MarinaNova Asylum

[ deanna's all set up in her new office today, settling in nicely, and as it seems to be a newbie day, she's decided to officially offer her services. so when she appears on the communicators, her smile is warm and gentle. ]

It seems a lot of new faces are appearing today. My name is Deanna Troi, for those I have not yet met. I'm a counselor and despite having held sessions previously in one of the lovely parks in the dome, I have recently been allowed an office of my own to use. I am trained as a therapist and have been practicing for several years. If anyone would like to speak with me about anything, I would be happy to assist. My expertise lies in helping people understand emotions and deal with what is happening in their lives. I believe that can extend here, as well.

If anyone has any questions, my office is located in Sector 2. Any sessions I have are strictly confidential. I do take pre-assigned time slots, as well as walk-ins. Whichever would be most comfortable for you. If you'd simply like to talk to me about nothing in particular, I would be happy to do that as well.

[ she can be found in her office or later on in the day wandering around sector 2 to get her bearings again. she still feels as though she's learning a lot, but it's sometimes nice to just walk around. at some point in the day, though, she'll be wandering around the trekpartment to find her husband, as she wants to talk to him again. life in the prison is beginning to get to her. ]

[ action ]

It's been a full week since Helen realized Jean-Luc was gone, a full seven days since Ashley's birthday. At times, it's felt as though much more time has passed; at others, it feels like only yesterday and her heart breaks all over again. She's been keeping to herself more than usual. Even after she returned to work at the clinic and with the language classes, she was still having a difficult time wrapping her head around everything.

And then someone had mentioned the Memorial Gardens. It had seemed like such a simple thing, but now Helen isn't so certain it's as simple as she thought. Perhaps this is what she's needed.

Most of Day 266 can find her choosing flowers, specifically certain colored roses. These aren't to plant, more for show. For her. The flowers she chooses to plant in the garden are simple, tulips, daffodils, easy things that are very pretty and possibly easy enough to care for should she choose to return every so often. With three bulbs in hand and several roses, she takes to the earth. Once each of the bulbs is set into its spot, she places the roses over the spots where she has just planted new life. Three white roses for each of her special people, three yellow, one orange for Ashley, one pink for James, and one red for Jean-Luc. One of each color remains in her possession, as a reminder to herself of the people she's loved and lost.

After a few minutes of simply sitting there, one of those scattered showers does appear. It isn't much rain, but it's enough that she takes advantage of it. Holding the roses in her hands, she brings them to her nose to smell, allowing the sound of the rain falling to mask her tears as she finally truly weeps for three people: Ashley, her daughter, who was taken from her much too soon; James, her best friend and former lover, who had always challenged her to be the best she could be; and Jean-Luc, her lost love, whom she misses now more than she'd ever thought she could again.

[ video ]

[ later, once she's back at her apartment and a little more dry, she decides to address the network. she might not be dripping wet anymore, but she still bears the signs of having just been playing in the rain. what's noticeable this time is that the old glint of determination and confidence is back in her eyes and her voice is strong. you guys all missed the old helen. ]

I seem to have run across one of those scattered showers we were projected to have. This seems as good a time as any to remind everyone that the clinic is here for your use. I have also recently begun an Earth language studies course in conjunction with the Academy here. If anyone is interested, I am most certainly willing to offer what I know. In fact, today is one of the days I will be teaching, so please stop by the classroom if you're interested.

[ ooc: she can be encountered in action at any point in her endeavor, even while she's sitting in the rain or for the language class, or with responses to her network address. ]

[Video | Encrypted to Defense Force members only]

This fluff thing is going from ridiculous to problematic and veering toward dangerous. They're in virtually every area of the prison now, even inside most buildings. Food supplies are starting to run low and the information we have indicates that they'll just keep reproducing at this rate left unchecked.

There's been a suggestion to eliminate them. Let's call that plan G. Now we just need plans A - F.

Knowing this place I expect the wardens to have it wrapped up by morning, but I don't want to leave it all in their caring hands. We need people on patrol making sure no one is actually buried under them and we need people collecting and protecting remaining food stocks not just for the team but so we can be prepared to distribute it to everyone if it comes to that. I think pushing them into sector 6 could be an option for us. [Of course they will likely get killed in there, but it is less direct.] But I want to hear more options. Get creative. Get chatty.

We need to do what we need to do, but don't forget these are designated as pets and harming them comes with a price tag since that's one of the rules around here.

One more thing. When we have the man power to dedicate to it I want the investigative team checking into souls and restoring them. [Yes, she really just said that.]


[Action | Open]

[She has been and will be out and about trying to assess and deal with the problem. She can also be found at headquarters.]

[ the feed opens to show seven of nine standing inside her alcove, the borg technology a stark contrast against the white walls of the room it's been placed in. her eyes are closed and she's unmoving, standing perfectly still on the platform as if a switch has been flipped and she's been left dormant, offline.

for a few minutes, the feed remains static and unchanged, but then a computerized voice sounds— ] EIGHTEEN HUNDRED HOURS. REGENERATION CYCLE COMPLETE.

[ seven's eyes snap open and she steps off the platform, recharged, fully alert, and suddenly very aware of the headset she left on the console, its screen bright and obviously recording. ]

This per▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░ing troublesome.

[ It's now or never and although he was hoping that some time would push that towards now rather than never, Reid really doesn't feel like he's ready. He feels raw and exhausted and although he's pushed himself to go out and get some clothes that aren't borrowed from Karev's closet, he's so not in a place where public announcements are possible.

But he has to. Now or never. Movements dull, he reaches for the communicator. ]

...░m back. [ A stretch of static-y silence. ] I'm so░▒y.

[Julian groaned as he woke up--he felt like he'd slept for hours, but he was lying on something much harder than even the station's Cardassian beds, and it made his neck and shoulders ache terribly. He stretched his neck, then opened his eyes--and was immediately on high alert when the unmistakable fact that he was somewhere that was most definitely not Deep Space 9--not even the holosuite--hit him.

And then the device over his ear and half his face began to play its welcoming message, and he was immediately even more incredulous and angry. To be accused of such crimes and sentenced without due trial--when he'd just avoided being unceremoniously bounced out of Starfleet...

Julian had just escaped a prison that he'd been abducted to in the quiet of night, and now here he was again--without even the dignity of his uniform, instead a bright orange thing that even his fashion sense was affronted by.

There were other people here, he could see them going about their lives, hear their voices over the communicator looped over his ear. Well, time to get the introductions over with.]

Normally, I'd expect to be at least given the basic right of due process and trial by a jury of peers--in which I am proven guilty of whatever crimes I am accused of--before being thrown into a prison indefinitely.

[Not to mention he's fairly sure whoever and whatever power is holding him here doesn't have jurisdiction over him.]

I am Lieutenant Julian Bashir, Chief Medical Officer of Deep Space 9. I'd appreciate any further information anyone can give--and if there are any Starfleet officers present, I would appreciate hearing from you.

[ It is a gorgeous day down here at the bottom of the sea and what better day to have an Olympics! The obstacle course is set up, the towels are fluffed, the medals have been polished to a high sheen and every orange within sight has been sliced.

Okay. Maybe not every orange. A lot of them. Enough to fuel a whole prison full of athletes, so athlete away! We can't waste all these oranges! ]


((ooc: Event information can be found here! There will be no individual threads for the separate events, but you are encouraged and welcome to detail in your headers or starter tags what your characters are up to! ))

It's a beautiful morning. Good morning, to old friends and to new. One more day will complete our first week here, Deanna and I. A lot seems to have happened in that short time; losses that some of us have felt very strongly, and we've made new friends, people that I hope to get to know better in the coming weeks.

I'd very much like to use this opportunity to meet more of the inmates here, and perhaps to speak more frankly with some of you those that I've already met, now that I've had the opportunity to get a better understanding of my surroundings. If anyone would like to speak in person, or join me on the ice, I'll be spending the next few hours at the ice rink in Sector 3. From what I hear the sparkly costumes are obligatory. [ There's a distinct sparkle to Riker's eyes as he speaks. ]


( Private to Helen Magnus )

( Private to Deanna )

( Private to Seven )

( Action )

[ helen's day begins early. she couldn't sleep, knowing the day that has been creeping up on her. it isn't december 8th by the prison's standards, but by the calendar she's been keeping based on the day it had been in her world when she arrived, it's now december 8th, her daughter's birthday. she's been dreading this day, dreading the memories and heartache that will surely overwhelm her. she'd been intending to spend this day with jean-luc, but after not seeing him for a few days and being unable to even contact him, she has to face the truth: he's gone. she knows she could ask one of his crew, but she's hardly prepared to face them, not even data or seven. instead, she heads for james' apartment, but there's a nasty surprise waiting for her. normally, this would be the time she would bury herself in her work and she fully intends to do that. but the clinic isn't the place for it; the last thing she wants is for any of them to see how terribly she's taking this.

she does, however, leave a voice message for others, her tone controlled but with an underlying hint of the painful emotion she's experiencing today. ]

For those who knew him, Dr. James Watson has left.

[ at the clinic, she only stays for a few moments, long enough to drop an early-morning note on her desk for martha and her other volunteers saying that she's taken some paperwork with her but she won't be in for the next day or so. it's unusual, she knows, but she can't face anything at the moment. not today and perhaps not tomorrow.

she takes a few moments at the library, mostly to get a few scientific books that'll keep her occupied for a few days, and after both of those errands have been run, she heads back to the apartment she's claimed. she really needs a pet here, one that won't disappear on her.

later in the day, she can be found at the pet cafe and she'll be there for a few hours before she returns to the apartment once again. she's not likely to be social and might even be far more snappy than people are accustomed to from her, but she does actually need the company. for a time, she considers asking rose to keep her company, but thinks better of it. rose is yet another friend she might lose.

she can be found in any of these locations or anywhere in between. ]

[Audio | Encrypted to Defense Force]

[How often does she use audio instead of video?]

I want to make some changes to our structure, but this is up for discussion and input so don't go carving anything into stone yet.

We're having trouble balancing some of the combat teams with members leaving and the prison isn't exactly tiny, but it's not giant and sprawling either, so I think we should consolidate into two regular teams and a specialty, auxiliary team for sector 6 investigations.

I want to combine sectors 0, 1, 2 and 3 under Jack. And sectors 4, 5, and 6 under me. Then Jack and I both need to choose one or two members to keep trained and up to speed on everything. [In case we disappear.]

We'll work out who can also be part of the sector 6 team later once we get the kinks worked out of this. [Not a top priority.]

Deanna and M'gann I want to talk to both of you about the interview team. [Since she's suddenly alone there.]

We also need more volunteers on dispatch until we can get it restaffed.

[She clears her throat. She can get through the rest of this. One word in front of the other until she gets there.] I also want to make Data the head of the investigation team [the pause isn't long, but it is meaningful] since Dr. Spencer Reid is lost in the stabilizer.


[Audio/Action | Open]

Reid is gone. Keep your condolences. [This has been a courtesy call from his grieving girlfriend, and that's all you get. You might see her out working though. Keeping busy might be her friend right now. DF headquarters, training hall, library, educational facility, and yeah, the Devil's Compass.]


(OOC: Like she said, this isn't in stone yet, so keep your eyes on the Defense Force sections of the upcoming Sunday Speakeasys for more details! Join the DF here. Current roster. Notes on Reid's disappearance)

Resistance is futile. Fu-tile. There is— There is something terribly presumptuous about the futility of resistance, when many species have proven themselves to be remarkably resilient. It's often that ability to resist that deems them worthy of interest, of assimilation; what makes them exceptional drones once they have been assimilated into the Collective. Thus, it is the very futility of resistance itself which makes the resistance futile.

Order brought to the chaos that rebelled against the order. That resisted it.

Resistance isn't futile at all. It's vital. Resistance— Resistance is vital.

[ someone made their way through the wine through the ages exhibit and sampled the available vintages. someone who literally has zero tolerance for synthehol alcohol. it didn't take much to push her to the point of intoxication and speeches misdirected at the network. ]

[ When Riker appears at last he's circled back round to Sector 2, framed against the hedge maze. There's no distractions, and his introduction is absent of distractions too. At least at first. ]

Good evening. I hope it's not too late in the day to introduce myself, but I didn't wish for anyone to be surprised to spot me around the place. My name is William Riker, and I just arrived with the latest group of people. It's nice to meet all of you, if unfortunate considering the circumstances. I appreciate the kindness that has been shown to me since my arrival.

I understand some-- [ And suddenly Riker stops, looking up. It's started to rain, and he wipes a single raindrop off his nose. ] I'd better wrap this up. I'd like to speak to some friends of mine, whom I'm reliably informed have been here for a while. Maybe after I get in out of the rain, if that's perfectly alright.

Deanna, I hope you're in somewhere dry.

[ you. what are you doing here? ]

Hiding, like you. [ except— wait. no. this isn't right. this was familiar, almost tangible as if it were a collection of memory engrams locked away behind a series of unbreakable, undetectable algorithms that had begun to break free of their restraints. she knew this place, but it wasn't right. this— was not right at all. she didn't belong here. it wasn't her fault. that which she stood accused of wasn't her fault. an individual should not have to answer for the collective's wrongdoings.

she went away, like some do — she understood that much. or maybe she was still on the equinox. perhaps she was hallucinating. firm, unwavering in her stance, she'd been willing to perish instead of becoming what ransom and his crew had become. she wanted no part in any of it. she resisted. but he was trying to force her hand, made the doctor—

standing up, only dimly aware of the headset, of the feed, seven draws her hand across her temple and the metallic, ocular implant that's a stark contrast against pale skin and loose, bright blonde hair. she's intact, and an awkward, uncharacteristic clearing of her throat tells her that her auditory processor is operating under normal parameters. her voice is her own, controlled by her own will and not that of a hologram devoid of ethical subroutines.

only then, when she's certain that speaking will produce words and not song, does she address the dome directly. ]

My designation is Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix 01. I will not comply.

A long time had passed since Deanna had felt the distinct lack of her empathic powers. She had only felt this sort of emptiness once in her life before today and it was no better now than it had been then. Last time, she had thought she would forever be without them and felt as though she had lost a limb, but she was hopeful that this time she could figure out what had caused her to lose them in an effort to get them back. At least she had experience in dealing with this feeling. Not that this would help her much, but it was a start. It was better than nothing.

Unsure where she was or how she had gotten here, and feeling as lost and alone as she had ever felt in her life, Deanna wandered around the area. She passed what looked like a park of some sort, a library, and something that looked like a residential building. That seemed a little more permanent than she had been hoping for. She'd listened to the welcome message, but it definitely hadn't seemed like something the Federation would condone, which meant that she had been kidnapped somehow. That wasn't a good thing for many reasons and she didn't like to think of what Captain Picard might do when he found out, let alone Will Riker. It was inevitable that one of them would and she doubted either would take it well.

Still, being here was an opportunity to learn about a new location and Deanna intended to do as much information-gathering as she could despite the situation she had recently been exposed to and the one she was in now. What she really needed was a way to contact Starfleet, if not Captain Picard himself. She had found something that seemed like a communicator, but without having someone she trusted verify it, she was hesitant to use it. Whatever the case, she much preferred to make contact on her own terms and that included being in possession of her empathic abilities. So for now she kept searching the area. It wouldn't do her any good to stay in one place.




[ ooc: deanna can be found anywhere in the dome today, but she starts out in sector 2. ]

[ Option One ]

First thing in the morning, Jean-Luc stops by the Defense Force headquarters to check in. He makes a habit of this every other day or so, just to see if he's needed in any manner but his usual patrol duties. So he can be found here with a fresh cup of steaming tea. He probably won't remain for long though, so catch him while you can if you need him.


[ Option Two ]

As often as he frequents the library, he should probably set up residence there. A home away from home, sort of thing. But nevertheless, he is at the library again. He's perusing the bookshelves, for the rare novelty of a book from another world that Earth. He frequently finds them in this place, as the prison does pull people in from everywhere. And this is his own personal way to continue his exploration of the Universe. Books, after all, are one of the most obvious founts of knowledge. And we know what people say of idle minds...


[ Closed to Helen Magnus ]

Jean-Luc has packed a dinner for both himself and Helen. He had sent her a message to meet at the stables later in the afternoon. He's in the stables, saddling up two horses, one for himself and one for Helen. A bag settles on the ground at his feet. He's in full riding attire. But yes, he has accepted that this meeting of theirs is an actual date. And he's okay with that.

Rise and shine or look grumpy as usual. Whatever suits you I suppose.

Today we are celebrating Day 253 of the first generation. We'll commemorate the day with nothing in particular. Please try to contain your excitement. If you find yourselves in need of entertainment, I will remind you of our many parks, the arcade, bowling alley, movie theatre, horse stables, spa, and hot springs. Just consult your maps.

(OOC: Kiosk requests will be handled by Veridical unless otherwise requested! Mail submissions go here)

[ It's with an eager curiosity that Data arrives - which is true in general, much of the time, but particularly in response to this summoning to meet with Doctor Reid and Rebecca Crane.

The theory is an intriguing one, particularly challenging to test, and dealing with technology that is potentially similar to that with which he has experience. True to his word, he has not spoken of it to anyone - it is not his theory to share, and his volunteering to assist upon Reid's sharing it with him was purely motivated by a genuine desire to help. Certainly, until there is something more to report, there is no apparent value to making it more widely known.

So he arrives as requested, dutiful and ready to assist. ]


[ooc: Hey guys... super basic just to give us a post on which to thread this, so I hope it works? Let me know if I should change anything and I will fix it posthaste! And very sorry for delays, this was clearly much earlier in the day. ♥ ]

[ Today is a day where most would be at risk of oversleeping.The dome lies dark like in the dead of night. The sun hasn’t risen today, streetlights casting a dull yellow glow and occasionally flickering out into nothing, only to spark back to life a moment later. There is no electric flicker from the kiosk. The Wardens are still. The wardens are silent.

The dome isn’t silent. There is a rustling of leaves, a snapping of twigs. Claws, scraping against concrete. The inhuman screech of an animal in peril, an animal hunting, an animal hunted. A screech that promises sharp claws and sharper teeth and blood.

The dome isn’t still either. There is something moving, thick as a shadow, tangible as a chill down your spine. Something that doesn’t belong here, something that snuck in when no one was looking. A boogeyman under the bed. A ghost in the closet. A will o’ the wisp, blinking in and out of existence under the flickering streetlights. Whatever it is it’s moving, leaving a trail of cold, dead fear wherever it passes. Something dark. A shadow so pitch black that it blots out the very lights in your heart, dragging your fears out screaming and kicking, reducing even the strongest, toughest man to a blubbering baby.

Perhaps best to stay in bed today, Marina. ]

((OOC: Event information HERE. We ask the winners of the raffle to fill out a simple survey and then tag into the Vapor thread HERE! Happy mingling, Marinanites! ))

Hey, everyone. I was thinking about how back home, some of the senior officers used to get together a few times a week for a poker game. It's great stress relief. Even though we don't have money here, we could figure something out. I'm open to suggestions, or we could just play for chips and bragging rights. [He doesn't know about everyone, but he's competitive enough to make bragging rights a decent motivator.] We could even call it a club, so everyone could get some of those rehabilitation points toward things we want to ask for.

Oh, and if you don't know how to play but want to learn, it's not hard. It's just a matter of practice. And who knows? You might be a natural.

Anyone interested? I was thinking we'd start in a day or two.

[He's hoping the Captain and Data (the default dealer back on the Enterprise) will be up for this, but hey. Anyone who wants to get together and have fun is fine with him. Also, it's too bad Commander Riker was only here that one day; he'd probably have gotten a game together long ago if he'd stayed.]

[ Voice, open to all ]

'Bout a week ago, some guy asked me how many people I'd seen come an' go since I got here. In three months it's somethin' like... 70 out of 110. Probably more now, I ain't bothered countin'... but that kinda stuff can really get you down, even when you don't know th' numbers. We lose people all th' time here. People we got to know here, friends from back home... [ He falls silent for a beat. Draws a steadying breath. ] An' it's sad. It's damn sad an' there ain't nothin' we can do 'bout it but keep goin'.

...I guess I just wanted t' remind y'all about th' Memorial Garden down in Sector 4. Anyone who wants t' plant somethin' there in memory of someone they lost, whether they were here or back home... you're welcome to. It's for all of us, th' ones that are still here an' the ones that aren't.

[ Voice, locked to Sougo ]

Hey, Sougo... I need your help with somethin'.


[ Action, open ]

[ Aidan will be dividing his day between lugging boxes between Sector 2 and 4, and later spending a few long hours in the Memorial Garden. Feel free to approach the pensive country boy! ]