i am not the only one who signed up for the gun crew, right?
the turrets here are pretty different from the guns i used back home, but i think they will be easy enough to figure out!!
so um... does anyone know what exactly we are supposed to be using them to shoot at???
i hope its not other people...... D:

For the purpose and benefit of those aboard this ship as well as his own, I have confiscated Eridan Ampora's communicator until further notice.

[Eridan's voice can be heard vaguely in the background making comments about how Shadow should keep his nose out of other people's business.]

For those of you that are new, my name is Shadow, an agent of the Guardians of the United Nations. Those who were previously not human and in some way, organic or otherwise, I am offering my assistance to help you should you require any help in adjusting to being human.

Round two, huh.

[ The words are muttered, not realizing it's on yet, and they’re followed by a brief burst of static -- he’s fiddling with the device, trying to figure out how to send out a message. A couple of taps, and it clicks on. At least this is better than those seals. ]

--there we go. Right. If there are any UNSC personnel within range, respond on this frequency immediately. On a secure channel, if you’ve got it.

[ It’s probably a long shot, not that he wants to admit it. There’s no guarantees anyone he knows will be here, much less those he wants to find -- he’s already searched the system for any trace of York or One and come up short.

Still. A pause, and his voice lowers a little, though it’s no less firm than before. ]

--And if you’ve seen anyone with a bad eye, just... let me know.

[You might have seen this guy skulking around the ship both looking like he knows exactly what he’s doing and a lot like he shouldn’t be doing it. Truthfully, he’s not done anything yet that would warrant a spell in the brig, but there’s little hope of that staying the case.

What he has seen is a bunch of people walking around without any idea of how much danger they’re in at any given moment and that’s a problem for Dean. He’s spent his entire adult life working to save people from freaky ass crap that goes bump in the night. Here isn’t any different.]

Any of you get the impression we should be keeping our eyes very freakin’ open 24/7?

I dunno about you, but I know that getting pulled onto a spaceship with no explanation and shoved in a tank of goo is pretty high up my list of pros for constant vigilance. Nobody else is taking responsibility for all the people walkin’ around without a goddamn clue of how to defend themselves. Maybe we should, ‘cause if we got a snowball’s chance of getting off this ship in one piece... time to start payin’ attention.

Interested? Qualified? Talk to me.

[Yeah, he’s aware that there’s a security team already ‘in operation’ around the ship. He just hasn’t seen them do a damn thing yet. And since he knows none of their history, he’s not apologizing for assuming they aren’t capable. Sorry, guys. He is, however, open to introductions and definitely wants to be proved wrong. Maybe then he can start to shake this feeling he’s got of being watched.]

[Jim's in engineering, you can see the room behind where he sits. he looks a little tired, but his eyes are as bright as ever as he looks into the camera.]

Hey all, Kirk here.

We've been up here for about a week, ship's time, which probably seems like forever and no time at all for most of you. Trust me when I say that probably won't change much. I know a lot of you are still panicking, but we need to keep in mind that the only way we're going to get out of this situation safely is by staying calm.

Anyone still adjusting to their human body should remember to stop by medical. A week is more than long enough to mess yourself up, even if you know what you're doing. [his tone says, trust me, i've been there.]

If the internal clock is anything to go by, we'll arrive at Tansei Station in about 12 days. I know we don't have much with us, but if you're thinking you need something, you might want to consider what you can barter when we get there. There's no telling when our next chance at shore leave will happen again.

[here, Jim glances away, keying something in, and anyone who expressed interest to Resnik and Ward in their broadcast concerning data collection will get a ping before he goes on.]

> open broadcast > attn $data collection team/$resnik/$ward

I've managed to get the chronometer back online, but she won't give me anything outside of a 24 hour count. [so no stardates or the equivalent thereof.] I've been trying to pull up a map of this place for the passed 78 hours but it's like the damn thing never existed in the first place. I'm starting to wonder if a blueprint was even put in the databanks.



( to: $spock | text | encryption 100% )



( to: $scienceAteam (spock, capa, connor, holmes, watson, chase) | text | encryption 100% )

[It's taken Raven a while to get the courage to talk on the Network, not exactly liking the fact that she didn't know who exactly she was talking to, but whatever. Charles could worry enough for the both of them, and she has questions, regarding her abilities. Plus, she has the distinct advantage of looking like whoever she wants, so. She picks a face she's used before (same coloring as her usual shift, just a brandy new face. and shorter hair. she's always wanted to try shorter hair), and flicks on her device.]

So, this might seem like an odd question, but I was wondering...

Has anyone else been feeling a bit off since they arrived here? Not from whatever they dosed us with to sleep, not that sicky feeling we woke up with, but just. After the fact? Like a noticeable difference in your physical or mental capabilities? [She clears her throat, squints a bit.]

Like me, for instance, I-- [Well, someone didn't think of a pretend mutation to use as an example.] --at home, I could run very fast, extraordinarily fast. Like a cheetah fast. [She makes a face, because this all sounds very stupid right now, she's sure of it.] Meanwhile, here? My whole body seems to feel a little off. I tried to run, but my body is sort of weakened, in a way. I use all my strength to hit the speed I used to be able to, but I can't come close to it.

Has anyone else been experiencing this kind of ..limitation? Or should I be freaking out that whatever they used to knock me out might be having some long-term effects? [Like how right now a sheen of sweat is forming along her brow from the effort it's taking to hold this physical form. Ah.]

Alright, well, I thought -- given that everyone else is doing their, their own little polls, I thought I would put up another one. Very easy, nothing strenuous, I promise, just -- where you come from. Your home, I would say, but not everyone must've been living in their home when they were taken, and -- well.

Planets would be more useful, maybe, now that I think of it. Since the point is, given that we have -- nonhumans, and all sorts of people... and, well, I was thinking we could at the very least see the range of planets that it has to have visited or... been able to mysteriously take people from, before we were brought here. A gauge of its abilities. Obscure as they are.

I can't say I'm from anywhere especial myself -- just Earth. I never thought that that would be only an option.

[a text ETA;] Alright, it's been brought up that this falls a little short, so here are some extra questions. Granted, this isn't mandatory, but if you're aware of any of the answers, having a list may help us in the long run.

Time (and calendar)
Planet
Star system
Relevant cluster

[There's a young woman looking at the screen, her stare calm and determined. And despite what the icons say, she doesn't have makeup on, sadly.]

It's been a couple of days since we've arrived on this ship and, besides having one discussion with what's left of the crew, we're no closer to figuring out how to go home or what to do around here. I'm stating the obvious here, of course, but several people have already spoken up about a need for us all to actually meet now that we have a slightly better understanding of what's going on.

Like it or not, whether we were brought here for a reason or because of some fluke in the system, we are stuck here until further notice.

We need to actually make an attempt to work together. If we can find out how this ship works and how to take care of one another - to provide support, medical assistance, and anything else - then we have a much higher chance of survival out here and we can find a way home. [A beat.] Somehow.

[She leans back, crossing her arms over her chest. It's more obvious now that she's sitting on a couch in one of the common areas.]

As others have proposed, we should meet in one of the common areas in the passengers' quarters to speak and gain some semblance of group ethic. We all have skills; we each have something unique that we can bring to the table. It will be easier to see how we can help one another and how we can contribute to our situation if we can see each other, face-to-face, and decide where to go from there.


[ooc: I...will be putting up an open meet-and-greet log shortly, so bear with me, please! here is the log!]

( Narration. )

[Sup, Tranquility. Today we bring you the eerie but oddly soothing sounds of an old, old man. Doesn't he look silly with that cravat on over his jumpsuit.]

So it would seem that not all of us are human. How curious that you should all be so open about it... One has to wonder what sort of worlds you were all transported from. I have had more than a passing interest in the idea of traveling between worlds.

[More like he's devoted HIS ENTIRE LIFE to doing it, and most of it trying to get back home.]

Tell me. Do any of you non-humans possess any supernatural abilities? I wonder if perhaps they could be of use in our current situation.

...Ah. I nearly forgot. My name is Alexander. These devices are not my usual style of communication... I look forward to being able to meet you all face-to-face whenever possible.

[GREETINGS, NETWORK. Some loser's got his coke-bottle lenses way too close to the camera. Back up, bro, you're fogging the screen, and that is gross.

Turns out he's just trying to make the device stay upright. After a few moments, success! Wheatley (who looks extremely nervous) takes a step away, hovering over the communicator as if he expects it to fall, like it did the past seventeen times.

He is not wearing any clothes.]

Hello! If anyone is there and I'm not just--not just talking to this little black box, which, by the way, could stand to be a little clearer in the "what does this button do" department...

Not that I had any trouble figuring it out. Fiddled around for a bit, and boom, there we go, video feed on. Not a problem. But, you know. Instructions. Just in case anyone's a little...technologically impaired. Couldn't hurt.

[Wait. Where was he?]

Right! Uh…show of hands, if you would, seeing as we've all got hands now. Who's an AI? That's Artificial Intelligence for the aforementioned technologically impaired. Robots count too, I am also a robot.

And--and I know what you humans are thinking; Wheatley, you're not a robot, you're squishy and inefficient just like the rest of us but that, humans, is where you're wrong. One hundred percent robot, right here, just as soon as I get my body back.

Point is, if you see someone in an orange jumpsuit or...or a lab coat, maybe hear them talking about Science or Apertures, or some combination of the two…go ahead and let them know that Wheatley's looking for them and also that...it is important.

[A small pause as he fidgets, suddenly looking that much more uncomfortable.]

Actually. Don't tell them that. Tell me, instead! If--if you meet anyone with that description and. I will go. Find them.

[Cybertronian encryption]
This is Ratchet. Who else hails from Cybertron on this ship?

[Open voice]
How many here woke up organic? I've made a perusal of the activity on the network already and I am quite curious.

Any G.U.N units out there, this is Agent Shadow. I've been brought aboard a spacecraft known as the Tranquility through unknown measures. Situation and hostility currently unknown.

As for the people on board this ship itself; if anybody can provide me with the necessary information on who I have to take care of for turning me human and returning home, I will be appreciative and perhaps let you live.

[ There's small click as the feed begins transmitting. Nothing shows up except staticky black, but there are muffled noises in the background that faintly resolve themselves into hurried words—two voices, one male, one female, pitched low. ]

—id this—

—ell is goin—

[ . . . ]

—et’s just … over with.

[ There’s a noise that might either be a sigh or a quick burst of static. ] Fine.( Q & A UNDER THE CUT. )