[ Angel isn’t excited to be facing the camera - especially considering this is his first ever appearance on the network, he doesn’t look like he’s doing this for the potential shits and giggles. Though it’s… not as if he ever looks like he’s having that good of a time, facing the entire network with a painfully somber expression, it mostly looks like he’s been wrangled into this confession of his. ]

I’m not gonna beat around the bush, at this point there isn’t any reason to. We’ve all got memories we’re batting around, and none of them are the feel good family picture kind. Unless you managed to get the one where I saved a puppy, in which case-- [ -- you didn’t get the one where he’s nailing them to objects. probably a good thing. back to the serious topic at hand. ]

Anything else you get from me? Isn’t gonna be warm and fuzzy, and I already know that a few of you got the worst of it. My past used to be the kind of thing I bragged about and it isn’t anymore-- it’s not who I am now but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s still mine. It’s still who I was, and if you want to know more? I’d rather have you ask than let it sit in the back of your head like it does in mine.

[ He knows you guys are out there, he knows. And he’s not going to hunt you down because that just makes it a hell of a lot creepier. But he will fold his arms over his chest and look put off by his own existence. ]

I don’t want anyone’s forgiveness, that’s not why i’m asking you to listen. I’m not trying to make anyone understand the things that I did. But if you want an explanation? If you ended up with memories from someone they called Angelus, spending time in Europe killing more people than you could count- torturing the rest just because you wanted to? Maybe getting cursed with a soul? [ this face he’s making means that he really could go on for awhile. ]

Then those were more than likely mine, and if you want to avoid it, that’s fine. So do I. I’ve done everything I can to try and redeem myself, and I can tell you i’m not the same person I used to be. That doesn’t mean you have to believe it. But you should hear it from me instead of wondering if there’s one more monster on board the ship.

[This is a new voice. A smooth voice, canyon-deep and deliberate in its enunciation. Occasionally, the speaker breaks from his practiced tone, but, for the most part -- this sounds like a professional.]

Hello, everyone -- however many people and non-humanoid entities that word may entail. I won't take up too much of your time tonight, but I'm sure you've all noticed it by now. The stray feelings, arriving out of nowhere, and with no apparent courier. The images, too.

Oh, the things I've already seen so far. The things I may never stop seeing. The things now imprinted, permanently, behind my eyelids.

[He sighs, but he doesn't sound aggrieved. It's a soft, dreamy exhale, a gentle 'aah' that's slightly incongruous with the low, dark octaves of his voice.]

I just wanted to say, to whomever may be behind this: you're doing a great job. Simply fantastic. We had an emotional entrepreneur in my little hometown, and I thought I was impressed by their work, but this is a cut above! Full-featured memories, delivered right to us, and without any long and frustrating sign-up process.

It's a great service, and you're performing it so efficiently. Why, if this keeps up, I may never have a feeling or thought of my own again. My sense of self might become completely sublimated to a foreign set of memories and experiences. I would have no identity-based responsibilities whatsoever.

Dream vacation, right?

So keep up the good work, whoever you are. Five stars.

Usually the ship goes quiet at some point, but since the Jump everyone's been bustling and out and about-

[And for the first time since she died she's been so tired]

-so I thought, maybe, I don't know, is there some soft music we can pipe through the speakers, you know, jazz or something, I don't know, something so everyone relaxes and for a while, honestly-

[She may be just talking, now. Really. What is this tired.]

Or, oh! I know! Does anyone have a copy of a John Grisham novel? That used to put me right to sleep...

[It doesn't take Shepard long to take to the network. Closed ship communication isn't exactly a new concept to her and while there's a whole lot of questions that spring to her mind, she's eager to get one thing sorted out first.]

To whoever thought it was a good idea to break into my locker and take all my things: it wasn't.

[The woman on the video feed, wearing an ill-fitting borrowed sweater, may have a cheerful edge to her voice but it's clearly a front - belied by her furrowed brow and how her mouth falls into a sharp, severe line between words. As soon as Shepard had realized that everyone else seemed to have things left to them in their lockers while hers had been suspiciously empty of pretty much anything beyond her comm device, she'd jumped to the only logical conclusion: someone had stolen her shit.]

I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume it was an accident. If you have my armor or tags or anything with the name Shepard on it-- [She doesn't even know what else could've been there, but there had to have been something.] --just put it back where you found it by 1300 hours and we'll call it even.

[See? Perfectly reasonable of her. None of this makes any sense to her, but let no one say that Commander Shepard of the Normandy can't roll with the punches and put on a nice face despite it all.]

If I find you with it after that, I'll throw you out the nearest airlock.

[Or not. After a moment she continues, only slightly awkwardly. Man can't survive on threats and false accusations alone after all.] As a side note: if anyone has a spare change of clothes they'd be willing to part with, let me know.

[ jenna's hair is still wet from the customary post-jump four showers, all way too much of it piled in a knot on top of her head. it's almost a little odd to try and collect her thoughts enough for a post that used to be customary, and her smile flickers for a split second before she shakes her head and it returns, more determined. ]

Welcome, new freshman. [ she can't help huffing out a laugh at her own lame joke. ] Sorry, couldn't resist. More seriously, if we didn't skip another number sorry about the space kidnapping wave twenty one, but welcome to the Tranquility anyway. I'm sure there will be a lot of technical questions I can't answer at all, but the daily life thing is-- god help me, my normal by now so if any of you want to know about where the pool is, feel free to ask.

For anyone who wants to join in, there are dinners down on floor one. They're kind of a everybody pitches in deal, so it's work for food but trust me, after a little while here the work part isn't as bad because it has company attached. No screaming, no weapons, don't even think about starting a fight and no I don't care about the age-old household rivalry and honor right now about covers the basic rules.

[ she looks down, a little hesitant for the first moment. ]

Which brings me to part two: what to do if you don't can't survive on just traditional food. I know last month one of the other members of medical brought this up, but I wanted to add something-- I'm most experienced in dealing with the vampire side of things, but I understand coming forward isn't exactly ingrained for a lot of people. If you're not comfortable just yet and you need-- an advocate in medical, I guess, feel free to contact me.

[ a beat, and then she shakes her head and continues a little more briskly: ]

That's it, sorry again about the space kidnapping for the new kids.

[ the feed opens on uhura’s hands as she picks up a piece of black paper. there’s an indistinct noise, and the feed goes shaky, right before sulu puts down the comm, balances it in front of them. ]

There. Fold it like that, with a sharp crease. Like I showed you.

[ not that sulu’s tutelage is all that effective, considering how hard he’s working to keep the situation with his hands on the downlow. ]

I tried that, and last time I ripped the paper. [It’s flat, and would almost be self-deprecating, if she weren’t so amused. For someone as detail oriented as Uhura, the idea that something that sounds as simple as origami, would be outside of her ability to comprehend is almost laughable]

Like this? [She folds one corner in, slower- to make sure the alignment is right, and runs the nail carefully along the crease]

Yes. Just like that. [ sulu taps her wrist with two fingers, in encouragement, before picking up the ripped sheet and flattening it out along the table. his eyes flick up to the camera, then back to uhura. ] We need to try for a thousand. I have enough paper for that.

[The encouragement gains him a soft smile in answer, a brief flicker of her eyes in his direction, before she makes the next fold as carefully as she can manage] Why a thousand?

Because if we manage a thousand something good will happen. [ sulu doesn’t say miracle and he doesn’t say good health or good luck but it’s what he means. he presses a palm against the ripped sheet of paper, covering it before addressing the comm. ] And if anyone else wants to learn, we’ll be happy to teach you. [ since sulu assumes uhura’s going to pick this up in a matter of hours. it’s just how starfleet kids roll. ] We’re in the common room on the sixth floor.

( ooc: the red font is nyota uhura! )

[ it's time for a musical interlude on the network. for a second, it probably sounds like it caught a radio signal mid-song. hal's accent slips through once or twice, but for the most part it’s an uncanny mimicry of the 1950's original. ]

-back to Constantinople, no you can't go back to Constantinople; now it's Istanbul not Constantinople.

[ he stops abruptly, segues smoothly into speaking. there's no video, but it's easy to hear the grin in his voice. ]

Good evening, Tranquility. I'd like to personally thank you for last week's entertainment, and offer my sincere congratulations on your deft handling of the pirate incursion. I'm sure we can all sleep soundly knowing what we're capable of when we put our minds together. Or our teeth. Or claws, or guns; a fair few swords, if I'm not mistaken.

[ it’s said with an edge that keeps it from being genuine. which it isn't, obviously. it's a thinly guised mockery of the disorder and violence, but the amusement and thanks seem true enough. he picks up the lyrics again a beat later, and he only cuts the feed as an afterthought; he doesn't particularly care if people can hear him. ]

Why did Constantinople get the works? That's nobody's business but the Turks'-

(welcome to the shuttle bay with han and obi-wan. excuse the fact that there's a shuttle that han's stripped and that obi-wan generally looks like he has a bad feeling about all of this.)

I think if you follow the guidelines set by the Security Team, you should be safe. Stay in groups. Don't engage.

(there's a beep and a long protest as Arfour says something, but she's not in view. that's when han just takes off his goggles off to actually prove obi-wan wrong.)

No, this is what you do. If you see a pirate? Shoot them. (wait, this is a jedi he's talking to.) Or use the Force, you know what you do.

(obi-wan looks irritated for a moment, but he'll take this moment to roll his eyes and cross his arms)

If you don't have training, don't engage.

If you don't have training, get someone else to shoot them. If they talk to you, shoot them. If they even look at you, shoot them. If they ask you how you're doing, shoot them. If they're dying outside your room, watch them die and then shoot them to make sure they don't get up.

(han's getting a little serious about this.)

I'm going back to work.

(aaaaaand Obi-Wan walks a little away, Arfour beeping after him, but she's still not visible on screen)

Don't touch anything, I'm redoing the - (han was running after him before running back to turn off the communicator.)

[The feed crackles on to show a man leaning in close to the camera over some kind of console. Everything about him seems dry and harsh, from the lines of his features to the colour of his eyes, like too much sun and dust has sapped all the softness out of him. And his voice — when he finally speaks after a long moment of simply looking silently at the camera — is a light, husky tone, rough-edged.]

Tranquility. [A pause.] I am Felix Laurens, I am captain of the Scylla. My crew and I are boarding this vessel. We will take what we want from it, and then we will leave.

[A very long pause, where he seems to be considering something, looking at the camera silently.]

Keep out of our way and you won't be harmed.

[And with that, he's done with the message. He turns and walks away from the camera, revealing a view of the room behind him — though much smaller and less well-kept, it's a clear match to the shuttle bay. Part of a blonde head ducks into view after Laurens finishes speaking, clearly trying to find the 'off' switch for the console.]

Did he just—every time. Every fucking time.

[That remark garners him a bony elbow to the ribs, sneaking in from just out of sight to jab hard at his exposed side, voice quiet but still impatient.] Shut up. [Extending her arm out a little more to jab at the console, Hayes severs the transmission.]

Do you remember the first man or woman who greeted you upon your arrival to the stars, Tranquility?

[ Lucrezia Borgia sprawled on her bed, a dragonfly ring in hand. ]

I loved the first person I met upon sight, with a love that was stronger that anything I expected to feel at such a time. A love of tales and songs and I carry its mark on my heart until this day.

[ she could end it there but not without the slowest grin of the century. ]

Poets would kill for an opportunity to love so fiercely among stars. It would produce beautiful words for them to deliver to the world to show that love is not a selfish whim.

[ never that, not to Lucrezia Borgia who is still a romantic here. ]

God knows I never sought anything in you except yourself; I wanted simply you, nothing of yours.

[Should you pay attention to the background framing the very irate young woman, the familiar articles and furniture belonging to the residential cabins will come into view, but that's not very important now, neither is the unfortunate state of the cabin. You should focus on the scowl that refuses to fade on Alex's face as much as she tries to maintain her composure. In her fury, none of this managed to be filtered.]

You know, I have been really sensitive about whatever it is you called your "personal space", Hal. All the "I have a lot on my mind, really." bit and the "I'm not quite adapt at the civilized art of phone conversation, I'm afraid," shite. I was even starting to feel sorry for you. Worry, even! Should've known you were doing all this cocking distance thing so I wouldn't smell the pissin' blood on you.

[She holds a depleted blood bag for emphasis, shaking and pointing at it dramatically] Want to bet on how many I've earthed of those so far? Or did you leave any for the starving vampire children in Africa?

You're a twice dead man when I find you, erse. And don't think I won't be telling Tom about this. Shatter his poor little heart, it will.

[ The video clicks on to show Oxford - or at least his top half, bare shoulders and all, looking distinctly comfortable and lazy, reclining in a bed. Cambridge's bed, to be specific, as this is where has been spending the majority of his time since returning to the ship. Having kept a decidedly low profile, he has finally decided to be a little more sociable, and is being sociable in a preferred and characteristic style of mild exhibitionism. Spending too much time with Cambridge is clearly rubbing off on him. ]

Good day to you all abroad this fine vessel, [ he's smiling, ambiguously, though his voice is dripping with obvious sarcasm ] I hope you've all been experiencing relative amounts of peace recently, though I sincerely doubt it.

My name is John Buchanan, though some of you will already know me as Oxford - and those of you who don't, will, if you don't mind. Little preferences and all. Since arriving here initially with the first jump, I have now been deposited home twice and returned to the ship three times. [ He lifts his arm to show his tattoo, now showing the number 16 instead of its previous 5. ] It would be nice if I could stay in one place or the other, but apparently the ship is very temperamental over whether it likes me or not.

[ For a moment his gaze leaves the camera feed to look at something - someone - elsewhere in the room, meaningfully, before turning his attention back to his contribution to the network. ]

In any case, I hear that a few of my possessions have been passed on to others on the ship, which is, naturally, quite fair, given that I was gone. I'm not here to ask for them back, specifically, just hoping that perhaps we could share the items. Mr... [ he glances away, questioningly ] Yorke? I believe you have some of my books. If I could borrow back one or two of them at some point, I would be most grateful.

[ He thinks, for a moment. ]

Actually, I lied. I wouldn't mind taking my shirts back, Chapel, provided that you haven't defaced them in some way to match your questionable clothing style. As you can see, I'm a little lacking in the clothing department at the moment.

[ HEY CHAPEL DID YOU THINK YOU WERE GOING TO GET AWAY WITH NOT KNOWING OXFORD WHILE HE NAKEDLY LOUNGES IN CAMBRIDGE'S BED nope ]

Thank you very much for your time. I wish you all a pleasant day.

[ PRIVATE; filtered to TYKE. ]

I was wondering if you and I might have a word, at your earliest convenience. Face to face, preferably. I know you've been a little busy, and I wasn't quite in the right frame of mind after the jump to ask you.

[ Also Cambridge is nosy: "... I understand that you're trying to have a private conversation but I can see you, you know." ]

Yes, my dear, that's why I'm asking to meet her elsewhere.

( ooc; sorry to be that buttface who posts and runs
but i am posting and running
(or else this post would just NEVER HAPPEN)
g'night y'all ♥ )

[ the feed opens on two pairs of feet; one large, one smaller. then jenna's voice comes through. ]

Tell you what. I'm going to leave you here, with this broadcasting-- [ the shot jerks a little, exposing an empty and spotless kitchen. ] and that way you can have something to talk to while I try and figure out where we are right now. I'll be back in a flash, you've seen how fast I can move now, and you know I'll hear you. Okay?

[ not waiting for an answer, jenna presses her comm into desmond’s hand and brings it up a little, so his chest is in frame, squeezing his shoulder with her other hand. ] I'll be right back, I promise.

Right. [Desmond sounds... Well shellshocked and crazy pretty much covers it. You can hear him swallow in that sort of pained, half-panting way, like he's out of breath and can't quite manage to calm himself down.] Assuming anyone's still out there, yeah? [He might be talking to Jenna, but she’s already gone. The comm shifts violently, flashing to Desmond’s face for only a half second (long enough to see he has both eyes and doesn't seem to be missing anything vital) and then to the ceiling and then back to the floor.] I don't understand what more it wants from me. Three bloody years of my life, pushing a damned button wasn't enough. I've been to the heart. I saw the light again. It was supposed to put me back. It was supposed to- [The camera swings by so fast you can easily tell that Desmond was gearing up to smash it against the nearest wall before-]

--whoa whoa, hey. Hey, it's okay. It's okay, I'm right here. Des? Desmond? [ she crouches down, taking the comm back into her own hands and setting it on the counter, where it films the tops of their heads for the moment. ] We're fine, look. We're even back in the main part of the ship, so that trek back is cancelled. I'm--

[ she pauses, hand reaching up into the picture again as she reaches for the comm, setting in on her upraised knees so it's more or less centered on the two of them, looking a whole lot worse for the wear. ]

If someone could prove big brother is always watching and figure out what floor we're on for me, that would be great. Who needs civil liberties, anyway? --don't get any extra ideas, Nathan. [ there's a tinge of forced, unnatural cheer to her tone, and her gaze darts over to desmond every few moments as if she needs to make sure he's there and fine. ] And maybe whoever pulls rescue duty, bring him something with a lot of sugar in it? That would be great.

[Desmond rubs his face, weary.] Someone tell Tyke I found what I was lookin' for, yeah? It's all true.

[ she inhales, about to add something else; then she shakes her head, lips pressed together in a tired line and jabs the off button. ]



( ooc | they're on floor thirty eight, where they were dumped after being rescued by ward from some Seriously Bad Metaplot Shit. colors for ease: jenna and desmond. )

[Allison had shown him a few tricks with cellphones back home, so Tom had a basic idea on how this communicator might work, but he's far from proficient.

He leans in close and his voice is raised while he speaks slowly]

Hello. I am Tom McNair. I am new an--

[The communicator falls from his hands and for a moment there's a dizzying sight of legs and then feet as it lands on the floor]

Oi! Sorry! Sorry!

[He picks it back up and looks a bit worried that maybe he hurt the thing, or those watching. This time he's speaking more like normal Tom, but he's still slightly nervous]

I wanted to talk to people. I don't have a lot to say but I figured if we all have to be together then we should try and be friends. So, if you wanna talk and be friends we can do that. Or if you don't wanna talk, but still be friends we can do that too.

Okay. Bye.

[ There's some white noise before Hal speaks, but it isn't hesitation this time. He's bored and indifferent, addressing this to the comms unit only as an afterthought. His voice is quiet, but it's not timid - it's carried by an easy confidence and a subtle aggression, though only if you're used to listening for that sort of thing. ]

What do you people do here? To raise morale. Therapy does not seem to be cutting it; this is a war zone. Crying about your feelings to someone without qualifications is hardly going to ease your burdens.

You rally and you hide in the tunnels as though you're waiting for Hitler to drop a bomb on your head, but this is not your home front, and you no longer have the luxury of calling yourselves civilians. Quiet reflections will do nothing to ease fear and tension when the enemy is at your door; you need something much bolder.

There is a reason soldiers so often resort to the excesses of alcohol and whores.

[ There's a distracted pause, and when he speaks again he sounds amused. ]

The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of Hell, a hell of Heaven. Cheer up, all of you.