, the wall of the medbay behind him. He isn't smiling, but he isn't looking too worried either. Those who've served with him, however, might recognize that he's wearing his 'CMO' demeanor. ]

I'd like your attention, please. My name is Dr. Leonard McCoy, and I'm one of your medical staff. It's come to our attention down here that there may be some kind of virus makin' the rounds. Before you all start to panic, it doesn't look serious, but it would help us come up with a treatment if anyone exhibiting the following symptoms would kindly stop by for a check-up.

The symptoms are a general weakness or loss of coordination, nausea, fever, ringing in your ears. You may notice a blue tint to your lips, eyes, or fingernails. If you find you have any of these symptoms, get yourself down to the medbay. Could turn out to be nothing, but better safe than sorry.



[ The public transmission ends, but it's followed by two filtered transmissions. ]

( Filter to Medical Staff + Betty Ross + Sue Storm + Aragorn | MED Filter 80% )

( Filter to Enterprise | McCoy Encryption 80% )



[OOC NOTES: Any of the people currently listed as being on medical staff are more than welcome to threadjack here. At this point, although there may be suspicions and conjecture on the part of the medbay staff, no one has pinpointed a specific cause of the symptoms.

Medical Types: If you're not on the medical staff list or specifically named by McCoy, but you have medical/science skills you want to contribute, please feel free to respond to the general transmission and make an offer. He'll add you to the filter.

Enterprise Crew: Feel free to up Bones' encryption if your skills are better, which most of them probably are. ;) ]

Good afternoon, Tranquility.

My name is John Watson, I'm one of the doctors working in your medical bay. I've got several things to talk to you about today, all of them important, so I hope you'll stick with me through it.

First off, many of you are aware that a death occurred during the jump. For those of you who have just arrived and aren't familiar with the term, a 'jump' is what happens when the ship is moving rapidly from one part of space to another. We make these once a month and they're believed to be the reason we end up here. I don't know the technical details about it -it's only a theory, really, from other passengers- so don't bother asking.

What I know about it is that your life depends on you being present in the medbay before every jump. The consequences are what happened to the deceased, who was trapped elsewhere in the ship during the jump and became crushed by the acceleration. I'm sorry I have to tell you about that, but I want you to realize that getting into the gravpouches is not optional. You get in one or you die.

[ There's a pause here, which may be for weight or for the fact John needs to collect himself once more. ]

An examination was performed on the deceased by myself and Doctor McCoy. We have done extensive tests and have found no drugs to be present in the system. So Hotspur's broadcast was a lucid one, and no one attempted to drug him to keep him from getting out of that shuttle. The cause of death matches with the expected consequences of a jump on an unprotected body.

We cannot say anything in regards to whether or not this incident was accidental or manufactured, but in respect to the body, there is no evidence of foul play.

If you have any questions about the examination, I'll take them.

Just a reminder now - from now on, we'll be reporting to the medbay an hour before the jump to make sure everyone's present and accounted for. You'll likely be sitting in the locker rooms, though, until we can get everyone sorted.

[ Again, a pause. This one is for a transition. ]

Second order of business is to tell you that medbay is short-staffed. We've got about six people to help about four hundred of you. We're looking for medical professionals that have come in through the jump as well as volunteers. If you'd like to come and help us out at medical, we're willing to train you. We're looking for those interested in full-time, part-time, and emergency volunteers.

I'm going to need all of our current medical staff to cue in to this broadcast, because it will be acting as our interview process.

If you think you're interested, keep listening. If not, this broadcast ends here.

( Medical Joining Info )

(( OOC: Medical staff! You may ping in/threadjack these threads, especially those with any potential interviewees! ))

[Buffy didn't know Hotspur -- beyond what she could see of his transmissions -- but that doesn't stop her from caring, in part because she's her and in part because that's just...a truly horrific way to die. So she does what she's used to doing: she writes a poem. She sees that poetry could be a touchy subject, given the preponderance the smiley grants it, but its been around and offering comfort to people for thousands of years longer than the smiley has been taunting them with it. She won't let that thing take it from them.

She's torn between reading out the poem to mark the difference, that this comes from a person with a heart and a soul, but she doesn't want her patterns of pronunciation to guide the words.]

"Hotspur"

So gone, so lost, so driven out
So far from home, so close to doubt
Whereby, what for, how and why?

What he made here we won't let go
This knowledge that we have to know
Here to live or come to die.

What hope have we, for what we've lost?
What can we gain for what it's cost?
"Once he was," we can but cry.