[The feed comes on to show Taylor looking pretty annoyed, a sharp frown pinching her brows even as something a little more weary lingers in her eyes. Her tone, when she starts speaking, still comes out strong, more authoritative than might be remembered from her before. Her first real announcement as Head of Security, she's keeping her shoulders set and her gaze level.]

I was thinking that this was basic fucking common sense, but seeing as some of you seem to need someone to actually say this shit, I'm gonna lay it out for you.

You don't kill each other, you don't assault each other, you don't steal each other's belongings and you don't damage each other's belongings.

[A pause, making sure those sit clearly before she carries on.]

There is a security team here, we're active and we will take action to enforce these basic rules and rights if we see or are informed of them being broken. Each infraction will be dealt with individually, so don't ask me for a blanket 'what will you do if'. SEC's here to keep everyone safe, not to control your lives. Most of you know the kind of shit we've had to deal with here - if you don't, you should've read about it. It's bigger and it's nastier than this kind of sniping, so calm the fuck down and stop fucking with each other already.

[A moment, keeping the same hard expression before she seems to relax slightly, looking away at something off camera and then back again.]

Personal request: if there's anyone that can do tattooing or just art shit, drop me a message. [A slight motion of her shoulders, almost a shrug.] Been doing them myself, but I want these somewhere I can't get at. Can show you how to do it bare-bones, if you don't know.

[ it's obvious this is going to be a serious post just from the look on robb's face. this is the king in the north, drawn up ice cold and stone-faced on the screen and there's nothing of the boy in his face. the direwolf at his side is a hulking mass of fur, teeth bared and eyes gleaming and no, this is not meant to be a light-hearted post. ]

Upon this ship there is a woman called Cersei Lannister, who arrived most recently. In Westeros, she dealt my house a great and terrible injury, and the matter must be settled, for it cannot be ignored. If she hears this, then I call her to treat with me, and submit herself for judgement for her crimes.

[ and grey wind snarls, ears set back and hackles raised, just as robb cuts the feed. ]

[Loki is sitting in his bed, lounging back with one arm draped across the headboard and one knee hiked up. In his free hand he's holding the communicator. He seems to be getting better with video feeds because at least you can see him this time.]

I wish today to speak of security. There has been much talk of late of ways to make life here more comfortable. I have seen mention of holidays, of designated meal times, and other ideas to give people a sense of structure.

[The hand draped across the headboard rises to scratch the back of his coif.]

What people are proposing may eventually lead to a rudimentary government. As we apply rules to life here we must, also, enforce these rules or our efforts would be for naught.

I am aware that there is already some manner of security force on the ship, but their actions are not currently dictated by any actual law.

Should law come about, what shall the security team then do? What would we consider a transgression here where life is ever at the mercy of machines beyond our control? And how would we punish such transgressions? Would we, as Miles proposed, bring our criminals to trial? Or would we have them promptly executed?

Tranquility.

[ It's with a warm sort of politesse that Petyr addresses the network this time around, a crimson sash draped over one of his shoulders and a new set of robes upon his frame. Visible next to him, at the fringe of the image, is a girl with chestnut brown hair and her hands folded in her lap, who should prove familiar to at least some upon the ship. ]

I inquired some months ago as to the existence of a physical library, and was informed that the ship lacked such a facility. As such, I have taken it upon myself to begin one for the sake of those who would prefer the feel of a solid page than the, ah. Furnishings that the ship provides. My collection is meager, but it is more than what was available upon my arrival. Should you care to take advantage of it, I can be found upon the fifth level, next to the quarters that Alayne Stone — [ at the mention, the girl sitting next to him smiles prettily and offers up a wave ] — keeps as a seamstress. She has offered her help in my endeavor, to care for the books in my absence.

That said, should you be willing to part with them, we would greatly appreciate any spare books that you might have. This service is without charge, and meant simply for the comfort of those upon the ship.

I have taken the liberty of attaching the list of the books collected so far, and hope that some of you, at least, will find some use in it.

[ And, with a duck of his head, the feed cuts out. ]

ATTACHMENT.


ooc: feel free to talk to petyr or alayne or both!

[ Ryo's been here too long to have not address the ship's network. He's not been nervous, exactly, but he's always preferred to suss out a situation before leaping headlong into it. Unfortunately, the Tranquility has taken a little longer to understand than most other things.

He's going to keep it simple, especially considering the current state of things. ]

I'd like to speak to some of my fellow security officers, please.

[ The technology, all in all, isn't too hard to grasp. It's more the fact that there's no real way off the ship (no concrete information as to how the passengers arrived, no explanation as to the contents of the lockers), not to mention the circumstances under which he had arrived, that leave Connors ill at ease. The phenomenon, however, is not one that he seems to be alone in, and when the video feed turns on, he seems much more put-together (and healthier, too) than he'd been when he'd arrived, glasses in place upon the bridge of his nose and the stump of his arm barely visible at the bottom edge of the screen. ]

Apologies, first of all, if the question is redundant, [ he begins, with a slight duck of his head, ] but considering the range of worlds from which we hail, I was curious as to how many passengers are not classified as human or are possessed of "supernatural" capabilities. I'd like to do a little research, if at all possible.

[ He opens his mouth as if to continue on, but seems to think better of it. The transmission is awkwardly short, as is, but he doesn't have much else to say that's strictly relevant (that won't sound too much like covering up). ]

Thank you for your time. Dr. Curtis Connors, at your service.

[ 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.

[ had tony been anyone else, this would have been accidental. the device would have turned on and you'd get to see what most people would find a pathetic guy nursing what looks like some form of space booze. but no, this is intentional and while tony is looking way more interested in his glass for a good moment or two when it comes on, he does eventually turn to face it. he waves with his free hand before he speaks. ]

You know, I find it stupid that our resident- whatever you wanna call Spock, our real first officer, the one who actually has that designation off this ship, is telling us that we should go talk to someone because of loss and how it's so tragic. Personally, I find talking about that shit to be bullshit because what, they're going to tell you that it's a universal thing and how it'll go away. I'll let you in on a little secret, they lie, because what's going to happen is you'll never get over it and you'll be stuck spending all your time whining at people who really don't give a shit about you. And before all of you psych kids come yelling at me, I'll have you know that little Ms. Sommers was getting high and I just want to say, that is definitely not a healthy coping mechanism, is it? [ he pauses. ] I know what you're going to say now, well, Tony, look at you, you're drinking right now, what does that say about you?

That says I've been doing this for years. That I've gone on benders and I've given speeches that are coherent while drunk off my ass and I've built shit better than all of you while say it with me drunk. Honestly, I'm not particularly going to give a fuck about what you're going to analyze about it. Because someone else has said it before you did, you can't say anything I haven't heard already. Fact of the matter is, sometimes people like to drink. And sometimes, people deserve the right to drink when they've been a really good person about not doing it much, if at all, for nine goddamn months. Not including the time I was randomly home, where the same was true. 

And I know, you all want to know if I'm got some gloom and doom shit to tell you. I don't, because Eridan already beat me to that with finding a dead body in the pool and whatsherface having the theory about that list being a hit list. Ironic that her Sherlock, the one on the list ended up dying right after.

What I do have to ask, though, is that maybe if you're feeling liking admitting that you just want to drink your stupid sorrows away or your issues away, I don't care, but you should maybe head up to the tenth floor, it's weird up here. Quiet. Kind of creepy. Whatever. And even if you don't feel like it you should at least come find me and maybe make it so I don't have to hunt down every bit of alcohol on this ship to make it so I don't remember this entire month. 

[ 100% stark encryption to natasha romanoff | unhackable ]

If you don't bring vodka and lots of it to where I am, I will be very mad and feel so very betrayed by you. Besides, I know I'm not the only one who wants to drink. And no telling on me to you know who. 


[ ooc | okay so the people who this is filtered away from are as followed: howard stark, jon snow, the starks from asoiaf (including alayne), petyr baelish, pepper potts, betty ross, both lokis, libby, and i think that's it? you can do action in this if you would like, just tell me. it's not required obviously, but the option is there because tony did say to come up if you'd like. and my apologies if i am slow when i tag. ]

It seems there are many from my world to be welcomed aboard after this past jump. If those of Westeros inclined to make their presence known, I would speak with all of you.

[ there's a pause. a direwolf's low whine can be heard, and robb exhales slowly. ]

And I'm sure it is already known, but the lady who called herself Aberdeen is no longer aboard.

[ and feed is cut. ]

[ The video clicks on, and it's obvious enough that Cat's not particularly happy about choosing to do so, but given the reason for one of her rare appearances on the network, she thought she might as well show her face. There's a bit of a pause before she finds it in herself to actually start talking as opposed to just looking a bit grumpy and reluctant, which is of course her standard approach to everything. Doesn't matter that Cat genuinely wants to get something out of this, she just hates having to ask for help. ]

All right, seeing as for once we're not being fucked around by red text or demons or brain-washing or fatal illnesses and shit, might as well make the most of it, yeah? [ She peers at the feed searchingly, pursing her lips. ] Bound to be a couple of you out there who can swim, I reckon. There's a pool here - I want to learn how. Not got much use for swimming back home, s'why I never learned, but I have a chance now, so it stands to reason I could give it a go.

Any of you lot think you can teach me?

[ She's very careful not to use the word "help", already feeling weird for how much she's talking when she usually kepts to the minimum amount of words required to make a sentence. With some amount of restraint she manages to stop herself from saying she wouldn't mind a couple of offers since some of you lot were bound to be terrible teachers.

Fair warning, Cat herself would be a pretty fucking terrible student. ]

[The jumps have been making Taylor incredibly ill for several months, but she's been doing better the past couple, and this one she seems much more lucid – pale, but not looking like she'll collapse or throw up at the slightest movement. She's frowning, though, and her shoulders are hunched inwards slightly, tense. She's quiet for a moment before she finally speaks.]

Anyone that knew him, Dean Winchester's gone.

[Quiet for another moment, looking like she's going to say something else, but then she just reaches over to filter the rest of the message.]

[FILTERED TO SECURITY + KIRK | ENCRYPTED 95%]

We need full reports on what happened down on that outpost. I know a load of you went. If you're not used to doing reports then it's time to get used to it. We've only got ourselves for information here.

[Her voice gets steadier and harder as she goes, trying to settle into a position of giving out these kind of instructions.]

We just had a new wave of people come in, so ask around, see how many you can get on security. Check them for training and experience. If they don't have any and still want on, send them my way. And trust your gut about it. We don't need any psychos here with access to Gunnery, we've got enough shit to deal with already.

[FILTERED TO KIRK | ENCRYPTED 95%]

We're gonna need to talk. Can't let things slip, right?

[ FILTER: LOCKED TO THE SECURITY TEAM ( viewable to Ariadne ) // Encrypted 98% ]

I thought it would be more prudent to get in contact with you boys & girls first. Not my best form as far as introductions go unfortunately but my name is Eames.

A friend of mine has died. Bluntly put is there protocol for dealing with the body ?



[ ooc: I'M REALLY SORRY FOR THE DOUBLE POST GUYS SOB there just wasn't a neater way to reach everyone otherwise! ]

[ Click. On pops the video feed, and Tommy is looking... Well, relaxed isn't quite the word for it. But there's something looser about him anyway, not as much of a weight on his shoulders, even if his posture isn't any better than usual. He's frowning, as per usual, but the frown doesn't seem quite as deep.

Sometimes having a drink's the best plan a guy can have, right? ]

When I was in-- [ Iraq, he almost says but stops himself and for the moment right after, his brows do furrow before clearing again. ]

Doesn't matter. Most of you won't have heard of it. When I was a soldier, we used to get new kids shipping in pretty regular. Some of them were excited to be there, and some of them were scared shitless. Me and a couple of the other guys who'd been there a while used to take 'em aside and tell 'em, "This is a fucked up situation you've landed in, and it's not your job to un-fuck it up." Because we all knew that's the fast way to fuck things up more.

[ It seems to occur to Tommy that this is more talking than he does basically ever, and the corner of his mouth twitches in the suggestion of a self-conscious smile. ] Now, I sound like I'm at some fucking VFW support group. Whatever, you get what I'm trying to say.

[ It's been a while since Dean's actually relied on the network to communicate with the people he wants to get messages to, but he's been lying low these past couple of weeks because guilt's a bitch and he knows it well. Being taken out of action forcibly is something he's never been able to deal with well, so sulking after the event has gotten him precisely nowhere but spending a hell of a lot of time on his own.

Today he's going to make that first, tentative step towards actually trying to work through the guilt he's not planning on admitting to any time soon. He works through the relatively short list to check in where he knows he's supposed to, tells himself if he does this then maybe he'll get away with not talking about how he feels about all of this crap. The post-jump headache that's sitting right behind his eyes is making that prospect even more painful than usual. ]



[ Private - filtered to Sam and Cas ]
Time to play hardball. [ This place might be getting to him now more than ever... but he's done watching people around him suffer. ] We gotta talk about our options 'cause 'm tired of us gettin' our asses handed to us.


[ Private - filtered to Tyke ]
...you good? [ A pause before a more telling question: ] Are we good?


[ Private - filtered to Tyke and Tommy ]
T Squad. Can I get an update on what's been goin' on in patrol lately?


[ Private - filtered to Jim Kirk ]
Think we're long overdue a beer. Your place or mine, sweetheart?

I've been here long enough to know that alternate and parallel universes exist. I can say with confidence that this ship holds multiple versions of the same person; for instance, there are three Sherlock Holmeses and three John Watsons. Naturally, each correspond with their own Sherlocks and/or their own John. As the months go on, it will be increasingly difficult to tell between myself and others, which is why it's handy to have our communicators. With each message, your unique number shows up underneath the initial post: this is a good way to ensure that you're talking to the 'corrrect' Sherlock (though know that we share our devices when the whim strikes us).

In short, stop being stupid.

Now, onto my initial reason for addressing the network: I have experienced several different memories that differ from my dopplegangers. Because of this, we can assume that there are subtle differences in behaviour, reactions and interests. Whilst we remain the same in many ways, those differences might end up defining us (which is frankly appalling, but then who am I to judge a 'thriving' civilisation of six months?). I am the third Sherlock Holmes to arrive, though my likeness is shared with only one. An intriguing phenomenon, but our memories are reasonably inconsistent.

I've decided to tell you about my stay on the island of Atia, though I intend to make it quick. I have in my posession the communicators we used to talk to one another. Whilst the connection to the network has been severed, a few things still remain, such as the guides thrown out to every new comer in order to save both time and effort. You may have gathered that this island is of a seedy virtue, and your impressions are entirely correct: we were forced into collars like animals, prodded and poked into actions one might not normally take were they under their usual inhibitions. As the strange little rabbit wearing a dress says, it was not a holiday.

And yes, I'm aware that both guides are incredibly hideous.
SH

P.S: A certain prosecutor has insisted that I put up a warning for those that are of a certain age and/or for those that have a weak stomach. Personally, I think 'don't be stupid' covered every base, but apparently one can't be too sure.

Transferring... guide.pdf

_{[ ooc: link is nsfw. sort of. ]}

[ Tranquility, meet Mouse. Mouse, Tranquility. Some of you might remember him from his first stint around and some of you might just think the Homestuck cast spat up another weirdo, what with his insistence to SHOUT IN ALL CAPS all the time. ]

TYKE.
CALEB.
BOO!

TYYYYYYKE!
TYKE TYKE TYKE!
CAAAAAAAAAALEB!!!!!!

CALEB CALEB CALEB TYKE
TYKE TYKE CALEB

STILL HERE?
KNOCK KNOCK?
CALL ME. (YO)
NEW INK.
007.
PREMIUM BOND SHIT.
STILL 69 THO.
(TEE HEE)

(PS) SQUEAKSQUEAK.

[ Yup. That's it. Seriously. ]

[ what's up, tranquility. jenna offers the screen a little wave from her position of slumped against a wall, mug in hand. ]

Is it too soon for a 'the reports of my death were greatly exaggerated' joke? [ what. ] It was a... fear gas-- is that really what we're calling it?-- a fear gas thing.

[ she shrugs one shoulder. ] Still sounds like bad horror movie, but okay. Either way, still here and still fine. A little unsettled and not feeling like participating in the scavenger hunt of the damned, but fine. If anyone wants to give the girl who still can't program a VCR the Cliff Notes tech nerd rundown, I'd owe you one.

[ unbidden, her lips curl into a smile and she looks down, taking a sip from her mug while her cheeks go a little red. ]

You'd have to deliver those CliffsNotes to door one sixty seven, not sixteen. I had a move in locale.

[ subtle, no, but it's like "accidentally" flashing the rock after a proposal, okay. let a woman have her moment. ]

( video | locked to mystic falls denizens ( sans klaus and elena ) )

( video | locked to katherine )

[ Her father has inquired on the matter of coin and the ship's answer is clear enough: money has little weight aboard the Tranquility and so the counting of coppers must be abandoned for a different kind of ledger keeping. Favor is a kind of currency, though only the most clever know how to wheedle it to greatest yield and best effect. Petyr Baelish is one of those kinds of men — to what extent is hidden behind his genial smile, but Alayne has seen behind her father's mask and knows the true measure of his mettle.

Where names and lands and titles made the worth of a man in Westeros, the passengers of the ship must find their wealth elsewhere: in skills offered and objects bartered, in resources hoarded. In usefulness. Alayne looks to be useful but also looks to be wealthy, if not in object then in favor. It is better, her father teaches her, to be owed than to owe and such debts can be accrued in both the most meaningful and the most harmless of ways.

The smile she gives the Tranquility is modest and fair. She is in better health than her last appearance and her spirits seem much revived. With a dip of her head she bows and then offers to the camera: ]

My good Tranquility. It has become known to me that there are those upon the ship who are in need of the skills of a seamstress. I am not a tailor by trade, nor have I studied under the tutelage of any grand stitch-sewer. But I am skilled and there are those who have told me my embroidery is without flaw.

I may sew a dress or fashion a shirt or mend what has been ruined and torn. There is the matter of needles and thread, of which I have been provided plenty. Though— cloth is lacking, save bedsheets. I am also skilled in the stitching of sigils. Of finery and delicacy. [ Her smile broadens, grows sheepish and knowing. ] For ladies and lords that find luxury in smaller, more mindful details.

I, Alayne Stone, offer my skills to the ship, in exchange for trade or equal favor. [ A pause and then she considers, adding: ] And— if anyone has insights into the care of birds, please also send word.

[ Again a smile and Alayne dips a second time, neatly. ] Thank you.

[ Elena's laughing when the camera turns on, and she's fussing with her comm, trying to get it to stay upright in front of her on the bed while she sits cross-legged in front of the view. Her hair is still wet from her shower, but otherwise she looks pretty damn happy, considering... everything that just happened.

Jenna stands behind her, combing her hair out and looking a little overwhelmed, but happy herself. ]

Is this right? --It's like face-time, right? No, c'mon don't laugh at me I don't wanna mess this up.

Think of it like... Skype in space. Same general principle-- which means stop talking to me and address your adoring public.

[ and then Elena waves once at the camera, like she's just remembered it's on and broadcasting, and Jenna just laughs and continues brushing. ]

Um, hey. I'm Elena and I'm new here-

[ another burst of laughter from her before she keeps going ]

Sorry, I'm really bad at talking to a camera, um. I'm actually looking for my friends, if any of you guys are around. [ She sobers up a bit, not liking the idea of them being all split up, even if she does have Aunt Jenna right here with her. ] Bonnie and Caroline, if you're here let me know. [ weird quirk of a smile at this; ] I don't wanna be in space without you guys.

-- Stefan and Damon too.

[ Jenna, visible in the background, rolls her eyes at the second name but doesn't comment, letting Elena have her moment. (SORRY, ELDER SALVATORE. YOU TOUCHED HER UNDERAGE NIECE, YOU GET ALL THE EYEROLL.) ] You better be okay, if you're here. And Jeremy! Check in, please. You can't hide from us forever! [ more laughing again. ]


( ooc | FOR SAKE OF EASE dialogue in purple is Jenna, reddish is Elena. replies will come from both! )

The demon threat has been dealt with.

[Yes, that is it. No, you aren't getting an explanation of how he knows. He's an angel of the Lord, so you aren't allowed to question him. :|]

To those who assisted with dispatching the demons here, I owe each of you my gratitude. To those who assisted me personally, I owe you far more.

[But no, he's not telling any of you just why he's taken the demon influx so personally. Now, please excuse him while he tries to work out that locking thing again. And promptly fails. Well, so much for keeping personal conversations from clogging up the network.]

Jim Kirk and Tommy Conlon. A word.

I also require the assistance of somebody more familiar with this thing.

[BEEP. That thing being the device he just smacked. It took long enough to work his way around a cellphone. This thing is a little more advanced than that.]