[ The feed opens on the familiar view of the security offices, and the possibly very familiar view of Tyke looking really annoyed. Though central on the video, there are two young men stood behind her, one looking particularly sullen, the other sheepish but friendly. ]

For any of you newer to the ship, my name is Tyke, I'm head of security. I'd give you the usual rundown on what that means, but we've got more immediate shit to deal with. It's been reported that there's a creature called a boggart loose on the ship.

[ She says 'report' and 'boggart' half incredibly unimpressed, half irritated. ]

This boggart shouldn't pose an urgent threat, but it's still gonna be trying to freak people out.

[ At which point she decides she's not the one that should be explaining the details of weird magic monsters, and steps back enough to nudge Remus more fully in front of the camera.

He knew it was coming eventually, but Remus still gives Tyke a startled look, then Draco an expectant one, shuffling to the side to make more room for him in the frame. There's a long second before Draco moves an inch in a helpful direction, his expression stormy and focus cast past the camera lens like he's ignoring it as Remus addresses the network. ]

It's a nonbeing--a nonhuman spiritous apparition. It can't hurt you-- [ is a lie told out of the impulse to be reassuring, followed by a mild grimace and swift correction. (And a cynical glance aside from Draco.) ] It won't kill you. It might hurt you. We're very sorry about all of this.

It will appear as something that frightens you. Whatever you see, it's not real, but it is corporeal. And amortal. You can't kill it. Get away from it, and let one of us know where you saw it. If we can pin it down somewhere, we can take care of it.

[ No they can't. ]

It will help if you stay in pairs or groups. If it's trying to scare more than one person, it might make mistakes.

You might get lucky, [ because Draco had to chime in eventually. ] If you're a-- if you're non-magical, you'll probably be too dense to see it as anything but a figment of your imagination. 'course, maybe not now.

It'll probably be found in dark spaces, you know, waiting in your wardrobe or under your bed, or in the bathroom before you turn the light on, or--

[ Remus steps on his foot--placidly, but not very subtly. Not interested in letting anymore wizard squabbling get played out on the network, Tyke neatly steps in again. ]

We'll be working on containing and dealing with it. Stay in your rooms unless necessary, report any sightings, and keep your heads level.

[ The last thing she wants is real passenger on passenger harm done because of this thing stirring people up. To her side, Remus tightens his mouth in a way that's half smile and half wince, like well there you have it, and glances at Tyke to check for permission before he shuts off the feed. ]

[[ ooc: blue is tyke, red is remus and green is draco! ]]

[Bucky's a more than occasional visitor to the Shuttle Bay, having offered to lend a hand in return for training with the previous CFO. This is the first time in a while he's been back, though, and the view out's as distracting as ever. Maybe more.

He's standing in front of the windows, looking out at the rolling cloud.]

Kind of foggy out, isn't it. Pretty enough, though. Makes you wonder what could be out there, just out of sight.

[He turns, then, engine grease on his jumpsuit and streaking his face. He could almost have walked right out of a Brooklyn autoshop.]

I've been thinking about what I've missed back home. Christmas, Easter, maybe a birthday or two, or two thousand with the way time goes up here. I always did like holidays - they let you know where you are, where you've been. Even with the war on... well, I guess people needed the excuse to smile at each other. Now it feels like I've lost track of something important.

[He shrugs one shoulder, though. That's a little too much looking inward.]

So I'm wondering, what do you all celebrate, where you're from? And what do you picture might be out there, past the clouds?

[Netherlands is in the Oxygen Gardens, looking more worried than pissy for once, brows upward- rather than downward-knit. Somewhere in the background there's a roughshod shed, and anyone who frequents the Gardens often enough will recognize that it's the second level, makeshift chicken coop a few meters behind, all locked up and uncharacteristically silent.

An unlit cigarette is jammed in the corner of his mouth; it bobs as he speaks.]

They're sick. The chickens.

[And by that he means: they're all sick. All the chickens. Every chicken. He takes a second to light his smoke, shifts his weight, and with the next he sails right past distressed and into something borderline despairing.]

Rabbit's sick too. Need someone to help him.

[... uh.]

Please.

[ The feed clicks on to a hand-held view of Ripley, but the screen's steady. Just close enough to make the background difficult to make out, at first, though a glimpse of green probably makes it easy to fill in the blanks. ]

My name is Ellen Ripley. [ Lieutenant, but something tells her the rank's useless, here. ] I arrived with the last jump. Thank you to those who were kind enough to fill me in on the basics.

[ Gently wry. "Kind" is a generous term for the attitude she got for her medbay interrogations, though the gratitude's honest all the same. For the most part, her expression and voice remain formal, all patient neutrality. ]

I'd appreciate it if you'd humor a few more questions — I apologize if any of it's repetitive.

Are you familiar with the name Weyland-Yutani?

Two: are we aware of the ship's purpose? Not what we're doing here, or what's happened to it since; I'd like to know what it was built for.

And if any of you have first-hand experience with the creatures in the hallways, I'd like a detailed description.

[ She's a long way from home. That's what everyone keeps telling her, except there's far too much déjà vu in the scattered records she's managed to get her hands on to ignore. It wouldn't be the first time she'd woken up in her own world only to find it slightly askew.

And while this probably sounds more like business than pleasure, it'll admittedly be nice to have some actual conversations. Speaking of social skills, she ends off with an even: ]

Thank you for your time.


( ooc: gentle 4th-walling is ok up to her canon point, which is the beginning of the third movie! )

Looks like someone forgot to pay their electric bill.

[Nick looks only mildly amused. He's actually had that happen, and it's not so fun, but someone's already said that they're working on it, so....]

There's way too much crappy art on board this thing, and not enough crappy artists showing themselves. I'm getting a little bored of chasing ghosts.

['Unnerved' would probably be a better word, not that he'll admit it.]

So if anyone's got a deck of cards or some dice, let's get something going. We don't even have to gamble, not unless you're willing to take a silver filling for payment.

Hi, I'm Annie Sawyer with-

Well, not with anyone, really, I just was hoping that someone could just, if you could, if you have a bit of extra rope, and maybe something heavy that you're not using, I would be very happy to take it off your hands.

And also, be careful, of course.

Mostly, please be careful.

Oh, also, does anyone know, if we lose powers, do doors still lock?

[He's sitting on the edge of his bed, the network device propped up a little way away, on what's probably a desk or chair.]

Seems like just when you've got the lay of the land, everything up and moves. So, anyone who might want a walk back to their room sometime had better fill me in on where they've gotten to, and I'll update my address book, as it were.

[He leans back and props one foot up against the door, apparently ignoring the sound of knocking coming from the other side.]

In the meantime, maybe it's about time I started earning my keep. Thing is, I've been having trouble makin' the choice as to where. Seems like SEC's the department most down my street - if you're gonna let idiots run off on crazy errands, the least you should have is a few more idiots willing to follow 'em.

But then there's Gunnery, and I'm handy enough with a target to figure I could be of use. And I really want a turn in those shuttles, if anyone's willing to show me the ropes.

So, how do things work for a guy who'd like to spread himself about a little? I can run you through my resume, if you want.

[The knocking gets louder. He lifts his other foot.]

Just let me know.

1900 I'm raising a glass to Lydia Shepard and Javik in the bar. If anyone's interested in that report it'll be available in a couple of days.

( Because typing with one hand is hard dammit )

( PRIVATE | Carolyn Fry )

I'd like to ask you about the light.

( SHIELD ENCRYPT | 032 » 188 | 030 » 200 | 029 » 073 | 030 » 046 | 028 » 008 | 032 » 168 | 027 » 084 | 029 » 013 | 026 » 125 | 031 » 084 | 030 » 100 | 031 » 030 )

Check in.

( ooc; log is here!! )

[There a click on, and the clear sound that someone is there, but there's a pause, like maybe someone is making sure.]

Is this broadcast going through?

I think I got it-

Hello, Tranquility, my name is Steve Rogers.

I'd like to be directed to whoever is in charge of Security, if that's not too much trouble. And I'd like to know if it's possible to see out into space. Are there any windows on board?

[Annnnd a pause, and a fumble.]

Is it off?

[And then another pause.]

Sorry, excuse me-

[And NOW it's off.]

Prior to the jump, an emissary of our local human population melted the door to my quarters shut.

[ Erik glances aside and then back again. Terse. ]

Accidentally, [ he qualifies. He does not make much of an effort to look (or sound) convincing on that account. ]

If anyone has a means to forcing it open again, I have my favor to offer in return. Contact me via this message or in private.

[ There must be an implied thank you somewhere in his reach cross-body to terminate the transmission. Surely. Those with prying eyes may notice an off-color tinge under his arm, and there’s a glimpse of faded blood stained brown at the sleeve. Even after frequent washing, it looks as though he’s been wearing the same shirt for several days. ]

Figure there should be a wake of some kind for Howard Stark. It's at [insert location here] if anyone's interested.

[--And as he said, for those who are interested, Bucky Barnes can be found at the bar. Sure, Angela had grabbed him some of Kaylee's bathtub gin, and that was decent enough (for bathtub gin) -- almost like when he was a kid, if he stopped to think about it -- but Howard deserves a little more than that, he thinks. The man was a war hero, helped save him and Steve's lives more times than Bucky could count, and he was a friend. So he'll honor him the way he honored friends during the war. Because that's what this is, a different kind of war.]

It seems we're all in the same predicament. I read the information provided, and thought it best if I introduce myself. My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, I'm a Jedi Padawan. I'm seeking any who are familiar with my order.

There is another Jedi here, I can sense them - if you can hear me, my Master is Qui-Gon Jinn. I'm hoping you're familiar with him, at least.

[The text goes out as a general announcement to the ship, but especially to those he knows are friends of one Captain Steve Rogers.]

So -- a friend of mine and I figured we needed to liven up this ship with something not ....well, horrible. So we're having a movie night, showing some of Captain America's finest works. Feel free to either follow the smell of popcorn or just ask me where it is if you have any interest.


[--And as promised, Bucky is waiting in one of the rooms with a holodeck screen, projector helpfully provided and built by one Howard Stark. He switches to video, then, grinning, and sends two messages privately.]

[PRIVATE TO HOWARD STARK AND STEVE ROGERS:]

Both of you better get your asses up here.


[OOC: Now with an accompanying log!]

[So, this last jump? Aaron got a gun. Just walked up to his locker for his clothes, clicked it open, and there it was. Sitting on top of his leather jacket, a few cases of ammunition behind it.

He really missed his gun.

Which is why, today, he's not addressing the network through text. Instead, he's sitting in his room, a single gold case (it almost looks like cigarette case) hanging around his neck, face serious and posture... well, it almost looks a little threatening.]

I need to know how often people from your worlds show up, people you know. When one person ends up here, do other people follow? That sort of thing.

Also... I need a chemist. [His expression tenses a little, almost darkens] Consider it urgent.

[There's a quick pause, and Aaron's lifting up the handgun he'd been given this jump, wiggling it in plain view of the camera.]

People from Outcome... Byer? You know what this means.

[And, almost looking smug, he leans forward and flicks the feed off.]

[Bucky's comm has been situated somewhere where it's easy enough to get a decent view of what he's doing. In the aftermath of all the fog madness, he has found it even more difficult than it normally is to sleep. So he's taken to wandering the ship even more than usual, and found himself in a gym.

At the moment, he's sparring with a punching bag, but once he's reached a decent pause point, he turns his attention to the comm. At first glance, he looks haggard, dark circles under his eyes and breathing hard.]

That was a week I'd rather not repeat again anytime soon. Been tryin' to get my mind off it, to be honest, but the gym ain't much fun without anyone to spar with. So -- this is an offer, I guess, for anyone who wants it. I'll be here for a while yet, unless anyone wants to point me to a shooting range or something.