[ By the time Blake gets to writing everything up, it's early in the morning on the 7th, some time around 0700. He doesn't particularly enjoy addressing the network, especially not like this, but the information is definitely something that needs to be shared. ]

At approximately 0415 this morning, and according to witness reports, the individual identified as Antti Basher escaped medical quarantine and proceeded toward the main shuttle bay. At this time, it is believe that Basher made contact with Marcus Rothschild and Odessa Knutson. Basher later stated that their involvement was voluntary, but not premeditated.

The above mentioned individuals arrived at the main shuttle bay at 0421 and proceeded to power up a flight-capable shuttle at 432 by bypassing its main security protocols. Due to the small number of Flight Crew Members in attendance, the unsanctioned presence elicited immediate intervention.

Antti Basher was successfully apprehended in the Control Office by Flight Trainee John Blake, but not before accessing the airlock controls. At 0437 the shutter bay doors were opened without the appropriate warning protocols and authorization. This facilitated the escape of Odessa Knutson who currently remains at large. During this time, several members of the Flight Crew, Marcus Rothschild, and at least one unidentified individual were subjected to unsafe conditions caused by decompression.

At 0445 atmosphere reached and maintained satisfactory levels. The Flight Crew Members then discovered the body of the deceased Marcus Rothschild, the apparent cause of death cited as asphyxiation.

The circumstances surrounding Rothschild's death are currently under investigation.

For a information on obtaining a full report of this incident, please contact John Blake or Hoban Washburne.

[ If it sounds like a police report, well, there's a reason for that. ]

Maybe it's just that I've done a crap job checking in with people since I got back—sorry, still getting my space legs back under me—but I can't shake this feeling like we lose more and more people who were around at the beginning each time the ship jumps. I mean, how many people remember the Cyllene at this point? [ Her voice tightens, like she's trying to sort through a quick tally in her mind. ]

I know some people have been keeping archives and crunching data, but I'm starting to wonder how much information about what's going on here we've already lost. [ Huff. That's a depressing thought. ] Couldn't help noticing how empty the whole place feels while I was patrolling. Or maybe that feeling's because people haven't been migrating downwards with each new jump. Consider this your reminder: SEC only consistently sweeps levels one to ten.

[ jax’s hair is still wet and dripping, but he’s made it down to gunnery, has his comm in his lap, hoodie over the back of his seat. he’s lighting up a cigarette, lets it dangling from his lip as he stows his lighter away. ]

Looks like another batch of new arrivals, right? Everyone make it okay?

[ as flippant as it sounds, it’s a genuine question. jax pauses a minute, then drags a hand back through his wet hair as he continues speaking. ]

I’m betting someone’s gonna post up the How-To guide any minute now, but for now you’ll have to make do with the informal shit.

[ and you can’t really get any more informal than jax, who tips his head back to blow a smoke ring, buy himself some time before he starts speaking. ]

I’m Jax Teller, I’m the CGO and if you got interest in lending a hand down in Gunnery, come down and see me. You got interest in any of the other shit, Sciences or Engineering or Flight or running Security for this barge, speak up, someone’ll point you in the right direction. We’re all about lending a hand these days. [ jax grins around his cigarette, lifts a hand to lift it away as he exhales a stream of smoke. ] Other than that, you’re in space, yeah. Don’t do anything stupid, read the Survival Guide, and you’ll be fine.

[ for a given definition of fine, anyway. which jax is clearly aware of, flashing a grim smile at the camera, flicking ash from the tip of his cigarette as he tacks on-- ]

And if you want smokes, talk to Ned.

[ at which point jax snickers to himself, then hangs up. teller out. ]

[ For all that Emma tries not to brood, she missed space Christmas and news of Pan's curse has her feeling particularly sentimental. Reflective, even. And the prospect of losing her memories, losing her loved ones, only serves to remind her that sooner or later, they're all trying, in some capacity, to lose the people they've grown to care about aboard the Tranquility. ]

A friend of mine pointed out a while back that not everyone has a home to go back to at this point. Or one worse than what's here, whether that means they're dead or just some other kind of screwed.

[ Strangely, with Dean back now, she has to wonder if he'd say the same again. That staying on the ship, even as it is now, is better than the alternative for some. Getting a read on him is tougher now. It feels like she's missing pieces. ]

What about you? What's your best case scenario for whenever we figure out what the hell's going on here? Do you go home, forget all about it? Backtrack to Arima and set up shop?

[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.

[audio:]

[L’s voice is the voice he’d use for any public announcement: smooth, measured, calm, not betraying much of the intense irritation and frustration that the network crash has caused him in the previous few weeks.]

Greetings. This is Ryuuzaki, speaking for the Communications Department.

The recent problems with the network were caused by an attack on our systems by a particularly malicious virus. Its effect was to systematically overwrite existing material with random characters. The department itself had no control over this and no effective way to stop it.

When network service returned, it was because a fail-safe rebooted the network software itself, something we’ve never had the authority to do -- or, to be honest, the desire. We are now active on the ship’s original network, and have learned that the system that we’ve always used in the past was actually a subnetwork.

[As far as he’s concerned, every bit of this is a clue about why posts from prior to the arrival of the first wave of passengers are only sporadically available. Was the network previously rebooted in response to an infection with the same virus, or something even worse? That doesn’t explain how they would have ended up on a subnetwork, but it might explain much of the rest of it.]

As some of you may have noticed, nothing posted prior to the network’s return has been accessible since then. One of the functions of the Communications department is to archive network activity, and fortunately, we were able to back up the vast majority of the network as it existed before the emergency shut-down.

I’ll be posting what I can of that archive in a minute. However, please be aware that we don’t have the technical capacity to make this available to you in the format you’re used to, and that any posts from the old system that had been subject to an encryption created by one of us are completely incompatible with the new one.

[A beat of silence.]

Related to that: while we’ve been trying, no one in the department has yet been able to create new encryptions that work on this network, and the built-in privacy function seems to be much stronger and more reliable than it was before. We can’t say that the privacy function will be reliable forever -- very likely, it will be broken in the future, which will compromise the security of anything you’ve done using it -- but it appears that it’s currently dependable. This also does not rule out the possibility that someone we’re not aware of has the ability to break it already.

If you’re able to create an encryption that the network will accept, or if you simply have skills in this area that you’d be willing to put to work, please let us know, and please consider joining the department. [He is now turning on the charm, such as it is, and sounds slightly wittier and less serious than he had earlier in his announcement.] We’re not short-staffed at the moment, but we wouldn’t want to let your talents go to waste.

Those of you who don’t have talents in this area should consider joining another department. Agriculture could certainly use your help, even if it’s only for a few hours a week.

[The lightness in his tone now vanishes.]

On an associated note, if you receive any anonymous messages in your inbox, particularly from someone calling themselves Lina, or attempting to strike up a conversation and fish for information, please let us know. The same goes for any situation in which your communication device otherwise behaves in an unexpected way, and if you can visit the Comms Hub with your communicator while any of these things are still ongoing, so much the better. We’re located near the Bridge.

We’re aware that it’s common to come from a place where this kind of network communication is unusual. If you need help learning how your device works, let us know. We also have several programs which can be added to it, and some people may be able to make music or game files available to you. Those were programmed for your communicators, not the network itself, so it appears that they’re still compatible.

Finally… [a hint of regret enters his voice]... as of the jump several days ago, Clara Oswald has left the ship.

If you have any further problems involving the network, please contact me or Bail Organa.

Thank you. Comms out.

--

[Filtered to Tyke | Private]

If we learn that someone onboard has falsified an anonymous conversation similar to the one I just mentioned on the network, particularly if they do so in the future, can Security consider a suitable punishment? I had to discuss the messages here, but doing it so publicly is likely to encourage pranksters. I'd really prefer that they didn't waste my time.

Likewise, we’re still looking into the matter of the virus. If it turns out that someone is responsible for it, I’d like them to be subject to brig time.

--

[OOC: Please note that even the most talented hackers won’t be able to get into posts marked private for at least three months, and new characters will probably need about that much time to get up to speed with this system after they come in! It will not be a smooth road, either: the new system has many built-in blocks and tricks, and some hacking attempts will even flag SEC.

The link within the post is to an open Comms log. Please have your character drop in if they're interested in being tutored in the ins and outs of smartphones, or if they want to ask a question, or if they want to bug someone who's trying to work.

The batch archive of posts from the old network is here! It covers everything prior to November 1, 2014, or a week before the 37th jump by TQ Reckoning. Notes related to technical aspects are on that post.]

[ katniss is slowly getting more comfortable with text. and so she decides to use the network for a quick answer to a question that's been bothering her. ]

Did anyone see Peeta Mellark at the jump?

Could someone go to his room and check on him?

[ you heard it here first, folks, katniss everdeen outsources manual labor. well, that or she's still worried he'll try to kill her. there's a reason she never gets assigned to patrol his former floor. ]

[ Charles has dimmed the lights in this corner of the science department, working by lamp light; he has his comms device angled against something so he doesn't have to hold it in address. He's seated at a work station, with a mug of some form of beverage just in view.

It's been a while since he's done this. ]

Hello. This is Professor Charles Xavier, of Xenogen.

[ A little different, from the last time he was here. Beardier. Those that know him more recently can mark the haircut. There is scattered grey amongst the dark. He speaks plainly, like a man who has long since accepted that everything he has to say about this place is ridiculous, so let's just get on with it, shall we. ]

Since the power outage and mural phenomena, there's been some changes on level three of the science department. Inexplicable ones. Equipment we've not seen before has appeared, along with shifts in space and work stations to accommodate new ones appearing out've

[ fucking ]

nowhere.

If anyone has experience with high tech lab equipment, I'd like some assistance in identification.

From what I can tell so far, I suspect we're looking at appliances that have much to do with genetics research, or-- [ he hesitates, as if unsure he wants to commit to deduction, but oh well ] --nanotechnology.

On that note, for experts in the latter thing, or anyone who holds some familiarity with it at all, I'd very much appreciate a conversation, if you're amenable. I'd like to get a better grasp on the topic.

[ One hand goes to take up his tea (it's probably tea), and the other goes to switch off the feed, with one parting word; ]

Cheers.

[ ooc ; for anyone taking him up on high level science talks, i fully anticipate some handwavium as needed, so come at me. ]

Color me curious. Since we're such a diverse group of people - how many of you are from "Earth"? I don't care what version of it, I don't care what time you're from. Considering that we're all supposed to be from different galaxies and times, why is it your wonderful planet that gets picked on?

Not that I'm minding, there are so many people from my own galaxy that I'd hate to see again (though, if there's an old man called Ben Kenobi or Obi Wan still hiding out here, I still want my money), it's just odd that it's that galaxy that gets all the fun.

Or, you know, tell me where you're from. How are you? What's Earth like? Something - it's just bugging me.

[He's a reasonable distance away when the video starts. Ichabod learns and remembers, and he knows he doesn't need to have his face so close to be seen.]

Good afternoon, Tranquility -- if it is truly afternoon. [That part muttered, because seriously, how can you tell.] Allow me to introduce myself, or re-introduce myself as it were. My name is Ichabod Crane. I was once a passenger on board this ship in the stars. My voyage was rather short, and I'd hoped that it would be the same this time. But that's no excuse to remain idle for however long my forced conscription may last. I recall there being a Security militia on board. I'm stating my intentions to rejoin it.

Thank you and good day - night. Oh, whatever.

[He reaches to end the video before thinking of something else that's been on his mind. Something that is, in truth, never far from it.]

As for a more personal query, I also recall there being witches here before. I wish to know more, especially if you're familiar with the name Katrina. Any news would be...most welcome.

[His voice softens at those last two words, the understatement that they are. Ichabod's jaw clenches briefly.]

It is more the truth that I would be eternally grateful.

[ jax is sat back against his headboard in just a t-shirt and a flannel, samcro symbol visible on the white cotton. he's lacking his customary cigarette, looks serious as he taps a thumb against the side of his comm. ]

I been meaning to bring this shit up, but that killer flu was going around. Kind of put a damper on group discussions, if you catch my drift.

[ killer flu. yeah, that's what to call last month's shitshow, right? ]

Anyway, anyone around here know a Lina? Homebody, uses text, asks some pretty pointed fucking questions? I'm betting I don't know half of the people kicking around this place, but shit. [ there's a pause, jax's gaze cutting to the side, jaw working as he tries to chose his words. ] She and I had a weird conversation a couple months back, figured it was about time I tried to follow up on that.

[ another pause, then a shrug, jax looking back at the lens. ]

I'm just saying, someone asks you to be their eyes and ears, it means something's up.

[ darkly, before he shakes his head. ]

And if anyone on this rig has cigarettes, lemme know your asking price.

[ JAX OUT ]

[ The video feed begins on a room bathed in Christmas lights. Or at least in lights that are red and green; certainly there's no holiday cheer of any sort involved. It's not the steadiest feed, but it moves slowly as it sweeps across the space. A flashlight beam follows it, illuminating large tanks full of fluid. The color is difficult to make out, brown beneath the color filters of the lights. ]

This is Kate Bishop and the search team. [ Her voice is recognizable despite its hoarseness, and she speaks at a normal volume, no whispering. There are other voices in the background, and shadows shift as other people (members of the team, one hopes) move around the space. ] We believe we've found the source of the stasis fluid. It's a room sealed to Medical access at the end of a long corridor of supply closets leading away from the Medbay toward the center of the ship. The doors we've checked have been marked with red paint and should lead the way. [ You know, just in case they for some reason don't make it back. You never know around here. ] You'll know them when you see them because every one Sirius checked is marked with a dick.

ANYWAY as you can see, there are tanks. That fluid is blue, it looks like stasis fluid, the light's just weird in here. You can't see from here but there are pipes that lead toward the Medbay. More importantly [ She moves forward here, toward a bank of control consoles, and the light follows and sweeps across them. She names them in turn. ] Oxygen Management, Gravcouch Management, Nanite Management. We can access the system but it won't let us make any changes. What we can do is take the tubes of nanite fluid physically out of the system, but when we started to do that we got a bunch of errors. I think if we take them out the couches just won't fill at all at the jump. So we need to have a plan if we're doing that. Maybe bringing shit here is a better idea? I don't know how things're going in Medical, you'll have to let us know asap.

Anywa-- what? [ Another voice in the background has the video wheeling as Kate turns, and there's a queasy moment of dipping and spinning before she gets it focused again. In the frame now is a small cannister of the sort used in the Science Department. It is sitting on the floor next to the console. It is uncapped. Someone's finger Hook's hook points at it. ] We just found this next to the Nanite Management station. We'll get it back for testing since it's pretty damn suspicious.

[When the feed opens, Taylor isn't in the SEC offices. She's in one of the holodecks, recognisable from the walls behind her.]

My name's Tyke, I'm head of Security here. Petrelli's already told you all how thin on the ground the departments are getting, so I won't repeat - you've got any combat or policing experience, you want in the Security department, contact me or Edgeworth for recruitment.

Thing is we're thin on the ground all the way. Thirty-three floors housing approximately two-hundred bodies. We're scattered. It makes us vulnerable. Blind spots for this place to use when it wants to fuck with us.

[Like randomly luring people out into the dark. That had been too easy, even with so many of the contacting other people.]

We're moving to consolidate population before the next jump. Bottom ten floors, more than enough room for everyone. Find an empty room, lock it to your nanites, it's yours. You need a hand moving your shit, my team'll help. This is gonna take the strain off Agriculture's supply runs, our security patrols, and let everyone look out for each other. It'll keep us stronger. Safer.

[She sounds determined, steady about it. This is what they need to do. Should have done months ago, when Jenna had first suggested it. Regrets on that aren't going to help, though, and she looks away, tips her head slightly.]

Meantime, figured some of us might wanna let out some frustrations. [There's a very faint smile in the corner of her mouth, and it fades quickly.] Fight club, Holodeck 3. Same rules as always: no weapons, hand-to-hand only, no abilities unless agreed upon by both fighters. Someone taps out or goes unconscious, fight is over. Spectators welcome.

[[ooc: accompanying mingle/fight log over here! ]]

[[ETA: and a spreadsheet for claiming a new room! You can't unclaim your original room and please be reasonable with how many you take!]]