So this is probably a really stupid question
but
What do dogs eat?
I mean
I know what they eat normally
it's just
Considering
our predicament
& limited resources.

Mammalia aren't exactly my area of expertise.

PS- I got a light to turn on. [ aka phase one of the grid: complete. ]

So, really weird Survivor-style place. When do we start voting people off the island?

Okay, okay. Seriously speaking, though. Any of you need some help with getting fires lit to cook and stuff, I'm your guy. [ He grins, evidently mischievous. Clearly, the whole new world thing hasn't dampened his spirits too much. ]

Ladies, any of you wanna have a warm body right there beside you during those really chilly nights? I'm definitely your guy. [ He snaps his fingers, a flicker of flame glowing bright at the tip before it dies out. ] Gotta tell you, I'm a great cuddler.

So since no one else is going to talk about it...

Let's do a vote. Show of hands. How many of you think we're all alone here? A whole planet of pretty woods, jut for us. And how many of you think that we can't be alone. Maybe there's some city out there. Too bad you can't leave the camp.

And how many of you think that we're, like, totally surrounded. I hear that's a thing. Because there's spears, and they're stealing from us. Blah, blah. Tell me something real. If there's someone out there? I'd like to get to them first. I'd like to think everyone would agree with me, but I'm sure I'd be wrong.

Actually, you know what I'd love? I'd love for them to come by and try to get at my stuff. Consider this an invitation.

[ The feed begins with a single tone, low, as if testing the audio capabilities of the devices. On the screen is an older man, white haired with bright blue eyes, standing in front of a deep blue banner emblazoned in gold with a circular symbol containing three five-pointed stars. Though his face now is solemn, there are laughter lines soft at corners of his eyes, the set of his mouth one clearly used to the curve of a smile. He only waits a moment before beginning to speak, voice level, carrying an assured authority, a confidence borne from experience. ]

Residents of the Tranquility, I greet you today after many, many years of waiting. My name is Hendrik van Rijn, Prime Minister of the Miraxian Triad, the people who built and launched the ship you've been trapped on. You may not have heard of me, but I have heard of you, and all the terrible events you've been forced to endure as a result of the unprecedented malfunction which took the Tranquility so far from her intended path. I offer you the deepest sympathies of my people, and myself. Mistakes have been made, and I give you every assurance that now, with your return to us, we will find the cause of this tragedy and set things right.

I know you may have heard promises before, and met with the unfortunate souls in our society who prefer to cheat and steal than offer a helping hand. I know you have no reason to trust me; if I'd been through as much as you have, I wouldn't trust me either. But we have someone else here to speak to you, and I hope hearing from her will help to show the truth of our intentions, and allow us to begin the forging of a strong partnership as we move into the future.

[ With a last look to the camera, he steps back, turning his attention to the side and holding out a hand to greet and guide the woman joining him to take center. The woman's face is one known to many aboard the ship. She's gracious as she steps into view, appearing to squeeze the man's hand before she lets go and takes her place.

Odessa Knutson. ]

Thank you, Prime Minister.

[ Her attention turns to the camera then, head tilting to one side as a wide smile spreads across her familiar features. She has a look of health to her. A better diet, some proper sunlight, and time will do that. ]

Hello, Tranquility. [ Spoken in the same way one might ask, did you miss me? ] It's been a long time. Too long. For all of us. [ That smile turns a little sad. They've been through some horrors, haven't they? Time and distance has allowed much of it to become a distant memory. ]

The time has come to stop running. When I left the ship, I didn't know what to expect. We received so many conflicting stories, didn't we? I expected all the worst ones to be true, but it was a risk I was willing to take. I'm sure many of you can understand why. Still, I was afraid that I would find monsters. That I would be thrown in a dark cell and never see the light of day again. Now, I don't say this often, but... [ Her hands spread out to her sides, palms up in a gesture that says just look at me. ] I was wrong. After my escape two years ago, Prime Minister van Rijn's people found me. They gave me food, clothing, shelter, a new life and a new purpose...

To find all of you, and help you to be rescued as I had been rescued. I know most of you aren't like me; I'm starting over here, and I'm happier than I've ever been, but many of you have lives you want to return to. [ The delight she has in sharing this good news seems genuine enough, especially (or even) to those who know her well. She clasps her hands in front of her, a light in her eyes. ] I've seen what the Miraxians have been working on myself. There's hope, so much hope.

Pack your bags, my friends. We're coming to take you home.

[[ OOC: van Rijn exited stage left once off camera, and responses will come from Odessa Knutson only. ]]

Tests conducted on blood samples taken from the prisoner quarters have identified DNA previously isolated in samples taken from gurneys in the labs.

[ No hello, no good evening, Tranquility. Erik delivers the news with flat affect, leaned lazily off center in his seat. He’s wearing a white lab coat, one eye masked blind behind a patch and the other set dead on the comms device. Speaking of blood, the fingerprints smudged into his lapel are a familiar shade of reddish brown, for those who’ve been on board long enough to ruin a shirt or two.

He doesn’t look happy to be here. These days he rarely looks happy to be anywhere. ]

[ And Charles is here too, his own comms device sat in front of him and transmitting nothing, fingertips occasionally tapping the screen in favour of shuffling around paper notes.

He also isn't happy to be here, but he combed his hair and everything. His lab coat is clean. ]

The gurneys, along with reinforced cages, appeared on level two of the science department several months ago. Relics, perhaps, of the genetics lab that came before. As for the samples themselves, they contained evidence of human and animal hybridisation.

The blood stains also possessed inactive nanites, which meant I wasn't able to identify them definitively using the nanite technology that's been made available. However, I took some micrographs, and compared them with micrographs taken previously, and they were visually identical to active nanites with programming functions like [ and you can hear the disdainful air quotes as he reads it off his device ] "manticore advancement" and "manticore adaptation".

The manticores were prisoners. They were moulded by Van Rijn’s scientists.

[ Erik is more concise. He seems to be having some trouble separating his teeth. ]

Naturally Eszter has been mum on the subject of interplanetary conquest.

More vocal on the topic of saving the human race as she knows it. [ Somehow, Charles' input doesn't really undermine what Erik just said. He elaborates; ] I believe that what went on in the science department was kept a secret -- the majority of the original crew had no idea what was happening. They believed the Tranquility was their salvation and hope. I was able to get-- this impression from Charlotte Danaiu. What she knows is rather limited, but what she has access to knowing is. Greater.

[ This isn't Charles' favourite part, because it feels beyond his usual abstraction. He manages not to glance at Erik. ]

The presence I've talked about taking root in the ship, that has access to our minds, that has abilities we've begun to tap into-- upon talking to Charlotte, and reading her mind, I received the impression that it came here on account of the manticore experiments. I don't know how, or what it wanted, and I also know that no one on the ship intended it to happen, but-- it's what I think Resnik meant, when she talked about retribution for their sins. Something about what they were doing brought it about.

[ And he finishes there, not so eloquently, but unsure how to talk about it much further. ]

We’ve decided to call it Moira.

[ Also eloquent. Erik picks up again before Charles can interrupt with more than just a 'seriously?' side along glance: ]

We’ve consolidated what we know about it and the humans we’ve encountered from this universe into a table anyone can update. I’m attaching a link to the file to this transmission.

The aim is transparency and education. We should all be on the same page.

[ He leans forward to disengage the device, filling the frame. ]

Thank you.

[ OOC: Erik is maroon, dark green is Charles. FILE LINK - this is an IC document, feel free to contribute with IC knowledge and experiences. Characters need not feel obligated to identify themselves when making entries. ]

[ Kate is framed from shoulders up, in a black tank and ponytail. Over her shoulder some might recognize a shuttle bay. She looks annoyed, mouth set in a thin line, dark brows angled inwards. The camera is panned so she is out of frame and instead there are rows of half-built spacecraft, smaller than the shuttles in the main bay. She talks from off-screen. ]

These are fighter craft. Attack ships. We haven't got a single one finished yet, which is kind of a problem since in case you missed it or somehow forgot, Van Rijn knows where we are now and is sending more ships after us. These need to get built, and people need to learn to fly them. And the ship's guns need repairing.

[ She turns the camera around again, still annoyed but trying very hard to be serious and persuasive and not just irritable/irritating. There's a smudge of grease on her bicep and she swipes at it with her free hand but only makes it worse. ]

I don't know shit about engineering or mechanics, I could barely put the chain back on my own bicycle before I got here. But I am pitching in and trying to learn because if we don't get this stuff done we are dead in the water. Okay? This shit is important. It is the most important, right now. So even if you're in another department already, you should be here helping with this, and if you're not in a department you should absolutely be helping with this. Also, who the hell doesn't want to learn to fly a spaceship or shoot giant spacecannons? So go sign up already and do your part, or I want to know why you aren't.

And I know people love polls, so we'll end with a poll. Are you not helping out because you're:

A) confused
B) lazy
C) hoping we all die
or
D) all of the above?

If it's A then read the things I've linked below and sign up, or ask me whatever and then sign up. I know being new sucks and is confusing and I'm happy to help but it's your asses we're trying to protect here too, so you should still be pitching in. If it's B, C, or D, still read the things below and sign up. No excuses. Everyone just please get on this, okay?


Att: volunteer sign-ups
Att: gunnery sign-ups

[ Charles Xavier has managed to time this video for a moment when he isn't bleeding from the face, but his face is quite white, like maybe he has been not so long ago. When he speaks, his tone is level and informative-- but in most other ways, a certain amount of anxiety radiates off of him.

One of his eyes has blood blotting over white at the corner from burst blood vessel. ]

I wanted to share something I found when I was asked to examine Felix Laurens. Some of you know I have psychic abilities and-- well, now all of you do. [ Ha. Ahh. Anyway. ] I sought to find out what-- prevented him from speaking directly, or caused him to behave in strange ways, and a little about how he came to be here at all. Last we knew, he was dead.

What I found was a second presence, buried deep in his mind. His consciousness was separated from it by a sort of psychic, membranous barrier, which I don’t know the nature of. In my haste, I broke through the barrier so I could understand what it was, and-- initially, it was just. Sounds. Memories. Thousands of them, and I wasn't able to make any sense of it. But there was something else, too, something intelligent and aware that seemed to see me, like a single searching eye, and tried to-- do something. Pull me in, is what it felt like, to all that noise. Felix helped break off the connection before that could happen, and I experienced symptoms not unlike the ones we're experiencing now.

[ Charles hesitates. Taps his fingers against the desk. Continues, to the point. ]

It's in everyone. Everyone's mind.

This barrier is, anyway. It reads to me as being "thinner" [ you can hear the quotation marks in his tone ] for those who have been here longer, and "thinner" for those that attended Shepard's recon mission a while back. I haven't looked beneath it since I observed it in Laurens, but only because I fear that I'd find the same thing.

It's also-- I believe-- causing the rolling side effects we're all experiencing now, or has something to do with them. I've observed that there is a resistance happening, a ripping, like the barrier is trying to detach from our minds, and then when we seek physical contact and the symptoms abate, the barrier strengthens. Perhaps it isn't a barrier at all, but a--

[ He stops. He hadn't want to ramble and speculate. ]

Study is ongoing, anyway, about what it means for us, what it does to us. I'll put up my own findings in the archival timeline, and keep it up to date. If-- if anyone like me is looking to confirm this phenomenon, I can't stress enough that it's important you go carefully. It will overpower you, given the chance.

[ Grim public service announcement executed, he tries to consider how to sign off. ]

For those that are newer, my name is Professor Xavier, with Xenogen. Sorry about all that.

[ Aaand cut. ]

[ the comm is propped up, resting on the edge of the workstation. jax and firo are in the frame, jax leaning forward on his elbows, gaze focused on the screen in front of him rather than the comm itself. ]

Hey, everyone listen up. We got a reading on some incoming shit.

[Firo shakes his head, biting his lip.]Really fuckin’ weird shit.

And, yes, that is the technical term. [ She’s hanging back, just barely off frame, one eye still on the sensors. She looks casual, for what you can see of her, but her tone is pretty serious. ] Something pinged the arrays a few minutes ago and then vanished, likely when they hit the deadzone.

This is a heads up to everyone, though I’m betting SEC is gonna want to take point on this.

It ain’t all that big. There’s people on it--er, well, live things. 14 by our count, so not, like, an army or anything, but still enough to cause trouble.

No weapons were detected, but-- [ She leans into frame, smirking just a little. ] --I think we all know that people don’t need weaponry to be dangerous on this ship. Anything else, we don’t know yet.

Keep your eyes open.

[ ooc: natasha is red, firo is blue and jax is green! answers will be coming from the three of them and any other members of gunnery around!! ]

 
Anybody here ever go to college?

[That's a random question, yo. Marty is actually busy with his engineering gig right now, checking on the systems and making sure everything isn't five seconds away from going topsy-turvy on his ass — one of the great perks about being in this department, but hey, it's a small crew and shit's gotta be done. He's pretty hopeful to go work on his potato farm through, after leaving it hanging for so long.]

I don't know, man, I kinda' really miss it. College was the best years of my life, probably? If there was anything to leave a high note on, it was my last few years back in school; sure, before that I was a mostly-freak and stuff, and maybe the class clown in high school, but once you go to college, you sort of realize everyone is crazy. Or tolerates crazy. To a suspicious level. Maybe college does something to the brain. Melts it out of your ears. Or maybe the liquor is doing all the brain melting.

Anyway... nostalgic, I guess. All work and no talking makes Mr. Mikalski a dull bro. 

You guys the party type back then? Or were you the ones who actually studied in your rooms and ignored the wild rumpus beginning outside?

......

On second thought, I think there's a ton of high school kids here.

Sorry about spending your school life stuck on a big spooky ship, by the way. I'll give you snacks as apology.

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.

I work now!! I'm a worker like a, a adult, just like you guys! See??

[He pulls up his sleeve to show you guys his wicked awesome addition to his tattoo.

SCI » 039 » 055

Clearly someone has been telling him things to keep him motivated and busy. Heather.]

I work in the garden now! Heder says I'm gonna be a... morale officer!! I talk to everyone and make sure they're happy when they work and they're not sad, and if they are I can try t'make them feel better. So if you work there and you feel bad, just talk to me, and I'll help you! And if you get tired, I'll do your job, 'cus I don't get tired very easy. I'm a good worker.

...

A-and if you wanna talk but you don't grow plants and stuff, that's okay. 

I like talking with everybody.

[That's why he's even posting, okay, he just wants to blabber at all of you.

He spares no one from his talkative fate.]

I have been thinking.

[Eponine avoids looking into the camera, favoring, instead, to look beyond it.]

After the events of the previous jump... For those of us who are dead where we come from. Here, are we... undead? For we have come back to life here.

If so, why are we different from the zombie dudes? I wore rags, too, once, and was nothing more than flesh and bones. [She's gained weight here, becoming healthier, from her gaunt looks before.]

Yet I breathe.

[ Natasha’s face on the screen is blank and unreadable, but for those that know her, she’s probably very unamused. She doesn't like it when questions aren't answered, and even less so when she’s actively told not to ask. It just makes her want to ask more.

But this line isn't secure, and Natasha knows better than to push her luck this early on. Thinking of this like a mission is the easiest way to deal with it. ] Hi. Natasha Romanoff. Some of you have apparently already met me, even though I don't remember it. I've heard a rumor that SHIELD agents are here, so if you could check in with me, I'd appreciate it.

[ As for work, she'll deal with that later. Right now, she has to get settled and get information from people who might actually give it to her. She considers a moment, and then tilts the corner of her mouth up into a tiny smile. ]

Also, I'm into collecting fossils, so if anyone's seen Captain Steve Rogers around, let me know.

[ hello tranquility, it’s thomas on your screen. he’s sitting on what looks like the floor, his back up against the bed. there’s faint sounds of movement, someone shoving things around, but thomas doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to it. ]

I had some--we have some questions. No one has to answer on here, but I thought it’d be fastest if I just..asked. [ he looks up, over the camera at the other occupants of the room, maybe for prompting, or for permission, before he keeps speaking. ] I wanted to ask about two jumps back, the jump where people weren’t waking up. I didn’t wake up. [ there’s a pause, thomas rubbing his fingers along the edge of the lens restlessly as he picks his words. ] I had some other questions too. About the jump. How it works, when get in the pods in the first place, if anyone knows anything about it.

[ thomas leaves the statement hanging for a minute before taking a breath and plowing on. before he can get anything out, he’s interrupted when an off-screen voice finally speaks up, a little muffled by the distance.]

And what the shuck is up with that blue klunk? Why we gotta wake up standing?

[ (you can almost hear newt rolling his eyes from where he’s not visible--his very distinct voice pops up in the background. ] No one’s gonna know that, Min. [ the questions minho's asking aren’t important, more grievances than anything. minho isn’t enjoying his first months. when thomas gives him A Look he sighs but stays quiet.

thomas is obviously trying to show some restraint, not rush out every word, but the next bit comes out in a rush in spite of his best efforts. he's clearly decided to plow onwards before he can be interrupted again. ]

And I need to know if W.I.C.K.E.D. means anything to any of you. If anyone's ever heard of it before.

Don’t forget about the supplies, Tommy. [ newt appears in the frame then, way too close to it before he backs up to sit on the bed next to thomas. he's still a little banged up from his and minho’s adventure with the “grievers” before the jump, and holds up a finger in the feed. ] Back home, even before we knew the name proper, WICKED used to put their name on all of our supplies from the Box. Boxes of food, clothes, stuff for the Glade--all kinds of klunk. If this place really has them involved, they’re gonna have somethin’ like that to show for it, yeah?

If it has them involved. [ tommy says, more to newt and minho than to the audience at large. ] If anyone here has seen anything like that.

[finally the last of the mighty gladers comes into the shot as minho sits down in front of newt on the floor, back resting against his shins.] Or if you’ve got ideas about the people keeping us here. WICKED didn’t make it easy to find out much about them the first time. Could be upping their game, making us think we’re all safe. No reason to label things when we’ve met our Creators.

[ there’s a pause, thomas looking at newt before back into the lens. thomas hasn’t met anyone. not yet. he’s a step behind, but he’s not going to let that deter him. newt meets his gaze with eyebrows raised, saying something without a word, and reaches down to pat the top of minho’s head where they’re sitting. good plan, min. ]

We’re in room 008.009. If you wanna come talk to us in person.

[ thomas finishes, before disconnecting his advice. ]

( ooc: black is thomas, blue is newt, and red is minho )

[ 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. ]