[When she'd gone from the gardens to try to surprise Leia, the last she she'd been expecting it to run into someone. Especially someone who was supposed to be dead, she can remember his death and the smell of fires burning around them on Arima. She can remember Legolas' broken leg and the nightmares he'd given to his prisoners and more.

Panic had swelled in her chest and she felt like she forgot how to breathe as she looked up at him and he grabbed her. In another time and place, she apparently finds the courage to rival him but not here and not now. She freezes and then struggles only to be rewarded with a backhand.

It was enough to snap her into action and she did all she could. She sang, one of Daeron's songs but she infused what she could of her own power into it and ran, hoping it would hold him back.

She ran back to the gardens and there she fumbles with her communicator. Her hands are shaking and her face is pale except for a slowly forming bruise under her right eye.]

M-Morgoth-

I saw Morgoth in the halls. [Even knowing Thranduil had cut his head off, somehow he's there.]

[ Rough around the edges in an oil-stained jumpsuit with rolled up sleeves, Devon Resnik broadcasts from a darkened corridor—she sounds grim and looks even more frustrated, like this was the "I told you so" she didn't want coming. One hand reaches up to scratch the spot between her eyebrows. ]

We expanded your access because we thought you had the common sense to keep yourselves alive, not so you could cast off one another's warnings and dig yourselves an early grave. Everyone on this ship is aware of our smiling friend: what makes you want to chat up an anomalous transmission on the network?

[ Her hand drops, and she fixes the screen with a serious look. The frustration drains into her usual: flat, no bullshit. Just the facts. ]

Don't fool yourselves into believing that Van Rijn's people want to help you.

[ From behind her, a much more clean-cut figure with dark hair and broad shoulders approaches. As Resnik takes a half-step to the side of the frame to make room for him, Ward explains further, though his voice is no less flat. ] They want the Tranquility. They're going to try anything to get it, including making promises they can't keep. If you receive any messages from them, don't engage or antagonize. You have no idea what these people are capable of.

[ Resnik turns to glance at Ward over her shoulder, something wary in her eyes: it's met with an equally dour look in his. The look holds for a moment before she turns back to the terminal. ] Seems like we've lost them for now, but they're persistent. Report all communications with individuals identifying themselves as agents of Van Rijn immediately.

[ With those orders stated, she cuts the feed. ]

[ OOC NOTE ▒ Direct your comments to either Resnik or Ward by specifying their name in the subject line. Comments without a name in the subject line will be treated as a question for both. ]

I can't say I know very much about space, or how this spaceship works, but I have a few questions.

What does it run on, and who's piloting?

And is there a reason that we can stop by at the nearest planet and get off this thing? Anything has to be better than this, right?

[There's a pause.]

If these are stupid questions, I'd rather you just explain why, and spare me the sarcasm.

[ 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?

[Luke has on his determined face. This is the face he gets when he has A Plan, usually involving helping people and keeping himself busy. Even when he's not working Luke can't seem to sit still for more than five minutes so this is decidedly a good thing all around.]

Tranquility, this is Luke Skywalker. I'm fed up. With a lot of things, but I specifically want to address something that I can change. This last jump I realized that I've been on the ship for a year now and the after-effects of charging into Engineering to help save the ship have been making me miserable-- well, relatively speaking, for almost as long.

As I was hurling my guts out on the floor the other day I came up with an idea to-- alright, so it won't get rid of the 'Engineering sickness' entirely but it should at least help. And maybe if I get enough input from people who are smarter than me I can make it even more effective.

The medbay is stocked with plenty of drugs but the problem is that when the grav couch spits you out you're already puking and hating your existence before you even hit the floor. By the time the drugs have a chance to kick in the worst of it has passed. Making it from your grav couch to the showers while you're trying not to pass out and fall on your face again feels like the longest walk of your life.

So-- [He holds up a finger and then leans over and disappears from view. Seconds later he reappears with a crude drawing he's done of a device and holds it up to the camera.] Uh, I'm no artist but I hope it makes sense. All it is is a self-contained IV and timer. The idea is that it would be set to go off about a half hour before the user is scheduled to be released from their pod. There's a pump attached to the container which administers whatever drugs are in there; I'm envisioning anti-nausea and painkillers. By the time you wake up you're already feeling 'em! [Luke disappears briefly again to set down the drawing.]

Now, it'd be really, really simple to make. The hard part, as some of you might have already guessed, is the timing. As of now we don't know how long each jump lasts but I'm working on that with a couple people and hopefully I'll come up with a solution soon, though it may take some experimenting... which would take a while because unfortunately I can only run tests once a month.

Otherwise, I'd like to ask for help, specifically from the- uh, ironically- Engineering department and the Medbay. I'll need parts, mostly pumps, timers, casings, that sort of thing. And Medbay staff, I could use a second eye on this design and some medical expertise. Obviously the use of these things will have to be monitored by medical officers to make sure no one's overdosing or using the wrong drugs in the wrong combinations.

Uhhh... [he rubs his hands together thoughtfully] somewhere down the line, if I can get a solid, working design I'll probably need all the help I can get, putting together as many devices as possible. Anyone who wants one should have one, anyone whose jump experience can be improved even a little.

Zero-two-five-dash-one-eight-five. Get a hold of me if you'd like to help. Thanks, guys.

[ Here's a voice people might recognize after not having heard it for some weeks now. Maybe. Because it sounded that like so many other people around here, he's suffering from some illness and his voice might be a little bit closer to raw and shaky. ]

M'not supposed to get sick like this. [ A cough. ]

What good's some lousy fuckin' alien DNA if you still get sick like every other loser from Earth? [ To those who know him and have interacted with him, they might realize that Peter's not in his right mind. The complaining? The use of "fuck" rather than the "flark" he's used due to years of traveling the cosmos back home? The less at hand playful disparaging of his home world? Someone's been foolishly going with less and less sleep in the time he's been staying away from people.

He's starting to get a bit addled and sound like the kid from backwoods Colorado.

There's a sound of something hitting metal and someone tumbling to the floor. Someone kept trying to walk through a door that didn't open like it was supposed to. ]

Goddammi-! [ The feed cuts off. ]

Hello.

( and then there's a pause; unsure of what to say, or perhaps automatically waiting for a reply. ) Uh, well, I'm Rory. I've noticed people introducing themselves through this over the past few days, so I… am too. ( he loses the thread slightly. ) Hello.

Sorry. I really don't know what to say about all of this. On this. ( leaving answerphone messages into the void? ) It's nice to meet you; I'll be helping out in medical as long as we're here.

Also, I had a sort of question. We've more or less found our way around the living parts of the ship, my wife and I, but I was looking for a few things specifically. ( short beat. ) For example, trousers?

[ the camera turns on to reveal sally, up close at first but then she props the communicator up on her nightstand and scoots back to sit cross-legged on her new bed. she lifts a hand to push her hair back behind her ear but seems to think better of it (for bite-scar reasons, not that there's any real way to know that), instead opting to press her palms together with her index fingers to her mouth for a half-second while she thinks of quite what to say. ]

Right, so I know everyone's super busy packing their shit and trying not to live in some weird sci-fi ghost town, but you can totally put that down for a second because I'm seriously bored and we're playing a game.

[ okay? okay. ]

Pretty much everyone has some kind of space booze, right? Good, because there's this game back home - it's called Never Have I Ever. For pretty much the 5% of you who haven't actually heard of it? It's... actually pretty stupid, like for frat guys or thirteen-year-olds who found their dad's stash, but just shh, humor me here. Basically, someone starts off like 'Never have I ever blah blah blah'. Never have I ever ~ridden a bike~, never have I ever... I don't know, jumped off a cliff. Anyway, everyone who has done the Never-Have-I-Ever has to take a shot. Or a sip, or a rain-check for when you do have booze, or even just drink juice or something - it doesn't matter, that's not the point.

The point is, there are apparently way more people on this ship than I realized and I know pretty much nobody, and I know I'm not the only one. Apparently solidarity is a thing, so why not actually get to know each other a little? I mean, beyond that whole A/S/L survey that went around - not that it was bad or anything.

And if you roll in just to, I don't know, shit all over the game or something? Then you're a jerk and a loser and you should suck it up and play anyway. Like, what's the worst that can happen? You forget to be an angry douche for like five seconds?

Anyway, let's tear this shit up.

I can start, this one's easy:

Never have I ever voluntarily left the planet Earth.

[ go ahead and start your own 'never have i ever' top-levels, even if you don't reply to hers. c: ]

[When the feed opens, Taylor isn't in the SEC offices. She's in one of the holodecks, recognisable from the walls behind her.]

My name's Tyke, I'm head of Security here. Petrelli's already told you all how thin on the ground the departments are getting, so I won't repeat - you've got any combat or policing experience, you want in the Security department, contact me or Edgeworth for recruitment.

Thing is we're thin on the ground all the way. Thirty-three floors housing approximately two-hundred bodies. We're scattered. It makes us vulnerable. Blind spots for this place to use when it wants to fuck with us.

[Like randomly luring people out into the dark. That had been too easy, even with so many of the contacting other people.]

We're moving to consolidate population before the next jump. Bottom ten floors, more than enough room for everyone. Find an empty room, lock it to your nanites, it's yours. You need a hand moving your shit, my team'll help. This is gonna take the strain off Agriculture's supply runs, our security patrols, and let everyone look out for each other. It'll keep us stronger. Safer.

[She sounds determined, steady about it. This is what they need to do. Should have done months ago, when Jenna had first suggested it. Regrets on that aren't going to help, though, and she looks away, tips her head slightly.]

Meantime, figured some of us might wanna let out some frustrations. [There's a very faint smile in the corner of her mouth, and it fades quickly.] Fight club, Holodeck 3. Same rules as always: no weapons, hand-to-hand only, no abilities unless agreed upon by both fighters. Someone taps out or goes unconscious, fight is over. Spectators welcome.

[[ooc: accompanying mingle/fight log over here! ]]

[[ETA: and a spreadsheet for claiming a new room! You can't unclaim your original room and please be reasonable with how many you take!]]

I'm missing a Dwarf. [ The introduction's abrupt and distracted. It's also noticeably Scottish, and there's the sound of a locker banging shut before he continues. ] Not a dwarf-dwarf, it's a— it's a drone, and it's a very, very delicate piece of technology.

He's not responding to remote commands, so either he's been damaged or someone's— [ Someone's disabled it or shut it away somehow, which isn't a very charitable accusation. Fitz corrects himself for the sake of diplomacy. ] He's gotten himself stuck somewhere. About the size of a golf ball, black, blue lights. I've attached a picture. If you've seen it, please give me a call.

[ Losing important robots, great start. The feed ends as abruptly as it started, but Fitz picks it up again about half a second later to add a quick: ]

And if you've stolen one of the roombas, I'll be needing them as well.

[ Diplomacy!! As for the promised picture, he completely forgets it until a few minutes later. So, somewhat belatedly: grumpy.jpg. ]

[for anyone who has had the pleasure of being around stiles in the last couple months, he's suddenly looking far better. less panicky, less wan, and perhaps a bit more determined as well.

for anyone who is particularly familiar with stiles as a person (and considering how out of sorts he's been since being brought to the tranquility, that's really only going to be the people he knows from back home) they'll know that a determined stiles is almost always a dangerous one.]

So it's good to hear that at least some of us aren't willing to just lay down and accept our abduction without a little bit of a fight. [a little fiercely] I for one am through with letting myself be manipulated or toyed with by our mysterious evil overlords.

I wasn't in the hallways when everyone started disappearing last month, mostly because I had just come back from being lost in the hallways. But I saw a brief mention of paintings in the latest recon report and I thought I should share with anyone who was interested to know the details of the mural I came across while I was wandering in the hallways.

Y'know, just in case it helps with any part of the deeper mystery of this place.

[he moves away from the comm for a moment now before coming back with a rough sketch (he's no artist like lydia) to show everyone: a blocky figure standing firmly, with a thin neck that seems to support nineteen heads, each with sharp red eyes. he keeps the image in view for a beat before setting it aside.]

Not sure what it means, apart from being super trippy, but it never hurts to have all the information, right?

[he pauses, considering, before continuing with a slightly more forcefully upbeat tone.] And I guess on a completely different note, anybody here a psychologist, or have any sort of experience in that kind of capacity?

[The video comes on to reveal a normal-looking 15 year old boy, lying on his bed in his quarters on the thirty-third floor. It looks like he was messing around with the smartphone and accidentally started recording. He makes a stupid face or two for the camera, but once he realizes it's actually going out to people he sits up and looks sheepish.]

Uh, hi. So... I wanted to say thanks for the smartphone, I guess. Always wanted one of these. Too bad it comes with a price of "holy crap I'm stuck in space."

[He looks off to the side, worried. Then back to the camera.]

Look, I get that nobody knows why we're here, or how to get home or anything like that. But it sucks, okay? And I can't be the only one who feels like saying that. I mean, I have stuff I need to do back home. [Under his breath, he adds,] And I'm totally gonna get expelled if I miss any more school.

We don't... have to go to school here, right? There isn't some space high school they're gonna drag us to, is there? 'Cause the only thing worse than chess club is space chess club, am I right?

[No one is laughing at your joke, Sam.]

Right. Well, uh. Later!

Got a couple of requests.

[ his cut is stripped off and draped across his lap, one desert eagle resting atop it. jax is in his faded white "reaper crew" t-shirt and shoulder holsters. he's sitting tipped back in the chair. his boots are resting on the edge, not that it's within frame. ]

Anyone with some technical know-how wanna swing by the gunnery? See, we been doing what we can on these fucking turrets and consoles, but there's some shit that's beyond us. A bunch of them are too fried to work, and that's a problem, assuming the shit that goes bump in the night comes at us from the outside. Back home, we get a second opinion before ripping out the guts and starting over, so anyone thinks they can shed some light on the situation, I'll owe you one.

[ it's not as detailed a description as it could be, but as far as jax is concerned there's only so many ways to say "fucked beyond comprehension" before getting redundant. he tugs at the strap of one holster, pausing like he's letting that sink in. ]

I also gotta ask, anyone up here capable of tattooing? It's not like I've seen any place capable of it since we made our last stop. Am I reaching here?

[ probably, but a man's gotta ask. ]

Hey, Hyperion. I gotta talk to you too. You got a minute any time soon?

[Now that she knows it's safe to show her face on the network, that's precisely what she does. Her hair is swept back, well out of her face. There are plants on the table before her, divided into neat bundles. Below each bundle, there is a small piece of paper, signifying their possible properties.]

How could anything be simple in outer space? It's laughable to think even the smallest of comforts would be familiar. Yet that doesn't mean we're defeated.

[She touches a journal - copious notes have already been written in it.]

We have to adjust our expectations. [Picking up one plant in particular, she sniffs it.] The results might be surprising.

[There is an extra scent of something to the plant in her hand. She pauses before giving the scent a name.]

Why let the boundaries of our worlds hold us prisoner? I've been to another world once before. That was an adjustment too.

[Her voice trails off, remembering her first steps in the Wizarding World.]

We can adjust. It's...what we have to do.

[As much as she shoots for optimism, her tone falls short. This isn't a change she wants to make. Yet it's upon her all the same.]

I told you before that my name was Penelope Clearwater. That was a lie. I'm Hermione Granger.

[When the feed clicks on, it's a bit before Jennifer speaks, as she plays with various settings. She then clears her throat, looking nervous.]

Okay. Uh. I figured I should probably introduce myself eventually... I'm Dr. Jennifer Keller. Hopefully, I'm going to be working in the medbay soon, so I thought I would say hello to everyone, especially my fellow medics. I was- well, I should say I am a surgeon, and I hope I will prove to be a valuable member of your team.

I've gotten the gist of what's going on here, so I won't waste my breath asking where the rest of my friends are... [There's a pause.] Sorry. I'm still feeling a bit overwhelmed. I'll try not to get lost, hmm?