So since no one else is going to talk about it...

Let's do a vote. Show of hands. How many of you think we're all alone here? A whole planet of pretty woods, jut for us. And how many of you think that we can't be alone. Maybe there's some city out there. Too bad you can't leave the camp.

And how many of you think that we're, like, totally surrounded. I hear that's a thing. Because there's spears, and they're stealing from us. Blah, blah. Tell me something real. If there's someone out there? I'd like to get to them first. I'd like to think everyone would agree with me, but I'm sure I'd be wrong.

Actually, you know what I'd love? I'd love for them to come by and try to get at my stuff. Consider this an invitation.

[If anyone saw Harry's mirror message not so long ago, they might be confused when a smirking copycat appears in the sliver of mirror. Despite looking alarmingly like Harry's younger brother, this is a very different person.

Well. Sort of. But James doesn't have all of that information just yet.

He offers a cheeky wave to those paying attention.]

Hullo, you lot. Seems like we've got loads of nasty business going on lately. Dunno what's up with it all, but I've got a proposal.

[He pauses dramatically. Leans close to the mirror like he has a secret.]

Potluck.

[He leans back again, beaming.]

I'm thinking tomorrow night. See what you can make in the way of edibles and let's all compare and share. Assuming nothing mad happens between now and then. Who's in?

[ the mirror-shard is clutched in derek's hand. he's obviously unsteady on his feet, being buffeted about by the wind, but he shoves a mask briefly into frame before moving it aside to scowl down at the mirror. ]

Don't put them on.

[ important psa's that can't wait for sobriety, as much as derek resents having to both address people via mirror and do it while wind-drunk. ]

They're dangerous. Don't do it.

 
Umm... Do you think...

Are last names -- important?

I was, was thinking maybe... I dunno... My real mom had a last name, but I never used it... Lots of people got last names, though.

Maybe I could have one, too...?

[Not that he has one in mind. Only -- he does, but he's not sure if it's allowed. Is it? He wishes he knew.]

[The mirror begins showing a view of Tyke, somewhere in the jungle, a frown of consideration pinching her brow as she looks down at the surface. After a moment, sure that it's "on", she turns to the side, image wobbling violently as the mirror is passed - possibly a little forcefully. There's a very blurred view of more jungle, a brief glimpse of Charles Xavier, and then the image finally settles on Oxford.

Who, for the record, is wearing a somewhat amused but unimpressed smile. Making the new(ish) boy do all the talking, hm? It’s hard work, being the prettiest face for camera. Since, yes, that’s what they based the decision on for who was doing the talking.]

Good day — [What, fellow stranded jungle dwellers? Oxford tries not to wear his most corporate, people-pleasing smile. This isn’t a generic business speech, this matters, and as a result, his expression is faintly grim.] I’m Oxford, most of you will know Tyke and Charles. Some of you will also know we recently went on something of an adventure, and that’s what I’m here to talk about.

The long and short of it is that we appear to be stuck within a particular territory. A sizeable territory, admittedly, but still something of a limitation in the grand scheme of things, I’m sure you agree. [There is a possibility someone here is either giving him a look or a pinch that says get on with it. Oxford laughs mildly, gesturing with a vague hand in a vague direction.] Once you hit a certain distance out there, you start getting nosebleeds, headaches, and my strong recommendation is not to keep going. Please.

[And people using themselves as living test subjects, which he keeps to himself but adds a light note of strain to his voice.]

While we don’t know exactly what it is, we have our suspicions that it’s something to do with the… consciousness that Charles discovered before, that we’re still connected to it. Tethered, if you will. We realise it doesn’t seem like much information, but if you have any further questions, we’ll try to answer them to the best of our advantage. Take care out there, everyone. Don’t push your luck with the perimeter, if you happen to reach it. [He pulls a sudden grin, seemingly out of nowhere.] And now I’m done talking in my daft teacher-voice, you’ll be glad to know.

( ooc: replies are likely to come from oxford, tyke and charles! post is backdated to a couple of days after the stampede. )

[even though the feed is garbled, rikkus' frustration and something akin to fear are clear in her voice]

Don't be ▒▓▒▓ing idiots. Get to medbay or somewhere not en▒▓neering! Trust me, you don't want a▒▓ of what's here.

[there's a short pause]

I need my engineering cr▒▓ on deck though. Stay together, stay safe. Find Fitz, stick with him. He'll ▒▓▓▒▒▒

[the feed abruptly cuts to white noise]

Well, it's official. "Someday" and "An emergency" are here. We need the zippy little battle craft and we need them now. This is basically all hands on deck for anyone I've flight trained.

[With one notable exception]

And if I haven't flight trained you, these still need a crew to work the weapons, so keep listening.

We have two kinds of shuttle. Harpy have some missile capabilities but are mostly for getting up close and personal with everyone who now wants to kill us. Need at least three people to keep them working. Wyvern are for sneaking around and dropping a nasty surprise from a distance. We need at least four people working those.

So speak up if you want on crew. And if I've flight trained you but you aren't sure about actually being the main pilot on one of these, tell me now. We could still use people working the guns who can step in if anything happens.

Gavvers, Newtie, I have a different job for you two.


((OOC: I've created a Google Doc for keeping track of who's flying with who. Let me know if you want me to just arbitrarily stick your character in any crew that needs them))

[ The feed begins with a single tone, low, as if testing the audio capabilities of the devices. On the screen is an older man, white haired with bright blue eyes, standing in front of a deep blue banner emblazoned in gold with a circular symbol containing three five-pointed stars. Though his face now is solemn, there are laughter lines soft at corners of his eyes, the set of his mouth one clearly used to the curve of a smile. He only waits a moment before beginning to speak, voice level, carrying an assured authority, a confidence borne from experience. ]

Residents of the Tranquility, I greet you today after many, many years of waiting. My name is Hendrik van Rijn, Prime Minister of the Miraxian Triad, the people who built and launched the ship you've been trapped on. You may not have heard of me, but I have heard of you, and all the terrible events you've been forced to endure as a result of the unprecedented malfunction which took the Tranquility so far from her intended path. I offer you the deepest sympathies of my people, and myself. Mistakes have been made, and I give you every assurance that now, with your return to us, we will find the cause of this tragedy and set things right.

I know you may have heard promises before, and met with the unfortunate souls in our society who prefer to cheat and steal than offer a helping hand. I know you have no reason to trust me; if I'd been through as much as you have, I wouldn't trust me either. But we have someone else here to speak to you, and I hope hearing from her will help to show the truth of our intentions, and allow us to begin the forging of a strong partnership as we move into the future.

[ With a last look to the camera, he steps back, turning his attention to the side and holding out a hand to greet and guide the woman joining him to take center. The woman's face is one known to many aboard the ship. She's gracious as she steps into view, appearing to squeeze the man's hand before she lets go and takes her place.

Odessa Knutson. ]

Thank you, Prime Minister.

[ Her attention turns to the camera then, head tilting to one side as a wide smile spreads across her familiar features. She has a look of health to her. A better diet, some proper sunlight, and time will do that. ]

Hello, Tranquility. [ Spoken in the same way one might ask, did you miss me? ] It's been a long time. Too long. For all of us. [ That smile turns a little sad. They've been through some horrors, haven't they? Time and distance has allowed much of it to become a distant memory. ]

The time has come to stop running. When I left the ship, I didn't know what to expect. We received so many conflicting stories, didn't we? I expected all the worst ones to be true, but it was a risk I was willing to take. I'm sure many of you can understand why. Still, I was afraid that I would find monsters. That I would be thrown in a dark cell and never see the light of day again. Now, I don't say this often, but... [ Her hands spread out to her sides, palms up in a gesture that says just look at me. ] I was wrong. After my escape two years ago, Prime Minister van Rijn's people found me. They gave me food, clothing, shelter, a new life and a new purpose...

To find all of you, and help you to be rescued as I had been rescued. I know most of you aren't like me; I'm starting over here, and I'm happier than I've ever been, but many of you have lives you want to return to. [ The delight she has in sharing this good news seems genuine enough, especially (or even) to those who know her well. She clasps her hands in front of her, a light in her eyes. ] I've seen what the Miraxians have been working on myself. There's hope, so much hope.

Pack your bags, my friends. We're coming to take you home.

[[ OOC: van Rijn exited stage left once off camera, and responses will come from Odessa Knutson only. ]]

Hayley--

[a pause. okay, so this really sucks. he hadn't asked him about keeping her here. hayley wasn't on the list, and now--]

Hayley Marshall has gone home, which...I guess is a good thing. She had a kid back there, and...

[no, it sucks. and now that means he's down one of the few good things he had left here.]

Whatever. She's gone, and considering it looks like nobody else turned up this jump, she probably won't be back.

I just wanted to make sure her friends here knew. Sorry.


locked to beacon hills crew;

[a lock, and a short delay while he works out what to say here. he isn't sure how well any of this will go down. whether he even can come back, given all that's happened. but he at least has to try.]

...I want to come back.

[it's a quiet admission. it's still difficult, and he doesn't know how he will take this. (he's not fooling himself in to thinking that he can't see this.]

I want to come back, and I know you're just gonna want to lock me up again. But don't make me stay in there. You can't.

[it isn't a statement. isn't anywhere near as certain as it would have once been. instead, it's a request. a plead. he wants to come back, but he can't if it means staying locked up indefinitely.]

Tell me there's a way to make it work. Please.

[Serah's face comes in way too close for comfort, if only for a second, before she sets the camera down on a table, propped up, to offer a waist-up shot of her. Offering a smile, she waves.]

I hope everyone can see me. I haven't used the video option much, but we had similar technology on Cocoon. [Her hands intertwine in front of her.]

My name is Serah Farron, and I got here on the jump before the last one. A few of you had talked to me, but I figured I should introduce myself.

Back home, on Cocoon--well, Gran Pulse, I guess, but that's not important--I was a teacher. I don't think we have much of a school set up here, and I know most of us have jobs, but I wouldn't mind teaching anyone up to high school subjects if they wanted it, and I could teach survival tactics as well, but I'm not sure if they'd be useful in space.. I was a jack-of-all-trades teacher since I was the only one in my village, and I don't have any official certification, but I think I can handle it.

[Her smile grows brighter. She's not sure if anyone will take the offer, but she's always willing. It would bring some sense of normalcy, here.]

Also, I'd like to get a job in support or security, if there's any need. Thank you for listening!

[And with a wave and then darkness mixed with the sound of jostling, the feed turns off]

[The video opens dark, shaky as it turns, a dim orange glow visible down the far end of a dark corridor before it settles on Cora's face. Soot-streaked, sweating, she swallows dryly before trying to speak.]

There's a fire. On-- I was on floor nine.

[She doesn't know if she's still there. She hasn't known where she is for days.]

I don't know if there's a way to put it out. [The image crackles with static, and there's a distant sound, a voice calling Cora! She ignores it, doesn't look away from the camera, but further distress flickers in her expression before it steels again.] Just stay away.

[[ooc: backdated to May 30!]]

[The video feed turns to reveal Emily looking a bit worse for wear from the illness or whatever it is that is going around lately causing the headaches and the bleeding. She has never really addressed the network before, mostly because it felt superfluous and that was typically Nolan's thing anyway but this was different and probably an important thing to discuss if anything]

Hey. So I am not really sure where to start with this— I know there's been the headaches and the bleeding that has been already mentioned and still going on but lately I've been slowly been getting bits and pieces of dreams or maybe something more like someone else's memories that happened before in this place.

Anyway with everything that's happening right now, I figure it can't be a coincidence— so I was wondering if anyone else has experienced something similar?

[ooc; Referring to the stasis coma dreams! Feel free to use this as a general discussion/info post and threadjack if you want too]

[Being from the second jump, Heather's been dealing with this headache bullshit for a longer than she'd like. Consequently, she looks like crap - if crap that's had an idea it's really excited about. Red eyes accentuated by dark rings, a smear from a nosebleed that got a very cursory cleanup (because who cares when you're only going to have another in half an hour?), and a jittery sort of energy that belies her tiredness.]

Anybody remember Mattie Ross? Cool kid. Braids, hat, very serious. She tried this thing when she was here with setting up a school and I figured - seems like there are more kids around now than there have been in a while, maybe it's time we start that up again?

I helped out last time. It was good. Thing is, I don't know anything about teaching and I have a pretty limited skill set. I'm gonna need a lot of help. And what I was thinking is we could set it up so it's relevant to here. Give the kids a grounding in the skills we need here, so like - I'm in agricultural, I can give a crash course in how to keep things running so we can all keep breathing. And maybe someone from medical can come and teach basic first aid, someone from security to show 'em what to do when everything gets all dangerous the way it likes to.

I know there's a lot going on. Headaches and blood and voids and people from off the ship. I figure that just means it's more important than ever that everyone knows how to take care of themselves. So let me know if you feel like you could help make this work. Or hell, if you wanna come and you've got ideas about how we should do it. Don't let the grownups set all the rules, that's like a guaranteed bad time, right?

[ Appearing on the video, Lydia only gives the transmission some of her attention, busy in the science department. ]

Well, Jasper's gone. Making me the senior and only physical sciences officer aboard Tranquility. If you'd like to consider joining, my name's Lydia Martin. We handle everything nonliving: chemistry, astronomy, physics. My most recent pet project has been an effort in mapping the location of the ship at each jump to understand our flight path, perhaps even predict trajectory.

But with the DUPRR team on board, I'm hoping that project will be rendered redundant. Has anyone had a chance to speak to one of them about their resources? Given that you're all holding them hostage.

[ Strong word, perhaps, but most of them are under guard of some kind. The non-combative eighteen-year-old isn't going to tussle with that, thank you. She'll keep her distance and let other people report in on what they've got to say. ]

Oh, and for anyone who knew him? As of jump 043, Stiles is gone, too.

We're losing people.

[It's not a good opener. Tyke's in the SEC office, the central screen standing as backdrop behind her, but her expression doesn't seem as sharp as it usually is for these announcements. The slight pinch in her brow isn't unusual, but there's a slightly cloudy quality to her eyes that doesn't dissipate as she continues talking.]

There's less people at the jumps. Our overall population's getting smaller. You'd think we'd be getting bigger over time, not this.

[Her frown deepens for a moment, and she takes a breath. Seems to pull herself up straighter, words coming stronger.]

My name's Tyke, and I'm head of security. Anyone that hasn't heard it before: security's here for your safety. Things here are gonna try to kill you or fuck with your head. We wanna make sure that doesn't happen.

One way you're gonna help on that is by sticking together. Move down to the first ten floors. Join a department. They maintain the basic functions of the ship around you, and they're all fucking understaffed. Don't let any of this shit make you think we've gotta turn on each other.

[Pain twists her expression sharply, suddenly, has her leaning forward slightly, a thin trickle of blood running down from her nose. She wipes it almost immediately, red smearing on her face and the back of her hand. She glares at it, irritation and frustration palatable, snarling in her voice.]

Is anyone else getting these fucking headaches?