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  1. 4 points
    I'm there with ya. As for why I chose this group, I'd searched around for a few days and visited several websites. Overall, I found this one to have a more cohesive feel to the website; the layout was organised and easy to use and there is enough diversity in the Sims without the sheer number of them being overwhelming. I also peeked at the community forums to get an idea of activity and friendliness and it swayed me.
  2. 3 points
    Thanks I think I'm going to enjoy you guys and gals a lot. I love the sense of humor sprinkled throughout the forums. Looking forward to getting going soon.
  3. 3 points
    Having just finished TNG, and Entered my second season of DS9, I can honestly now say, I love Star Trek. I started looking into it initially to satisfy a badgering family member, but I can freely admit I've gotten engrossed with the universe itself. I'm really eager to start participating in (2~) Days when training starts. I hope there will be a few others going through training too, and that I'm not the only one there
  4. 3 points
    Rev'ya was nervous. At least, she assumed she was nervous, it was hard to tell really. Ironic, half of her was meant to be incredibly empathetic, able to easily detect and act upon the emotions and even thoughts of others. The other half of her had one of humanity's cruelest flaws, the lack of feelings about oneself. She usually found herself perched at one of either extremes. Either extremely high, or unable to tell where her true feelings even lay. Someone she could not control what she said from the sheer joy of experiencing another culture, of meeting another being, of making a new friend. At other times she could not control what she said do to the fact that she could not judge her own mood. Thanks Mom. She thought to herself sarcastically. Indeed, it was from her mother's side that she had inherited this flaw. For a moment she mused on how her father, a Betazoid, had fallen for her Mother, an emotionally damaged human. Perhaps it was a case of opposites attract. Someone who could feel everything, attracted to someone who could feel nothing. And Vice Versa. It mattered little now, or maybe it did? How could she know. Who was she to know? She felt herself growing inexplicably angry for a moment, almost fracturing the screen of the padd in her hand. She closed her eyes and breathed for a moment, trying to relax herself. She stood up, walked around a little, loosed up her tense muscles. She was tense. Definitely nervous. She realized she'd been sitting in the reception area of the Starbase for over an hour, lost in her own thoughts. If someone was watching, that certainly wouldn't inspire confidence. She realized the receptionist had been warily eyeing her for some time now. She didn't blush, walking up to her as if she had just stepped off the shuttle a second ago, rather than sat there for over an hour without comment. "Cadet T'vete." She stated. Her voice sound so shaky to her, like it always did the first time she spoke to someone. Focus Girl, Focus. Get through the day, and when they give you a bunk, you can curl up in that and write out your problems. Things always make more sense on paper. Besides, did you really get this far only to give up? "I'm reporting to Starbase 118 for Completion of my Cadet Phase, Training, as a Cadet" She said, fumbling over her words. She closed her eyes for a second, before realizing she was still in a conversation, opening them again to focus on the receptionist, a Vulcan. Great. A Vulcan. Someone who'd be happy to belittle you for your emotional fumblings. You're making a resounding Impression, Revvy. The Vulcan said nothing, updating her padd remotely with new instructions. Nodding curly, Rev'ya realized she was being sent on her way. Fine with me. She thought, following along the path directed to her in the instructions, entering into Starbase 118.
  5. 2 points
    @Theo Whittaker (( Starliner Meridia )) (( Time Index: Approximately 10 minutes after Theo leaves the smoking room. )) :: Commander Theo Whittaker had taken his leave of Kasun, Taelon and the newly arrived Ensign Harper, intent on looking for the Zaldan man that had aroused his and the new counsellor's suspicions. He could not get the man's reserved demeanour in the middle of a room of excitable- and irate- passengers. It didn't make sense. His first idea was to ask the computer for information on the location of any Zaldans aboard the civilian starliner- only to find that there were six, three of which were guests- the other three being assigned to the staff. He then refined his search to identify the one Zaldan who had been in the smoking lounge and to give him his present location. Apparently, he was in a holography lab on the far side of the deck. With the information, he had set out in the direction- only he had failed to remember just how large the Meridia was. It was several minutes before he realised he was lost. Standing a cross roads, he looked down each of the three new corridors before him, stumped. oO It's like my first day aboard the station all over again... although without a renegade Starfleet captain trying to start a war with the Romulans... where on earth is this holo-lab? Oo He was about to ask the computer for directions when he heard a faint sound coming from his right. Giving it his full attention, he turned his head and strained to catch a detail that he could identify. It was faint, but melodic... oO Is that... music? Oo. He was half way down the corridor before he had realised he had begun walking again. The melody was growing louder, but with a distinct echo, as though it was being played in a chamber of some kind. Without warning, he shuddered involuntarily as he realised he was growing colder. Rubbing his arms to generate heat, he pressed on, beginning to hear details of the melody- and a vocal that was accompanying the music... "I just want you for my own, More than you could ever know," oO Sounds like... classical music? Oo he pondered to himself, oO Rather lacking in finesse... not that I'm an expert... Oo. "Make my wish come true," He reached an open doorway, where a list mist- likely holographic mist was spilling out around his feet. He peered into the room to find himself looking at some kind of winter wonderland- a kind of ice palace decorated with ornate icicles hanging from the ceiling and floor, the walls were decorated with snowflake patters. Temporarily blinded by the sheer beauty of the sight in front of him, it took him to several seconds to spot a truly gruesome sight. Somebody had been impaled by a particularly solid icicle, yellow blood dribbling from the wound and pooling on the floor, where the body was laying flat. At that the precise moment, the music came came to some kind of climax, having slowly built in intensity: "All I want for Christmas..... iiiiiiiiiiiiiiis yoooooooooooooou!" The song changed track, bursting into some kind of high-energy, jaunty song as Theo darted forward and crouched down next to the man. He reached out a hand, intending to touch the icicle, but stopped himself- realising that he risked contaminating what he already suspected was the scene of a crime. Standing back up, he realised who he was looking at. The Zaldan he was seeking. oO Wonderful! Bloody wonderful! Oo he thought, the irony of his bitter rebuttal not lost on him. He tapped his comm badge, not looking away from the body. Whittaker: =^= Whittaker to Taybrim. =^= Taybrim: ? Whittaker: =^= We've got another situation. =^= :: they were never going to catch a break. =^= Another body has turned up. A Zaldan male. =^= :: beat :: Computer, identify Zaldan male. Computer: DNA scan identifies Zaldan male as Akal-Teke, guest. Whittaker: =^= Did you get that, sir? =^= Taybrim: ? :: Theo was about to reply to his Captain, when a shrill, piercing scream interrupted him. Whirling around, he saw a Benzite lady stood in the doorway, looking at the sight before her, hands against her blue, tendril-laced cheeks. Judging from her elegant gown that appeared to be made of ice- or a fabric approximation of it- and an outrageously large blonde wig on top of her head, she was a guest. oO Oh no... Oo. :: Whittaker: =^= Sal... I'll be right back, I'm about to become a murder suspect. =^= :: he tapped his badge again and started walking towards the Benzite. =^= Ma'am, this is not what it looks- =^= :: The rest of his sentence was drowned out by another high pitch scream as the Benzite fled down the corridor in terror, her wig slipping off her bald head and landing on the floor in an unceremonious heap. :: Whittaker: =^= Whittaker to Taybrim. Sal, I'm going to need a lawyer.... =^= Taybrim: ? TAG -- Commander Theo Whittaker Executive Officer Starbase 118 Operations/USS Columbia C239203TW0
  6. 2 points
    Dar: =/\= We can send engineers to help. We do know a thing or two about warp cores=/\= Zaekia: =/\= That would be appreciated but don’t put yourselves at unnecessary risk. =/\= ::Caring for the welfare of others to the last. Now that was a Starfleet captain.:: Computer: Warp core breach in one minute thirty seconds. ::Threatening to detonate in an absurdly short amount of time. Now that was a Starfleet vessel.::
  7. 2 points
    @Anath G'Renn wrote this. ((Duty Doctor’s Office - Deck 18, USS Blackwell)) ::Sleepwalking would be the best way to describe Anath the entire day of the memorial service for the lost members of the Blackwell crew who had been lost when the ship had run into that minefield. It was strange, every time she thought that her feelings of grief and anger couldn’t get any worse they always managed to.:: ::When the disaster first happened there was so much raw fury and grief mixed in with the fear and confusion of being caught in the moment, fueled by adrenaline and anxiety. It couldn’t get worse than that. Then came the aftermath and the autopsies. Those hazy memories clouded by stress and a storm of feelings almost felt like one long and very dark nightmare. Having to perform the gruesome task of verifying just how each one had died hit home how very real everything had been. The barely contained despair, the flashes of anger whenever her thoughts turned towards those responsible. It couldn’t get worse than that. Then there was their shore leave on Oscion, a time for relaxation and time with friends. But in the back of her mind she kept remembering the names on the casualty list, whenever she was finding herself enjoying their shore leave. She always drifted back to the people who would have no more shore leaves, and no more missions either. No matter what she did she couldn’t escape that nagging feeling. It couldn’t get worse than that.:: Nurse: Doctor G’Renn, it is time for shift change! The rest of us are going to the memorial service. ::She looked up from her desk, pulled back into the present from her world of introspection by the nurse’s voice. Anath nodded quietly and motioned for the sickbay staff to switch out with their replacements. She had tried to build the schedule that day to allow as many people as possible could have the option to attend the memorial service. The massive sickbay felt somewhat off with a meager skeleton crew on watch as was always often the case during shore leave.:: Nurse: Will you be joining us, doctor? G’Renn: Go ahead, I’ll catch up with you… ::Anath handed over the reigns to sickbay to the next doctor on duty before hanging up her lab coat and heading towards the turbolift. As she walked, memories of one of the autopsies played back in her mind.:: ((Flashback - USS Blackwell, Morgue - Two days after the minefield encounter)) ::Anath keyed a sequence of commands into the wall panel, causing the morgue cold chamber to seal back shut. She had just finished the formal set of scans and tests that protocol dictated were done to confirm what she already knew. Ensign Kalto had died of multiple internal injuries caused by a piece of ceiling falling on her. Anath knew very well what had happened as she had been the one to drag the debris off of the ensign and have her moved to sickbay.:: Nurse: Subject scans are being uploaded to the file now. Autopsy report just needs you to sign off on it. G’Renn: Thank you for your help, I’ll handle it from here. ::After the nurse left Anath approached the desk where the autopsy report was open on a desktop monitor. She scrolled through the report to make sure they hadn’t missed anything or filled in any information incorrectly.:: G’Renn: Everything seems right… ::But it wasn’t. Nothing about the situation she was in was right! The autopsy report was filled out correctly and it was not an unusual situation for a doctor to find themselves in, but the whole encounter with the minefield and the alien ships were just all wrong. The damage to the ship, the destruction of the other alien vessel, and the deaths of her crewmates. What for, what meaning did their losses have? Starfleet officers knew the risks of their chosen profession well. The threat of death was omnipresent when exploring the final frontier and defending the Federation from threats. But there was no heroic death or even a meaningful sacrifice for the crewmembers that now occupied the cold chambers in the morgue. Just casualties lost in a tragic accident all caused by some coward’s minefield.:: G’Renn: Computer, confirming details for autopsy report Kalto, Alyssa. Authorization G’Renn Omega 4-5. ::The computer beeped to confirm that it had saved the autopsy report. She sighed and sunk deeper into the chair before glancing around the morgue. There were still autopsies to be done, too many. She never wanted to see the room so full ever again if she could help it.:: ((End Flashback)) ((Corridor - Deck 18, USS Blackwell)) G’Renn: oO Yes, her too! Oo ::When an inquisitive child had asked whether or not their substitute teacher was going to be saved as well that had been her answer. Ensign Kalto had not been dead upon discovery. She was still fighting for life when they found her under a piece of ceiling in the schoolroom. But even getting there in time hadn’t been enough to save her. Anath had promised that she would be safe too, and now she was dead. Names and faces came to mind as she walked down the corridor.:: G’Renn: oO Alyssa Kalto. Ensign. Found in the schoolroom. Oo G’Renn: oO Nigel Buchanan. Ensign. Found in his quarters Oo G’Renn: oO Robert Smith. Petty Officer, 3rd Class. Found in the gymnasium. Oo ::The fire of feelings spread through her, boiling away any sense of tranquility and order in her mind left as she stepped into the turbolift. She couldn’t face it! Growing up on Vulcan had made it hard to find ways to express her emotions, and it was coming back to haunt her now especially. She couldn’t take it, or let the others see her in such a state.:: G’Renn: Deck 12 ((G’Renn’s Quarters - Deck 12, USS Blackwell)) ::Once she was in her quarters she stepped into the small bedroom off of the common area in her quarters and let out a long sigh. She pulled off her uniform jacket and the teal shirt beneath it, untucking her gray undershirt before falling onto the bed and letting out a long sigh. The grief was driving her up the wall, and she felt powerless to stop it. Only making things worse was the realization of how poorly prepared she was revealing herself to be.:: ::The uniform shirt now laying on the foot of the bed was teal. The color of the Science department in Starfleet, as well as the Medical department. She was a doctor, first and foremost! While she might like to focus on the good she did, having studied medicine to keep as many people as possible from experiencing the same experience of a loved one’s death that she had gone through so many years before. She always assumed that she could handle the inevitable times when she would lose patients. It wasn’t her fault, she had done everything that she could to save them. But that thought did little to calm the whirlwind of emotions inside. Part of her wondered if she really had what it took to be a doctor at all if she couldn’t deal with the inevitable downside of being a healer. Questions kept popping up as Anath set her head on her pillow and let the exhaustion win. Could she truly expect to never lose a patient? How was she going to cope when she did? If she couldn’t handle that fact, did she have any business wearing that uniform?:: ::Those were questions she had to answer, but she didn’t have to answer them right away.:: Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Anath G'Renn Medical Officer, USS Blackwell - Andaris Task Force A239402AG0
  8. 1 point
    No matter how much we stumble, we gotta pick ourselves up and reach higher.
  9. 1 point
    ((Conference Room 1, USS Blackwell)) R’Ven: Greetings Commander. ::Shayne’s wide eyes jumped off the PADD he was scouring as Merrick spoke to him. When he was but a boy, the mere mention of his name, in any tone or volume of voice, would elicit a serious startle from him. Even if it was expected, he would snap to attention, face taught and body primed to face the non-existent predators. To the present day, he hated roll calls.:: ::He hadn’t meant to ignore the men already in conversation- chit chat and work rarely mixed well, especially for him. Besides, why intrude upon their discussion? Looking up at Merrick, he realized that no matter how often he saw the first officer, he’d likely never get used to those pitch black orbs of flesh. He was never certain if R’Ven was staring at him directly, and though he hated to admit it, it was subconsciously highly uncomfortable. He seemed blind, and visually able, at the same time. It didn’t help that he considered it only polite to bore into his target of attention with those same unsettling eyes.:: ::He afforded a quick, but respectful nod in R’Ven’s direction.:: Shayne: Hello, sir. ::As the door opened with its characteristic swoosh, and diverted the attention of the officers in the room, Shayne returned to his PADD. He’d insisted that damage control reports regarding not just the helm, but the entire effort, be routed to his device. If there was one thing he craved at the moment, it was a clear picture of the entire vessel- every nook, cranny, EPS conduit, relay, isolinear chip, potted plant. Was he becoming paranoid? It was a valid question- indeed, he had now served on not one, not two, but three starships that had suffered critical failures in crucial moments. The first incident dated back years, to 2392. Aboard the Gemini, he had nearly been relieved of his existence when a subspace rift had utterly deprived the Dakota class medium cruiser of power. Ensign Shayne had barely survived an unfortunate encounter with an open shuttlebay hanger- an experience that haunted him to his core even in the present day. The next incident came in the form of a most malicious computer virus, placed in the Darwin’s systems by the treasonous scumbag Iy in a long game of deception. Just when they’d been needed most, the shields had failed. Shayne had done his best in the ensuing close quarters combat, but he knew that without the now-transferred Logan’s excellent weapon’s skills, they would have all been worse off. Looking back, when the action had been taking place, he was caught between painfully excited and indomitably tranquil. It was the following days, weeks and months that had hit him the hardest. To try your best- to send your starship flinging through the stars in maneuvers so complex and deadly and random that they often defied intention- and to still feel countless groaning shudders as weapons fire smashed through the reinforced tritanium, and realizing that every blow was likely the end of the line for some crewman, technician, officer...it was nightmarish.:: ::He trusted the engineers of Starfleet implicitly, but patterns could not be ignored. Or could it be his fault? Was he simply a magnet for this kind of trouble? Would he forever bring bad luck, on whatever ship he served aboard? His imagination was a wild, mad, even dangerous place, where magic could exist, the Chicago Cubs still played, and the Federation hadn’t lost 39 starships at Wolf 359. But he had only craved a concrete answer to a question more once in his life. Not only was his own burning curiosity unstated, but he would now have to pass on that general lack of fulfilment to a captain that needed just the opposite now.:: ::Every few seconds, his screen updated with the findings of the engineering team, and each time he looked at the changes with a tiny surge of hope. Perhaps this report would explain what had gone wrong. Maybe the next one would shed some light on the subject. Each time, though, he was disappointed.:: ::Whether he wished to admit it or not, he was at least somewhat experienced as an officer of Starfleet. He had racked his brains whenever the mission to retrieve the core had allowed it. What could spontaneously cause an entire subsystem to freeze? Past events had taught him that the symptoms most accurately fitted a computer virus of some sort. But that didn’t follow far. The only other time he’d been involved in such a situation, the assailant had been aboard for more than a year. He refused to point fingers at comrades- that sort of thinking would descend them into chaos with dispatch. But as he strained for answers, he kept coming back to the same conclusion. Perhaps it was entirely wrong. He hoped so. He was really getting sick of sabotage.:: ::Another change on the screen, and as with all the others, Shayne looked at it, not expecting anything of interest or benefit at all. After a moment, he squinted and looked closer. Some ensign belowdecks was reporting an EPS conduit that had been locked off, apparently on its own volition. That was not surprising in and of itself- the devices, so crucial to the functionality of the starship, were programmed to lock down should a surge of electro plasma be detected. Such things had occurred all over the ship as a result of Mr. Wilmer’s inventive solution. What was surprising was that it was the only locked down conduit for four decks in either direction. Conduits most often shut down in packs. So why would this lone device be affected? He resolved to keep an even closer eye on the developing reports.:: ::The ambient conversations and semi-constant opening and closing of the doors had melded into the background of his mind, and he did not realize that the meeting was being called to order until he noticed the lack of white noise, and the standing personnel round the table. Shayne immediately joined his colleagues as Zaekia and Renos took their seats.:: Zaekia: Alight. Thank you all for attending. I appreciate we’ve all just been through quite the ordeal but we need answers. We need to know this vessel is fit for purpose and won’t let us down again like it has here today. ::Shayne could feel the bitterness in the CO’s voice, and he wondered if the blue-skinned man was really talking about the crew. Or himself. He doubted it, but the resentment was plain, and who could blame him? How unfair was it that the good-intentioned confidant could not act on the unexpressed feelings of another without looking like a fool?:: R’Ven: Yes Captain. To that end I have had each of the department chiefs compile reports of the current state of their department and how it applies to the current state of the ship. ::At that, the helmsman gave a very small cough and rubbed the back of his neck. He rarely enjoyed speaking in large groups, and almost never enjoyed reporting personally to his superior. But even then, he had something to report. The lack of information here would be painfully conspicuous.:: Zaekia: Engineering, let’s start with you. How bad is the damage and how long will it take us to complete repairs? Yesna: The damage is not as bad as first thought engines can be back up within the next couple of hours and the deflector will take around five hours to get it back up and running, but when we do return to a space dock I would recommend a full replacement. The power systems will need a few tweaks and bypass as we fix the dish. We could do all this with the help of the Consortium within 12 hours and we can be underway again. ::Shayne agreed with the engineer’s assessment, given the reports he continued to receive. However, the mention of Consortium assistance rankled, and for more reason than simply wounded pride. Being towed back to a drydock by a non-Starfleet vessel had stripped him of much of his already. No, his bigger concern was the ongoing investigation. The Consortium, Shayne felt, was highly untrustworthy. After seeing their conduct during the previous mission, he could not help but dislike them. First, their distaste for life was repulsive. And their robots, which had caused more than their fair share of havoc aboard the Atlantis, were provided to the crew by the Consortium. They seemed...disingenuous. Greasy. And very dangerous. True, the tow had been of great help, and Captain Dar, who Shayne had first considered to be a bit of a schmuck, was eventually highly accommodating. But he knew better than to let a single positive experience color his judgement.:: Zaekia: I know but we need their help, Admiral. ::Shayne looked up, confused. It seemed Zaekia was reprising his strange behavior that had first debuted on the bridge before Blackwell had sustained her damage. There, too, he was overheard replying to questions no one had asked. Shayne had inquired about it, but the captain had given every indication that he was perfectly well, and there was a fine line between asking out of concern and doubting the CO’s ability to function. He was careful not to cross that line then, but now, he reconsidered. On the bridge, it had been a little easier to ignore. Now, though, with the entire senior staff hanging onto his words and reactions, it became impossible to hide. Shayne’s eyes flipped to Merrick’s, which, if he was correct, were staring intensely at Zaekia. Good- at least Shayne wasn’t hearing things. But the question was, could the same be said for Zaekia?:: Zaekia: ::Clearing his throat and turning slightly deeper blue about the cheeks:: Sorry. Alright, let’s move on. I think we have a pretty good sense of where the ship is at right now and what sort of repairs timeline we’re looking at. Thank you Ensign Yesna. How are things going with regards to the investigation into what happened? ::Shayne knew that it was his turn to speak. Standing, he cleared his throat.:: Shayne: Sirs, so far, the results of the investigation regarding the difficulties at the helm are...less than conclusive. We’ve looked at mechanical fault of all kinds. We’ve even... ::Here, he gave an apologetic glance over at Wilmer. He hated to say it, but it was a formal report- it was his duty.:: Shayne: oO Forgive me, Nate. Oo Shayne: We’ve even considered pilot error. So far, nothing has turned up. But I’ve got a team on it- they’re going to look until they find the problem. ::In the beginning, they’d had several working theories, each one slightly less likely than the last. But as damage control had made its way through the ship, repairing and reporting, one by one, those possibilities dropped away. It was as frustrating as it was helpful.:: ::He tried to keep a stolid face as he beheld the captain's and admiral’s reaction to the news. This wasn’t a Klingon ship- he wouldn’t be shot for not producing the relevant information, or thrown in the brig. But sometimes, a look of disappointment from someone you admire is worse than any corporal punishment. Thoran then began to speak, and Shayne was grateful to the lieutenant for his timely intervention.:: Thoran: Response(s) ::A pause. Shayne utilized the moment to again check the PADD. It appeared the engineer that had reported the strange EPS conduit was having some difficulty in reopening it. Curious. Though he’d like to know what the problem was, he had more pressing matters to attend to.:: R’Ven: Captain, I would like to ask a few question to make the situation a little more clear? ::Shayne didn’t know which of his thoughts to acknowledge first. Certainly he was not looking forward to more questioning from anyone, but that was a personal failing- one he would overcome by offering whatever information was required. The manner in which R’Ven had asked the question also captured his attention. The executive officer would be exercising his role as the captain’s right-hand man by following up with questions. Maybe he was simply being formal, but Shayne felt there was something more. There was grave respect in Merrick’s bearing. And then it became clear. The opaque-eyed Rodulan was trying to protect an already frazzled Zaekia. Such a subtle attempt to help was his way of letting Zaekia know this was not an attack against his authority, but in fact a protective measure, to take the pressure off his beleaguered superior. He almost smiled in wonder. Human nature in action. Though, since this was taking place between a Kalean and a Rodulan, that term hardly applied. Still, it was fascinating, and most welcome, given the circumstances.:: Zaekia: Response R’Ven: Thank You. ::With a small bow, R’Ven focused back on the officers that remained standing.:: R’Ven: Commander Shayne, Lieutenant Thoran and Ensign Yesna, your accounts are thorough. Thank you. ::without pause Merrick turned to Yesna:: However to add one additional point. Ensign, I had also asked you to look into any sort of unauthorized access to our systems. Were you able to find anything? Yesna: Response ::Shayne’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, though he tried to hide it. As second officer, he no longer had the luxury of appearing dismayed or unsure, no matter how prevalent the feelings might be within him. However, he flicked his gaze about, catching his comrade’s reactions to the news. An unauthorized entry into a system was an enormous deal, and it all but proved that his earlier suspicions had been warranted.:: R’Ven: And were you able to determine the source? ::Shayne listened intently. As Yesna explained, he glanced over at Thoran. This would change the tide of their investigation. At least now they would have a place to base their efforts from.:: Yesna: Response R’Ven: Thank you Ensign I appreciate your efforts in this regard. ::Merrick now turned his never-ending gaze towards Shayne and Thoran. For some reason, even though he’d found the first officer’s eyes exceptionally disconcerting, as he looked back at them now, he realized he didn’t feel quite the same about it. Maybe it was something to do with they eyes themselves- he didn’t see the cornea directed at him. They barely even registered as eyes to him. That, perhaps combined with the fact that Merrick was of slightly lower rank, served to place the helmsman a little more at ease.:: R’Ven: Commander Shayne, Lietenant Thoran. There was an event that happened on the Atlantis. Is it possible that these events could have been connected? ::Shayne froze, mind suddenly leaping a million miles a minute. The memories of that terrible day came flooding back- the robots, springing from their hiding place, the gruesome injuries they imposed on several members of the crew, the subsequent hunt for them. Though he knew better than to underestimate the abilities of the machines, his immediate reaction to R’Ven’s question was “no.” How could there be any relation? The robots had been aboard theAtlantis, and hadn’t had any physical contact with theBlackwell. True, one robot had been found with its probe in a bulkhead, downloading what seemed to be the entirety of the Federation database into its own memory. But, again, how would that connect to theBlackwell?:: ::Unless…:: Shayne: ::Murmuring in horror:: Oh, my god. ::Quickly, he turned to Thoran, realization and terror filling his gaze.:: Shayne: When you were chasing that robot on the Atlantis, it was on Deck 6- auxiliary control, correct? Thoran: response ::The theory was coming together in chunks. It was beautifully insideous.:: Shayne: You said something about it perhaps trying to transmit its data to whoever had designed it. What if you were half right? What if it was transmitting something, but not to its creator? Do you get what I’m saying? ::If his supposition turned out to be in any way true, they were lucky to be alive.:: Thoran: response ::Shayne looked back down at his PADD. The conduit he’d been paying such close attention to was back online- obviously the engineer had finally been successful. But now he had more important matters to consider.:: Zaekia/Renos: Response Rhyn: response Anyone: response Tag/TBC… Lieutenant Commander Randal Shayne Helmsman/Ops Officer/Second Officer USS Blackwell NCC 58999 G239202RS0
  10. 1 point
    ((Security Complex, Deck 11, USS Blackwell)) Thoran: Three...two…one ::He swung round, charging into the room. Like most of the security complex, the room was filled with a dim blue hue. In the centre of the room was a moderately sized table, surrounded by seven orange coloured chairs, which Jarred knew from experience were not the most comfortable. Entering the room he found Chief Raewa and Crewman Dairro facing off against Crewman Vesen, a male Vulcan, currently positioned next to the window at the opposite end of the briefing room. As they turned to face Jarred, Vesen took the opportunity to flee, vaulted across the table and knocking Jarred out of the way.:: Raewa: ::Shouting:: Get after 'im. 'e's not 'imself ::Although suffering from a serious case of what the hell, Jarred turned heel and chased after the Vulcan. It was short lived chase, as Raewa dashed passed him, and with all his might launched himself at Vesen, with all the elegance and graze of a hippo, tackling Vesen to the ground.:: ::Vesen was the stronger and arguably fitter of the two, but Raewa, having been involved in more than a fair share of fights deftly overpowered the Vulcan with a couple of well placed firm fists to the face, knocking him unconscious. Dusting himself off as he rose, he turned to Jarred.:: Thoran: ::Agast at what he had just witnessed:: Chief, what is going on? What was all that about? ::He could just imagine filling out the report now.:: oO I stood by whilst the senior enlisted in security beat the recent transfer into submission. Oo ::Dairro tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Jarred half turned, half twisted to her, finding a weak, disarming smile across her face.:: Dairro: We’re not quite sure exactly what happened sir. The Chief, Vesen and I were just at our stations when all of a sudden. Raewa: 'e started askin' if we could 'ear a drum beat. So I tell 'im nah, can't 'ear aahhht. Dairro: He seemed to get quite flustered, started talking about snake eyes and a horde of monkeys. Raewa: Said summit abaht everythin' will revert ter normal once the game is finished. Dairro: All of a sudden he blurted out the name Alan and a lion and rushed into the briefing room. ::Jarred was finding it hard to keep up with the rendition of events. Vesen had only recently transferred to security from ops, but had a flawless service record and came highly recommended. Adding to that, he was a Vulcan and they weren’t supposed to feel, were they? And definitely not act like this, something strange was going on.:: Thoran: Did he do anything out of character or different before he started to talk about the drums? Neither of you heard anything at all? Raewa: ::Looking across to Dairro:: Nah sir. We were just sat 'ere, busyin' ourselves. Only sound we could 'ear was these consoles buzzin' away. ::Rubbing his face, Jarred thought it over. It was definitely going to make for one of his more interesting reports. In the meantime he had to do something about Vesen before he came to and caused himself or others any harm.:: Thoran: Thank you both very much. Chief, could you give me a hand taking him to sickbay. Dairro, keep an eye on things here, let me know if anything else like this happens across the ship. ::Raewa and Jarred sidled over to were Vesen lay, and very carefully heaved him up, supporting him between them, his head flopping onto his chest. With his feet dragged behind him, the pair slowly half carried, half dragged Vesen out of the complex, along the corridor and to the nearest turbolift. With a swish the doors opened allowing them entry to the turbolift.:: Thoran: Sickbay, deck 18. ::Jarred eased himself against the wall, his shoulders and arms feeling like fire after carrying Vesen and let out a sigh. The Chief shot him a look. It was the disapproving look most officers got from senior enlisted crew.:: Raewa: If I 'adn't of, 'e could 'ave ended up runnin' 'round 'is quarters chasin' lions. ((Primary Sickbay, Deck 18, USS Blackwell)) ::Jarred snorted at the remark. From what he had already been told, he wouldn’t have been too surprised if that had been the next development. Jarred closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before hauling himself back up with Vesen. The doors to the turbolift opened and the pair continued on their march to sick bay. Several crew watched as they stumbled by, Jarred now starting to get out of breath. Reaching sickbay one of the nurses directed them to a bed, which with a one two three the pair were able to heave Vesen onto. A few moments later, the nurse joined them, medical tricorder in hand and started making circles about Vesen’s head with it.:: Nurse: What has happened here? Thoran: I’ll leave Chief Raewa here to fill you in. Thank you nurse and ::Turning to Raewa, patting him on the shoulder.:: Thank you for your uh assistance Chief. -------------------------------- Lieutenant Jarred Thoran Acting Chief of Security Andaris Task Force, USS Blackwell NCC-58999 A239405JT0
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    G’Renn: Well Mr. Wilmer, it seems that removing that metal fragment may have been meaningless. But something tells me the captain has a plan. ::Though Nate would never acknowledge their imminent doom verbally, part of him wondered if perhaps her fears in this matter were not unfounded. One minute thirty seconds was not enough time to get back to Charlie, to tell her that he loved her. He would not be able to send a message to Kael to tell her to grow up to be an honorable young woman—though he had no doubt she would.:: ::Nate had only enough time before their explosive porkchop filled doom, to rest a comforting hand on G’Renn’s shoulder and offer the only hope he had left.:: Wilmer: Zaekia’s a Starfleet captain. They always have something up their sleeve.
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    @Randal Shayne Dude, I think anytime you use the word "bulbous" in a post, that's worthy of appreciation. I loved it! ((Bridge, Deck 1, USS Blackwell)) ::Shayne nodded to an ensign near him, conveying that she should try and speak to engineering. She complied, and Shayne turned back to the problem at hand. Their priorities were aviate, navigate, communicate, in that order. They needed to stop this bulbous thing. For the time being, they had to assume that conventional methods of control had failed. What could even begin to slow them down at three quarters impulse?:: Shayne: ::Spewing the idea as it came to him.:: What if we explosively decompressed the forward sections of the ship? It would knock us back, negate some of our inertia. ::It sounded good for a split second, but he realized it would never work. By the time they’d cleared the forward sections of personnel, they might as well be stopped by one of those asteroids. Plus, it wasn’t just the fact that they were maintaining a constant speed; it was becoming increasingly apparent that the Blackwell was losing lateral stability. A sudden decompression of the scale he was suggesting would likely thrust her into a completely unmanageable tailspin.:: Shayne: No, no- strike my last, all. ::What a wonderful first impression to present to Zaekia. Blast it!:: Tu’Peq: Response Zaekia: response ::It was at that moment, that both he and Thoran recognized the same sensor data at the same time. There was one hazard directly in their path and sensors at both helm and tactical lit up like a Christmas tree. Two asteroids, roughly the size of Texas, had collided directly in the Blackwell’s path several hundred meters ahead. An explosive emissive purple cloud sent a shockwave from the center of the collective mass.:: ::Sensors, as limited as they were in their functionality, indicated a large dilithium cache at the center of the largest smashed asteroid. Though this was fascinating stuff, and more than likely could explain the source of the uncontrolled Eichner radiation spike, it would not help them get around their current predicament. If the Blackwell could not regain control of herself in time and collided with either large debris mass, it would spell most certain disaster for both ship and crew.:: Thoran: We’ve got a lot of debris up ahead. If we don’t stop or divert course soon, we’re all going to be in a lot of trouble. Wilmer: Captain, recommend full manual control on helm. ::It was a desperate option, to be sure. At this speed, with such clumsy controls, and with such a dangerous adversary ahead, Wilmer was proposing suicide. Unless their newest helmsman was a force of nature, they’d had it.:: Zaekia: response Wilmer: Tactical, reroute all available power to the main deflector. We can’t go around, we got to go through. ::Why did the universe hate him? Wilmer was right- there wouldn’t be enough time to avoid a collision- their collective best bet was to dive forward, and pray that the deflector would hold.:: Thoran: Main deflectors all primed Commander. Just hope it can take the hits. ::Shayne made sure that the power he’d taken from the replicators and the holodecks was now being filtered into the deflector system- every little bit counted.:: Wilmer: Captain, I’m modulating power from the main deflector to emit a constant, intermittent shock-pulse. Shayne: oO Oh, you brilliant man. Oo ::The shock pulse might just keep the larger objects out of their way. Almost as if they were swatting them from their path. If the deflector was strong enough to keep every asteroid on a harmless trajectory, they might just make it through the gauntlet. But should even a single rock penetrate Wilmer’s brilliance, their entire plan of attack could easily fail.:: Zaekia: Response Wilmer: Everybody hang on, we’re going to scream our way through. ::There were few things worse than being a passenger. Shayne kept his eyes glued on his instruments, seeking ways to improve their chances. But at the end of the day, it was up to Wilmer.:: ::And then his teeth disintegrated.:: ::The low-pitched tone of the enhanced deflector, combined with the skull shaking vibrations, formed a barrage against his psyche that he was unlikely to soon forget. It was so uncomfortable he could barely stand it. But he forced his mind to stay on the task at hand. Eyes wide with determination, teeth clenched in righteous anger, he attempted to balance the power surges that had begun to show themselves. The strain Wilmer was putting on the EPS grid was likely biblical.:: Ilsam: =/\=Ilsam to Bridge.=/\= ::Shayne could barely hear the call over the deafening white noise.:: Zaekia: =/\=Response=/\= Ilsam: =/\=We have concluded the situation in the Greenhouse, sir, and the patients are being escorted to Sickbay by a nurse. While it will be necessary at some stage to speak further with the patients, at the present time, I find myself free and able to go where I am most needed.=/\= ::He saw it an instant before its effects were known. A preposterously large spike in the main grid alerted him to the disaster unfolding, but not quickly enough to do anything about it. The deflector detonated beneath them, and the ship was flung into chaos.:: ::The randomness of the Blackwell’s newest course made it impossible to brace himself. He was tossed about like a ragdoll in a skydive, smacking a nearby console and a wall with resounding might. For a moment, there were two bridges, two realities, two Shaynes. And then it all came back together with resounding clarity. His lower neck screamed, and for a horrific moment, he wondered if there was damage to his spinal column. With dread, he tried to move his arm. He never thought he’d be so positively overjoyed to see his limb follow his commands.:: Zaekia: response Wilmer: (pulling himself up from the floor and to his seat) Well…we’ve stopped…helm control restored….what’s left of it. ::With great deliberation, Shayne picked himself off the ground. He struggled to his station, and attempted to get an understanding of their condition.:: Shayne: It looks like someone’s taken the nacelles offline. The EPS grid is a disaster zone. Tu’Peq: response Zaekia: response Wilmer: response Tag/TBC… Lieutenant Commander Randal Shayne Helmsman/Ops Officer/Second Officer USS Blackwell NCC 58999 G239202RS0
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    Every month, the Academy staff works to compile the statistics about our recruiting and training for the fleet’s informational purposes. Let’s take a look at how we did as a fleet in September. This first graph depicts the number of applications that we have received each month this year. During the month of September, the fleet saw 12 new applications. This equates to roughly one new application every two and a half days and sets a record for number of applicants in one month for this year. The following chart shows how our new members found us, according to their application: This final graph shows how many people graduated from the Academy during the month of September. As a fleet, we had seven Academy graduates in September which includes one graduate who applied during the month of August. We also had four applicants who applied in September, but whose training did not start until October. These new recruits are the lifeblood of our community. Without them, it becomes difficult to keep our ships fully crewed and even more difficult to grow the fleet. If you’d like to help us recruit more members and grow our fleet, you can join the Publicity Team using this form. The post Applications and Academy Graduates for September 2017 appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  14. 1 point
    Bar fight. Love it. The chaos sustains me. Excellent characterization, and the last line made me lose it.
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    Thank you @Wilmer for this amazing post. I greatly enjoyed getting to learn more about Charlotte. ((Wilmer’s Quarters, Deck 7, USS Blackwell)) ::It had been a fairly short walk from the transporter to their assigned quarters, at least it had felt as such. Charlotte had been so eager to get home to their new ship, that each step had taken less and less toll on her, and of course, journeys were never so bad when someone else was carrying your luggage.:: ::The quarters, were much to her satisfaction, quite adequate. Like usual, Starfleet had drab highlights of gray metal walls and chrome finish. There were all the things that one would expect, a replicator, an ample sized full bed, a couch, a coffee table, and wall monitor for communications, both inter-ship and external.:: ::She did very much enjoy the way her touch was influencing their soon-to-be mutual quarters. Nate’s accent pieces were all memories from the old days, photographs, books, memorabilia, model starships and the like. However, Charlotte had brought with her, several antique old English clocks, and fine pieces.:: ::There was a genuine Louis the 14th chair, complete with gilded armrests and royal red upholstery. This had been a wedding gift from her adoptive mother. Nate’s mother, on the other hand, had given as a wedding present a pram. Charlotte could not tell if this had been a suggestive joke, or more at a stab at her son for already having a child out of wedlock.:: ::Nate’s father had been raised by Vulcans, and his mother had been so uptight and conservative that she might as well have been Vulcan herself. Neither one of them had liked Charlotte very much. On one occasion Nate’s father had even tried to get Charlotte arrested by Federation authorities. But that had been a long time ago.:: ::Charlotte began unpacking and had started by throwing a couple of pillows onto the couch. The pillows themselves were new but retro in design, something out of old the Earth style; complete with 1960’s geometric designs on them. She lit a Vulcan incense stick, and put on some music, something the computer had selected completely at random. It was Bajoran, not that she minded.:: ::It hadn’t take long to unpack the furniture. It would take forever to put away all of her clothes. If only that helpful young crew person who had carried her luggage could have stayed and helped her put away her things. But alas, this was not a luxury liner, nor was it likely to cater to her every whim.:: ::Nate had begun to have an effect on her, ever since she proposed to him last year. She had always decided that she would determine the time and place of their engagement, and now, after years of picking the wrong path for herself, life with Nate just seemed right.:: ::It had taken her forever to get passed her own stubborn headed bossy nature. It had taken even longer than that for her to realize that she was still in love with him. Now all that remained was for Charlotte to find an appropriate wedding dress in ships stores, and her work was done. She trusted Nate to select the venue for their actual ceremony, but she had done all the legwork.:: ::Literally getting down on one knee, she had reverse roles somewhat in Paris and proposed to him. Nate was so taken aback that he had nearly stepped on her hand. He had later explained that her actions had confused him and he thought at first that she had dropped something. His Neanderthal type brain later caught up with what was actually happening and he soon gladly responded with a booming YES.:: ::His resulting retort had startled an older French woman next to them, who looked to them wild mild annoyance, as it had been the middle of the night, and half the city was asleep.:: ::That day had been so perfect, and life with Nate ever since their engagement, was becoming exciting and unexpected with every day they spent together.:: ::When Nate received the offer to return to active service in the Beta Quadrant, they both knew what the answer would be. Nate was happy to go back into space, and Charlie, much to her own surprise was happy to be at his side, and they went with it.:: ::For once, in the many years they had known one another, they were finally on the same page.:: ::It was then that the door chime rang. Charlotte was startled, and had not expected visitors. Additionally, there was no way that Nate would be off duty so soon, nor would he bother to use the door chime.:: ::With an aristocratic bid to enter, Charlotte continued her work, whilst unpacking their things.:: Farnsworth: Come in. Anyone: ((anyone with a PNPC who feels like writing a get to know you, feel free to jump in! I’d love to write with you.)) PNPC Charlotte Farnsworth As written by… Lt. Cmdr. Nate Wilmer Helm Officer E239107NW0
  16. 1 point
    Congratulations to the winner of this round’s Featured Bio Contest Roshanara Rahman and this round’s Feature Nominee Irina Pavlova! Born on Moselina IV, a busy trade stop located near Krios Prime, the Kriosian homeworld, Roshanara’s birth parents gave her up for adoption, and a human couple took her in, named her, and raised her back on Earth in the city of Lahore. Often mistaken for a Trill due to her Kriosian spots, she joined Starfleet because of her interest in starship design and engineering, an interest that has not come without a cost as she was gravely injured early in her career from a major accident that required lengthy rehabilitation. Rahman is a project manager for the Starfleet Corps of Engineers and a Starfleet Academy instructor. She previously served as an engineer aboard the starships Shanghai, Tempest, Pioneer, Mercury, and Garuda, and was chief engineer of the latter two vessels. She served as first officer to Fleet Captain Aron Kells aboard the Garuda and USS Invicta. She now commands the USS Veritas To look back at all our previous winners and featured nominees head on over to the wiki. The post Last Featured Bio Contest Winner: Roshanara Rahman appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  17. 1 point
    Our hearts go out to the victims in Las Vegas. #VegasStrong
  18. 1 point
    Hey you! Guess who's back?
  19. 1 point
    Welcome to the community! As a fresh newly member myself, I got to say that you hit the jackpot! Seriously, the people are friendly and helpful to guide you through the academy. I was one of those souls that bought the lifetime STO also. Got to admit, haven't played in a while. Again welcome!
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