[ Never one for too many words, Kara opts to send out a mass text to everyone. Knowing at least that way, she can get a better sense of where her attention will need to be.

And it's a good way to look after people without actually saying she is. ]

Since we will be docking soon, I'm wondering what everyone's plans are once we arrive?

[ 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.

[When the video flicks on, there is an awkward moment where the device is turned around into position until it is set up against something to put the feed on the possibly familiar countenance of Charles Xavier. Before it settles, it shows off what looks to be one of the ship libraries and perhaps a mug of tea and also the inside of Xavier’s forearm.

SCI-007-047, in case anyone was wondering which Xavier was speaking today.

He is sitting in the library, shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows, obviously deep into some sort of work with a notebook, his expression pensive as he reaches for the mug of tea.]

Many of us, who share a history of Earth, may be familiar with the ‘thought experiment’ or paradox of Schrodinger’s Cat. Schrodinger’s Cat came about from the physicist Erwin Schrodinger as an illustration of what he saw as a problem with the Copenhagen interpretation of the theory of quantum mechanics.

There is a great deal that could be discussed and even debated on this ‘thought experiment’ but at the moment I have been thinking on the superposition property that is tested by Schrodinger’s paradox.

[Pushing himself to his feet, Charles walked from his chair to a whiteboard he had found and drawn upon.]

( Non-IC text cut for theoretical physic geeking by a non-physic person )

In other words, to linear lines of origin, or home if you will, we are suspended like the cat, between the superposition of there and not there. To those who would observe us, our friends and loved ones, their observation determines our interpretative state.

They see us, interact with us there and so the wavefunction option determines us as there for those who know us at home. However here, on this ship, it is our state of observation that defines our interaction with this quantum system of superposition.

Or to boil it down further, there are theoretical physics that support the idea that though we are trapped here, experiencing a timeline that may feel like months of separation from our points of origin, we are truly not gone from those points or from the people who would look for us upon them.

This theoretical also addresses the question of why there can be different versions of the same individual on this one convergence of linear lines but that would be a lesson for another day.

Alex? Erik? There is the answer to your question.

[ooc: Holy crap but I am nowhere NEAR Charles Xavier’s level of intelligence. Most of this has been riffed off Wikipedia, interpreted and filtered through my long suffering science nerd of an RP partner.]

[Alex is sitting cross-legged on the floor of his room, the device on a nearby chair, giving a good view of the room. He's wearing a leather jacket (black-provided in his locker this time), and a pair of jeans. He's looking a bit James Dean today (thank you very much), and for the first time in a while, he's feeling a bit less....stressed.

Not that there isn't a lot to stress out about. But give a guy his own clothing (not a power diaper suit), and some sweet tunes (which are currently playing distantly in the background)--he can feel a bit better about life for a few minutes.]

So we're all stressed out, right? Which, fuck, I think we all have a right to be. We're on the fucking Lost in Space ship [That's what the name of that show was called, right? The show one of the kids in Promenade told him about], with people trying to kill us, make us sick, and no end in sight.

With more people coming every month.

[Okay, get to the point, Alex. It's a stupid point, but you want to make the offer, so do it.]

I know some people have been trying to find ways to relax and while I [He coughs, he doesn't like admitting he's wrong] was kind of a dick about it, I get the reasoning.

What I'm trying to say is that I got my hand-crank record player, and some records in my locker, last jump.

Johnny Cash, Buddy Holly, Big Bopper...you know, the good stuff.

If anyone wants to come over, and just relax for a bit--I'd be okay with that.

Figure I'd be an asshole not to share.

( Private to CRAU Charles )

( Private text to Megamind )

[ooc: Action is fine! There will be an open log put up later today for people who don't want to action it up here.]

Unless your doctor will inject themself too don't let anyone in medbay put anything in you.

I'll be back in a little while.

[Except she won't. Loki has Libby's comm device and her tattoo at the ready. He is masquerading as her. PS Loki's responses might be slow due to his writer having work. Also have a relevant post. Libby's answers are all under coercion.]

[The feed clicks on just in time to show Thane placing down the comm-device, which was propped on something from behind. The Drell was sitting at a table under the sterile glare of a light, his guns glittering in in front of him.

The sniper rifle was more or less in one piece, but the submachine gun had been taken apart. Thane was inspecting the pieces, cleaning them with an off-white cloth as he spoke.]

This message is directed primarily towards the ship's medical staff. I have been informed that re-entry into the stasis pods is more or less inevitable, assuming I'd like to keep safe and alive.

I would. However, the first time I exited, I experienced difficulty in keeping my focus on present happenings. Drell slip so easily into memory, though it is not something I commonly have issue with.

[By now he's pieced together the machine gun, and takes a moment to glance at the camera before beginning to disassemble the rifle.]

I would like to request that a member of the medical staff be present for roughly twenty four hours after my second experience within the stasis pods. I am not certain if I will again slip into solipsism, but in the case that I do, I would like to be prepared.

Likely, I will need help to my room. Perhaps the company will help me focus on the present.

I am unsure what I can offer s compensation, though that can be discussed.

Thank you.

[Placing down the pieces of his rifle mid-clean, Thane reaches towards the comm-device, and the feed cuts off.]

--No, no, okay. Theeeeeeeeeeere it-- it's on.

[ jenna slumps triumphantly back on the bed, landing in a not terribly graceful heap. it takes some serious hardcore dedication to boozing to get a vampire hammered, so while there's only one bottle in sight, more are out of range and spectacularly empty, with a few extras waiting in the wings.

she starts talking with the particular drunken air of someone continuing a conversation. ]

So, okay. We don't have movies-- not the right movies. There is not a single copy of Bridget Jones in there, I looked. Twice. [ she holds up two fingers, wiggling them a little. ] And no Titanic, which is required viewing for cliche emo nights, because-- hang on.

[ she stops, lifting up the bottle in her hand and draining almost all of the rest of it. impending sobering up is not something she wants to deal with right now.

and now on an entirely different thought. ]

Anyway. We should just make our own. 'I'll be back.' [ well, that was the worst arnold impression ever. ] Or 'I think we're gonna need a bigger boat'-- added benefit of irony because oh wow, do we not need that. Smaller would be better, here. A lot smaller.

You know what else we need? Doritos. Ranch ones. Or oh my god, Nacho cheese Doritos with nacho cheese glop and jalapenos. And Ben and Jerry's. And a barbecue place, while we're at it. [ beat. ] All right, who do I have to sell my soul to if I want say-- a vat of pulled pork and fixings?

...Right, and since I'm torturing myself. [ brb draining the end of that bottle. ] Any particular food cravings you're having? Don't skimp on details, I'm in a very masochistic place right now.

A few items of business.

First: We need to start tracking ourselves more precisely. Two people in two months have perished because because they caught outside of the gravity couches at the time of a jump. What I propose is a simple check-in list for the jumps and someone to take roll. If anyone hasn't shown up one hour prior to the jump, then a search party can be organized. Is there any preexisting framework for such a system?

Second - [And here Edgeworth looks perhaps just a bit self-conscious - ] I'm looking for someone adept at construction. Please speak up if you have such skills and are willing to barter for labor.

[He recovers but frowns, just a bit hesitant before the next item.]

Third, a general question; bear with me if it sounds odd or intrusive, and responding to this is, as ever, completely optional. [He looks down; it's clear he's now reading off a page that he's prepared.] Respond in the affirmative or negative: "I would describe my life as 'peaceful' - id est, a life in which I have not witnessed or been subjected to violence."

[He looks up again.]

Your responses are appreciated.

[Megamind is not in engineering for a change; he's in the quarters he shares with Roxanne, on the second floor. He's got a pile of clothes and is in fact, inspecting his chin because for the first time in months it is impeccably shaved with a straight razor, with a proper brush and everything. In fact, he's disturbingly well groomed. Brows, goatee, scrubbed clean, the works. And he's in civilian clothes that fit him properly. Tranqua Claus apparently visited his locked because he was such a good boy lately...]

[Maybe. Or maybe someone wants to appeal to his vanity. It's not hard, really. Megamind loves his vanity. Rubbing his chin, he sighs; there's no real pomp and ceremony today - just grateful to not be in his cruddy jumpsuit after seven months with no proper changes of clothing.]

There is nothing like being able to properly shave with a real razor to make you feel like a real person again. And a good sling blade doubles as a weapon in a pinch! Never look a gift horse in the mouth, no?

Which seems to be on everybody's mind, lately. Taking care of each other, yadda yadda yadda. Well, I have something you could possibly help with, and help protect each other, as I'm -- well, working on a little project and I need, shall we say-- beta testers.

If you've been learning to hack or encrypt -- or you're teaching, this message is for you. I'm wanting to test some of the equipment I'm cobbling together, and if you're interested, you can help me. I'll need the codes you're practicing to encrypt-- nothing you intend to use, but the things you're building as you learn --and then I want people to try and break them the new hub.

If you want to volunteer? Let me know and I'll set you up.

[He grabs one of the funny power gloves and shrugs.]

In the mean time I have to figure out what this is.

[A narrow shouldered shrug, and he kills his feed.]

[FILTERED AWAY FROM CASTMATES]

[This has been something that's been plaguing Alex for a while. Things had been different, in Promenade, when he had been the one being given new information. Now that he is the keeper of certain...info, he wants some advice. Charles seems to have some pieces too, but as usual, he hasn't directly inquired with the telepath, rather wanting to strike out on his own, first.]

Let's say you know the future of some people here. Maybe not their future, but a future. One that might end up theirs--or might not.

[Alex sighs; the way he's describing it, he could see why people might say it doesn't matter, but--]

I guess what I'm saying is that if you know what someone might do in the future--or you've learned things that tell you about their past...

...do you tell them?

Or is it better just to kinda.... [He goes silent for a moment, before speaking again] keep that shit to yourself.

You know, avoid messing with the time space continuum.

[End filter.]

[Now onto something that covers up for his random question. Something that his team mates can answer, too.]

Is anyone else starting to go a bit stir crazy?

[Alex spent almost a year sitting in solitary. The windowless rooms here remind him too much of his own cell--yeah he can get out, do things around here, but he's still sleeping in a place that makes him wake up and remember times he had tried to put behind him.]

Can't imagine how some of you six month-ers feel.

[A beat.]

We don't have a basketball court in this weird place, do we?

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 video probably came on when Dee accidentally dropped his device on the ground, accidentally kicking it under the bed, and just couldn't be assed to exert the effort to pick it up. He can't be assed to do much of anything. After spending what seemed like forever in the medbay, he's finally released and allowed to wander back to his room. He makes it through the threshhold but doing much of anything else is far too much effort. Making it to the bed is too much effort, even. And so he finds himself lying down on the ground, right where he's standing, not exactly collapsing but not far from it. He puts his head in his hands and stays like that for a few long moments] God damn it, where are you...?

[He sighs, turning his head to the side and giving in to the fact that he really doesn't think he'll be getting up again that night, when he notices the device flashing at him from across the room, which means it's recording. He groans and squeezes his eyes shut] Oh, fuck me.

[ when the video begins, cali is no less flamboyant than the day he arrived (naturally), though this time he has his long hair pulled into a messy ponytail, expression less potentially hostile than last time. in fact, for those that know him (which is like.. no one but jaye), he actually looks pretty pleased with himself.

he's also standing in the ship's bar, which as he pans the camera around, is looking.. pretty good. ]

All right, so while mosta' y'all were laid up in bed waitin' to feel better, I started cleanin' up an' sortin' out the bar, 'cause it was a goddamn mess. There's only one or two kindsa' booze right now, but whatever, it's good enough for now. You can all say 'thank you, Miss Cali'.

[ he turns it back to himself, lifting his index finger as if asking for a moment. ]

Speakin' of alcohol, anyone be interested in a little homemade wine an' moonshine an' beer an' the like? I have to say, after workin' for Dionysus, mine's prob'ly the best you're gonna' find on this fuckin' ship, but if you people're satisfied with what's already provided, I ain't gonna' make it for no reason.

Right.

[Good day, good night, good afternoon Tranquility! If you haven't noticed him stealing rum in every single one of the kitchens yet (Yes, I'm quite serious. After each jump, he steals the rum. As of now, there is a suspicious lack of rum in the kitchens), well, he's on your feed now! Yes, that's right, a real life pirate with dreadlocks and trinkets out of the wazoo is staring back at you.]

So, it seems like between jumps, I've missed a whole lot of...

[He waves a hand.]

...happenings. I've found meself with no knowledge of what between blue-alien man [That'd be you, Megamind.] failed t'take over the ship and now.

So. Who's still here, and what've I to make up for?

[And with that being said, Jack will reach to the side to grab a bottle of rum, take out the cork with his teeth, and then take a long, long drink of his precious rum.]

At least I've still got me rum.

[He will now... proceed to struggle to end the feed. Which button was this again--]

[It has taken him a couple of days to sort himself out, to wrap his head around the idea that there had been a duplicate version of himself here on the ship, a man who was now gone. To also wrap his head around the idea of there being two versions of Alex Summers aboard the ship, as well as Erik who did not have any of Charles' memories and of course, Raven.

Raven, whom he had not seen in over seven months. How, exactly, do you even begin to try to explain all of that, let alone wrap your head around a ship like Tranquility?

It was a hell of a learning curve, that was for certain but now it was time to get out there and get to work.

So he switched on the video, device pointed towards himself where he sat on his bed in the room he now shared with Erik. His smile was polite, perhaps a little more reserved than usual but hopefully welcoming enough.]

Ah, right then, hello.

Some of you may recognize me, as I have been informed that I have most recently been here up until the latest, 'jump' I believe it is known as. My name is Charles Xavier and I am, genetically speaking, the same man who was here before the jump.

However, in the same breath I am not that same man.

For example. [He sets the device back and then stands up from where he had been sitting on his bed. Taking a couple of steps, he turns around, obviously completely ambulatory before coming back to sit down on the bed.] There are also some other differences but those are not important at the moment.

What is important is that I am afraid I do not have any prior memories of this ship or what has occurred during the time my other self was here. [Though Erik had given him access to his communication device to catch up on prior events, though for now Charles kept that bit of information to himself.]

Raven? Alex, Angel and Havok? I know this must be rather confusing but if possible I would very much like a chance to talk with each of you. I am sharing a room with Erik, if you would like to speak face to face. I am uncertain about the level of privacy we can assume across these devices.

In a similar vein, if there is anyone else, who knew me before and would like to speak with me now, I am of course more than willing to make myself available. Though I understand that this might not be the most comfortable set of circumstances.

[The young man on the screen is very, very serious.]

My name is Miles Edgeworth. I am a prosecutor for the city of Los Angeles. I tell you this not only to inform you of my background but also to ensure that those who will suffer my wrath for this kidnapping are aware of precisely how fearsome it will be. Legally speaking.

First: I demand to speak with the so-called captain of this so-called ship.

Second: I demand to see a list of all rules and regulations aboard this ship.

Third: I demand to know precisely what attempts have been made to contact the outside authorities. Kindly provide me with an accounting of attempts made either by you or by others.

Fourth: I - [And here, at least, Miles has the good grace to pause, because maybe "demand" is just a bit too pushy.] Would like to know if anyone else here has a legal, criminal, or governmental background. I heard something about a volunteer security force - a preposterous notion, admittedly, but better than nothing - and I would like to hear from those on it, but I would also like to hear from any who have been abducted to this place who served in some official position at home.