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[Once again, the Shuffle day comes and goes without a word from your chatty hosts... And once again, a day late, all ships suddenly receive a broadcast signal that plays out of every speaker in the Fleet. Even ships that are completely powered down receive the transmission--though it's not coming in very clearly.

There's a lot of static, no cheery jingle. Crackly, distant music comes through in pieces, along with a man's crooning voice, humming and singing an old song. Eventually, he can be recognized as Beau. There's a woman too, Diamond--who sounds wearily amused. It's nothing like the chipper voice that passengers are used to. These aren't voices for the radio; like the last broadcast, these voices aren't meant to be sent to the public.]

Happy birthday, baby... ♫

[Diamond, hard to hear:]

Oh you... Must we do this every time? It gets old, you know...

[More singing:] I dont even know your name... ♪♫ [A weak laugh.] --Very funny.

Though you never met... ♪ [A loud crackle eats the other sounds for a moment. When it dies down, a cold, robotic voice can be heard saying something, but it's far away...]

--Why is that light on? I think it's syncing up...

Oh. [Beau, for a moment, sounds more professional.] Get ready darlin', here it comes.

BROADCASTING ÌN͞ ̸͝T̢E̴̡͜N̕̕.̵̢̀<..

[The countdown, which was so clear last time, is almost immediately overwhelmed with sharp, screeching interference. The signal drops again, leaving every ship in silence.

...Guess they haven't made much progress on fixing whatever's going wrong, huh?]

(ooc: Atroma won't respond, but you're welcome to thread out reactions and discussion here anyway. Just another wacky day in space, right...?)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Shawn's wincing just as bad - and he might've almost dropped the screwdriver in his other hand.]

No idea. If they're trying to connect to us, they're doing worse than we are. And here I thought our ships were in pretty bad shape.

Bad shape or not, that was just creepy. [A scowl's in place now, wince all but gone.]

You're telling me. [slight shudder] For our sake, I hope this is still a reality show and not some weird sci-fi slasher.

Who's to say it's not both? [Octavia's not even teasing. But she doesn't seem to unnerved by the suggestion.]

Because you can't drag out a slasher. To make it convincing, you've got maybe an hour and a half to kill off everyone and reveal your true culprit - but with a TV show, you've got weeks and weeks. The mediums are totally different.

[He frowns, slightly.] Plus, if someone was murdering people, we would've heard about it by now.

Or you could remember we're stuck in a space fleet that yanks people from all over god knows where. I don't think they really give a crap about convincing whatever.

[She has no argument for the last thing, however. Not that she wants one.] Hopefully, at least.

Nah. Even the best TV show knows where to draw the line. You can only suspend people's disbelief so far, and if you keep stretching it and stretching it... [He mimics a rubber band snapping.] You lose your audience.

If the static thing were related to the speaker system, I'd take a look for you, but I think that was all Atroma.

No one ever said this was a good tv show. [Someone's still bitter over the whole thing.]

Was that supposed to be comforting or something, because I really can't tell.

[He laughs, though he tries hard to muffle it.] Can't argue with that logic.

Comforting, I promise. I may not know much about sound systems, but I do know a bad one when I hear it.

I'd've bet you hit your head if you tried. [A slightly wolfish smile appears at the comment.]

Yeah, I don't really give a crap if it was us or them. Something still smells funky.

Oh, probably. [There's no point in denying it, he knows.]

We did get thrown into a nebula right before we reached this planet. [Not that he personally witnessed it; he was on the Marsiva at the time.] I'm starting to think that whoever attacked us probably wasn't on Atroma's side.

That's news to me. But honestly, I can't imagine many things being on Atroma's side.

It's why the ships're glitching up, and I think some people's augments. Like, the power flickers on and off way too often here.

[And right on cue, there's another flicker. He'd groan at his timing if it weren't so convenient.] But yeah, I'm not sure who'd want to support them. We didn't exactly volunteer for this gig.

Right... [She makes a displeased face. Seriously?] That's wonderful. Really.

[Octavia rolls her eyes at that. Come on now.] Ugh, okay, point taken. Someone likely has to, right? Even in space this stuff would cost money.

[Not that she really worried about that at home.]

You're telling me. I can't get good shots when the power's like this.[He's teasing, kind of, but the flickering power doesn't make his job easy.]

I've got a feeling it's multiple someones. Automatic food dispensers seem like they'd cost a lot.

[He wrinkles his nose.] Oh, uh, I'm Shawn, by the way. I'm an engineer, but I'm still kinda learning the ropes as I go along.

A shot of what? [Photography terms are lost on her. She's thinking firearms.]

They're not that impressive. Trust me. [She tilts her head a bit, a slim smile visible.]

Octavia, security on the Wonderduck.

People? Scenery? Whatever I can take a picture of. [He reaches for his camera and holds it up.] I'm a photographer back home. And I guess an amateur one here.

Good to meet you, Octavia-- wait, the Wonderduck? Who names our ships?

[Asking the important questions, as always.]

[There's a long pause before she lets out a short, somewhat sheepish laugh.] Not exactly what I was thinking of, but this makes more sense.

[A snort.] No idea. Probably the same morons who can't fix their broadcast system.

[Headtilt.] Yeah? What were you thinking of?

[Of course. He scrunches up his face at the thought.] I thought my ship name was bad. We're the Golden, but it's like the Golden what? The Golden Duck?

Guns, I guess. It's hard to tell with people here. [It's not entirely a lie.]

It still beats the Wonderduck. I can't even say the name seriously. It's that bad.

[Now there's a scary thought, him and a gun in the same sentence. Shawn's gonna pretend that he's not staring at her like she's grown a third head...]

Uh... fair enough. Think we could ever petition for a name change?

[Octavia can't help but scowl at him now. Forget the ship names for a moment.]

What's with that look?

Nothing.

[But that's not the answer either of them's really looking for, so he shakes his head.] I mean - you're security, so it makes sense, but I'm not much of a fighter.

[She pauses, ~~checking him out~~ looking him and down-- or what she can from the feed.]

How old are you?

Seventeen. ["Almost eighteen," he wants to add, but that seems a bit unnecessary.] I uh, I just graduated high school.

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