thisavrou_log | ( april intro log )

Who: Everyone
When: April 1st and on
Where: The Moira + Del Pascia
What: The crew finds themselves visiting the correctional facility of Del Pascia.
Warnings: Mentions of blood. Please label your content!

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slammed & counted
"I feel liberated when I'm doing it, and I want other people to feel liberated through it."

The Ingress has pulled you in. Your body experiences several sensations at once: being pushed forward as if a hand is resting on your back, momentary and startling blindness, a gentle ringing in your head. You have difficulty discerning whether it is hot or cold, but where you have been prodded is noticeably warmer than the rest of you. Some may suffer from dizziness while others are perfectly fine. Once equilibrium has been reestablished, you will notice you are standing on a long platform and that the room is filled with a soft cerulean light. It's slightly humid and dark despite the glow around you, and nothing is familiar. Shortly after, you are led out and toward the medbay.

Inside this room, you are given a physical scan and offered a contract to sign that states you are now part of the crew of the Moira with a specific job. This process consists of a complete work-up of medical history and current health, and afterwards, you are given your MID, a device that is integrated into your hand with only the slightest pinch. From there, you are guided out of the medbay and to your living quarters.

With the combined efforts of the crew, the terror plaguing the ship has been successfully removed from the Moira. Yet, it doesn’t come without consequences. Aside from the overall state of those aboard the ship, the Moira itself has taken considerable damage across various sections. Overall functionality seems stable for now, but with necessary repairs to be made and few supplies to actually make them with, the Captains have set a course for any nearby planet with the hope of finding what they need. However, that is much closer than it appears. As new arrivals begin coming through the Ingress, a message is received by those in the Tower and broadcast to everyone:
Please be advised. Your vessel is now entering Restricted Space. As per penal code 65208-A, only authorized personnel are to be admitted beyond this point. If necessary, further assistance will be provided once docked.
As there is little choice, the Captains instruct Navigation to proceed with caution. All transporters will be required to assist in taking those who volunteer to the main hub.

WELCOME TO CORRECTIONAL FACILITY DEL PASCIA

Del Pascia is one of many facilities across the universe built to maintain and rehabilitate its inhabitants. With a combined populace of both prisoners and employed civilians, it functions as both prison and living quarters. The central section of Del Pascia is divided into multiple floors that branch out into subdivisions of the facility—clearly and precisely labeled. For those contracted to work in the prison, Del Pas Main is home. There are cafeterias, common areas for exercise and general downtime, divided residences, and work stations. Beyond this area, each remaining wing of Del Pascia separates into cell blocks A through F with similar facilities available to the inmates. Varying degrees of criminals are brought to Del Pascia, ranging from maximum security to juvenile offenders, and security differs depending on which block is visited.

Yet, there is something peculiar about this prison upon further investigation: there are no living persons within Del Pascia. The AI, which runs and oversees all of Del Pascia, has made arrangements with the Moira so that those who wish may board and take what is needed to begin repairs. This program, while generally polite in nature, goes simply by the name D-E-L.

☄ ENJOY YOUR STAY ... IN PRISON

Those who choose to go to Del Pascia will find themselves greeted by D-E-L. It has already agreed to terms with the Captains, allowing crew to strip nonessential supplies that aren’t needed since the station’s crew and prisoners were relocated due to funding cuts. The only condition placed upon this agreement is that any crew wishing to explore must undergo a mandatory decontamination before proceeding through the rest of Del Pascia. This process takes only minutes and is guaranteed to cause no physical side effects. Following this simple procedure, exploration is open with only warnings to be careful about damaging key systems. It is important to note that there are various security cameras located throughout the correctional facility, and it is not uncommon for D-E-L to comment or show concern for those exploring parts of Del Pascia.

☄ DEATH BECOMES YOU

There is salvage to be found in all parts of the facility, including the cell blocks and infirmaries of the prison wings. However, there is something odd about these sectors, a strange charge in the air that follows you as you search for anything useful to bring back to the Moira. Perhaps it is the eyes of D-E-L watching? But then, after an indiscernible amount of time, it's like a switch is flipped. Suddenly, you are wearing your sins where anyone but you can see. For however much death you have wrought or committed, there will be blood on your hands—perhaps even further than that. This bizarre occurrence will appear as an almost digital skin and will not vanish until outside the cell blocks. If exploring the infirmaries for supplies, any and all health stats throughout your life will be visible and easy to read by anyone who happens to take an interest.

For those who have killed once or twice, they might find a red stain on their hands, but the higher the kill count will result in larger proportions of blood covering their arms and, in extreme cases, perhaps their entire body. The blood will vanish once you have left the prison wing, though you may occasionally see a flicker of the image while anywhere on the station. The same goes for health stats viewed in infirmary sections of Del Pascia.

☄ WHAT WAS THAT SOUND?

Del Pascia is a very large station and has been abandoned for quite some time. D-E-L will regretfully inform anyone who asks that some nonessential areas have fallen into disrepair. It will warn that exploring these areas can be risky as it has no knowledge of what damage these sections have taken. Regardless of that, if you venture in, you’ll find that these sections are in rather bad shape. Exposed wiring sparks in the walls, a great variety of broken tools are thrown about, and it seems that every camera has been purposely broken. Venturing in further will yield valuable components for salvage, and yet... as before, you suspect you aren’t alone. It isn’t often, but sometimes, you might hear a step falling moments after yours or a rattle coming from the vents. Every time you go to investigate... whatever made the noise is gone.

Should the AI be queried about this, D-E-L will emphasize that all personnel and prisoners were removed and that there is no one on board except crew from the Moira.

( ooc; For questions, go here. All players, please comment to activity check to receive new ranks (if applicable)! )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[the second-ranking Dendarii officer aboard has been checking the MID map on and off all morning, watching the new names pop up and circulate about the ship. unfortunately, though, the Del Pascia debriefing is also on the MID, and Bel has been skimming it on the way back to Nomo Deck, swinging round a corner just as--

--the pace slower than that first pelting charge down the Ariel's hall a near-decade ago, a head-on collision can be avoided; at his height and momentum, shoulder versus ribs is more to the point. it's a heavy but glancing impact, a brief stumbling recovery, a wordless exclamation dying on the lips as the grey eyes meet the brown.]

[[Setting this close after his TDM thread with Miles, if that's ok!]]

[He's studied Bel, since he came up with the plan. He had to, to know how best to fool everyone. So he recognises the face, at least, as he looks up, ready to snap.

All that actually comes out though is a small sort of surprised noise. Wasn't it bad enough Miles was already here? Did he also have his entire assorted crew of misfits, too?

He toys for a moment with pretending to be Miles, a test run to see how far he'd have gotten if he hadn't been snatched, hand dropping to the datacube in his pocket. No real point, now, though, and after a moment his shoulder drop and he looks away, clearing his throat.]

What?

[[Absolutely fine :)]]

[...she'd been right, Elli with her cold anger and haunted eyes when they realized how far it had gone last time. they're closer than Bel had dreamed, closer than they could have believed, and it can't be denied that Miles's moods have been unusually frenetic of late, eyes wild, reflexes shot past predictability -- but this man has been sleeping more than half an hour a night, this man doesn't smell of the ship's current collection of miscellaneous interplanetary hygene products, this man wears shieldlike a body that doesn't know Bel's touch, and it's Ingress Day.]

Damn-- [one arm had flung out automatically to steady them both, the shake in the tight alto as much from the collision as the realization; straightening doesn't put them quite out of reach. he must know all of Miles's captains by sight now, he had enough time to study their files, but he's not playing it the way he could; he looks... closed, alone, as he turns his head away. did Miles truly get through to him, that night at the locks?]

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. The Ingress has its sense of humor. [the rueful irony is equal opportunity, whatever that's worth -- months away from their ship and crew is still a bitter cut, for all Bel tries to avoid stretching it.

a host of questions crowds about the little man, enigma in familiar shape, potential assassin, walking wounded out of Jackson's Whole; and less importantly, but still telling to the only person of this particular genetic heritage in the fleet, how Jacksonian would he turn out to be? it's hard to know where to start, if he'll even permit it, and Bel's not sure whether to handle him as something fragile or something sharp. but if he's not here to be his brother, the simplest question might be the only route to take.]

We didn't meet in person last time. [or Bel devoutly hopes they didn't. the low voice isn't effusive, but it is open to neutrality.] Have you chosen a name?

It's not a very good sense of humour.

[He meets the irony with a wry tone of his own, still studying the captain, looking for some kind of reaction. He's not sure what he was expecting, but... neutrality probably wasn't it, somehow. Hatred? Disdain? Some kind of opinion on his existence, at least; everyone else seems to have one, after all. For a moment his eyebrows draw in, remembering that hastily uttered "Mark" at the interview, before he shakes his head.]

No. But it's not like that seems to matter to anyone else. Pick a name, everyone else does.

[He can't help the bitter tone of voice, and he doesn't want to. If they're going to bring him here, offer him the very slightest taste of freedom from Miles and then take it away again, he isn't going to pretend he's okay with it.]

It's really not. [irony for irony -- a good sign. can he laugh? after what he's been through, Bel isn't holding any breath, but maybe someday.] Did it take your footwear too? It likes that.

[had a strong opinion about the Komarran plot, but its central piece had gone and jumped the board. if he's not going to try again -- those last moments of grandstanding on the recording, promising to hijack the fleet and sail it into disaster -- what's Bel to make of him now, a man who doesn't even admit to owning a name? does he even know himself who he wants to be, besides not that?]

That's no way to live. By 'everybody', you mean--? [the captains? your brother? the Emperor who'd been your follow-up target? the cousin who'd nearly been collateral damage? or one other -- but if he manages to Ingress out of wherever your nerve disruptor sent him, I'll shoot him again myself.]

...yeah, it took the boots. And a couple of other things.

[Not his boots, really. Miles' uniform, Miles' boots. He doesn't own much of anything at all, and even less now the Ingress has stolen some of it.

He shrugs, abrupt, irritated by the line of questioning. All very well for other people to say "no way to live", but it wasn't exactly like he had much choice for the first eighteen years of his life. And even after that, Miles and his insistence on that ludicrous name, as if Barrayan custom meant anything to a clone who'd grown up on Jackson's Whole and then on Earth under Komarran teachings.]

Does it matter who?

That sounds familiar. Some of mine came back -- [taps the heel of one gray ankle-topping boot against the floor.] It took a while, but you may not have seen the last of your own things. Do you need anything specific now? Besides a way back. That, I'm afraid, I can't offer you.

[has to check themself to make sure of not reading the wrong person's reactions into the familiar features, but... that's definitely not a 'why, yes, I'd be delighted to talk about it' face.]

I suppose not. Just some inconvenience for you if they're here, that's all.

[...it's Miles, isn't it. you'll have to do some fast stepping if you don't want it to stick; the names he gives just do, somehow. one side of their mouth lifts.]

On the bright side, the ship's full of people who wouldn't know Barrayar from a hole in the head, so you've got some options.

( april intro log )

Ingress

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