[Rhys shows up on-camera, his brows furrowed slightly at the communications device. You're probably gonna notice pretty quickly that there's a mechanical port on the side of his head, and the corresponding eye is a bright, unnatural blue. And, of course, that he's sporting a yellow mechanical arm in place of an actual biological one.

But hey, nobody's perfect. Without much further ado, he turns the phone over so the camera is facing the floor, and there's definitely the sound of some buttons being pressed, some tampering that sounds like he's attempting to remove the back panel.]

Oh, for the love of- [The phone drops to the floor, the screen going dark. Rhys picks it up a minute later, flipping it back over so the camera is facing him again.] What kind of backwards tech is this? You have the technology to teleport us to different realities and you decide to give us an outdated ECHO recorder that my grandma could have built?

Look, is anyone on this junkheap versed with the network systems you've got going here? 'cause I've got the same functions in my arm and that's way more convenient for me. I've been trying to access it directly, but it'll probably take me awhile. If anyone knows how to cut corners, you know, now's the time to be helpful.

Also, hey. I'm Rhys: hero from Hyperion, new arrival, good with technology. [A pause, and then-] ...and if any of you are from Pandora, then you should know that I'm a totally laidback and innocent guy, and I didn't do it.

[[ooc: Forgot to post this earlier, but here is Rhys' Permissions post!]]

Okay, so I'm pretty much ridiculously bored right now, and it's not like I can go anywhere because like 90% of the people who're even awake right now are doing shit in the departments, so.

I don't know. Tell me a joke. The worse the better. If I have to pretty much shun you for telling it, it means you win.

[he's in the middle of the upper floor of the gardens when he finally decides to contact the network; the area chosen because it's one of the few places he can find solace in. can find time to get his head back in order again and think of his next step.

(too many people are affected. too many people are being hurt.

he almost killed--)

the feed opens on a somewhat disheveled looking castiel, his expression deadly serious as he addresses whoever is listening.]

As I am sure you're all aware, there is a...situation currently taking place aboard this ship. Those of you who have not done so already would to well to keep yourselves locked away from the affected at this time. If you require assistance, speak with Sergeant Brad Colbert. To those injured, the medical facilities are still open.

[a pause, and that certainty wanes a little. he has a proposition, but--]

There may be a way to stop this.

[emphasis on the may.]

The affected individuals are in a state similar to sleep, but not quite. They are...dreaming, in a way. There are three of us here who are capable of entering the dreams of others. However, while I was able to enter one such dream, I was unable to affect anything that was occurring within it.

I...don't know if it is due to what is happening to them or not.

[or if it's simply because he isn't strong enough. not with his grace draining by the day.]

If anybody has any suggestions, please, state them now.

[and then that's it. or at least as far as the ship-wide transmission. too bad be doesn't actually know his brothers' numbers to lock something to them. so after a moment of hesitation--]

Gabriel. [and a tightening of his jaw as he adds--] Lucifer.

I-- Your assistance would be beneficial.

Got two things to ask and one thing to offer. I'll try to make it short and sweet.


QUESTION 1: What destroyed or depopulated your version of Earth? Nukes, asteroids, zombies? If nothing did yet, what took the closest shot so far?

Same question if you're not from Earth - just swap out Earth for wherever you came from.

I'm not compiling a spreadsheet or anything. I guess it's just something I've wondered.


QUESTION 2: What are we even doing here? What's our destination? The purpose of the voyage? Who sent us, and why us? Maybe I missed something and by all means point me there if I did, but in less than a day, this ship sucks up more resources than the Ark could spare for a month.

I've been here for over a month now and I'm the first person I've seen ask anything like this so far. I want to think it's because we were up to our airholes in highly invasive nanotechnology. Or - like I said, maybe I missed the big 'who, what, where, and why' memo.


OFFER: I'm bored off my rocks, if you haven't picked up on that yet. I was a zero-G mech back on the Ark, and if that's not enough, I helped fix the thing that saved your asses pre-Jump. I can repair, rebuild, or build from scrap just about anything you can think of. So somebody give me a job before I start opening panels and improving whatever the hell's inside.

[ is she serious? she very well could be, so throw her a bone here, yeah? ]

[ The video feed begins on a room bathed in Christmas lights. Or at least in lights that are red and green; certainly there's no holiday cheer of any sort involved. It's not the steadiest feed, but it moves slowly as it sweeps across the space. A flashlight beam follows it, illuminating large tanks full of fluid. The color is difficult to make out, brown beneath the color filters of the lights. ]

This is Kate Bishop and the search team. [ Her voice is recognizable despite its hoarseness, and she speaks at a normal volume, no whispering. There are other voices in the background, and shadows shift as other people (members of the team, one hopes) move around the space. ] We believe we've found the source of the stasis fluid. It's a room sealed to Medical access at the end of a long corridor of supply closets leading away from the Medbay toward the center of the ship. The doors we've checked have been marked with red paint and should lead the way. [ You know, just in case they for some reason don't make it back. You never know around here. ] You'll know them when you see them because every one Sirius checked is marked with a dick.

ANYWAY as you can see, there are tanks. That fluid is blue, it looks like stasis fluid, the light's just weird in here. You can't see from here but there are pipes that lead toward the Medbay. More importantly [ She moves forward here, toward a bank of control consoles, and the light follows and sweeps across them. She names them in turn. ] Oxygen Management, Gravcouch Management, Nanite Management. We can access the system but it won't let us make any changes. What we can do is take the tubes of nanite fluid physically out of the system, but when we started to do that we got a bunch of errors. I think if we take them out the couches just won't fill at all at the jump. So we need to have a plan if we're doing that. Maybe bringing shit here is a better idea? I don't know how things're going in Medical, you'll have to let us know asap.

Anywa-- what? [ Another voice in the background has the video wheeling as Kate turns, and there's a queasy moment of dipping and spinning before she gets it focused again. In the frame now is a small cannister of the sort used in the Science Department. It is sitting on the floor next to the console. It is uncapped. Someone's finger Hook's hook points at it. ] We just found this next to the Nanite Management station. We'll get it back for testing since it's pretty damn suspicious.

[Bilbo appears on the video feed looking a bit worn around the edges but otherwise cheery and none the worse for wear. What do you expect, though, he's Bilbo Baggins? The world could be falling apart around him and while he would be concerned for his home and his friends, he'd be taking it in stride all whilst fussing about the state of his waistcoat and how much trouble the cleanup is going to be afterwards. Because that's who Bilbo Baggins is - an indomitably positive person through and through.

And so while quite a number of folk are bemoaning their situation at the moment, Bilbo Baggins is looking forward. And Bilbo Baggins has a plan.]

I say. This is quite a spot that we find ourselves in at the moment, eh? Dreadful business, this sickness stuff. I tell you what though, whenever I'm feeling under the weather, I find that there's nothing better than a good spot of tea to help clear the sinuses, soothe the throat, and cheer the spirits! Well, that and sitting in front of the nice warm fire back home in my hobbit hole with a good book - who knows what has happened to my nice little house in my absence. [Get to the point Bilbo.]

In any case, while I cannot extend an invitation for quite such an affair, I can at least offer some comforts! [He claps his hands together, and then proclaims:] I have made tea! A great deal of tea. And it is going to go to waste if I don't find at least a fair number of you to share it with. Misery loves company, yes? I can make deliveries! Who's up for a cup?

[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]

[When the vid feed clicks on, there's a nice view of Lucifer's face, silhouetted by the raging fire in the lounge behind him. Never say that the Devil doesn't know how to put on a show.]

There's something that hasn't been sitting well with me, so let me see if I've got it all straight.

[His tone is light and conversational, and he taps his chin with one finger contemplatively.]

We were pulled here to the middle of nowhere, space against our will, heading towards destinations unknown with only the word of the captain that we'll be able to return from whence we came. They branded us like animals. Took things from us, in some cases.

[Like his own, for example. His Grace has been pared down like an overgrown tree until he could fit within the confines of an inferior vessel without burning through.

There is a muffled shout from somewhere behind him.]

Personally, I find this to be a little rude.

[Thanks for the input, Satan.]

I suppose there are a few ways to approach this sort of situation, but I'm not really one to work through passive means. Just a personal preference, of course, I've just always been disposed towards being more... direct. Really, in instances like these, I think it's important for all parties involved to communicate in a clear, succinct manner, so everyone understands each other.

[And, apparently, Satan's idea of a 'clear, succinct manner' is the liberal application of fire.]

Consider this my formal complaint.

[He cuts off the feed.]