Hello, fellow residents on the Tranquility. For those of you who don't know me, my name is Leia Organa.

[She's not even bothering to waste any time here.]

I don't have anything majorly important to say, but if anyone here knew Han Solo before he left or is inclined towards engineering projects, I have a lot of his abandoned and half-finished projects in my room. I will be putting them into boxes and leaving them in Media Room on the first floor of the residences. If you're interested in them, they are free to take.

I'm not sure what half of the things are, but I'm more than happy to give them to someone who can actually use them.

[And so they aren't taking up valuable space in her room for...anything else.]

Also, Lúthien, if you want to start those lessons we discussed a few months ago, I'm ready to do so.

Okay, so I have a weird question.

[ In that it's probably really obvious but Sam feels the need to ask anyway. ]

If, say, that smiley face guy contacted you, would it be totally amazingly stupid to do what he wants? --Hypothetically speaking. [ Or not. ]

I mean, what if he has answers about why we're here? Wouldn't you want to know?

[ As he fumbles with the buttons to end the feed, you may overhear something to the effect of "Rich would know..." ]

[Gold has a bad habit of not looking at the camera when he's speaking to his device - but this time it seems less like he's working on something more important, and more as though he's examining something, a slightly pensive air to his expression.]

As irritating as it is to admit it, this coming jump will be my twenty-fifth. [He looks up, then, setting whatever item it is aside and giving the camera his full attention.] Patience is a virtue, as they say, but I've lost count of the faces that have come and gone. I won't pretend for any sentiment to the fact - what concerns me is the loss of information that each might have held, whether about this ship or some clue on why they were brought here at all.

[He still believes there's a pattern. There's always a pattern.]

My world was one within several, each with borders that could be... hopped, if you had the means. [And the will.] What was always interesting was the ideas that would seep through the cracks. The lives that would become stories and songs.

[With hugely edited pieces, facts missing, other exaggerated. But he knows his history, and he knows how it's remembered.]

My name is Rumplestiltskin. I'm curious to know how many of you have heard it.

[ 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?

[Hannah has learned, accidentally or experimentally, appropriate camera distance. Look, it's her whole face, complete with big hair, and those long pointy ears. She--not quite grins, but, well, she looks amused, if not a bit smug.]

Separate of the whole bullshit kidnapping thing, these little faceboxes are fucking cool.

But, [she looks more critical now, kind of squinting] really seems like there's a ton of humans. Where's, you know, the rest of the world?

[Was she kidnapped to fill a quota or something? Because that's just awkward. Maybe they should throw her back and get a better elf.]

[ Simon comes into view unsmiling and still, standing framed by one of the unadorned walls of his room. ]

Those of you who aren't human. Or are more than only human. If you lie low, or pass, or hide—why? [ He's quiet, with an Irish accent and a cadence that's steady verging on mumbly, and intently focused. He's not uncomfortable, not fidgety or uncertain, but he isn't quite at ease, either, in front of a camera. He's only using video to make a display of his bloodless face and white eyes. ] Has something happened to you here? Or is it a habit you've carried from home?

We may not be in the minority, altogether.

[ That's less threatening than we could outnumber them, right? Right.

That's also the end of what he'd planned to say ahead of time; he shifts back from the screen, looks aside, and nearly disconnects before more occurs to him. ]

If you want to talk and don't trust this to stay private, I'm in room two hundred on the third floor. You can... [ Leave a note, he almost said, but he's yet to see paper or pens. He raises his eyebrows like a shrug. ] Paint your answer on the wall.

Or knock. I'll be here.

( now that she's had some time to recover from the outbreak of "plague", elizabeth deems herself presentable enough to appear to the ship as a whole. she might have pinched her cheeks a little to inject some colour and done her hair up in ribbons to look her best; but she has done so for more reasons than simply to flatter her pride or vanity. her smile is sweet and gentle, though it does not reach her eyes. her gaze instead is quiet and thoughtful, because this is a tremendously bittersweet occasion for her. )

Greetings, Tranquility. Within the past several months, we have all suffered and lost many who are and will ever be dear to us. Far too much to be borne by anyone within the realm of reason. Yet we have, and I daresay grown together as a community as a result. That gladdens me a great deal.

Each day we have is precious. We know not when the next bout of unpleasantness may strike upon us, nor when any of us might vanish from this ship, returned to our homes. While things are peaceful, I would celebrate that fact. That we are here and alive, and in the company of those we have come to care for. Some of you are as dear to me as members of my own family.

( ok, the sappy part is done with. her eyes light up with good cheer now. )

Thus, I invite all of you to a feast held within the kitchens of the first floor, four days hence. It will do us good, I think to feast and be merry together.

I will need some aid in this endeavour, though, should any of you wish to lend a hand in acquiring foodstuffs and preparing the meal itself. I will both owe you a favour and be eternally grateful. Also, should any of you wish to have a specific dish at the table, please do share the recipe for it with me if you know it.

What say you?

[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!

And we're back. To those of you who are new, welcome to the Tranquility. For the rest of you, you know why I'm speaking to you now. It's been another month, and those of us who ventured into the hallways last month--whether we made the choice ourselves or had it made for us, here we are. This is our home now, we chose it.

On the topic of Shepard's last message, I know many of you are divided. Let me better frame it for all of you, in the hope it helps you to understand why my stance on it is so hard line. Shepard was punished for trying to pick apart the ship's secrets, held until there was no hope of her getting out. She and her team sent out messages deliberately intended to snare us into the trap - in places they didn't even know what they were saying - to get us to go in there. We resisted. We fought our way back when it threw everything it could at us to get us to stay. Now they apparently want us to go back in. Well it's not gonna happen, and I strongly advise you not to try, even if it's true that I can't personally stop you. Why am I so convinced? Because of something Shepard said.

[ A clip from the message plays, Shepard's voice: ] Formally suggest volunteer only operation. Something is different. Something’s in my head.

Ultimately it's your decision, but don't say I didn't warn you. And believe me, I know what you saw. I saw it too. I saw what I want most in the world, but here I am, and this is where I'm staying.

Javik and Shepard, as usual with those who go missing as well as those lost during the jumps, have been added to the mourning wall in the garden chapel. These were good people, their actions were the actions of heroes, not fools; but most of all, they were friends. I've got a mean streak in me, so here's the deal: you got a bad word to say about them, keep it the hell to yourself. That's my last word on the matter.

[ Nathan is pure Tranquility by now. Gone is the suit jacket and tie, last seen long months ago. He wears clothes bartered for at their last stop, a three quarter length brown leather coat and functional, hard wearing clothes underneath, space age fabrics in dark forest green and darker brown. He's still the same man, but he's adapted. And he's only half done with his talk, his expression still serious. ]

Alright; Tranquility business.

There's gonna have to be a few changes if we're gonna keep living here. Don't mistake me--the ship's gonna step up whatever it's got in store for us, and we can't keep losing unity the way we are. This is jump thirty three, that means thirty three floors; more floors than we have security. Those of you who are new will discover that fresh food from the gardens is only being distributed on floors marked 1 and 6; alternative food is still available in the kitchens on other floors. So agriculture is terrible, the security situation is equally troubling, and then medical most of all; the latter is presently, by way of seniority and...well, other things, in the hands of my brother Peter--you'll find him an apt leader, but he's no surgeon, so good luck if you get appendicitis.

What I'm getting at is a crucial need for people to join departments. Now we've been working on a volunteer basis this far and it's worked fine, but if we don't get people growing food and cleaning up medbay after the jump, fixing shuttles, protecting the halls and maintaining our communications network, survival here is gonna get more and more unpleasant. You like your conversations getting to the right people, don't you? Well so do I. How about them apples? And getting off the ship, despite being a damn deathtrap near every time we do it, that's real great when the oxygen isn't whistling out of the shuttle you're in right? Yeah, I think so too.

If more people don't sign up, we may have to start rationing luxuries...at worst people might start dying, and there'll be no escape route if the ship is gonna blow. I don't want any of that to happen and neither should you.

[ At last it seems like he's close to wrapping up. ]

Last month's losses shouldn't change how we continue to approach survival here, and believe me when I tell you that your first battle is to survive. To do that, we all need to pull ourselves together and keep doing what we usually do, irregardless of our personal feelings. Fight club, space training, weekly dinners, and above all work--routine is how you stay sane; take it from someone who's been here for a while And remember if you decide to get wasted on space alcohol nightly that when your liver fails nobody around here can do a damn thing about it.

But most of all we can get through this if you're all there for each other; we're stronger together. We'll survive together.

Petrelli out.

[ She seems uncertain, at the use of the device which records her, peering a little too close, before pulling back. Trying her best to be at ease, even if she clearly is not completely. ]

Forgive me, fellow passengers of the tranquility, which I am told is a ship, though it is not one I should ever seek to employ --

[ but that is a rant for later, and she dismisses it quickly. ] -- I have been remiss in introducing myself, quite rightly I was not sure how to do so. But this seems the way of it, so I understand it. Though I am alone neither in name nor face. [ her amusement is brittle at best for it. ] I am Elizabeth Tudor, granddaughter to Elizabeth of York, and great-granddaughter to Elizabeth Woodville.

[ and she puffs out of breath in dry laughter. ] And by more time than is flattering to count such, Queen of England in turn. [ there's a pause and the propriety of it all seems to drop, introduction done. ]

Now that is out of the way, the matter that is far more important, what must be done to procure a decent drink on this twice cursed place? Or indeed how to pass the time at all, if my skills may be put to use, though I scarcely know where to apply them here. [ and that, truly seems to amuse her, quite darkly in fact. ] In any case, you shall find me a generous friend.