[Joker has had enough alcohol and pain killers -yes mixed what do you wanna fight about it- to actually consider voluntarily speaking to people.]

Hey. Bored people.

What're your feelings on AIs?

Carolyn, I've got Sulu's shuttle duties covered.

[That's all he's saying.

Man, he feels like a dick, and he hates feeling like a dick. He was even going to sort of apologize to Sulu when they woke up from the jump, too.

Only Sulu didn't wake up.]

[ Grantaire makes a point of clearing his throat right into the device. ] A-hem. Is there a meaning, do you think, to the items we find in our lockers? If some can find a language in flowers, then surely our gifts must provide a wide vocabulary. I've received nothing since my first jump but from it was an exquisitely adequate bottle of brandy and a deck of my best cards. What does this say? I have gone over these clues for months, and yes, I've found my answer. For once, I will allow Scotus to peek his head and say, "Pluralitas non est ponenda sine necessitate." That is right, I must indulge myself in every mixture of alcohol I can attain—which I am well on my way to doing, if I may say—and find a group with which I may gamble, as well as goods that will make it worthwhile.

Now, solely to fulfill my given purpose, who will accompany me in this? I have cards, but I will also accept dominoes, dice, whatever foreign method you could desire. My only request is that we play honorably, or the spirit shall desert us. [ Was this entirely to ask for gambling partners?? Yes. ]

[ As a general thing, McCoy isn't exactly the biggest fan of making broadcasts like this, they're uncomfortable at best and painfully aggravating for him at worst. However, the fact of the matter is that sometimes they're unavoidable and this time, is one of those unavoidable times. What he does to maintain his comfort level, small as it is, is make sure the setting of his device is on audio. That way no one can see his face and yet he can still get across his point. ]

Hallucinations can be brought on by stress. That woman, Matine, she was seeing someone she knew with talons and seeing her mother. Mother wasn't here, and a man didn't have talons before that break. I know a few of you've already thought of it, assuming you've got a brain, but with what you all were saying she saw, the likelihood she wasn't hallucinating is slim. [ There's a pause, like McCoy isn't sure how to word his next thoughts. ] Anything we've been seeing from the past, all of those things are pointing to stressful, in some way, situations. All of us have— most of us who were here last month don't need me to mention what went on that might have stressed our brains.

Leaving the body in a constant state of stress especially one like the type anyone endures on this damn ship is enough to trigger hallucinations. And at the risk of probably making half of you hear something you don't want to, what happened to Matine could happen to any of us.

Ship seems to like to repeat things and I don't know about you, but I'm not a fan of having hallucinations like that. Especially when they end in me shooting someone.

[Joker...really isn't sure what to make of any of this. He's glad there are familiar faces on board the ship but that really doesn't help with the fact that it's not his ship and he has no idea who's flying this thing.

Being in the pilot's seat offers that safety and comfort that most wouldn't understand. Plus, there's no EDI around to talk to which is a bit devastating.

But at least Shepard's alive...right?

When the feed clicks on Joker's leaning against the wall, taking a break from walking but it's not like he's going to admit that. He's been wandering and trying to get a look at things where he can, really not liking being so in the dark about any vessel that he's on.]

So how the hell does one find out who the pilot is and meet them? You know, just for my own peace of mind.

[He straightens up some, hiding a wince as he shifts his weight from one leg to the other and back again.]

I mean, maybe everyone else here--which hi all you people that I don't know and have no idea where you came from!--

[The sarcasm is strong with this one.]

--is cool with not knowing but I'd like some confirmation that it's not so crazy alien bug reaper thing driving us around preparing to 'harvest' us or something.

Just saying.

[ Hello, Tranquility! It's been a while since Chase has shared what little of the future she can get with you guys, isn't it? The four-or-maybe-eleven-year-old is currently holed up in a hallway, and if you look very, very carefully her eyes flicker a lavender colour before she speaks. ]

Sheep. Cattle.

Herd us--herd our flock.

[ She squints, narrowing her eyes, looking confused--as if she doesn't realize what, exactly, she's doing. ]

Red. He's there--Mr. Smiley is--and there are more bodies.

[ And, lips pursed, she cuts the feed while she attempts to sort out what, exactly it all means. ]

[ Feed: on. The familiar sight of Ward and Resnik on the bridge begins broadcasting on the network, lights from the nearby consoles tinging their faces blue in the dull light. In contrast from their last post, they both look steady, alert, and well-rested.

Resnik is closest to the camera, her arms folded. Ward, by contrast, is behind and to the left of her, half-hidden in the shadows. She begins: ]

We'll keep this short. Within the next 24 hours, we'll be arriving at Strela outpost. The five shuttles that have been repaired have been pre-programmed to dock safely at the station, so those of you who'd like to come on shore leave, now's your chance.

[ Ward walks up behind her, seemingly to check a console to the feed's right. ] We'll be there a few days. Resnik and I will restock the ship's stores, and you can stretch your legs. [ His eyes flick to the camera. ]

Meet us at the shuttle bay tomorrow at 1200 hours. We'll proceed from there.

OOC NOTE ▒ Direct your comments to either Ward or Resnik by placing their name in the subject line, along with the type of return transmission (video, audio, or text). Comments without a specific name in the subject line will be treated as a question directed to the both of them.

[ She's not a public speaker on her best days, and this wasn't one of those. Her talk with Fry has kept her thinking, enough that when she wakes up out of the nightmares covered in sweat, she pushes the ache in her chest away with thoughts of something to do, something to work toward.

Fry had relegated her to doing this anyway. Schedules in space were different than on a world generating its own night-day cycles and perpetuating natural circadian rhythms. She's freshly showered, hair starting to dry in a tight, curling mess. The camera comes on as she's right up close to the eye. Stepping back, she gives a little perspective. It's a vid-phone. A conference call to anyone out there listening. ]

For those I haven't met, I'm Ellen Ripley. Carolyn Fry and I are offering to help people acclimatize and familiarize with operating full-time here in space. What we've got working here isn't an exact match for what we're used to, but it's close enough to help show the ropes to people who don't know and who want to get an idea. Call it a crash course in space-readiness training, without the option to fail out and stay down on Terra Firma.

That said, what are some of the questions you have on your mind relating to surviving in space? Or about the technology we've seen here so far. Knowing what questions you'd like answered helps us all out in the long run.

[ She reaches out, pausing. ]

Anyone with experience willing to work with us on this, get in touch. We can use you.

[ Vid over. Time to see what bites back. ]

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. )

[the audio clicks on, standard fare business-as-usual Shepard voice]

So it turns out even if you have a synthetically reinforced immune system, given the right germs, you can still get sick.

What I'm curious about is how the hell that happened, but I guess that'll have to wait. I never did pay enough attention where medical mumbo jumbo was concerned. At least there's somewhere to start.

[VIDEO; Filter: Normandy Crew (all-inclusive) | 80% unhackable]

[and the video flickers on once Shepard cuts the main feed, pinging her crew and John Shepard specifically. All things considered, she looks a hell of a lot better than some of the others infected, but for Shepard she's looking a little worse for wear than usual. The blueish tint to the whites of her eyes is also off-setting the grey of her irises in an odd manner, but she figured the kids would see her sooner or later, may as well get them used to this now.]

At 1600 I'm heading out with Captain Kirk and any others he manages to wrangle up. I told him I'd get extra bodies if I could, so if any of you aren't infected and want to help comb this maze, I'd appreciate having people I know and trust at my back.

It's out of the question if any of you are presenting symptoms, however. [hypocrisy, thy name is jane shepard.]

[ for a minute you are staring simply at a cieling, a room, and a large bed. just a standard room. until of course there sounds like a bit of mumbling and then the screen suddenly shoots downwards, closer to the ground. apparently whoever is on this screen is very short.
though the face looks young, boyish, the eyes big blue eyes look old and worn-out. and at this moment, very anxious. the ring is safe under his cloak, that's something to be thankful for. ]

I don't really know how to use this thing very well. I'd appreciate a moment of your time.
[ he swallows, looking down, and there are circles under his eyes. ]

My name is Frodo Baggins. I've only just arrived, and am looking for companions I lost when I was taken here. One of them is my size, though..a bit rounder. His name is Samwise Gamgee. I don't think you'll find many hobbits on this ship, but if you find him, please, tell me.

[ he furrows his brows ]
And one stranger, who crawls about and tends to like the shadows. He calls himself 'Smeagol' and you would know him right away by his speech who he was.

One is my dearest friend and the other is both my companion and my guide. I cannot leave this place without them.

[ he swallows, lowering his eyes before glancing back up. ]
And lastly, I need to return to where I was as soon as possible. Is anyone on this ship working on ways to get back? I'd like to speak with you, if I could.
[ the feed goes out quietly. ]

[ Axel is still pretty confused about this whole thing, rather pissed he's trapped in a freaking spaceship - or so they tell him, he's not yet sure he believes it but he would rather not over think it.

Anyway, right now, he's not worried about this. He's more worried about his little dog and if he has to use this cellphone-thing to get hold of what he needs, yeah, he will. ]

ok i dont get whats going on but does anyone know where i can get dog food? ok thanks.

[ He isn't much of a talker, see, that's why he keeps it short . ]

btw: any PUMAS here? nynashamn pumas? its axel.
pls explain wtf is going on

[What on earth... Was this thing? It was definitely unlike anything Lenna had ever seen before... Nonetheless, the pink-haired girl manages to turn the device on and clumsily picking the ‘audio’ option.]

If you all wouldn’t mind, I would like to take up but a moment of your time.

[She speaks in a soft, but stern voice. She can’t afford to show any weakness, especially in this foreign place. She also speaks a bit slow, but that's only because of her confusion in this weird place.]

I was just curious to know if anyone could possibly fill me in on what is exactly is my purpose here. Why was I brought to this odd place? Is there some sort of task I am supposed to accomplish? Please, if anyone knows anything... Anything at all, please reply to me.

[A pause.]

Oh! Thank you for your time.

So, how are we now that we're all demon free? I think it's nice that I don't have to carry salt around the hangar, personally, but you know, it might just stay a habit. Pilots-- whether they be steering planes, space craft, or sea-faring ships-- are a superstitious bunch. Dangerous jobs long away from civilization does that to a lot of people.

Not that I'm going to admit to carrying anything lucky, or having little rituals for my ships -- but hey. Nobody wants to know that I like, lick the handles or rub a rock on everything or whatever.

I don't. Lick handles. Just so nobody's confused on that.

Anyway-- I'm doing the obvious thing post jump with all these new fresh faces: how many of you people are proper pilots? Not that you fly by maths types aren't welcome -- you are, especially on this massive ship -- but the shuttles need hands and we need more pilots. So far there's me, Hotspur, and Kara Thrace, and while they're pretty good and I'm the best, we always need more hands down here in the hangars dealing with the shuttles and the smaller ships down here.

And if you are a fly by maths? Uh, yeah. We could probably use you... if Ward and Resnik will ever let us, you know, help us steer the big girl herself. Wouldn't put any credits on that bet though, if you catch my drift.

So? Anybody?

[Right. Okay. Buffy's gotten herself a little settled in, figured out that 1) this isn't the CDC and 2) It's a hell of a lot worse than being in a CDC facility. Not least because Shaun and George didn't seem to be here, but not most because of it either.

But the important next step is meeting the people who are here.]

I'm sure that at this point is where I'm supposed to say that it looks like truth really is stranger than fiction. After all, look at me. I'm on a spaceship.

[She laughs brightly.]

But I have to say. Fiction is still stranger. After all, I could write a story where I were on a spaceship full of killer rabbits. Or giant friendly octopodes. Or no, it's not a spaceship after all, rather we're on the back of a giant walrus.

Still, as far as realities go, this one is a little strange. I'll grant that.

[She shifts the communication device back enough that she can wave at the camera, then moves it forward again to focus on her face.]

If you're still listening, then you're probably not the type of person who's going to tell me to just get to the point, and I think that we'll get along.

Hi. I'm Buffy Meissonier, I'm new, and it's nice to meet you.

Hey, see all this crazy shit going down? Guess what-- we're apparently nicely secured down here in the shuttle bay thanks to my buddy Hotspur. It's a big area, so we can fit a good amount of people, and numbers are good! But you know what's also good? Not having everybody in the same place waiting for the demons or whatever those things are to get find a way to, I don't know, open the airlocks from someplace else or something and kill a ton of people.

If you can't find another safe space or a space you can make safe, come on down. If you can hole up elsewhere, do that! Find it and sit tight. Listen to that Dean guy, he talks like Shepard some of the time. Otherwise? I got a deck of cards, some snacks, and a shuttle with some crappy seats for you to sleep on if you're close by and need a safe space.

[ When the video flicks on, there's some really terrible shaky cam going down. Shots of the floor and ceiling interspersed with brief glimpses of Tyke's back, as Tommy tries to get a decent shot of the... Whatever it is. Like a stream of black sand moving through the air like smoke. ]

What the hell is that?

No fucking idea.

[ There's a dog barking at the black thing, shuffling fearfully on its paws but putting up a loud front. The camera jostles as Tommy shifts it to his other hand. ]

You're the one who's seen weird shit.

Yeah. Doesn't mean I've seen all the weird shit ever. [ She moves closer, crouching down next to the dog that's barking, putting a hand on its neck. It quiets down to growls. ] The dogs don't like it. I don't like it.

[ Tommy's response is just a grunt of affirmation. He's not sure he needed the dogs to figure that one out, but they're sure being clear about it. ]

Are you videoing? [ The camera catches Tyke glancing over her shoulder as she says it, noting that he is and nodding. Then the camera swings around, framing the lower left quarter of Tommy's face. ]

Anyone got something to add here?

[ ooc: Tommy, Taylor ]