[This is that moment in a horror movie where comms just start going staticky like crazy and you're sure there's actual talking going on, but it's almost entirely garbled, either because of the mass panic of the person the other end or because it's plot convenient. WHO KNOWS. Either way, Topher's comm is doing a lot of static and the only thing that actually gets through in the haze is a single sentence.]

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░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░DID IT HAVE TO BE RATS?!


[Congrats, TQ. Now everyone knows of Topher's rodent problem. For the record, he's sequestered in a far corner of the genetics labs to avoid the rats and most of his shouting is telling people THERE ARE RODENTS HERE. GET THEM GET THEM. We can assume someone dragged him bodily out of the labs later, but for now? HE AIN'T MOVIN'. Or contributing.]

[When the video clicks on, it shows Bennett sitting in her room and fidgeting a bit. She wanted to say something, she's just having issues articulating it all. Her lips part like she's about to start speaking a few times before she actually does.]

Ah, hi. I mean, hello. Yes. My name is Bennett Halverson and I'm...new. To this whole, as Dr. Brink put it, pandimensional kidnapping spaceship thing.

So I have a question concerning recent events that have been mentioned or--or broadcasted here on this network.

[She pauses and bites her lip, then her hand sort of wanders up to her mouth and she chews on her thumbnail for a second before she realizes she's doing it and that other people probably don't want to watch that.]

Is this normal? For, well. The monsters. Other...people dying. Does this happen frequently? Because that's a problem in a finite area such as a ship. Which I'm sure the majority of you are probably aware of already and don't need me to point out but. I, I'd like to help. Somehow. I'm a, a scientist. Medical doctor, technically, but my fields of study...weren't limited. I'm familiar with a wide variety of subjects so I'd like to put my knowledge to use. In some way.

[The concept of face twins isn't a new one on the ship, but this is something entirely different. The person that once was Claire Saunders is gone. In her stead is a similar looking woman, though this is still Claire's body. Those scars across her face make it recognizable to those who know the doctor.

But Whiskey is docile in comparison. There is no edge to her voice, no skepticism or cynicism. She is not closed off. Whiskey is both more childlike and yet moves almost like a ghost, quiet and calm, always with wide eyes.]

Hello. [She blinks. There is no such network at her last residence, and this place is confusing as is. She isn't sure what to say, having nothing programmed, no response to this atmosphere.]

I would like to know more of this place if I am going to be here longer. It is not like the Dollhouse. There is no pool or yoga. I do not know what to do. [She blinks again. Having to decide things is still a foreign concept, but she is doing what she must. Her head tilts as if something popped in her head.]

I like the oxygen gardens.

[It isn't a whole lot of information, but it's clear something happened to her. She's defenseless here for the most part and more than a little lost. Hopefully Topher figures out something soon.]

[there's a ping to all the people who showed their interest the first time he mentioned this, but the message stays open in case there are any more takers.]

Shooting lessons. You've all seen the rules, so consider this me opening up some time for one-on-one tuition, starting after this jump.

[though, now he's in a supposedly official position (he has the opr and everything), he knows better than to hand over a gun to just anyone. maybe he'll be able to keep the job for more than a week if he uses common sense here.]

Gun safety and maintenance first. Then shooting. And no, you don't get to keep the weapon when we're done.

Questions?

[ The camera flickers on. He figures the best way to prove how dire this is - is to show it. He is in the hallway of the living quarters. Charles is kneeling down to the ground, and is beside someone. ]

I could use some assistance.

[ The camera shifts to a girl next to him, down on the ground in the hallway. She definitely doesn't look well. She is drifting in and out consciousness. ]

I need help getting her to the medical ward as quickly as possible. [ He moves one finger to her wrist, to both examine the tattoo and feel for a heartbeat. It confirms his suspicions that she is in fact new. He leaves his fingers there, so he can make sure she continues on...]

The closer you are to the tenth floor the better.

[ ooc: whoever helps, we can hop right into action! the girl with him is katniss. ]

[Claire's holding her imprint wedge in her left hand, staring at it for a moment before her other hand brushes over some brown curls.]

This place has got me thinking. I know there was someone offering to erase memories-- [And she has her own feelings on that.] But if everything you knew could be erased and you could simply hit 'restart' on your life, would you? If you could start again, forget what you know about this place, about the future you may or may not return to, would you?

[Not that she necessarily has the ability to. The imprint wedge is only a piece of the technology needed. But at least if anything happens to her, if she's damaged, she has this as a back up.]

But starting over could simply lead to the same conclusion. Or you would not be the person you are now, for better or for worse.

[Her face steels again, fingers edging over the wedge before she brings the hand into her lap. Would she want to forget? Truly? No. At least what has happened is real. She's experienced it. It has made her who she is in this moment, no matter her name or her programming.]

Then again, with the erasure of everything I know, it could also be a devolution. [Certainly Alpha would think so.]

This is simply me thinking out loud. With the abilities and things offered here, it simply got me thinking again on what truly makes us who we are.

[ October's camped out in some nondescript hallway, jean-covered legs stretched out, an open book (thanks, Jim) sitting in her lap when she turns the feed on. Settling back against the wall, she twists the ring on her right forefinger a few times before she says anything. ]

I've noticed that a lot of the people here come from places filled with things that shouldn't exist. Either that or they come so far from the future that space travels and interacting with aliens is second nature to them, which made me wonder two things. [ She glances over at her device now. ] One: how many of you come from completely normal places? No werewolves, no zombies, no ghosts; nothing that belongs in a book, not in real life.

And two: has anyone stopped to think that maybe that's why most of us are here? Because we're used to the strange and the unreal so we might be able to deal better? [ It's a theory, one she likes better than wondering how many people on board are dead back home, like her.

She twists her ring around a couple more times before she reaches for the device. ] The possibility of it sits a hell of a lot better with me than "we're chosen at random" but if anybody's got any better ideas, feel free to speak up.

[ And then she cuts the feed. ]



ooc: anyone who might want to action it up, feel free~ she's hanging out in a hallway fairly close to wherever the 005 rooms are located.

[ Betty's standing in the science department, frowning slightly at the room before turning her attention onto the camera, expression smoothing out. ]

It appears as though the strange maze that led to the science department, the one with the odd rooms and the black holes, has disappeared. There is a lift near the medbay and a door near the Oxygen Garden, however, so that the department is still accessible. I can't say for sure that the hallway is gone completely from the ship, but it certainly isn't where it once was.

[ locked to heine & nill ]

I looked over the samples. Nothing is wrong, which means it likely is just molting. I can either bring everything to you or you can come and get it -- whichever you'd prefer.

[It's honestly rare for Claire to make a post to the network. She mainly stalks it, more likely to watch from the sidelines unless something peeks her interest. But since talking to Topher and more people questioning her about her similarity to another with her face, she addresses the network.]

I know we've all been pulled from different worlds, some with duplicates and some that have strange resemblances to those here or those others may know from back home. [This is still a hard concept to wrap her head around given that people can have their personalities wiped from them back in her world.]

Does this happen often? And has anyone noticed that there are several people within a few worlds that could be another person. I know of three people, myself included, that have what people have referred to as doppelgangers. There are only two 'home' worlds. [Herself, Wesley, and Faith all had lookalikes. It seemed strange.]

 [Well, Tranquility. I bet you're ALL OF THE THRILLED to have Topher in your lives again... now 100% less soaked in blood and vomit and sweat and all means of terrible things from his adventure in the science labs and as cheerful as... anyone can be post-jump. Given the background of the video you can assume, he's in medbay and that his comm is propped up on something. Why is he not holding it?

...Well, it might have something to do with the fact that he's trying to flip a certain fedora onto his head with concentrated hand gestures- he was not being factitious when he said that was what he wanted it for, Dave. AND NOW THE WORLD KNOWS.] This is way easier in theory-

[Oh right, he's recording. Yes, well. Moving on.] 

Okay, while we're getting all the usual existential "where am I, what is my purpose" post-jump network blues out and the "you are here, ask us how" responses and a few "oh, by the way, the creepy ship is still creepy" things thrown in just in case anyone felt all safe for a half second, I've got to bring out my contribution. 

My name's Topher Brink and I'm the med bay's neurologist. And you're probably wondering, "Topher, how often do you actually need a neurologist.?" Surprisingly, more often than you think. Space crazy can happen to anyone, so consider this your PSA about that. If you feel weirdly homicidal, please tell someone before you flip your biscuits and kill everyone. If you always feel homicidal and this isn't a new development or anything... Thanks for not already flipping your biscuits and killing us all. And keep not doing that for the foreseeable future.

But the real reason I'm putting this out there is neural implants. How many of you actually have them- if you don't wanna say it out loud and you don't have it on the med bay's records for a reason, please filter to me and it'll be strictly patient-doctor confidentiality. I ask, because I'm pretty sure if anything in your coconut gets hacked, screwed with, or otherwise messed with, McCoy, the Watsons, and the rest of the staff are gonna go, W-T-F and it's gonna be a big mess. If I know ahead of time and can run diagnostics, check to make sure everything's the way it's supposed to be working, then we can cut out any sort of horrible side effects being in space could have on them, 'cause frankly, I've never been a space neurologist, but I know implants, while amazingly durable, can break down or stop functioning. ...Don't panic about that though. It's not likely, but it could happen.

That's... pretty much it. Unless you've got questions or concerns regarding brain science and you, 'cause I'm the guy for that. And completely at your service. [He holds up the hat.] And, apparently, I've got too much time on my hands right now.

[MED BAY FILTER// ENCRYPTED 100%]

Speaking of brains... Aberdeen's still in a coma, so... How 'bout we all get together and put our thinking caps on and brainstorm a little on fixing that.

[[OOC: LITERALLY HEADING OUT THE DOOR FOR WORK. But I will hit tags when I return. Blah, blah, blah. I wanted to get it up.]]

[ Charles turns on the device and it defaults to video. He has cleaned up, found his room, and slipped on the blue sweater he found in the locker. He has taken seat near a desk, where he has piled his belongings. He appears to be thinking, as the disorientation has worn off, but it seemed to be the time to ask questions. ]

I've gathered a bit of information about this place, but more can always be useful. How secure is this?

[ His expression softens and he smiles a bit. It's weird asking questions, but he has founded that his ability is not quite up to par with what it was at home. ]

I could use a better idea of the locations of this place outside of the passenger quarters. Is there a map of this place? I have not yet had a chance to explore this ship, but I would prefer to avoid getting lost if at all possible. [ He barely skips a beat before he continues. ] And is there a library?

[ He pauses for a moment, considering his next few questions. He really needs to talk to - well, people from home. Sort out what had happened completely. And be caught up on anything that he may be missing, since he is certain there is something. That is best left for private and one-on-one conversations, and he isn't certain how secure it is yet. ]

I think I will pick up a book, if they are here; however, I would prefer to know what people do here to occupy their time. Or what it is that needs to be done.

[ He reaches up to turn off the device. ]

I'm Charles Xavier, by the way, if you need to reach me.

[ ooc: Charles is on 008-095, and I am open to action if anyone would prefer. ]

[ well, someone's certainly fresh out of his pod if the way his hair is sticking straight up in wild curls is any indication. robb's clinging on to his mask of kingliness, but only just. the cracks are there for all to see and push upon, if they so chose. ]

I need a maes--a doctor.

[ the word is unfamiliar and strange on his tongue, but he spits it forth anyway. the people here know better what a doctor is than a maester, and he hasnt the time for explanations. ]

Aberdeen is unwell. I found her upon the ground and I cannot rouse her. I fear whatever injury she has is beyond my ability to heal.

[there comes a point in every young boy's life where frustrations grow too strong and all you want to do is hit things. or fuck. this is what happens when you cut yourself off from all possible outlets and are left stewing in your own juices for too long. enjoy, ataraxion.]

the next jump is this week, and we've just got to trust that those pods are safe now? yeah, we have that cure, but who the fuck knows if it's still going to work if shit happens again. don't know about you guys, but i think i'll pass on the sickness this time round

then we've got :) running around trying to cause shit. and then it turns around and helps?

t(-_-t)

[there's a few minutes wait before the entry is updated again.]

this whole thing is bullshit

Dr. McCoy here, and this is a general announcement about something I think everybody on this ship could stand to hear about. So if you don't mind, I won't take more'n a minute of your time.

I know you're all gonna say you're adults and don't need any lectures 'bout the birds and the bees. But I also know that most of you are inherently reckless and tend to think you can beat anything that tries to pull you down through sheer stubbornness. I got no illusions that recent events will have hammered any common sense into places it never resided in the first place. And it's a fool's errand to think for one minute any of you are gonna abstain from sex just because there are risks. So let's address how you can avoid those risks, and we here in Medical can avoid wasting our time doling out STD treatments.

First things first: birth control, condoms, basic supplies for intercourse. Yes, we have 'em, and yes you can get 'em from us. All you gotta do is ask. See? Easy.

Second: sexually transmitted diseases. I can guarantee not a single person on this ship can name every STD lyin' in wait out there. We're from different places, different times, different species. A minor rash for one person could be deadly for another, so takin' a few minutes to get informed and take the right precautions just might be the difference between a decent sexual experience and a ship-wide outbreak of Andorian shingles. So I'm uploading some pamphlets, and I expect you to all take the time to read 'em.

Third: testing for sexually transmitted diseases. If you've been havin' sex since you came aboard and you haven't been tested, get down here and get tested.

[ This portion of the transmission ends with an uplink to a number of STD pamphlets, courtesy of Starfleet Medical. Imagine something like this CDC site, but with a lot of alien diseases added.

The second portion of the transmission is flagged to the Medical Staff AND those characters who volunteered in Medbay during the stasis sickness outbreak. ]

Okay, with that out of the way -- at the moment we have exactly zero patients checked into Medbay. Which in my mind makes this as good a time as any for a good old-fashioned We Ain't Dead Yet celebration. If you're on staff or you volunteered during this last crisis, you're invited. Feel free to bring a guest if you want, but keep in mind it's BYOB and I'll sedate anybody who gets out of hand.


[OOC: Yes, it has been confirmed that Medbay has birth control, condoms, lube, feminine hygiene products, etc. As far as the Medbay party, if your character is officially on the Medical Staff or you ICly OR OOCly arranged for them to be volunteering during the recent modplot, consider yourself invited. Plus-ones are also welcome. There will be a log shortly, which I will link here. Log posted here.]

As pointed out in a recent transmission, there are some individuals here who resemble one another. There are others whose worlds are similar to others', while others still have worlds that differ radically.

The following is a survey designed to attempt to determine whose worlds are most similar to whose. As a full disclaimer, I am not a trained sociologist/demographist, nor do I claim to be. My credentials extend no further than merely dabbling in disciplines related to those and having studied the science of writing the census briefly when I was younger. Nevertheless, I believe this may be a useful diagnostic tool.

I would encourage everyone who sees this to take a look at others' responses. If you see something familiar, please discuss with the other individual what that similarity is; from there, please try to determine just how similar/different your worlds are.

This is completely optional.

( The survey can be found after this break in the text. )

I've been here long enough to know that alternate and parallel universes exist. I can say with confidence that this ship holds multiple versions of the same person; for instance, there are three Sherlock Holmeses and three John Watsons. Naturally, each correspond with their own Sherlocks and/or their own John. As the months go on, it will be increasingly difficult to tell between myself and others, which is why it's handy to have our communicators. With each message, your unique number shows up underneath the initial post: this is a good way to ensure that you're talking to the 'corrrect' Sherlock (though know that we share our devices when the whim strikes us).

In short, stop being stupid.

Now, onto my initial reason for addressing the network: I have experienced several different memories that differ from my dopplegangers. Because of this, we can assume that there are subtle differences in behaviour, reactions and interests. Whilst we remain the same in many ways, those differences might end up defining us (which is frankly appalling, but then who am I to judge a 'thriving' civilisation of six months?). I am the third Sherlock Holmes to arrive, though my likeness is shared with only one. An intriguing phenomenon, but our memories are reasonably inconsistent.

I've decided to tell you about my stay on the island of Atia, though I intend to make it quick. I have in my posession the communicators we used to talk to one another. Whilst the connection to the network has been severed, a few things still remain, such as the guides thrown out to every new comer in order to save both time and effort. You may have gathered that this island is of a seedy virtue, and your impressions are entirely correct: we were forced into collars like animals, prodded and poked into actions one might not normally take were they under their usual inhibitions. As the strange little rabbit wearing a dress says, it was not a holiday.

And yes, I'm aware that both guides are incredibly hideous.
SH

P.S: A certain prosecutor has insisted that I put up a warning for those that are of a certain age and/or for those that have a weak stomach. Personally, I think 'don't be stupid' covered every base, but apparently one can't be too sure.

Transferring... guide.pdf

_{[ ooc: link is nsfw. sort of. ]}

[ 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 )

[ faith looks exceedingly pleased with herself when she grins down at her communicator and keys it on. she also looks bruised up, but that's part of the fun. for once, the ever-present lighter is tucked away.

she holds up three fingers. ]

I got three basic needs.

[ down goes everything but the index finger. ]

Get some quality ass kicking time in, done. And Muscles said I wasn't gonna get to kill anything.

[ now she adds her middle finger, turned around so it's not quite a peace sign for your benefit wesley. (this is her playful face.) ]

Second thing? Food. I'm not talking whatever we got going down from the gardens, I run hot. Anybody wants to make a chick a burger, I'll make it worth your while.

[ ring finger, now, too. ]

Three's more of an audience participation deal. Plus, you know. Screwing. [ d e l i c a t e. ] I'd take a place to party first too, but whatever. Might as well cut out the middle man if nobody's got a finger in that pie yet.

[ ...yeah, that's about it. with a grin that's a little bit more predatory than friendly, faith out. ]

[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.