[It's late at night when the transmission comes across and it's coming from one of the many kitchens where Angela's seated at a table, a small plastic tupperware container in front of her. The lid's been popped off and every so often, she reaches inside for one of the miniature Reese's peanut butter cups and unwraps it before popping it into her mouth. She's clearly been here for a while with the number of empty wrappers strewn around her, but she doesn't seem likely to go back to her room any time soon. At least not before she turns to the device and whispers into it.]

Most of you guys are probably sleeping or something. Who knows what time it is here, but I'm assuming you won't hear this until later. Either way, question mostly for the people who've been here for more than a couple jumps: do you get homesick? Or are you too busy dealing with the bullshit from the ship?

[Angela pauses to finish chewing the candy, following it up with another one that she swallows as she chooses her next words carefully.]

It's not like I've never been away from home. I've lived all over the world, some places only for a week or so, but at least I had a phone or the internet. Everybody I knew was never more than just a phone call away. I'm good for picking up and going because it's Tuesday, but I never stopped checking in.

[Another candy goes down before she lifts the wrapper in mock salute.]

Thanks for the candy, Isaac.

[ the feed starts of shaky, and red due to quinn's hand being over the lens. a few seconds later she is visible in the music room. she still isn't looking great. there are bags under her eyes and her hair is messy and limp. it's also obvious she doesn't realize the camera is on as she moves about the music room.

she sits down at the piano. she's been playing it a lot more since arriving on the ship. maybe because it's something thats both tangible and relatively normal. she plays a few random notes, and then stops and sighs. for a moment it looks like she is going to get up, but then she sighs and starts to play lana del rey's "born to die." it's a stripped down version, and maybe a bit more raw. ]

Feet don't fail me now
Take me to the finish line
Oh my heart it breaks every step that I take
But I'm hoping at the gates,
They'll tell me that you're mine...

[ she continues to play, and sing the song. her voice cracks a bit, but it doesn't stop her. ]

Come on take a walk on the wild side
Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain
You like your girls insane
Choose your last words,
This is the last time
Cause you and I
We were born to die...

[ she finishes the song, still completely unaware that she's live. when she's done she sighs and then rests her head in her hands. she's tired. tired of the ship. tired of everything that happens on the ship. just so ...tired. ]

[ click. cue Raven Darkholme, in a flightsuit that's kinda like the Tranquility jumpsuit, only this one comes in blue and yellow. s-so stylish. for whatever reason, she's been wearing that around more often than not since she got back from the jump. well, when she's out and about. which... she hasn't been much lately, not as much as usual. new memories from home meant new things to think about. she needed time to process. still needs it. and it's a little obvious by her posture and her expression that she's a little bit distracted, isn't ready to get back into the swing of things just like before... but not without getting in touch with a few people first. ]

This is going to sound much worse than it really is, but at this point I'm not sure how else to say it, so - I'm looking for a fighting partner. Not sparring, not training, but someone that would be up for fighting with me, every so often. I know we have a fight club, but before I do that, I'd like to try more one-on-one, hand-to-hand fighting first. I don't need a babysitter, or a punching bag... I need someone that I can trust, and someone that won't hold out on me. Maybe we can meet up at the next fight club first, but I'm looking for something to do outside of that.

[ breathes! ]

... Yeah. Yes, I'm serious. No, I'm not asking for someone to try and beat me up, it's not a power play, or a weird backwards question. I just need more experience in actual fighting. No more tiptoeing around it, I wanna learn.

[ and now slouching a little bit in her chair, like she's said all the stuff that she was a little nervous about. ah! yes. good. done. ]

Anyway, how's everybody holding up?

---

( PRIVATE TO SECURITY TEAM MEMBERS: ENCRYPTION 45% )

---

( PRIVATE TO USS ENTERPRISE CREW: ENCRYPTION 45% )

---

( PRIVATE TO CHARLES XAVIER: ENCRYPTION 45% )

[Tommy's transmitting this from the bar, where he basically has been living ever since his last post. He sounds a little distant, distracted, and very very drunk.] I had a wife back home. Jeanie... We married before I shipped out to Iraq. Never even had a chance to open our wedding gifts. [Gifts that he shot.] Never will, now. [BECAUSE HE SHOT THEM. Also, he's in space. Which is good, since she has a restraining order against him.]

I keep thinking about what I'd do if I ever saw her again. What I'd say... [How he'd make things right.]

I know I'm new here, but I can't be the only one missing someone. You all have somebody, right?

[He's quiet for a while, then:]

What would you say if you could see 'em again?

[OOC: To folks I owe tags to: I have not forgotten! Just gonna play catch up later today.]

[Kurt is curled up on his bed, looking sleepy and ruffled. He's gnawing on one end of a pen thoughtfully, looking a bit vexed.]

I can't sleep.

Normally I'd pass the time working on my play, but I'm having a bit of writer's block. I'm just--not sure how to end it. The play is about the Tranquility and the things that have happened here, from a--unique perspective, so the story hasn't ended in real life yet. But the play needs to end...

I could reunite the star-crossed lovers at the end, but it needs to be realistic. [Right.] I don't want the story to lose its impact. But I don't think the main character should end up alone, either.

[Hrm.] A happy ending? A tragic one? Bittersweet? I'm just not sure what direction to go in.

Any suggestions?

[ The feed clicks on to reveal an average looking young man with light brown hair; he’s sitting, elbows on knees and hands clasped in front of him, not too far from the camera that he’s obviously propped up on a low table. ]

Hello, Tranquilit-ees… ? Tranquilites? [ A slight pause; yeah, no, let’s never say either of those words again. ] This is Josh of the planet Earth, and I have a quick question that I’m pretty sure wasn’t covered in the welcome packet – which was absolutely lovely and not terrifying at all, by the way, thank you very much to whoever put that together. [ Seriously though, “the list” and “smiley”?? Extremely reassuring. ]

Does anyone have any idea what the date is? I know this jump business has done a number on… well, everything, but this thing’s got to have an internal clock somewhere, right?

[ Despite his best efforts to remain relaxed, it's clear he's slightly nervous - fidgeting a bit with his hands, focusing to keep his attention on the feed. ]

[Tommy's not doing well. Aside from the usual "Oh my god, I'm in outer space!" issue to work through, he's also got to contend with the fact that he has not one, but two "twins" aboard the ship, one older and one younger. It's like looking into the past on the one hand, and looking at a future he'll never have on the other. Either way, it's depressing.

Tommy's learning, though. He's learning how to hide that depression behind a mask of normalcy, smile, act like he's just another guy. Right now, he's dressed down in his normal clothes, a t-shirt and jeans, black and white converse, army tattoos visible on his arms. There's a wedding ring on his finger. He's not going to forget about Jeanie, even if they're, what, a trillion lightyears and a restraining order apart.

He's sitting on the edge of his bed, acoustic guitar on his lap. He strums a few notes, keeping his words to whatever tune's coming out of his guitar, not full-on singing, but more... sing-talking. It's got a country feel to it.]

Woke up in space the other day,
Not sure why, but I don't wanna stay.
'Cause I'm a long way from home,
And it's a strange place to roam, And--

[And he stops playing around and talks like a normal person.]

That's not gonna be a hit song anytime soon. I think I need... [Strum.] Inspiration. Anyone wanna show me where to get a drink around here? [Yes, please feed his alcoholism and terrible coping habits.] Think I'm owed one after being abducted.

[He moves to turn the communicator off, then stops himself as he remembers something.]

Oh. And I'm Tommy. Private First Class Tommy Burgess. [Bearer of the Big Chicken Dinner-- a Bad Conduct Discharge-- but you don't need to know that. He gives a mock salute with a smile, then shuts the video feed off.]

Hello Tranquility. I'm sure you didn't miss me so let's get right to the point just like usual.

A little while back people were talking about group meals. I don't know about the rest of you, but the mystery meat lucky dip in the kitchens is getting pretty rough. I skip meals, and I know I'm not the only one. Most importantly, we got kids on board and I want to make sure at the very least they're getting two meals a day, and if we get more kids this jump I want to establish whether or not we've got a full time guardian on board who can look out for them if they're alone. Hell, it's beginning to look like we should set up a school. It'd work out better than having kids just wandering around the place. If that about fits your job description give me a shout, see what we can do.

Back on the topic of dinner: I know a lot of people haven't got anything to offer someone if they make the mess their job, but if we can get some volunteers in, I'm sure the people on board who can will find a way to show their gratitude. We need this now, not in six months time when we're all coming down sick from not eating properly, so if you got the skill, don't think you gotta bother asking for permission or go showing your hand, just muck in when and where you can. Some of you already do, but if we can get something more formal going, I know that I and a lot of others are gonna be dead grateful.

Which brings me to the Jump. If you haven't got anyone in your own circle to keep track of you, speak to Miles Edgeworth. Sitting out the Jump is not optional. You go to the Jump bay on time, or you get turned into a splodge of space-slime, and it ain't pretty.

After the Jump, for those of you who didn't notice last time, a lot of basic things happen. Some people go around making sure their own groups are in one piece, others are in it only for themselves. If you're feeling great and you're not gonna be of any use, get the hell out so we know what we got to work with without things getting too congested. People from security usually volunteer to help newcomers and protect people from anyone who takes their arrival on board badly, but you should know it's a pretty thankless, sometimes dangerous job.

For anyone who comes in injured, or anyone disoriented after the Jump, there's a med team and a group of volunteers stationed down there. You'd be surprised how much a cup of coffee helps people get their sea legs. If someone looks lost, answer their questions, but be understanding--try and remember what it was like you for you.

Let's make this Jump smooth, and for once leave nobody behind.

[ ah, robb returns to video posts. there's a marked difference in the set of his face. he looks older, more solmen if such a thing were possible, more like his father, than he did in those very first few times he'd addressed the ship. grey wind is at his elbows, eyes gleaming as his great jaws part in a disinterested yawn. the display of teeth though, that sure is something to see. robb sinks a hand into the fur at the scruff of grey wind's neck, and the action is almost a boy reaching for something familiar, something to anchor himself to. ]

I wish to request a favor of this ship.

[ kings don't make requests, they give orders. that is what robb learned from his namesake but in his time spent aboard this ship he's also learned that a displaced king gets himself more by requesting rather than trying to command. ( like the beggar king, and if his stomach turns at that he ignores it. ) ]

My youngest brother Rickon has come aboard this vessel. I don't seek to curb his curiosity, but only to ask that discretion is used when answering his questions and granting him knowledge.

[ there's a pause. grey wind huffs a breath, impatient, and robb's hand twists in the fur. ]

And perhaps not encourage his fondness for knives.

[ hello tranquility. incoming announcement from a very angry scottish ginger. otherwise known as, 008 » 067. that pond. of course she's trying to hold back how upset she is, but her expression is doing a rubbish job of hiding it. she wets her lips. ]

Okay, listen up. I'm not messing around here. Has anybody seen Rory? You know, skinny guy, bit of a nose. He is-- was a nurse. It's debatable. Whatever. That part's not important anyway. I can't find him. [ she's rambling because she's actually nervous, if it isn't obvious by her slightly shaky tone of voice. ] And not just Rory. What about— err, me? And yes, I actually mean me. The other Amy Pond. We were supposed to finally meet and sort all this madness out, and now— well, I can't get a hold of her either.

[ yeah, she knows how that sounds. 'maybe they ran off together.' don't worry, the thought already crossed her mind considering rory was the other amy pond's fiancee, too. as much as she didn't want to admit it. ]

People can't just disappear here, can they? We're on a bloody spaceship that doesn't really make very many stops! Unless they—

[ she looks like she might keep going (because she really could), but instead she just drops her forehead into her hand. that morbid thought is too horrible to entertain. so, instead, she takes a deep breath. ]

How many times is this going to happen?

[ this one is not an actual question. it's a frustrated sigh as she stops the message there. ]

Jump's coming up soon, huh?

[ this would be the pathetically boring intro to a transmission from a girl that's been hiding out the last couple weeks. well, not hiding. avoiding, maybe. too many bad things happening all at once never exactly results in a social Raven. but now she's here, a few things on her mind but nothing she's sure she wants to bring up to the ship at large. although; ]

I should probably think about this more before just asking everyone, but. I think after being here for so long, I'd really like to have a roommate. If anyone's up for that? Like, moving in after the next jump. Maybe. [ her mind immediately goes to Quinn, but she'll bring it up to her personally later on. ] I spend most of my time out and about on the ship, but having someone to hang out with regularly would be pretty groovy. It's just an idea. But if anybody's roommate-less, and would be into moving onto the first floor, um. Let me know! It could be fun.

Also, since I realize it's been a long time since I brought it up, and a lot of new people have come on board since then - Yes, I'm blue. No, I'm not an alien ( although I wouldn't be trying to hide it if I was ), I'm a shapeshifter. This is what I look like when I'm not hidden beneath a shift. No clue why, it's just a genetic. Thing. And I don't mind talking about it at all, either, so if you're curious about it, you can just ask. [ still a TINY bit nervous that someone might be afraid of her, but she's not about to make it obvious. instead she just smiles, then shuts off her feed. ]


( a few encrypted messages to: NEAL CAFFREY, JAKE & DIRK, ALEX SUMMERS )

When I signed up for Starfleet, I figured I'd be seeing a lot more stars.

[ there's a pause and then a quiet sound that veers just along the edge of embarassment before ]

You know, I used to say I'd see the entire Argo Navis. It's this giant constellation--or it was a constellation, before it got broken up into six different parts. Six parts of the ship Argo from Greek myth, I bet it was something to see, if you could swing it. You can't even see all of it unless you head out to a certain latitude point, so I guess when I was little I thought getting closer to the stars themselves would be a good way to skip that step.

[ another pause. there's the tap of fingers along a countertop. sulu's shrugging, but it's a voice transmission, so. ]

Just strange to think it's not out there, even if this ship did have windows. Hard to gauge how far we've gone without...well, windows and stars.

[Count on another ren faire escapee to trigger an accidental video (or...perhaps not so accidental, although he's certainly ignoring the device at first) as he wrecks electrical mayhem in the holodeck. It's an impressive lightning storm, if you go in for that kind of thing, the figure in the center of it blindingly illuminated as electricity arcs and scorches in wide blazing bursts, the triggered sprinkler system doing nothing to quell it.

Eventually, it dies down, and the man in the middle of it with a rather ragged beard takes a swig from a bottle.]

You know, [he says, conversationally; this isn't an accident, then] I think we ought to vote on a name change for this Maker accursed ship. My darling friend Isabela hinted to me once--pirate captain, lovely woman, would rob you blind in a flash--I believe hinted to me that renaming a ship and properly anointing it with--ah, 'dancing' and alcohol could shift a curse. What with all the murder and mayhem and general poor attitudes I believe we're overdue!

I say we call her the good ship Meredith. But that's only after an old friend. Absolutely mad and murderous. I think it's fitting--oh, oh, or The Death Trap! Something spooky and doom inducing, at least. Who's with me?

[He fixes the camera with his most dazzling (soaked, drunk) smile.]

[ Judging by the background, Carolyn's in the shuttle bay today. It's fitting, because that's where she's been for most of the past month, but she hasn't spoken up in a while. Today she is, however, having cleaned up a bit from working on the shuttles with a slight smile on her face as she addresses the camera. ]

Tranquility, this is Carolyn Fry. Some of you may recall that Ellen Ripley and I have been talking about training people on the ship so that they're better equipped to deal with living in space. We're happy to announce that we'll be starting up our first session at [ insert time here ].

We'll be meeting in the shuttle bay. For those of you who don't know how to get here, Ripley will be waiting by the lift in the passenger quarters to show you the way. For everyone else, I'll be waiting here for when you arrive. A recording of the session will be available afterwards but we really encourage everyone to come in person -- we're going to be running some drills and getting a bit hands-on with some things. In addition, even if you already know a thing or two about life in space, this could be a good refresher -- or you could bring up something we miss, you never know.

If anyone has any questions before we begin, I'm happy to answer them. Thank you and I hope to see you all there.

((ooc: An open log can be found here!))

Okay, I don't wanna sound like a total insensitive jerk, or a whiny brat or anything? I mean, I get that people have died and gone missing and stuff and it's super concerning and all- [ one palm lifts to rub at the back of her neck, only to fall a beat later, when her hands flutter demonstratively as she speaks. ] and I totally get that most of you guys are busy like- running the ship and saving people and doing cool-futuristic-space stuff?

But would it be too much to ask to maybe get a calendar running around here?

[ she squints briefly, one finger lifted as a preemptive shush. ] -In before but Hayley that's just totally depressing because we've already got space tats with our dates on them. So, time's already racked up. No blaming a calendar for sulking.

Okay hang on, what was I sayi- Oh right. Yeah, a calendar.

I mean I've been here, what- [ her cheeks puff out when her gaze drops, checking the digits on the inside of her arm before she continues, shrugging carelessly. ] six runs now? Seriously, every day is like, the same stuff over and over again ad nauseum. Why not bust up the routine a little? We can have space Christmas. And trick or treating. And whatever other non-human totally random holidays you guys have.

No but really. It's getting boring.

And I know this is kinda lame, but I'm pretty much desperate, and then there's that whole proverb, desperate measures etcetera etcetera. I mean, if all else fails we can waste some time. And if it goes over well then, hey, you have at least three socially acceptable calendar excuses to get wasted and make terrible life decisions. Right?

[ Normally, she would address the ship with both her name and face. A bow of her head, her most polite smile — means by which to garner favor and convince those she would entreat for help. (See how how guilelessly I ask, says her look. Truly, I am a soul worth helping. But gone are those days, for there are those aboard the ship who would readily look upon Alayne's face and say: behold, Sansa Stark or Lady Lannister or I knew Petyr Baelish; of bastards, he had none. Though she needs the assistance others, Alayne knows she must be careful now in what she offers too readily. Even if the other Westerosi still struggle with their devices, she must not rely solely upon their ignorances to keep her shielded and her secrets hidden.

So: some caution, at least at the very surface. A request made through text; an offer with a name but no face. A bastard from the Vale in search of cloth, that is all. ]

Good people of the Tranquility.
I am in search of a passenger, intrepid and strong-legged, to assist me in my endeavors.
Already once I have offered my services to the ship,
those of sewing, mending and embroidery,
and I hope to continue to do so, though I am hindered by a certain lack.
Although thread has come readily to me with the jumps,
fabric proves a much rarer commodity.
My aim is to enlist aid in the collection and dyeing of cloth.
The ship is vast and many of its quarters stand empty,
and I would look to gather some portion of those unused linens,
to give that fabric greater purpose.

But the vastness of the Tranquility is no place for a young woman to venture alone.
Especially when her arms alone promise to return such a meager bounty.

I offer recompense by way of trade or exchange of service.
The ship has been generous with me by way of worldly possession,
though I fear most of what I own is rather delicate and will only appeal to certain tastes.

Thank you.

[ The message is posted and remains as is for an hour, maybe two. Then later an amendment comes, one that Alayne debates over including. ]

I am also in search of the person
who thought it fit to slip a note beneath my door last night.
You are not in trouble by any means, whomever you are.
I look only to thank you for your endeavors.

[He's been lurking on the networks since his arrival, reading everything he can get his hands on, but no sign of that shows in his expression. (Better to show trust and goodwill towards his fellow passengers by showing his voice and face. He's wearing the uniform, in order to foster a sense of common ground among those who haven't got other clothes.) Leoben smiles, calm and candid.]

Hi. I'm new here, and it seems to be the custom to introduce yourself. I'm Leoben.

I was wondering - does anyone have any religious texts they'd be willing to share? Or any works on prophecy, divination, or philosophy? Seems like my universe has some things in common with most of yours, but a lot that's different. I'd be glad to know more about other people's faiths, and to introduce them to mine.

I've got a complete copy of the Sacred Scrolls of the Twelve Colonies, and I can provide a digitized copy to anyone who's interested. [He says this as though it's normal, as though it's not blasphemous to set the Sacred Scrolls in print instead of keeping them handwritten, besides being abhorrent for scripture to be in the hands of a Cylon.] Our faiths are similar, but the Colonials look to many gods, while we look to one. It's a little complicated.

I'm very happy to have this opportunity to learn more about such a diverse group of people - human and non-humans of all kinds, their cultures and beliefs - and to spread God's word, in accordance with His holy will, among you all. [He seems to actually mean this, and to be downright thrilled to find himself captive on a creepy half-abandoned spaceship adrift in the stars.]

And Kara? I'd love to see you, whenever you've got the time.

[There really is no segue-in for this. Just soft music playing quietly for a while--a little static-y, as if it were playing on an old-fashioned record player--and then about a third of the way through a beautiful voice starts singing, hitting every high note perfectly.]

Wishing you were somehow here again
Wishing you were somehow near.
Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed, somehow you would be here.

Wishing I could hear your voice again
Knowing that I never would.
Dreaming of you won't help me to do all that you dreamed I could.

[The voice stops singing and the rest of the song plays through, and that's all there is. He said he's sing for everyone on the ship someday, but didn't think it would be like this.]