[The feed shows a boy of maybe six or seven, sitting in the gardens with a sheet of paper lying before him - the list of things that he wants to address. He's wearing the ship's uniform and his long hair is braided in a complicated pattern and adorned with little red, white and blue pearls.]

If there is someone who always comes when we call them, and they don't come here, is there a way to make them come? Where I was before, you could do a task and get a reward, there should be something like that here as well, yes? Even though there are no regents, but we are still pulled to this ship, so it has to be similar.

[He tried to call the General because one of the other residents of the ship, Glacius, would have liked to meet him and he didn't come, and as much as he doesn't like the cold, not having General Winter at his disposal means a pretty major loss of safety and that would be a lot of loss of potential "fire"power to make up for. It makes things a lot scarier.]

And I have a few other things, too. [He holds up a hand, four fingers stretched out.]

Are there any people from East of Poland and Lithuania and west of Mongolia here? Or who feel like they belong there in one way or the other. [One finger is bent down, and he giggles when it is a bit complicated to keep the other three up - but it works out in the end.]

I need to talk to William Tsang, but I don't know what he looks like so I couldn't find him. [Asking might have gone a long way but the scary looking old woman that he saw around in the med bay when he stalked it made him continue stalking instead of taking heart and asking someone, and when you don't know whom you're looking for...] So you should tell me what he looks like, yes? [Another finger goes, and this one needs to be held down by the thumb so the remaining two can go up again.]

Does anyone have a set of balanced daggers for fighting that they don't need? I can offer customized knitted products for a trade, or maybe something else if that doesn't work.

[And then he stops abruptly, his eyes going wide before narrowing and tears appearing in the corners, and he raises both hands to hold his head. When he lowers them again a bit later, a trickle of blood has started to run out of his nose, but he isn't noticing it yet, looking left and right with a nervous glance (is there someone who did this?) before snuffling and fixing the smile back on his face and continuing, though his eyes are still a bit onfocused.]

We looked in the kitchens and there are good knives, but they aren't balanced right. [He suddenly remembers that he was showing the bullet points on his hand and raises his hand, only his little finger pointing up now.]

And I want to learn things. I can play the harp a bit, but I want to learn more about it so it gets nicer. So if you know how to play the harp, you should teach me. And I want to learn how to shoot a firearm because they work everywhere here, yes? And I want to get better with the bow and my daggers, too, so if you are very good at fighting with them you should teach it to me, too. Because children should learn things, yes? [So adults obviously have the duty to teach them. He peers down at his cheat sheet and then nods and lowers his hand, clasping it together with the other in his lap.

And just smiles at the camera for a little bit before reaching out to turn the feed off - at which point he stops abruptly because blood has dripped from his nose onto the back of his hand and he reaches up in shock to touch his lip and wipe at the blood with hands and sleeves.]

[There’s a little shuffling and confusion as the camera is adjusted to just the right angle. A frowning face takes the place of the blurred hand that blocked the lens a moment ago and Tadashi fiddles with the feed a moment more before stepping back.

He hesitates, then pulls a baseball cap onto his head after running his hand back through his hair.

There. Everything is settled. Tadashi tugs a lopsided smile into place, but his expression is still thoughtful.]

This is Tadashi Hamada speaking.

[Another hesitation. He runs one hand over his face.]

My brother and I have been on board this... this ship for a few days now. I haven’t met many of you in person yet, so I wanted to go ahead and introduce myself. I'm taking the time to go through all of the information that's been provided and I'm still working on getting my bearings, but I just wanted to say that I'm willing to help out wherever I'm needed for now.

Back home I was a student of robotics. I was working with AI systems as well. If that's of any use to anyone, please don't hesitate to call on me.

[Tadashi offers something of a half smile, reaches forward, then disconnects the feed.]

We're losing people.

[It's not a good opener. Tyke's in the SEC office, the central screen standing as backdrop behind her, but her expression doesn't seem as sharp as it usually is for these announcements. The slight pinch in her brow isn't unusual, but there's a slightly cloudy quality to her eyes that doesn't dissipate as she continues talking.]

There's less people at the jumps. Our overall population's getting smaller. You'd think we'd be getting bigger over time, not this.

[Her frown deepens for a moment, and she takes a breath. Seems to pull herself up straighter, words coming stronger.]

My name's Tyke, and I'm head of security. Anyone that hasn't heard it before: security's here for your safety. Things here are gonna try to kill you or fuck with your head. We wanna make sure that doesn't happen.

One way you're gonna help on that is by sticking together. Move down to the first ten floors. Join a department. They maintain the basic functions of the ship around you, and they're all fucking understaffed. Don't let any of this shit make you think we've gotta turn on each other.

[Pain twists her expression sharply, suddenly, has her leaning forward slightly, a thin trickle of blood running down from her nose. She wipes it almost immediately, red smearing on her face and the back of her hand. She glares at it, irritation and frustration palatable, snarling in her voice.]

Is anyone else getting these fucking headaches?

[Someone's bored, sitting in one of the kitchens (on a counter in fact) and just looking bored. So she grabs her communicator and flicks it on.]

I have been here for some time now and I have realized that I really do not know so many people as I would like. And so many of you here are Secondborn- ah, humans. So I have a few questions.

[She smiles pleasantly enough but-]

Does having round ears affect your hearing?

My people consider long hair important, a standard for beauty. Many of you do not have long hair, what do you consider beautiful if not that? I know that dwarves find beards beautiful but most of you are bare-faced.

And your lives are so short. Is that why most seem in such a rush? Is that why you cannot hear the trees or animals? You are in too much of a rush to listen?

[Lúthien no.]

I work now!! I'm a worker like a, a adult, just like you guys! See??

[He pulls up his sleeve to show you guys his wicked awesome addition to his tattoo.

SCI » 039 » 055

Clearly someone has been telling him things to keep him motivated and busy. Heather.]

I work in the garden now! Heder says I'm gonna be a... morale officer!! I talk to everyone and make sure they're happy when they work and they're not sad, and if they are I can try t'make them feel better. So if you work there and you feel bad, just talk to me, and I'll help you! And if you get tired, I'll do your job, 'cus I don't get tired very easy. I'm a good worker.

...

A-and if you wanna talk but you don't grow plants and stuff, that's okay. 

I like talking with everybody.

[That's why he's even posting, okay, he just wants to blabber at all of you.

He spares no one from his talkative fate.]

[Filtered from the Serenity crew]

[Throughout the message, Wash keeps glancing at something just off screen. He's not exactly his usual happy goofy self.]

A lot of things recently have gotten me thinking. Some of you have kids, right?

[He glances to the off screen object again and sighs slightly.]

What's it like?

[ Amidst the bright greens of the Oxygen Gardens is Elizabeth, much better off since her last broadcast, post-Smiley trauma. The brunette turns the device on, yes, but her attention is elsewhere, ducking amongst the plants and trying to suss out a few of the bugs. In the meantime, she's singing softly to herself, looking almost lost in a daydream for a moment or two. ]

I'm sorry, I meant to ask: is there anyone else aboard who had... well, some kind of power before coming to the ship? I've mentioned it once or twice to some since I've been here, but I had a certain ability before arriving and I'm almost nostalgic for it. It was part of who I am, and... it's a bit hard to explain.

Oh, and the Gardens are wonderful! I can't believe I haven't spent any time here before; they make the whole place seem much less cold. And there are insects! It really does remind me of home, which I thought I would never miss.

[ There's a wistful sigh. ]

Space can be awfully lonely, don't you think?

[When she'd gone from the gardens to try to surprise Leia, the last she she'd been expecting it to run into someone. Especially someone who was supposed to be dead, she can remember his death and the smell of fires burning around them on Arima. She can remember Legolas' broken leg and the nightmares he'd given to his prisoners and more.

Panic had swelled in her chest and she felt like she forgot how to breathe as she looked up at him and he grabbed her. In another time and place, she apparently finds the courage to rival him but not here and not now. She freezes and then struggles only to be rewarded with a backhand.

It was enough to snap her into action and she did all she could. She sang, one of Daeron's songs but she infused what she could of her own power into it and ran, hoping it would hold him back.

She ran back to the gardens and there she fumbles with her communicator. Her hands are shaking and her face is pale except for a slowly forming bruise under her right eye.]

M-Morgoth-

I saw Morgoth in the halls. [Even knowing Thranduil had cut his head off, somehow he's there.]

Hello, fellow residents on the Tranquility. For those of you who don't know me, my name is Leia Organa.

[She's not even bothering to waste any time here.]

I don't have anything majorly important to say, but if anyone here knew Han Solo before he left or is inclined towards engineering projects, I have a lot of his abandoned and half-finished projects in my room. I will be putting them into boxes and leaving them in Media Room on the first floor of the residences. If you're interested in them, they are free to take.

I'm not sure what half of the things are, but I'm more than happy to give them to someone who can actually use them.

[And so they aren't taking up valuable space in her room for...anything else.]

Also, Lúthien, if you want to start those lessons we discussed a few months ago, I'm ready to do so.

[Gold has a bad habit of not looking at the camera when he's speaking to his device - but this time it seems less like he's working on something more important, and more as though he's examining something, a slightly pensive air to his expression.]

As irritating as it is to admit it, this coming jump will be my twenty-fifth. [He looks up, then, setting whatever item it is aside and giving the camera his full attention.] Patience is a virtue, as they say, but I've lost count of the faces that have come and gone. I won't pretend for any sentiment to the fact - what concerns me is the loss of information that each might have held, whether about this ship or some clue on why they were brought here at all.

[He still believes there's a pattern. There's always a pattern.]

My world was one within several, each with borders that could be... hopped, if you had the means. [And the will.] What was always interesting was the ideas that would seep through the cracks. The lives that would become stories and songs.

[With hugely edited pieces, facts missing, other exaggerated. But he knows his history, and he knows how it's remembered.]

My name is Rumplestiltskin. I'm curious to know how many of you have heard it.

[Once she has Artanis back in the Gardens, Lúthien goes through the trouble of finding things they need from the kitchen, making sure they have all the things of theirs they might need and then pulls the ladder up into the flet.

She had considered sending this message anonymously but... Well, someone’s still fuming that her friend, her sister in many ways, had been wounded.]

I am Lúthien, daughter of King Thingol and Queen Melian the Maia of Doriath. And this message is to the woman that shot Artanis: I would recommend you stay away from the houses in the Oxygen Gardens trees. You are not our favorite person, currently.

[Not Lúthien’s anyway. And she can’t imagine she’s Artanis’ favorite.]

And the last thing I think you want is for the garden itself to turn on you. [Take that how you will. Some people that know her though will know exactly what she means by that.]

I will not stop anyone else but do not think I will be allowing just anyone to visit our flets before Artanis is recovered. As such I have raised the ladder. Do not try to force your way up. I have ways to keep people out even up here.

Color me curious. Since we're such a diverse group of people - how many of you are from "Earth"? I don't care what version of it, I don't care what time you're from. Considering that we're all supposed to be from different galaxies and times, why is it your wonderful planet that gets picked on?

Not that I'm minding, there are so many people from my own galaxy that I'd hate to see again (though, if there's an old man called Ben Kenobi or Obi Wan still hiding out here, I still want my money), it's just odd that it's that galaxy that gets all the fun.

Or, you know, tell me where you're from. How are you? What's Earth like? Something - it's just bugging me.

[Despite working in Comms, Leia hasn't tried to address the rest of the ship since her arrival. But things have been steadily getting worse and she can't ignore it anymore.

Her cheeks are unnaturally flushed and she alternates between shaking and wanting to strip down to nothing from hour to hour. The slight cough she'd disregarded as leftover stress from her arrival, it's gotten worse. The overall picture is of someone who's miserable and ill but is trying to deny it.]

Excuse me, but is there something wrong with the environmental controls on the ship? Who do I talk to about having my room checked over?

[She coughs harshly, a wet sound that quickly turns into a harsh gag. She has to get off the communicator now.]

Help would also be appreciated with opening my door. It's been stuck for the last three hours.

[She turns the comm off just as she starts coughing again.]

[The screen shows an elderly woman in the medical bay. She's dressed every inch the stereotypical witch, complete with black pointy hat. She has a bottle filled with some sort of brownish liquid.]

Ain't blind to the trouble goin' 'bout. Some of ye fools are tryin' to pretend ye ain't sick. Just gonna make it all worse.

[But let it not be said she is entirely unsympathetic.]

Got somethin' fer aches 'n' fevers here. Ain't anythin' fer the cause but it'll help fer a bit.

[She makes not promises about the taste]

[Simon had been pondering addressing the network for a few days. He had no reason to distrust Wash's statement that he, Simon, had been here before, and if this was an Alliance trick... well, it was a very elaborate, very real-seeming one.

He didn't want to give them that much credit.

And so, he finally called up a video feed, clearing his throat.]

Hello to everyone on the Tranquility. I suppose I should be blunt right off the bat- I am aware that I have apparently been here before, but I wanted to spare everyone who knew me back then and mention that I do not remember anything of this place. ... I feel as though I should apologize for that fact, but truthfully, I am still having trouble wrapping my head around that idea.

So... if you would like to introduce yourselves again... or get to know me for the first time... I would not mind that.

For those who do not know me, I am Simon Tam. I was a trauma surgeon where I came from, and I intend on joining the medical department here and offering my services.

[And with that, he awaits replies.]

So it's come to my attention that i'm one of the last ones left on the medical team on board. And now, the one who's been here the longest. [ Peter sounds a touch strained - for a variety of reasons - maybe a little on the tired side. But he's altogether more than willing to be doing this and he sounds enough like it to get by. ]

My name is Peter Petrelli and I woke up from a month long coma to find out that the entire department is under my control. I know I've missed a lot, but that doesn't change the fact that i'm happy to take on the mantle. What that doesn't mean is that I'm planning on trying run the whole thing by myself or considering ruling with an iron fist for my own benefit. But I might as well take the position that's been handed to me by way of default and make the most of it.

For those of you who don't know - who're new around here and haven't heard about it yet, we've got jobs that're set up by departments. That's the simplified version. If you want to hear more about all of them, I might not be the perfect person to ask considering I don't know everything about all of them. But if you're looking for a job doing something, ask around. There's more than enough opportunities for everyone.

But that's not what i'm trying to get at. [ A pause, only noteworthy because of the sigh that follows. ]

After missing a jump and the entire month that followed, i'm pretty sure i'm behind on who all's now in medical and who might want to be. Half of all I want is to meet everyone who's joined that I haven't met already, make sure i've got an actual grip on things. The other half is to try and find anyone who's interested in joining. We'll take anyone who thinks they can offer any kind of help - we're lacking in staff right now, or we were last I knew, and finding some more help would be appreciated.

Or if you just want to stop by the med bay to talk about it in person, feel free to. I'm here now if anyone's interested - I won't be going anywhere anytime soon.

I've got some weed that needs growing: it's special, you might even call it magical, and it takes a delicate hand to grow.

[ The clinking of glass rings through the speakers, before the video snaps on, broadcasting Amory, mussed up hair and an inebriated gleam to his eyes. He tops off a glass of scotch, before addressing the camera. ]

You'd think growing up on a vineyard, I would've learn how to grow something— but then again, that's why we hired help.

And that's why I'm looking for an elf.

You guys have that Disney princess thing going on, right? Best friends with animals, flowers, bugs, other tiny, pathetic creatures. Think one of you can sing my weed to grow?

A fairy might work too.

[ Is this a joke, or is Amory being serious and vaguely racist... who knows. Or maybe he does. ]