[The feed clicks on to show Miles Edgeworth, James Kirk and Tyke gathered around the head of the table in the Security office. Kirk is standing between the two, Tyke leaning far back in her seat, while the rigidity of Edgeworth’s posture seems to be trying to make up enough formality for all of them.]

Good day. This is Miles Edgeworth of the Security Department, speaking to you alongside Tyke, the head of Security, and James Kirk of the Gunnery crew. What we bring before you today is the new formation of the Exploratory Team.

[Tyke cuts in, there, expression tense and harshly annoyed.]

Before any of you start getting excited over that name, we’re doing this for those of you who think two deaths and one maiming still makes the dark parts of the ship look like a fun fucking time. You might wanna ignore common sense and us, but our job is to keep you safe, which means we can’t ignore you.

[Edgeworth glances over slightly at the profanity, but doesn’t react any more than that.] There may be some among you who will want to turn off this broadcast right now; you may think that you’re already qualified to simply go out there by yourselves. However, there are a few very good reasons why you’d not wish to do that.

First: the entire purpose of this initiative is indeed to keep you alive. “Highly qualified people” have already gone out there, and they have perished, as shall you if you decide that you, a highly qualified person, can act alone. Second, going through the teams means that you’ll not only have other trained people to watch your back, but you’ll also have access to critical supplies. Food, for instance. And weaponry, from the Gunnery crew.

[Kirk bumps in here, both palms flat on the table, and when he leans toward the camera the light catches in the silver at his temple.]

We know we can’t stop any of you going out there, and we aren’t going to try. We’re offering you the option of going out in teams to let us know when and where you’re going. This is both so we can keep track of everyone and so we know the general direction to head in if you get in trouble. That, and there’s a safety in numbers. Those things hunt in packs and they’re smart. If you get ambushed, you may come out less than fortunate.

[see, Erik Lensherr]

Anyone going out should first check into Security with your group. You’ll be required to have at least one person that knows first aid and to have a weapon. As Edgeworth said, if you’re unarmed and you’re going into the ship, contact the Gunnery and we can discuss letting you borrow a firearm. If you don’t have a group, talk to us and we can form one for you.

[Tyke leans in from her seat, finally. And it’s probably a deliberate choice that she’s only wearing a tank top rather than a hoodie or her jump suit, her own encounter with the manticores clearly evident in the large bite scarred around her right shoulder.]

Gonna say again, this isn’t for everyone to get to head out there. This is us making it so anyone who is really gonna insist on it does it as safe as we can manage. You don’t have the people, we’ll get you in with some. You don’t have the skills, we’ll get you training. We don’t need more people dying if there’s shit we can be doing to prevent it.

[Edgeworth nods once.]

I’ll be handling the administrative side of this. Contact me if you want to register for being formed into a group, or if you have a pre-formed group but wish training or supplies. The smartest thing you can do, if you’re considering heading out there, is sitting down and considering whether your life truly is worth so little on-board this ship. The smartest thing you can do is consider: will people truly miss me so little that I can throw away my life by going out there?

The second-smartest thing you can do is at least go out there prepared. And that’s what we’re ensuring.

[Kirk glances to Edgeworth with that little bit of advice, but doesn’t let the curious frown come through in his expression. he looks back to the camera.]

We’ll be here to answer any questions you have.

[and he reaches forward to end the transmission]


[ooc: And thank you for your collective attention, Tranquility! Use this post to ask questions and to form groups if you’d like. Jump each other! Go wild! Meanwhile, if you’d like to have your characters sign up to join groups, hit up this ooc post here.
LOVELY MAGENTA is for Edgeworth, blue is for Tyke, gold is for Kirk.]

[ Tap, tap. Tap. good, It's on. When Cid realizes the whole thing is recording, he's smiling. He's wearing his overalls, and his shirt, and one of them is unclipped and there's a smudge of dirt on his face. From the background, it looks like he's in the oxygen garden, underneath a tree. ]

I wanna help make venge-tables for everyone, like Sara is. But I don't want her to know, I want to make it carrots and surprise her.

[ Nod. He pans the camera to a hole in the ground he's dug up with his hands, by the look of it. ]

I'm trying to copy her but I'm used to watching the machines do it on the farm. I don't know what happens next.

[Michelle is at the gym today. Behind her is a target peppered with paper arrows, clustered in the bull's eye or around it, and she is proudly holding her paper bow.

She sits down in front of her communicator primly with a smile, and her paper bow falls apart into individual sheets that zoom straight up the sleeves of her usual white, black and green dress. One piece of paper remains in her hand, however, and she begins folding this slowly and deliberately in front of the screen.] 

Good day, everyone! For those who don't know me, I'm Michelle Cheung, and I'm part of security. [She pauses from folding to wave cheerily, with a little chuckle.] That means if you're ever lost, or you need someone to protect you, or just someone to talk to about the strange things that have been happening around here, you can call me, or any of the other members. Or, if you need a big sister, I'll be your big sister!

[Michelle does not realize how out of place it is to suddenly offer being a big sister as a member of SEC, and even looks excited at the prospect of sister-ing others on the ship. And she'll just continue to fold.]

Now, as some of you might have noticed, paper is in very short supply here. [Duh, Michelle.] I use paper to fight and do my job, so it's very difficult to conserve the paper I already have. So I've been thinking about learning how to use other weapons - real weapons. Perhaps I could start with a real bow, or a gun, but I'll try anything. If anyone has a spare gun or anything they can lend me, or spare time to teach me how to use other weapons, I would appreciate it.

Thank you very much! [A short bow, as she ends the transmission. But it's not quite finished yet. What's finished is the paper crane in her lap, fully formed.]

[Filtered to SEC]

I'd like to practice and train with each and every one of you. Not all at once, but I'm sure you know what I mean. I think it would be very useful to learn how to work with everyone in the department.

[Hello Tranquility, it's been a while since Blake has addressed the network. Enjoy this rare event (or not so rare, whatever). Today he looks - well, about how he usually looks, which is serious, but polite and neutral, even if his words express a certain amount of, well - frustration.]

In case anyone hasn't noticed yet, running off into the ship by yourself tends to lead to bad things happening. Like maiming, or death.

Instead of doing more of that, maybe we can think of some actually productive ways to spend our time? The basketball club has been short on participants lately. Anyone is welcome, any skill level. If you don't know what basketball is, I'm happy to teach. It's a team sport - a game, it involves hand-eye coordination and it's good exercise.

If you don't like basketball, well. Everyone has stuff they like, stuff they're good at, right? Maybe others can get some other activities going. I saw Miss Berry asking about people who like to sing, maybe.

And if you really need to go out exploring, let's do this right. I'm just a cop, but it seems like there's safety in numbers. Some organized recon groups, properly trained, might be able to get more useful information without more lost lives or limbs. Those maps might be a good place to start, if we can get some more clues, but right now it mostly seems like a wild goose chase to me. Except the geese can kill you.

[The feed begins by showing a poorly-lit image of an all-too-familiar alien lying on his side against a workbench in his lab. His disheveled white hair covers his face and neck, but there’s no mistaking that sickly green skin and that tailored leather coat. As the feed shifts and moves, and he fails to notice, it becomes more obvious that he’s out cold. In the otherwise silence of the room, the voice is almost unnerving for how softly it comes across.]

Hey. Hey, time to rise and shine Sleeping Beauty.

[ Which is when a girl’s feet come into view- those who know Hayley will recognize her voice, even without her face accompanying the feed. Is she-

She is.

She’s totally prodding the guy. Who even does that.
Regardless, it’s clear that it’s the audience she’s speaking to, voice caught somewhere between annoyed tension and an unimpressed sigh. ]

Hey guys, your giant alien passed out, and, like, I dunno about you- [ The communicator turns around, bringing her eyes and lopsided smile into view ] but there is no way in heck I can carry him. So uh, medical or, something. Whenever you’re ready, ta-da.

[There’s a muffled groan from the Wraith, and from the sound of it, he’s not only coming to, but actively fighting against gravity. When the feed turns back to him, he tries to push himself up off the floor, and only succeeds in rolling onto his back. His lips part into a snarl that’s half pained and half irritated.]

I told you to go away. [His voice is barely audible, and every word sounds like it’s coated in rust. Hayley's, on the other hand, is saccharine even in it's pity. ]

You really should know by now. That never works on teenagers.


[ooc; pink for Hayley & green for Todd! replies can be directed at either!]

[Kurt's voice sounds sort of...different. It's somehow deeper than usual--as deep as his voice can get, anyway--and has a strange, flat sort of quality, as if he's holding something back.]

I'm tired of pretending like everything's okay.

Horrible things have happened. People have--left. There were monsters. There was...Strela. And I think, oh, everyone else can handle it. They're all fighters. This is par for the course for a lot of you guys, right? Because you're strong. Because you aren't some silly little teenager whose biggest concerns are a cheating boyfriend and a failed musical theater audition, right?

[He takes in a single deep, shuddering breath.]

But then I think-- It any of this supposed to be normal? When does it become okay to be desensitized, to stop letting all of this get to you? Is that when this place--this ship, everything on it-- Is that when they win?

Maybe I'm weak and pathetic. But I'm trying so hard to make things feel normal here, but I can't just shrug off how badly I want to just--scream, just curl up somewhere and scream and scream because all of this is just so freaking insane.

Ugh. [Pause.] I'm sorry. [Disconnect.]

[ooc note; So someone's finally been succumbing to his mask. You can blame some recent events. :|b]

[When she clicks on the device, she at least doesn't look all too bothered or off-guard. In fact, she looks perfectly in control of the situation. But talking on the phone is kind of a prerequisite for secretaries, so maybe that's not so surprising.]

I like the iPhone. Very classy, very sci-fi.

[That was clearly a necessary comment because how she feels about this new phone is very important, take notes, all of you viewers at home--]

But yikes, space, huh? 'For I have lost us him on a dangerous sea'--I'd quote Star Trek but I'm sure someone has beaten me to that one, so I won't. You can thank me later.

[She arches an eyebrow, eyes flicking to the ceiling temporarily.]

Hello, fellow space-kidnappees. I'm Donna, and I've heard rumors that this is an addendum to my job now, so if a certain Mike Ross or Harvey Specter have caused you any emotional trauma, please let me know.

[A slightly faux, very amused grin.]

Thanks!

[She'd better get a raise for this--

But she does have something of greater use to make this for though honestly she's curious about Yoga Club but hey. Later. Business first.]

I'd also like to inquire into the various departments here, if anyone would like to enlighten me. I've heard rumor of security, agriculture, science...But I don't know much more than that. Yet. Give a lady a hand?

[She would appreciate information so much, you don't even know. She might even want to help once she knows a bit more and because wow Edgeworth is such an earnest puppy, she's legitimately curious.

But the tilt of her head is entirely thoughtful and more than a little amused.]

[Michelle is in the library as usual; people who frequent it have most likely encountered this beautiful blonde bibliophile taking stack after stack of digital literary records from the shelves, parking herself at a table, and just sitting there doing nothing but reading.

That was what she was doing until she started this transmission. So if you'll excuse her, she will push aside a towering stack of records before smiling widely; for someone who was pining for her sisters several days ago, she's exceedingly chipper. And today, she is wearing her ship uniform; paper clothes can be uncomfortable, after all.]

Hello again! I've been thinking - do we give newcomers a tour of the ship? I think it would be very useful to have one, since this is a very, very big ship.

[She glances at the console not far from her, rests her chin on her hand, and pinches her cheek with her free hand. The smile is replaced by a look of longing.]

Oh, and if any of you have real books with actual covers and paper pages, may I please borrow them? I miss real books. I miss turning pages, the smell of new books, actually holding one in your hand... [Michelle lets go of her cheek, raises her head, and looks at her stack.]

I promise I'll return them, but I might borrow them again.

[OOC: Again, fourth wall permissions post for book characters!]

Hey T-Q, how's it going? [ the video feed begins, but the girl speaking isn't immediately visible. instead, you're treated at first to what looks like the corner of her desk, and the straps of what you can guess might be her mask. one that remains safely offscreen. ] Anyway I don't wanna get too chatty, so lemme just run us right up to our next calendar- [ which is exactly what pops up a beat later. ]



Bah-dah!
Alright, lemme break it down here.

Someother-tember the 8th is Wolf's Day! Apparently celebrated by, and I quote, [ is she joking? it's hard to tell. ] throwing sticks, rolling around, and biting for fun. Also eating. There's supposed to be eating.

Someother-tember the 12th back by popular demand, is Slap a Lawyer on the Ass day. I'm not gonna question anybody's taste, okay? It's space, you gotta do what you gotta do.

Someother-tember the 23rd &24th for you lushes is Nog Day- which out of the mercy of my heart has stretched to encompass the next day, to nurse your hangovers and mope generally about how much this place sucks and you aren't at home. And probably drink more because hey, why not, you know?

Someother-tember the 25th is Sinterklaas, where you can throw your amalgamation of miscellaneous holidays together into one massive whole.

Then last but not least, Someother-tember the 29th is Awkwardly hug a Josh Day which is pretty self explanatory, in my opinion.

I'm toying with the idea of next month having a pin the nametag on the squinty-eyes [ she may be referring to the plethora of Joseph Gordon Levitt faces, but you know, she isn't elaborating, so take that as you will ] and probably a sad, sad belated new year's party for all the oldbies kicking around- but you know, if I put like all those holidays on here it pretty much just would've been one giant month of getting drunk for faintly justifiable reasons. Blah blah insert too much of a good thing proverb here. Anyway.

That's it for me! Have at it!

[ Well, hey TQ, hope you don't mind this fresh face on the network. She normally sticks to texting because if it looks like a phone and acts like a (kind of sci-fi upgraded) phone, why not use it like one? But she's been going through the other features — slow day on the ship, you know how it is — and after rifling through everything she can easily find on the communicator, she decides to post up a video.

So here's a young, teenaged girl setting the comm in front of her before she sits down cross-legged and twirls a lock of her hair. Alas, it's got less of a bounce than it normally does, but that's what lack of hot rollers on a ship will do. ]

If I write my best essay and promise to stay on my best behavior after, am I allowed to leave Space Detention? I mean, I haven't even gotten to mess around in a library, so this kind of blows.

[ she smiles because she's kind of hoping someone will catch the reference. If not, then well: ] Or are we all waiting for some big, space musical number?

Are there even any boomboxes to hold up outside that red smiley thing's window? If it has one. [ seriously, what is up with that thing. ] Also, I guess it'd have to be this phone thing, since I don't have an iPod anymore.

[ She lets out a very put upon sigh before admitting something you never would have guessed!! clearly!! But it's followed by a smile that's all teeth and too much eyelash batting. ]

Okay, so I'm bored. And I can't really miss anyone who left, since I just got here. [ not even touching whatever's up with the masks. ] You'd think the aliens would be able to hook us up with better movie selections or something.

I don't suppose there's someone on here with something entertaining to do?

Two things. One, I'm one of the flight officers now. Name's Clint Barton.

Second... Still looking for some materials. If anyone has an extra mattress you don't want, I'll take it off your hands. Old winter coats, scraps of clothes from home you'd like to see someone tear up? I'll take those, too.

[He is about to end the feed when he has an additional thought:]

If you see a little dark-haired kid in a suit in places he's not supposed to be, let me know. He answers to "Anthony".

[Satisfied now, Clint slings a quiver of arrows and a sleek black bow over his shoulder before shutting off the transmission.]

[Text to Ultimates/allied Avengers; encryption 100%]

Did anyone else have an issue with those masks? I haven't felt right since those things showed up.

[ there's the sound of a direwolf howling, unapologetic in his grief, and even the soft hushing murmur that comes after doesn't quite temper it, only reduces it to a low keening whine. there's a pause that stretches, and robb clears his throat more than once, trying to find the words. when he does speak he sounds tired, anger burning slow and hot under exhaustion but finally, finally, he speaks. ]

The lady Sansa Stark, who many called Alayne Stone, has gone.

[ there's a breath, as if robb means to say more, but instead he simply cuts the feed. ]

[Despite all of the incredible and sometimes unbelievable things that Wanda’s seen and experienced in her life, nothing quite prepares her for her arrival on the Tranquility. It isn’t even the fact that she’s unexpectedly woken up on a spaceship that throws her off-balance (though it's quite unexpected), or even the fact that time and space and reality seem to work differently there (because really she's sort of used to that). It's that Pietro isn’t there during a decidedly difficult point in her life (after-life?) that impacts her the most. She can’t remember a time they've ever been parted in such a way, and the feeling is extremely unsettling.

Taking a deep breath, she sets her communication device to broadcast her message in video. She's dressed in her Ultimates uniform, though only the top of the red leather shows on screen. By all appearances seems to be in her early to mid-twenties, with an unusual amount of confident and poise evident in her body language.]

Good evening, my name is Wanda Maximoff and I'm another of the recent arrivals.

[Of course, it's not her real last name, but both she and Pietro adopted it after breaking ties with their father, and it was far easier to go through life not reminding people that they were the children of the infamous Magneto.]

I'm looking for any information regarding my brother, Pietro. It seems that he did not arrive with me, but considering the nature of where we are and shifting realities, any news as to whether he was here in the past would be appreciated.

[She shouldn't really need to add that if he arrives in the future she'd also like to know, right? Surely everyone here has some common sense regarding such matters. From all of the FAQ's she's read recently, they seem more on top of matters than she might have expected of most people. Wanda pauses, and after a moment continues.]

Also, has anyone managed to determine how many different dimensions and points in time we represent on board? Which worlds are similar and which ones are clearly separate, for instance?

[She's curious, not just because of her own dealings with altering reality, but because she's hoping that someone will be able to give her a basic idea of who she's dealing with on board and perhaps even which ones are from worlds similar to her own. Mentioning mutants or any groups by name would draw attention she's not sure she wants yet. Not until she knows who's listening on the other end.]

[ When the feed clicks on, it’s awful close on a brown eye. It wobbles before it zooms out--or more accurately, Cid Harrington, small child of 5, takes it away from the close-up of his face. There’s an older woman with long blonde hair pacing, in what appears to be some sort of rant. ]

- or whatever this place is, I don’t want you talkin’ to strangers, and don’t go anywhere without me or Joe around, okay? [She pauses, and then turns to look at the boy, blue eyes hard and suspicious.] Cid? What’ve you got?

[ Cid’s blink is slow, voice completely even and casual. ] It’s recording. To everyone. [ Tap. ]

What? [Her mouth turns down in a frown and she glances at what Cid is holding. Great. Way to expose them to all this stranger danger, Cid.

Well, nothing for it now. It’s video, clearly, but she’s not used to speaking in front of an audience, so her next words are a little stilted:]

My name’s Sara. This is Cid. [Her hand rests on the top of his head, an almost-protective gesture.] My son.

We should ask a question. [ Straight, suggestive. It’s only fair that they do, since they’re already recording. ] Where can you find blunderbusses?

Cid! [She looks startled, and a little angry as she quickly grabs the communicator from Cid and flips it off.]

((ooc: green is Cid; brown is Sara. Replies may come from both!))

Say 'hello', Lamby. [ Yes, this is a grown man in your video feed with a tiny flannel sheep. Dexter holds it up to the camera, looking at it wistfully as he does. He would. It'd his son's favourite. ] Baaa.

[ And that's quite enough of that. The man's eyes lift up, and then he retreats enough that Dexter is entirely visible on the sceen from the chest up, wearing a frankly garish printed shirt and a bright smile. The smile is fake. All of this is fake. A normal person responding to a normal situation, not Dexter with what Dexter knows about this place. Dexter who's stuck between wanting to go home to his son and... Other Things. Dexter Divided. ]

I mean I know this is Florida and anything can happen, but aren't space theme park rides a little passe? Don't get me wrong, I think Space Mountain is as cool as the next person, but that's a roller coaster. I've had to walk everywhere since I got here. Everything's broken, the food is lousy, sleeping arrangements are cramped - and I live in Miami; I know cramped!

[ And while we're on the topic of theme parks... ]

I urge you to reconsider opening this theme park, Mr. Hammond. It's just not safe. Wait-- [ He cocks his head to one side, as though listening. ] What's that sound? [ The table jumps, jumps, as though something heavy is making it rattle. Suddenly his own hand leaps out at him, a tiny, homicidal flannel sheep taking him by the throat and knocking him out of his chair as he gives a very fake yell. ] Argh!

[ Oh no, he's back. Too much time playing with small children, he can't help himself. ]

Just kidding. But seriously, I'd like to go home now, please. I know, I know, everyone must say that, right?

[Michelle, wearing a green, black and white dress with a matching cap, is standing outside the library (it didn't take her long to discover that the ship has one), her device in one hand. She peers at it, and gives her audience a small smile. However, though her eyes are sincere, there is a touch of concern in them, an almost motherly touch. Or rather, a sisterly touch.]

Hello. My name is Michelle Cheung, and I'm one of the new arrivals. I'd like to ask if any of you have seen a very tall [At this, she raises her free hand up over her her head, palm down, to indicate height] woman with short black hair. Her name is Maggie, and she is quiet. I expected to find her in the library, but she wasn't there. Also, have you seen a short [Her hand moves down to somewhere between her chest and her waist.] pink-haired girl? She's Anita, and she doesn't like books.

Both of them are my sisters. [Her smile slips slightly into a more worried look.] I haven't seen them since I woke up here. Maggie, Anita, if you see this, meet me near the library, okay?

[A pause. The smile returns; it is a more knowing smile but no less sincere.]

By the way, it's very rude to abduct someone while she's in the middle of an important rescue mission. 

[OOC note: You can run into her near the library, and book characters, please check out this 4th wall permissions post if you haven't yet!]