[the video winks on to one James T. Kirk of the former Starship Enterprise. he's dressed in the regulation blacks, and honestly, doesn't look all that impressive, but you might recognize him from running all over the ship in the last few days. if he hasn't been playing tour guide and meeting-and-greeting, then he's been on his communication device trying to figure things out.

despite the recent stress in the environment, he looks remarkably rested, unlike the first time he made a transmission.

he smiles and waves.]

Kirk here.

To everyone who's joined us, welcome to The Tranquility, your new home away from home. To everyone joining us from the first time around, congratulations on your first successful jump.

[he won't mention the unsuccessful, but he's fairly certain he doesn't need to.]

I'm sure everyone's still got questions and we'll be happy to answer anything we can. Though before anyone asks, we're still working on that map, and we should have it out to you guys hopefully within the next few days.

In the meantime, anyone used to space travel or with skills you think might assist us, I encourage you to speak up. This is a big boat and we need all the help we can get, since we're the working crew now. Medical and the Oxygen Gardens are hurting for help, so I'm sure they'd love to see you down there.

Otherwise, passenger quarters are on the top deck and you'll find the pools and the holodecks that way.

[he winks before he switches on a filter.]

( [ encrypted hail | security 100% ] )

[He wouldn't wear the provided uniform, oh no. Not when his own uniform was inside of his locker. Maybe he wasn't a Federation officer anymore, but he wasn't going to surrender his only way of life, himself, to the unknown. There were many thoughts running through Travis' mind after he hazily followed the given instructions, halfway dressed, and made his way to his numbered door. 002»057, just as it was etched onto his mechanical arm. As he opened the door, a vague memory stirred... something about Jake. No, Blanche... Blake? ...and aliens, was it? Star What? Vaughn– Avon? He sat down on the meticulously made bed and rubbed his shoulder. It felt strangely like an energy graze, but when was he in a crossfire?

Nothing was adding up. He was somewhere that was completely alien to him, with an injury that he couldn't remember getting, and to top it all off, there was a strange feeling harbouring in his head that he should very well have been dead. He should have been dead a fair few times to his credit, but this time it wasn't sitting right - or maybe that was the nausea rekindling. He didn't know why th– what was this number on his arm?

Oh, right.

And then the tiniest sliver of memory came through. He couldn't remember the shootout or anything of merit from the incident at Star One, really, but he had a faint hinting of sending the coordinates to... somewhere. The ones that Servalan wanted. The ones he took from those primitive barbarians. He gave them to an alien for... for. There was a good reason. Probably.

Backtracking his muddled thoughts some, he immediately stood up and clenched his fists. Had he been taken prisoner? It damn well seemed like it. He zipped his uniform the rest of the way and grabbed the communicator which he hadn't given any notice to before, switching on the video link. There's a feigned calmness trying to override the anger in his voice.]

I don't know who any of you are, or what I'm doing here, but I demand answers. Specifically, who is in charge of this ship?