[ In a string of familiar faces, two more appear on the video to join in. Devon Resnik, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, crew jumpsuit stained with some mixture of grease and blood, looks tired as she speaks. ] He makes an impression, doesn’t he? By now, what he’s offering might have started to sound pretty good, but you can’t let yourselves be blinded by desperation.

[ With her warning out of the way, Ward steps in, expression flat and hard. ] You can't let him have the ship. You know what you're capable of now. You'll be putting that power in his hands.

[ Side-by-side, in an indistinct hallway of the ship, broadcasting from what seems to be a sturdy, built-in terminal, Ward and Resnik continue to snowball one another’s comments, picking up from the end of one another’s sentences as fluidly as if they were their own. ]

And all that control you think you’ve gained over the ship will be for nothing. Do you think it was an accident that it wound up back in Miraxian space?

It wants to be here. You've been fighting. This isn't where you stop.

[ The emphatic insistence in his voice edges on hard desperation. This isn't a day they'd ever wanted to see. ]

We have no intentions of letting van Rijn get his hands on this ship or any of its tech. You don’t want that either, so let’s figure out a plan and stop him.
[ The feed begins with a single tone, low, as if testing the audio capabilities of the devices. On the screen is an older man, white haired with bright blue eyes, standing in front of a deep blue banner emblazoned in gold with a circular symbol containing three five-pointed stars. Though his face now is solemn, there are laughter lines soft at corners of his eyes, the set of his mouth one clearly used to the curve of a smile. He only waits a moment before beginning to speak, voice level, carrying an assured authority, a confidence borne from experience. ]

Residents of the Tranquility, I greet you today after many, many years of waiting. My name is Hendrik van Rijn, Prime Minister of the Miraxian Triad, the people who built and launched the ship you've been trapped on. You may not have heard of me, but I have heard of you, and all the terrible events you've been forced to endure as a result of the unprecedented malfunction which took the Tranquility so far from her intended path. I offer you the deepest sympathies of my people, and myself. Mistakes have been made, and I give you every assurance that now, with your return to us, we will find the cause of this tragedy and set things right.

I know you may have heard promises before, and met with the unfortunate souls in our society who prefer to cheat and steal than offer a helping hand. I know you have no reason to trust me; if I'd been through as much as you have, I wouldn't trust me either. But we have someone else here to speak to you, and I hope hearing from her will help to show the truth of our intentions, and allow us to begin the forging of a strong partnership as we move into the future.

[ With a last look to the camera, he steps back, turning his attention to the side and holding out a hand to greet and guide the woman joining him to take center. The woman's face is one known to many aboard the ship. She's gracious as she steps into view, appearing to squeeze the man's hand before she lets go and takes her place.

Odessa Knutson.

Thank you, Prime Minister.

[ Her attention turns to the camera then, head tilting to one side as a wide smile spreads across her familiar features. She has a look of health to her. A better diet, some proper sunlight, and time will do that. ]

Hello, Tranquility. [ Spoken in the same way one might ask, did you miss me? ] It's been a long time. Too long. For all of us. [ That smile turns a little sad. They've been through some horrors, haven't they? Time and distance has allowed much of it to become a distant memory. ]

The time has come to stop running. When I left the ship, I didn't know what to expect. We received so many conflicting stories, didn't we? I expected all the worst ones to be true, but it was a risk I was willing to take. I'm sure many of you can understand why. Still, I was afraid that I would find monsters. That I would be thrown in a dark cell and never see the light of day again. Now, I don't say this often, but... [ Her hands spread out to her sides, palms up in a gesture that says just look at me. ] I was wrong. After my escape two years ago, Prime Minister van Rijn's people found me. They gave me food, clothing, shelter, a new life and a new purpose...

To find all of you, and help you to be rescued as I had been rescued. I know most of you aren't like me; I'm starting over here, and I'm happier than I've ever been, but many of you have lives you want to return to.
[ The delight she has in sharing this good news seems genuine enough, especially (or even) to those who know her well. She clasps her hands in front of her, a light in her eyes. ] I've seen what the Miraxians have been working on myself. There's hope, so much hope.

Pack your bags, my friends. We're coming to take you home.

[[ OOC: van Rijn exited stage left once off camera, and responses will come from Odessa Knutson only. ]]
15 April 2015 @ 03:59 pm
[She's settled before she addresses the network at large, posture straight and hands resting in her lap. Jemma's still not entirely convinced that they've not been set adrift on a Hydra vessel or some other enemy of S.H.I.E.L.D., but one has to take risks eventually, don't they?

She even looks decidedly upbeat about it.

I suppose we should start with a proper introduction, although it's been brought to my attention that I may have spoken to some of you before. It just seemed a bit rude not to, since I might not..remember you. My name is Jemma Simmons. I've just arrived, but can I say that, unanswered questions aside, I find this all to be a little exciting. The final frontier and all.

[Exciting and maybe just a little bit scary. But so far, so good.]

I've also applied to one of the Science Departments, but I thought I should mention it here as well, in the interest of sharing with the class. I specialized in biochemistry back at the Academy, but I could certainly lend a hand in medbay or anywhere else where an extra scientist is needed.

[One might get the impression that the way she says "science" should be accompanied by a heavy sigh and possibly hearts in the margins of this post.]

Oh, and if Fitz has already told you anything about a cat and its liver, please overlook it. He's a little bit sensitive in the olfactory department.
24 March 2015 @ 10:45 am
[ There is still a steely leanness to Caprica's -- Natasi's -- bony features, after her ordeal in the corridors months ago, but there's a restored vibrancy. A brightness, a smile, an ease and softness.

The natural-like lighting casting her hair bright platinum implies the Oxygen Gardens. ]

There's a chapel here, where they used to hold services. They wrote the names of those that have passed on the wall. These are different rituals of faith than I'm used to, but.

[ But. Her head tips. ]

Faith is universal. Galactic. I'm inviting you to visit the chapel in the Oxygen Gardens once every week, if you'd like the company, starting today. We can discuss the shape of faith in your worlds. The twining paths of fate. The face of god. Prayer, meditation, peace.

The flowers that decorate this place could always use replacing, if you favour more practical gestures.

Even if you don't believe, you're still welcome to join us. I would only ask you to keep an open mind [ a delicate, shaped eyebrow raises ] about faith, and the diversity of the people around you.

[ Humans. ]

So say we all.
[Some things never change. ANd one of those things was crises interupting attempts to plan anything. He's been wanting to ask about this matter for a while, but then they'd had to decide what to do about Van Rijn's people and then that thing had gotten loose. If it wasn't one thing, it was another.

So he's asking now before anything else can come up.]

Is there any place on board that I might be able to find rings? I can manage without, but if we have the option, I'd like to do this properly.

[Call him old fashioned, call him a hopeless romantic, it's all probably true. But in the end, the important thing is that he's going to marry her. And it's important enough to overriding his feelings about network communication.]
21 January 2015 @ 05:18 am
This is Raven Reyes, CEO.

It's been mentioned a few times now that being tracked and boarded involuntarily isn't a possibility, but an inevitability. I'm not here to weigh in one way or the other. I'm here to make sure you're ready, just in case.

You were told to familiarize yourself with the operation of Tranquility-issue space suits and armaments. I can teach you that.

On top of that, I also want to get a hell of a lot more people familiar with how to launch and operate the shuttles, and how to tell which ones are even safe for launch in the first place. I don't know what kind of enemy we'll be facing here. What I do know is, we're stuck in a big metal ship that wants us dead, and that same ship is being tracked by agents who probably also want us dead. It's good to have some kind of escape route, even if that escape just puts you a little farther from the immediate target. After all, deep space doesn't give a shit if you're dead or alive, and in the event of an on-board battle of some kind I'd call that an improvement.

So if you want to learn any of this, say something. It could save your life.

And you're probably sick to hell of hearing this by now, but if you're unemployed and wouldn't rather hang yourself than get a little dirty, Engineering wants you. Especially right now, when everybody's stretched so thin.

Last thing: If you're good with suits, armaments, or shuttles, speak up too. It'd sure be handy if I weren't the only one dishing out the safety-first lectures.
14 January 2015 @ 05:21 am
[ Erik’s voice is low and rough, raw tension metered in the effort he makes to keep himself in check. ]

There is no force in this universe that has our best interests at heart.

We’re stowaways on a stolen warship. Van Rijn is hunting for us.

From what little we know of him, we may deduce that he is not a man celebrated for his mercy. If we are taken on Van Rijn’s terms, we will be subject to his rule -- not as people, but as scientific curiosities. Collateral damage. Pirates. Witnesses. He has no obligation to follow through on any promise his men make.

We are not citizens of this world. We don’t have rights.

Be discreet. Keep communications apprised of any contact you have with his crew. If we are to engage with him, it must be on our terms. If his forces breach this vessel, be prepared to fight for your lives.

[ There’s a pause, as if he’s checking notes. ]

For those of you unfamiliar with the basic operation of Tranquility-issue space suits and armaments, now is the time to learn.

[ ...And a moment of silence for his self-control buckling under the strain of formal address. ]

As of this moment, if I discover that any one of you has taken it upon yourselves to pander away further intelligence on this ship or your fellow passengers in exchange for safe passage -- hope that Van Rijn finds you before I do.

[ He ends that sentence, and so the transmission, with a bristling quiver at the tail of his diction and an abrupt punch of his forefinger. Magneto out. ]
09 January 2015 @ 04:08 pm
recently a handful of us had made contact with an outside source - a certain lina barnez and joshua sachin. some of you may still be confused by their most recent attempt to communicate.

what we know is that they work on behalf of van rijn, who is supposedly the prime minister of alexandria and is behind the construction of this ship.

lina and joshua have been described as "bloodhounds" for the prime minister, who is undoubtedly looking to get back his ship. what this entails for us, we don't yet know.

have been on the tranquility since the first jump, and recall the events described in their transmission. a timeline of those events as we experienced them can be read upon in the welcome manual. can answer any further questions if you still have any.

for those of you who are unaware, the strela outpost was occupied by a population who appeared to have been in synch with each other. we later discovered that they assimilated people into what we know as a hivemind, and had attempted to round us up in efforts to become part of that assimilation. we managed to escape, but it would seem that some time after our departure the strela outpost has suffered an "accident" that had wiped out all of its inhabitants.

like the outpost, arima was a colony populated by living people at the time we were there. plenty of survivors had been left behind when we departed. however, lina and joshua insist that the people of the colony were all killed when they had been very much alive when we had left, but only after they had expressed hostility towards our crew - not much unlike the temperament we were met by the people of strela.

there's a possibility that these locations we have stopped at were affected because of the tranquility itself. at least, that's what the people working for van rijn seem to believe. whether or not that's true, can't say.

after all, don't believe everything they tell you.

am concerned that there may be a chance that whatever so-called "phenomena" that's affected the people we have previously encountered may be affecting us in some way as well.

and that's where we're at.


[ooc: Feel free to threadjack and discuss amongst each other in this post. I don't mind!]
11 December 2014 @ 11:15 am
[the cylons were created by man... They evolved. There are many copies...]

[Backdated to the jump.]

[When the feed flicks on, there’s a bit of static before, muffled through the fabric of a blazer. A woman’s voice, with a slight tone of authority can be heard. Laura Roslin.]

For someone who eradicated nearly all of humanity, you're awfully scared of a cancer-ridden woman. I have no power here, no title. And I have no idea where Caprica Six is. I've told you.

[The sound of an elevator door closing, then a man, his voice new to those on Tranquility speaks. He has no idea he’s being recorded.]

Yes, so you've told me. And Kara Thrace is dead.

You speak like I'm personally responsible for humanity's destruction, but it was God's plan for you. This is your path, and mine, and we must all play our parts.

[The woman again, her voice clear.]

She is.

And Gaius Baltar has been cleared of all charges.

Were either of those in your god's plan? Was this ship? You assisted the genocide of the human race all the same. And if that was also part of your god's plan, I want nothing to do with it. This place is beyond gods and prophecies. That line of thinking will get you killed, Conoy.

And not by my hand.
[She'll just ask nicely. Or throw him out the airlock again. Anyone know where they're located?]

Threaten me all you want, by all means, shove me against a locker like we’re in high school, but for Kobol's sake listen to me. Because I am not afraid of you. [Laura’s words are pointed, This is the vengeful President that the Colonials are used to.]

[A beat]
I'm supposed to meet Adama. For a Cylon that wants my protection, you're doing all you can to throw it away.

[As the tone of her voice changes, the man with her starts listening a little harder to her choice of words, to the direction behind them. She's speaking to him and past him, and he recognises the difference. Leoben knows how to listen; it's what he does best.

When he speaks, softness to mirror her aloofness, he knows what he’s doing. She’s broadcasting this, and he directs his own words past her, straight to her listeners.]

It isn't about what you want. It isn't about what I want. You may say you're not afraid, but you don't know fearlessness. Not yet, but you will before the end. Why don't you tell them the truth? We are the children of humanity, brought into the world to fight your battles; commodities, unpaid labor, slaves. Tell them how you gave life, and how you now fear the life that you created, deprived of the ability to simply switch it off.

[There’s a small ruffle of fabric, fumbling as he reaches for her hip, and grabs the communicator. He raises it to his mouth, and as a result his voice is louder; clear.]

My name is Leoben Conoy. I have Laura Roslin. I want to speak to Caprica Six. [The feed falls silent.]


[Sometime later, Laura’s voice once again can be heard on to the network.]

Hello, citizens of the Tranquility, this is President Laura Roslin. I'm currently being held hostage by the Cylon model 2 known as Leoben Conoy. I cannot say where I am being held, Athena save us, or he will move our position. He is unarmed but extremely dangerous. Proceed with caution.

[Bill please figure out she's on floor 82. With the reference to model 8. And 2.]

Across the room, her captor raises his voice, just loud enough to be heard.]

Athena, goddess of wisdom and strategy. You can speak to them, when they answer.

[ooc: let us know who you want to talk to, Laura, Leoben, or both! Feel free to come to the rescue as well, try to reason with them, whatever.]
25 November 2014 @ 10:24 pm
( nearly a year has passed since nuala sat down in front of her communications device for the first time, quiet and solemn and still; the setting has changed, and the costuming. unlike the other elves who call the gardens home, she has left the flets and lives alone in a pavilion that offers more protection from the elements than it seems as if it should for the primary reason that a wizard built it. if she remembers that the last time she lived in such state her people were at war, she gives no day to day indication. it is a more personal backdrop than the identical and sparse rooms of the passenger decks, much of what decorates it stitched patiently over the months - or flowers, woven, assembled by her hand from the gardens. she is dressed more finely than she was then, too, in her handmade gown, her hair braided in a Tymoshenko-esque crown as it often is, lately, to better lean inquiringly over the shoulders of the rest of Xenogen without risking dropping her hair into something that doesn't really need her DNA in it.

it may be familiar to some, all the same. this is a communications device. nuala has decided she wishes to communicate. at some point, in this awful quiet that she's remained in since having woken, things will begin to make sense again. )


( there isn't anything else. the idea of leaving her pavilion is paralyzing; she wishes to talk to someone. so she will wait, and sooner or later, someone will talk to her and she won't have to go anywhere to do it. )
15 November 2014 @ 07:44 pm
[ Skye's mostly watched the network, sending a few texts, but otherwise avoided people in any form since she woke up here. She's getting a little tired of ducking behind doors, though. It's like being back in her van and after being on the bus for so long, she's actually feeling lonely and claustrophobic at the idea. There has to be someone here with useful answers. ]

So is everyone here from Earth or what?

Anyone heard of SHIELD? Or HYDRA? I know someone who's really into Captain America. Is that a thing here? Is it too much of a leap to assume that you've heard of America at all?
06 November 2014 @ 09:59 pm
are you capable of basic self-defense and defense of others?
are you capable of functioning in a team at a capacity either at or above that of johanna mason?
are you interested in exploring sections of the tranquility normally advised to be off-limits?
have you voluntarily subjected yourself to having the letters SE and C emblazoned on your forearm?

if you answered yes to the first three questions and no to the fourth, please reply to this message stating your interest.

thank you.
03 November 2014 @ 07:14 pm
[Zoë's not really very comfortable with the technology on the ship yet, but she's a quick learner and has some help adjusting to the learning curve. (Thanks there, husband.) But, there's only so much strange shit that she can take without an actual job to occupy her hours.

Hence why she's doing this.]

Gotta say, wasn't really expectin' the whole power outage in the black like that. Not exactly the most comfortin'. I'd complain to our ship's captain, but from what I hear, he's missin'.

So, what's there to do on this ship, 'sides walkin' around floors and waitin' for things to pop out at me so I can shoot them in the face?
16 October 2014 @ 07:43 pm
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.
15 September 2014 @ 08:59 pm
Hi. This is Claire Bennet. You might know me. You might not. Nathan Petrelli is my father and, obviously, that means Peter is my uncle.

At this point, I'm sure that everyone is aware, but if you aren't: they have both gone as of the last jump. I'm not really equipped to deal with the holes that they left in their respective departments, so I won't waste everyone's time trying to offer a helping hand in that capacity or anything. I hope the positions get filled soon, even if they are big shoes to fill.

My main thing here is that... well, Nathan and Peter left me with three dogs. I thought about giving the two puppies up for adoption and, you know, running a background check to make sure potential applicants had never murdered a hamster or anything like that. But the more I think about it, the less right it seems to give away something that isn't mine to give. That being said, I need some help in about two departments here. Okay:

1. Can anyone go over the process for getting animals into the grav couches before the jump? Is there a special procedure I should be aware of? Do I just... plop them in there or what?

2. Is there any kind of, like... doggy daycare out there? Should there be? Should we just organize a ship-wide animal meet-and-greet of some kind? Along those lines, let's talk puppy play dates. Not even necessarily with other puppies. I know the dogs spent some amount of time with the comms department, too, so if anyone ever wanted to walk any of them... that would be great.

I'd really like to do this right, since they belonged to my family, and they obviously both cared about them.


EDIT: does anyone know how to use a sword? Specifically, a samurai sword.
12 September 2014 @ 07:52 pm
So poll time:

What's creepier?
a) zombies
b) robots
c) clones


[ ooc: all of Kate's responses will be anonymous unless otherwise marked ]
09 September 2014 @ 03:22 pm
I'd like to speak with someone from Communications and someone from Xenogen, since Nathan seems to have taken his leave and I'm not sure which of Severus' scientists is currently pulling rank on that side of their department.

That's all. Unless anyone wants something from me.
21 August 2014 @ 12:03 am
[Laura is once again on the feed, this time looking worse for ware. She's pale and clammy, wrapped up in a blanket or twelve. Beads of sweat are visible on her forehead, and it's quite clear that, like others on-board, she's quite sick.]

I'm afraid the cold that is going around has hit me rather hard.

[She coughs, and it wracks her entire body. Laura's used to appearing in-charge and put-together. And right now? She's the opposite of that. Fragile. Human. Mortal. Dying.]

If- I don't trust myself to leave my room. If someone could arrange for anyone from medical, Peter, perhaps?, to visit me, I would appreciate it.


[She looks towards her right, off the camera.]

I fear the cancer has taken advantage of this illness.