MarinaNova Asylum

[ Replies will come from bodyswapping ]


[ He'd realized there was something wrong quickly enough when he'd woken up beside his wife that morning, but stepping into the bathroom and finding his mother-in-law looking back at him was another matter entirely. He rarely freaked out, these kinds of crazy things happened much too often to freak out, but...

But he couldn't frighten Deanna like this either. He needed a buffer, some space, a half hour to get his bearings and try and work out what to do about it all. Minute by minute the confusion and uncertainty had become worse. There was anger too, unfamiliar rage and shock and fear. Curiosity that wasn't his own. Then after that, stray thoughts. He tried to recoil from them, but there was nowhere to go, it reached him despite his best efforts. Half an hour turned into an hour. He tried to find a dark place, a corner he could retreat into, a safe place from the crush of unfamiliar empathy and foreign thoughts. He feared what Deanna's reaction would be, but common sense won out in the end. She was the only one who could ground him, help him, and he couldn't hide from her forever.

Reluctantly, he turned on his headset, and looked out from behind Lwaxana Troi's concerned black eyes. He'd wrapped a mauve coverlet around his shoulders as he left, and wore it still, pulled tight across his...her chest. He hadn't even found a shirt, so horrified had he been by the transformation; he regretted that now. ]

Deanna, are you there?

[ Lal's never seen an actual ocean before. Or a blue sky, an underwater dome... Almost everything in MarinaNova is totally new to her. That is why her first transmission comes some time after she's arrived. As urgent as it is that she is returned to The Enterprise, there wasn't exactly anyone around curb her curiosity, or answer the multitude of questions she's storing up for later.

But now, she finally starts her video from the shoreline of sector one. For all intents and purposes, she seems to be an ordinary young woman. Except for the odd and slightly mechanical movements of her head. ]

Father.

[ She doubts he's actually here in the asylum with her, but she has to make sure. She pauses, cocking her head to one side just a bit. Being used to the starship's communication methods, she expects an immediate answer. When none comes, she continues on. ]

Asylum. Protection from danger. A facility where care is given to the sick or insane.

I am not sick. This is not The Enterprise. This is not Galor IV. I do not know of a planet with an ocean named "Saylar". Why... was I taken from The Enterprise? Why was I charged with crimes? Captain Picard stated that I had not done anything wrong. So why am I here?

It is a mistake. Since it is a mistake, I've concluded that the logical action would be to return to the surface of this planet. I will do that now.

[ Obviously, the best way to do that would be through the ocean. She hasn't yet realized that the water before her is independent of the dark sea outside the dome, so she's going to start marching forward purposefully. She'll keep going, eventually sinking below the surface unless she's stopped. ]

[ 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. ]

[They're soft. They're pleasant. They're...abundant.

As the day goes on the tribbles get more and more plentiful until they are softly, pleasantly everywhere and eating all the food. Feel free to mosey about and interact with them and each other. Maybe you even visit the pet cafe today.]

(OOC: Tribble Info)

[ liz is careful to maintain her composure and choose her words carefully, keeping whatever she might have to say about being pulled into yet another (possibly) alien fiasco to herself. ]

Hi. I'm not— uh, not entirely sure I'm using this thing right. Not that that's the point or anything...

Look, I think there's been some sort of misunderstanding. My name is Liz Parker. I'm an intern for the office of Congresswoman Vanessa Whitaker, the US Representative from New Mexico. If this prank has anything to do with the upcoming election or the Land Exchange Act, I can't help you. You'll need to contact Congresswoman Whitaker's office directly. I'm just an intern. I don't have any pull. Sorry.

So, if you could please could put me in contact with someone in charge here, I would really appreciate it. I'm sure we can sort all this out.

[ she's was on an FBI watch list at one point. for all she knows, this situation isn't alien, but some sort of ploy on their end. something nasedo's yet to put a stop to. ]

[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'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 )

[ it's gone — the faint, intangible whispers and the comforting presence of another who was like her looming on the edge of her consciousness. vanished, just like that. it was enough to terminate her regeneration cycle an hour before it was scheduled to end, seven withdrawing from the sanctity of her alcove to retrieve data's tricorder in order to run a quick diagnostic on herself. it's counterproductive to wish for oneself to be malfunctioning, but a problem with her proximity transceiver would be easier to cope with address than the absence it was indicating. ]

► LOCKED | STARFLEET OFFICERS

I believe Captain Picard has been lost to the dimensional stabilizer.

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.

[There is a lot of handwaving and mouth opening and closing before Reg starts talking, which takes a few moments before he nods, smooths his outfit out, and actually does so but hey, it's progress from an imitation of a goldfish.]

I'm a, I'm ah, Reginald Barclay, Lieutenant Barclay. [This is starting out so well.] I was looking to, see if anyone would happen to know of the, the [Hand waving in a circle is a go.] Federation or Earth.

[Because a prison under the ocean is clearly not on Earth and if it's in Federation space he'd really like to know how they managed to keep it under the radar.] And if this is some joke, something involving the holodeck it's very, very good and well done. [And that's a nervous laugh.] You can, you can stop now, I'd very much like to leave, leave now. I have dinner plans and I'd very very much like, to get back to them.

[That's some hand wringing, and there's the slightest hint of pleading there in his voice as he glances to the side.] Thank you, in advance, if uh anyone answers me.

[OOC: Reg is wandering about all over today just to try and figure things out as well. And I'm going to be slow tonight because my computer is acting weird.]

Hey, all... Resident delivery guy here... [He wasn't going to call himself postmaster. That was just weird.]

First off... welcome to all the newbies. You're in MarinaNova. I can answer some questions, if you need me to, but the main reason I'm here is because, tomorrow, I'm gonna have some stuff for all you new arrivals. So, feel free to let me know where you're staying, and I'll drop 'em off. Okay?

See everyone then!

[ 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. ]