[There a click on, and the clear sound that someone is there, but there's a pause, like maybe someone is making sure.]

Is this broadcast going through?

I think I got it-

Hello, Tranquility, my name is Steve Rogers.

I'd like to be directed to whoever is in charge of Security, if that's not too much trouble. And I'd like to know if it's possible to see out into space. Are there any windows on board?

[Annnnd a pause, and a fumble.]

Is it off?

[And then another pause.]

Sorry, excuse me-

[And NOW it's off.]

For those of you who are new -- or, ah, newer -- here... hi. [Awkward pause.] I'm Murphy, and I'm the guy who stocks your food.

After talkin' it over we've made the executive decision to tweak our system a little. After all, I'm only a one-man show, and stockin' kitchens in over thirty decks is gonna run me ragged.

So, from here on out you can get your grub on every fifth deck of the ship startin' from the bottom up. If you can't find what your lookin' for on the current deck you're on, try the next one up. I'll be puttin' up signs for posterity's sake.


[More pause. At first he considers hanging up, and then:]


Also, er... since I guess it's just that kinda month, there's gonna be a second wedding. Mine. And... Anne's.

Completely unplanned, honestly. But if you're not reelin' from the festivities of the last one, it'll be in the garden chapel tomorrow. Because hey, things could go to shit by then, they might not. I'm not tryin' to make light of our situation here, but I've been alive long enough in this place to not take anything for granted. Feel free to come or not.

That's all.


[ooc: Wasn't sure whether to make a log or not... It'll probably be a post-ceremony open log for both Murphy and Anne and anyone else since it's more or less going to be a small event. I'll set one up tomorrow. Edit: Aaand here is that log in question!]

[This public service announcement comes to you from the security offices, and is delivered in a bored monotone. It's more a recitation than anything, really--Sirius is clearly reading off of a piece of paper. This fact is very clear, because he's holding up the paper, and you can mostly see it.]

Good day. My name is Mi-- Sirius Black. I'm a member of the security team. Unfortunately. All new arrivals, please do not hesitate to contact Miles Edgeworth, and not me, if you have either questions regarding security or if you are feeling distinctly masochistic and want to volunteer. He's always looking for new recruits and it would be really lovely if he had someone else to read things off of paper for him. And if you don't like reading things off of paper, and you're a military, law enforcement, or combat type, you can contact him as well. Just contact him. Give the man something to do.

Similarly, if you run into any trouble or find yourself in distress of any sort, which you most likely will, at some point, 'cos that's the way of things around here, kindly inform him, and not me, and he will swoop in to your rescue. Or organise someone to swoop in to your rescue, he's a terrific organiser. But he might just do it himself--I know it doesn't seem as if he will, but trust me, he will.

[Paper finished, he glances up. He's tired; it shows in his face, but he grins anyways.]

And now, because this wouldn't be the Miles Edgeworth Radio Hour without a survey--please answer this survey here and send a copy along to him as well so he doesn't miss out on the fun of reading your answers twice over. That's Miles Egdeworth, SEC » 007 » 114. He would just love to hear from you all.

[And he knocks off a salute, even though it's very lazy and he's slumped in his chair.]

Cheers.

( survey.urmom.doc )

[She's been here a lot longer then she thought she would. Clearly whatever is here is more powerful then the Lord of Hell. So since it appears she'll be here for a while longer, it probably wouldn't hurt to learn more about the sort of people she's trapped with. And of course, you'd want to know about the most important topics....]

If you could take revenge on the people who brought you here, would you?

[ surprise, surprise, Wichita's broadcasting from the back room in the bar, like she did more often than not before she left. it's not like she's had any "man, it's weird to be back" feelings, because- well she didn't even realize she was gone for however many months when she first woke up after the jump. but then she turns on her communicator and there are a million transmissions about shit she doesn't understand, like, at all, and so she figures she better get to this sooner than later. ]

Hey.

[ hey. complete with a single wave and a somewhat sarcastic kind of grin. ]

First thing's first, for all the new kids on the block, I'm Wichita and whether you want to or not, I'm going to get to know a decent amount of you, because I'm a bartender at the space bar on the 6th level of the passenger quarters. AKA, the only open-to-everyone bar on board. I'm there pretty much all the time. Before anyone asks, no, Wichita isn't my real name, but no, I'm not going to tell you what it is. It's been a really long time since I've been home, but back then I had to learn how to use a gun, and I've gotten pretty good at it, so I also offer up shooting lessons for anybody that wants them. My two rules when it comes to all that are one, no mixing booze and guns, on the range or in my bar, and two, don't be a douchebag. So. If you fit those rules and want to come by the bar or sign up for a shooting lesson, consider this an open invite.

And there's that introduction.

Uh.

Second thing's second, I understand that my old room was left unlocked while I was gone, and that usually means that stuff is up for grabs, but that's no bueno now that I'm back, so this is me saying it needs to be returned. Immediately. [ the stuff she took from the kitchens and various parts of the ship she doesn't care about, but the stuff her friends left behind.. ] It's a short list, at least. Just drop it off here at the bar, or put it back where you found it, I don't care. Just refer back to rule two if you're looking for inspiration to not just hold onto it.

Yeah.

[ attached is a typed out list of about ten things, which include Justin Taylor's sketch pad, Isaac Mendez' sketch pad, this gun, this shirt, this hat and this gun, and a couple more random things that people she was close to might've left behind I just can't think of them because it's 3am, hehh, all described just enough to know what she's looking for. ]

Oh, and if somebody wants to explain what the hell's been going on on this ship for the last few months? That'd be- great. I guess. [ which is her cue to grab a drink, yep ]

[OOC: This is backdates to after she manages to get out of this lovely situation.]

[Pepper knows that as soon as she says what she's about to that Tony is going to get upset. She's set the device to voice so he can hear that she's calm and safe and unharmed. If she doesn't have to she's not planning on explaining that she was attacked by a giant man-wolf in the gardens. That's not really the important thing here and he probably knows that there are those types of things on the ship. It would have been nice if Mr. Jones' welcome letter mentioned those though. Besides, she'll probably see Tony soon enough. She probably could have waited to tell him in person, but she'd honestly rather not have bad/strange/upsetting news every time she sees him.]

There was a situation but I'm alright.


I think, I think it should have manifested. I think Extremis should have gone off, but it didn't. I, I thought you both should know.

[Seriously, she's sort of considering this good news. Maybe she won't blow up after all. It means she's completely vulnerable to any attack, but she's spent the last several years of her life like that. In all honesty, she'll take being overly cautious again over potentially blowing up the entire ship.]

[ When the feed comes on, everything is in its place. The Comms device is set squarely on to a view of a desk, a large American flag hangs on its pole in the space behind Nathan, decked out in his best suit. A painting hangs on the wall behind him. This may be the last time he addresses the ship, in which case he’s going to do it right. ]

Good afternoon, Tranquility.

For those of you that don’t know me, my name is Nathan Petrelli. I arrived here on the sixth jump, and I’ve been working in Communications ever since. I was here when we all still reported to Resnik to keep the ship running, and I was here when Ward executed the prisoners we took from the Scylla. I’ve been here through most of the worst things that the Tranquility has thrown at us, and never once - not once, in almost two years - have I thought to stop cooperating with the whims of this damn ship.

That ends today.

At 0900 tomorrow morning I intend to take the Tranquility’s bridge. I make this post here, now, because this isn’t just about me, this concerns all of us. So, perhaps against my better judgement, it seems only right that those of the rest of you that are as restless as I am should have the opportunity to join me in this endeavor.

Some of you will call me crazy. You’ll think that makes you sane. You’ll call this mutinous. But let me ask you--how willing are you to carry on the way we have been so far? The distortions we see in the mirrors; the people that are watching; no longer just out of sight; our secrets, no longer secret; the weight of paranoia that is weighing all of us down, month after month. How long do you want this to go on without making a stand, without feeling like you’ve actually done something about it?

I don’t know that this is going to be safe. I don’t know if any of us are going to come back, and maybe some of the less morally indulgent types around here are gonna see it as good reason to lock us all away. I’d like to remind those people that in the absence of an actual captain, this isn’t really a mutiny. We can argue about it lawyer style if you like. Might as well, it might be the last argument we ever have. But please don’t feel as though you’ll alter my resolve.

We have to change what we’re doing. We have to make a stand. And you can shut your mouth right now, Neal Caffrey. I haven’t forgotten what you said; this is about weighing the risk.

[ At last Nathan takes a deliberate pause, steepled his hands in front of him. ]

If you’re going to volunteer, then please consider the risks. You may die. You may go mad. The rest of this crazy crew might decide to throw you into space. This isn’t a decision that you should be making quickly, but I’m sorry, this is all the time we’ve got. If you have even the slightest of doubts, you should stay behind.

Some of you--I know you’re gonna volunteer, and I reserve the right to veto your offers. You know who you are, and you have responsibilities. I’m not tearing apart the infrastructure of this ship if I can help it. Others...well, I need you where you are. Plan B.

Hopefully the next time I speak to you, it’ll be from Tranquility’s bridge. Be safe, and good luck to all of us. Petrelli out.


[ OOC: This is the corresponding network post to the volunteer sign up here on the OOC comm. If you don’t know what’s going on yet, then take a read through. ]

 [Welcome back to Conspiracy Theory Hour with Topher Brink, who is currently in medical wearing a parka. He is the worst Stark Bannerman ever.]

When Bennett Halverson was here [he has to swallow a bit, because having Bennett here, however awkward it might have been, was nice and he misses her], we got into our brains to do some research on the nanites. It... didn't get too far, because the problem with these little beasties is they're everywhere and they kinda control how we get in and out of places and, personally? I don't wanna sleep in the hallway. But the fact is, we don't know a whole lot about them and we can't crack 'em without being worried that they're gonna... do something weird or explode our brains. And that's bad on numerous levels.

And I didn't realize until just now how bad. 

Let's think for a second. We've got the whole memory share business with each other, which is now, apparently, extending into memory share with the old crew. We know for a fact the nanites are deeply ingrained into the brain's thought processes. Think about it, guys- when you sign on to become a member of one of our lovely teams, do you go out and get a new tattoo with that shiny three letter badge of honor or do you fall asleep and wake up with it permanently stamped to your arm. [He holds up his own, showcasing his MED « 002 « 195 tattoo.] 'Cause I think I woulda remembered the tattooing process- I'm just saying.

[He sucks in a breath.] So the nanites know the difference between idly thinking "Hey, I'm in medical" versus "I am really and truly in medical." That means they're receiving data from the brain. We already know they can transmit it, because that's how we get around here. It's like any good computer, but here's the thing. We don't- and kinda can't for the aforementioned brain asplode reasons- know how much data these things are actually getting off of us. 

[He rolls his chair over to his computer.] And-and the thing is, all the nanites operate on the same network. Receiving, transmitting, whatever- we're all connected through them- so what if the memory links were a nanite malfunction. What if we saw a little glimpse behind the curtain of what's really going on here. Remember that line from the subnetwork? "It wants to keep you?" I know you remember that if you were for it, 'cause I still have nightmares about it. 

[A bitter, manic laugh.]

You can't delete a program- not really. If these nanites were in the original crew- doing their whole receiving and transmitting thing, then whatever they got off of them is still here. Floating around in the ether. Guys, what if we've been approaching this whole Smiley thing from the wrong perspective. Smiley's not one guy or an AI or Gallagher's freakin' ghost- Smiley is everyone. The whole crew. A literal ghost in the machine- the collective memories, feelings, whatever, of the entire former crew that somehow merged to create this one... composite. We die? We'll still be here. Floating around with the old crew. Boom. Prophecy fulfilled or whatever you wanna say.

[Basically, Smiley is a composite event without a host body or complete personalities. Just fragments. It makes a lot of sense to someone who has seen some shit. It's the only thing that can make sense. The ship's crew is just... gone, but they're still here.]

I mean... People have seen Smiley act outside the ship, right? And the only thing we bring with us when we leave the ship are our nanites. There's gotta be something to that, right?

[Abbie is adjusting her device so that the feed shows up clearly and so she isn't being filmed in a stilted manner. That would be annoying!]

Alright. Seems a little late to be using this, but better now than never.

[She brushes some of her hair behind her ear and takes a deep breath before continuing.]

Hi. [She gives a small shrug and a wave.] I'm Lieutenant Abigail Mills and I'm from Sleepy Hollow, New York. Call me Abbie if you want. Right now though, I'm currently with the SEC that's been established aboard here. I may not have any crazy powers or special abilities, being human and all, but I'd like to think I'm more than dependable when it comes to security matters.

Formal introductions aside, I gotta ask about the things people are seeing in the mirrors and about the people who were dreaming in their pods. I'm hearing things about beasts and warped edges and frankly, I'm more than a little concerned.

[There's a pause before she hesitantly adds:]

I've been there before, believe me. And that was before I woke up and found myself in space. There has to be a purpose and meaning behind them.