[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. )

I hate to interrupt you all, but I have a little question to ask. [ no, actually, ava's quite proud of herself for interrupting the Important Shit Going Down with the captain and the "suddenly jump 19 is missing" and the literal space cowboy, if her tone of voice is any indication. ] I've been—let's go with gifted a little present from home a couple of jumps ago, and I, honestly, would have been a lot happier without it. Unfortunately, our most recent visitors didn't exactly see fit to steal it, so I'm having to resort to this.

Does anyone actually want a wedding dress? 

[ she flips the camera off her face temporarily, pointing it at the… well, the top half of what is undeniably a wedding dress hanging from her closet door. it's real. promise. ]

It's an off-white silk-satin Vera Wang, size 12, from the fall 2032 collection; there's a full-length picture attached to this post just in case you want proof that it's real. If someone really does want it, you have 24 hours to claim it before I build a ritual bonfire and incinerate the damn thing, starting approximately—[ her eyes flick off-feed temporarily, checking the time on her communicator ]—now.

Attachment (1): someonetakethisstupidthing.jpg

For those of you that knew him, Cambridge (SCI » 011 » 015) is longer aboard the ship.

[ That's it, that's the post. Any responses will be delayed by a couple of hours while Oxford lurks angrily in his room, waiting out his headache and trying to resist the urge to destroy what few possessions he has (you'll have more luck if you simply turn up on his doorstep). ]

[The feed clicks on to show Gold clearly sitting at a table somewhere, an apron on over his suit. He isn't looking at the camera - a bad habit of his, or maybe it's deliberate - and seems to be working on something, though the angle of the camera means what, exactly, is out of frame. For a moment it seems like maybe the device just clicked on accidentally, but then Gold finally starts speaking - tone perhaps a little more terse than most have heard from him in the past.]

As charming as I'm sure we're all finding these story exchanges, I'm afraid I'll have to break the topic with a reminder of our current circumstances. More specifically, leaving and returning.

[A pause. Too late to stop now, but he still really doesn't want to air this out so openly. It's messy.]

I've heard that several of you have done it, and no, I'm not going to ask how. I believe we're all fully aware it's out of our hands. [He definitely sounds annoyed there, though he doesn't linger on it.] I'm more interested in the details of the experience - how long you were gone for, whether time had passed there, whether you remembered the Tranquility and whether any other unfortunate passengers that you happen to know were absent. That sort of thing.

[Another pause, and he finally turns his attention to the camera.]

Any answers will have my appreciation. But if you don't subscribe to the free flow of information we seem to have adopted here, I'm sure some other recompense could be arranged.

Recently it seems that some of us have had our origins and experiences on our mind. If there is anything I have learned from my time here, it is that we do not often suffer a dull day, and that we are all abundant with stories. Stories of ourselves, of the lives we've lived at home, and the lives that we've lived here. We've all arrived here from different circumstances, with a vast array of varying experiences between that, and I think that sometimes we do not allow ourselves time to appreciate that. We have an opportunity to learn so much from each other. [ Oxford pauses, calmly, taking a level breath as he goes on. ] Of course, I don't mean to say this is somehow a priority over the general task of surviving, but I feel that while we keep ourselves and our histories as fresh as we can in our minds, perhaps it could serve us some purpose to keep record of it.

[ Even though he has decided to stick to an audio post, Oxford can't help making habitual, sweeping hand gestures as he speaks. ]

I would like to propose beginning a ship-wide archive, to include whatever information that fellow passengers are willing to share of their lives and worlds, as well as a timeline of events since the first jump. First hand accounts of matters we have tackled, [ with a vague amount of strain, said very soberly ] and a memorial to those we lost. As I've said, this is by no means any kind of priority, just... well, to be quite honest, I like the idea of having a project. Though I would not necessarily say no if anyone was willing to join me in maintaining this proposed archive, I know that we all have our own personal worries and jobs to attend to, thus I am quite glad to take up mantle on my own.

All I really aim to do is to put experiences into words. I'm quite certain that many of you have some extraordinary stories to tell, whether they are from your home or from here, and all I would want is for these things to be shared amongst us. You never know what we might find out each other. [ A vague, mirthless smile is audible in his words. ] I only hope they're relatively good things, of course.

The information volunteered to this archive would be exactly that - voluntary. I won't be hounding everyone on the ship for interviews, because that would be incredibly time consuming and as annoying as conducting door to door sales. Anyone who would like to contribute is advised to come to me - in person or across the network, whichever suits you best. If it happens that I hear of someone's actions through another person's contribution, then I may follow that up.

[ He laughs, mildly. ]

Of course, I might have wasted all this time talking and wasting your time only to have no response. Always a possibility. [ For a moment, he sounds a bit warmer and less business-like. ] Good day to you all.

[ 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 ♥ )

Unlike my predecessor I have the benefit of knowing better than to demand to know if any of this is some kind of terribly unfunny joke. That being said, the sorry state of these so-called uniforms is the worst kind of hilarious. I don't suppose anyone on board has the good luck to have a spare set of clothes (of a decent standard, if you don't mind) and the good grace to share?

100% PRIVATE TO CHAPEL HILL ( + OXFORD FOR ENTERTAINMENT VALUE )
Mr. Sinclair, you do realise we put the LHC where it is for a damn good reason, don't you? Namely because nobody in the Order would split a bollock if Switzerland was blown to hell, least of all the Swiss themselves. So what in God's name ever convinced you and that Temple fellow that it was a good idea to build your own? No matter how redeemingly phallic it must be for you to have control over something that size and shape that doesn't mean you can play with it whenever you feel like it, you know.

And maybe when dear Aberdeen's skills as a hacker matched her arrogance then perhaps getting your sticky little fingers all over those nanites would have been a good idea. Perhaps.


( ooc: rather than clog up the ooc comm with another intro from me I thought I'd pop a quick note here! This is an alternate universe version of the previous Cambridge that was on board before, except this one has 100% more penis but roughly the same amount of terrible attitude. Enjoy, or not. )

[ it's been a rough couple months for everyone, and the mystic fall contingent no less so. still, when jenna opens the feed she looks more alert and cheerful-- not to mention: less inebriated-- than she has in a while. the locker full of things both useful and frivolously, uselessly cheerful made a few conversations come back in stark relief, and with new light.

she waves a little, shoving her hair out of her face impatiently after. ]

Hey. Okay, so. If you're new, hi, I'm Jenna. Everyone else-- yes, this is what I look like without a bottle in my hand.

[ she rolls her eyes a little, ducking her chin. ]

Bad joke, but that's part of my point. I've been here since jump one, and it really doesn't take a genius-- [ sup, tony. ] to see that the stress has been getting to me. And while my method of coping ended up being attached to a few too many embarrassing in retrospect public posts, I know I'm not the only one. Whether we've been here almost ten months or a little over a week, this is a stressful situation and I hate to be that person, but it's not getting less stressful.

The point is, nobody wants to be Steve Buscemi in the asteroid movie. Not the Morgan Freeman one, the less intellectual... disaster movie. Anyway. [ she exhales, waves a hand. ] Sorry. The actual point is high pressure situations lead to people breaking down, and we've already started down that way. We need to pull back on that, keep ourselves as healthy and happy as we can be.

[ or we'll end up like gallagher, is what she doesn't say, but for the well-informed the subtext is clear. ]

I have a list. Of suggestions, pretty much. I'm not nominating myself leader for change, I'm really not, but if they help... [ she trails off, then taps a few keys. ] It's not very long, just a few basics.

( ( IC TEXT ATTACHMENT | CUT TO SAVE FLISTS ) )

And I had one more idea, but this one is a little more personal. Godric and now that guy with all the meat got me thinking-- yes, okay, we're all in space and no one can remember signing the kidnapping permission slip. But we're from a million different worlds and times, and-- maybe some kind of organized story swap? Like a culture exchange. [ she's more animated now, moving her hands as she talks. ] Like, okay, for example. I'm someone's bannerwoman, but until Alayne explained the reference to me I didn't get why the word 'banner' came into it at all. And forget knowing what Jersey Shore is, there are plenty of us who have never even seen a tv.

Even just vocabulary is so different in places, seeing us all mix together would be a cultural anthropologist's dream. [ oh right, not just babbling. clearing her throat, jenna shrugs. ] Anyway. I don't have a framework, but before I try that is anyone interested? I thought a place where talking about home is the whole point might be helpful for some people, too.

...I never know how to end these things. Over and out? I guess.

[ there's the rustling of fabric, and a breath before irene speaks. she's tapping something against her palm as she does, a steady counterrhythm to her words.]

So it seems we've managed to get through a jump without any unfortunate mishaps. What a lovely change of pace.

[The jumps have been making Taylor incredibly ill for several months, but she's been doing better the past couple, and this one she seems much more lucid – pale, but not looking like she'll collapse or throw up at the slightest movement. She's frowning, though, and her shoulders are hunched inwards slightly, tense. She's quiet for a moment before she finally speaks.]

Anyone that knew him, Dean Winchester's gone.

[Quiet for another moment, looking like she's going to say something else, but then she just reaches over to filter the rest of the message.]

[FILTERED TO SECURITY + KIRK | ENCRYPTED 95%]

We need full reports on what happened down on that outpost. I know a load of you went. If you're not used to doing reports then it's time to get used to it. We've only got ourselves for information here.

[Her voice gets steadier and harder as she goes, trying to settle into a position of giving out these kind of instructions.]

We just had a new wave of people come in, so ask around, see how many you can get on security. Check them for training and experience. If they don't have any and still want on, send them my way. And trust your gut about it. We don't need any psychos here with access to Gunnery, we've got enough shit to deal with already.

[FILTERED TO KIRK | ENCRYPTED 95%]

We're gonna need to talk. Can't let things slip, right?

In light of recent events upon the outpost it's clear that there are a number of us who are suffering the after-effects of torture. You all have my utmost sympathies - I have witnessed such things before and I will offer the same services here that I gave to my dear friend when he was put under a similar duress.

[ A duress that Durham himself instigated, yes, but that's another matter entirely. Or so Durham tells himself. ]

Whilst those who have been subjected to a torture most terrible are undoubtedly brave, it would not be thought of an act of cowardice to wish to rid oneself of the memory of such a trauma. Torture does not end just because one has been released from the cell; there are the lingering effects of anxious melancholies, exhausted spirits, weakened nerves... to say nothing of restless sleep.

You need not bear these memories as a millstone and for those that wish it I will gladly relieve you of such a burdensome weight. You may find me in my cabin - the eighth room upon the eighth passenger deck. Ask for Thomas Sutton - [ A thoughtful pause, then he adds: ] - or perhaps it would do better if you were to ask for Durham. Either way, I shall endeavour to do my utmost to help those that are prepared to ask for it.

[ Another pause, longer this time, and then Durham picks up again. This time his voice is harder, cooler; this is a matter of business, rather than a favour. ]

And while I am here I may as well announce this too - Oxford. Your Durham has disembarked. In light of this I propose a parlé. I would request that we meet un-armed but as both of us possess weapons that are not so easily cast aside, might I simply ask that it be under a white flag of truce? I do not know how many of your fellows remain on board but I suppose they may attend as well.

( OOC : Durham is essentially offering a bit of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Hit me up HERE if you have any questions! )

P I N G _
ian_
user-id_002.004
oxford_
user-id_001.021
overwrite.user-id_005.021
chapel.hill_
user-id_003.180
boston_
user-id_007.108
security level_red

aural communication no longer reliable.
text only.

[ ooc note; after this thread.

any attempts to hack this will be met with extreme aggression, counter-hack and — if she can manage — the security compromise of your device. unlike other encryptions that aberdeen uses, this one is booby-trapped with very large signs to her hacker friends that more or less read: do not touch. ]

[ Oxford's voice is a lot quieter than it ever has been before, and a great deal heavier. His anger - and his sadness - is very quiet, audible in the hardness of some of his emphasised words. ]

Good god, isn't anyone else quite finished with this damned ship? There are circles of hell reserved for this- this absolutely unfathomable level of bullshit.

I sincerely hope that everyone recognises and acknowledges that the Tranquility has lost a great and incredibly good man today. [ Even quieter: ] Let us pray that we will not have to suffer such a loss again, and that at the very least we may learn something from it.

[ After a pause, a respectful moment of silence, he goes on. This is very much intended to be public, because he wants everyone to hear this, not just his intended audience. ]

Captain Ward, Commander Resnik. In the time that I have spent here, I have firmly believed that you had more right than any of us on board to command and control the goings on of this ship. It is your ship, we are accidental strangers. [ His voice is low and a little strained. ] Hotspur believed that too.

You owe us all explanations, even though I don't believe for a moment that you will give them. I will not believe for a moment that Hotspur's death was coincidental, what with him requesting to speak to you such a short time before it occurred. I was not the only one to see and take note of it - and I'm sure you know that he contacted myself and others just before the jump. He told us not to engage with you.

Even if you're going to play stupid now, I am feeling very incredibly inclined to take his advice, even if I don't yet understand or know why. You ought to stop relying so heavily on whatever it is you seem to think protects you both from the rest of us, whatever makes you think that you can keep us in the dark forever.

( ORDER ENCRYPTION; 95%. )

( ENCRYPTION; 100% )

[and the video clicks on to James Kirk. he's a little rough around the edges, having just staggered out of jump, been fed on by a wraith, and now handling a possible crisis situation but his tone is sharp, clipped. commanding.]

This is James Kirk.

{flags to MEDICAL PERSONNEL} There's been an accident. We need medical assistance to coordinates [x,x].

To everyone joining us, you're on board the starship Tranquility, a space faring vessel in a parallel universe to your own. The year is 938 After Earth. I'm sure you have plenty of questions. I'd like to welcome to you with happy news, but unfortunately that isn't possible. Effective immediately, you are part of the active crew. Whomever was here before us, save Captain Ward and First Officer Resnik- they're long gone.

I want everyone to exercise caution when moving about the ship. I've provided what we have of a MAP attached to this broadcast. This map may not match some corridors you travel down, as we've found during every jump, the internal network of the ship seems to rearrange itself. Move in groups if you're able to and stay alert.

One more thing:

If you encounter anything similar to THIS, let someone know and do not engage. It is a potentially hostile entity on the ship that's been causing us trouble.

Above all, stay calm. Panic won't get us anywhere.

[he takes a breath. he wishes he was finished, but that isn't the case.]

Anyone wondering about the organization of the ship, I'd like to direct you to the Job List and the Shift Roster. Everything is voluntary, but I strongly encourage everyone capable to get involved.


( FILTER TO THE ENTERPRISE + 'TEAM' + Jack Harkness + Ianto | KIRK ENCRYPTION 100% )

( PRIVATE MESSAGE TO JOHN WATSON (001 097) | ENCRYPTION 100% )

( FILTER TO ACTIVE SECURITY TEAM | ENCRYPTION 50% )

( Text; Not an IC Cut; HERE THERE BE MORSE CODE. )



So... I don't do Morse code, but who wants to bet that's the other part of the list?

[He told you he'd pull it off, Tony. OF COURSE, HE DIDN'T GET ANSWERS, but... Yeah.]



( Retroactively added to the post after the code was cracked: ZE LIST. )


[OOC; THE NAMES, TO THE BEST OF MY KNOWLEDGE, ARE NOT PART OF THE CODE. They're just there for reference.]

[ Kasumi's preferred method of dealing with the network is much like her preferred approach to life in general: lurk in the shadows, occasionally emerge to poke things just to see if they're entertaining. But every now and then, she has something she actually wants to say. This is one of those times.

Everyone's been buzzing about all these puzzles and riddles that have been showing up, and she's been keeping an eye on it more or less, though she can't say she's particularly engaged by it. That shows in her voice when she starts to speak. ]

Since we all seem to be enjoying thought puzzles so much these days, here's one to try out: What would you do if you found out that nothing you did had any real life consequences? Not for you or for anyone else. Not now or in the future.

Would you still follow the "rules" or would you toss them out and have a little fun?