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  1. 4 points
    ((Midnight - Vessine Glade Camping Site, Trill)) ::The evening had worn on. Some had retired to their tents relatively early, while others seemed determined to party until the point of collapse. Unusually, she couldn't see Nkai leading the charge on that one, and she wondered what drunken mishap had befallen the Rodulan to take him out of the running so early. Perhaps something involving Marshall -- his chief conspirator in arms -- given that there was no sign of her, either. ::Her attention was drawn away from the revelries by the approach of a tall, broad blond. Dressed in jeans, a light shirt and sturdy boots, Walter looked perfectly at home in the countryside. He'd been missing for most of the evening, stealing away to the forests for a walk. One hell of a walk, given how long he'd been gone and how dusty his boots were. She didn't resent him the solitude -- she understood his need for it, especially now that he was captain of one of the most cramped ships Starfleet had to offer. Everyone lived in each other's pockets aboard a Defiant, and it was hard for people like them.:: Reynolds: There you are. Good walk? ::He grunted in the affirmative, and took a seat next to her, surveying the scene in front of him. He smelt of the forest, of sweet tree sap and rich, earthy soil, and it was glorious. Oblivious to her appreciation, Walter watched the crowd, snorting in sardonic amusement at the drunken antics unfolding in front of him.:: Brunsig: Tomorrow will be filled with hangovers and regret. Reynolds: ::She chuckled.:: No doubt. ::As they sat there, he reached into his pocket, retrieving a small item and pressing it into her hand. The manoeuvre caught her by surprise, and he clearly anticipated her first question, answering her before the words had been formed in her throat.:: Brunsig: It was Oma Else's. ::Walter's grandmother. Quinn had only met her a few times, and it was quite clear where he had got his temperament from. The woman was as sharp as monofilament knife, in both intellect and tongue. She was a judge, and a skilled cellist, and Quinn had rarely heard anything so beautiful as the melodies she'd played -- except perhaps the duet grandmother and grandson had performed.:: Brunsig: She wants you to have it. Old family heirloom. ::Quinn looked down at the item in question. The small, luxurious box indicated that it was it was a piece of jewellery, though the blush-red of the fabric covering was faded with age, threadbare at the edges of the hinged lid.:: Reynolds: Shouldn't it go to your mum, then? Brunsig: ::He shook her his head, a frown pinching his blond brow together.:: Since she wisely extricated herself from He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, and hitched up someone who actually treats family like human beings instead of punching bags, she's out of the running. ::That made sense, though it wasn't something she'd expected. She knew that Else had kept in touch with Walter's mother, and had supported her throughout the separation and divorce. But divorce meant that Annalise was no longer Else's daughter-in-law, and technically no longer in line to inherit. The thinking seemed a bit antiquated for the woman, but then again, so was the item in question -- perhaps Else was leaning on tradition more strongly for an heirloom than she otherwise would.:: Reynolds: I see. ::She looked down at the box, and began to push the lid open with her thumb when Walter spoke again.:: Brunsig: I asked you a question. ::For a moment, she was off-guard. Had she got lost in her own thoughts? It did happen, but she was quite sure it hadn't just happened. So what in the world was he talking about?:: Reynolds: ...No you didn't. ::He sighed and frowned, impatience mixed with something else that was quite unfamiliar. She resisted the temptation to reach out and touch him, and gain that extra, telepathic insight into his thoughts. It was a cheat, and an invasion, and at best it would annoy him.:: Brunsig: And you said you needed some time to answer it. ::The air got stuck in her lungs as she forgot how to breathe. *That* was what he was talking about? He wasn't wrong, she'd never given him a definitive answer… but then again, the question had been posed years and years ago. It was only when her head began to spin through lack of oxygen that she forced herself to suck in a deep breath, spluttering out her surprise afterwards.:: Reynolds: This-- ::She pointed a finger at the offending box in her palm.:: This is an engagement ring? Brunsig: If you want it to be. It's up to you what finger your wear it on, it's yours either way. I'm under instructions from Oma; "Sie hat dich so lange ertragen, mein Junge. Sie geht nirgendwohin. Sie ist Familie." ::Quinn's German was just about good enough to piece together the meaning. She couldn't imagine being with anyone else -- she didn't *want* to be with anyone else -- and she knew the feeling was mutual. He was hers, and she was his, and together with Dylan and Amelia, they really were a family. A slightly odd and somewhat complicated family, but nonetheless. ::Family. ::Her delay in responding prompted a frown from Walter, and he started to turn away. Impulsive and desperate to avoid causing him any pain, she leaned across, catching his cheek with her hand and pressing her lips against his. Such public displays of affection were usually anathema to them both, but he answered her kiss with the same abandon, caught up in the heat of that unique, curious moment where they were transitioning from devoted lovers to a couple engaged.:: Reynolds: Let's get married. ::She murmured the words against his mouth, and he responded in kind.:: Brunsig: If we must. ::She leaned back and laughed, shaking her head, and he grinned back at her. A flush of pink had caught hold on his pale cheeks, and Quinn was quite sure it was echoed on her own. Their shared blush only deepened when he flicked open the box in her palm, plucking the antique ring from its cradle, taking her left hand in his. ::The diamond cluster glittered in the firelight, flames reflected in the intricate gold band. It was beautiful -- perhaps a little more extravagant than she'd choose for herself -- but she was proud (perhaps a little terrified) to be the new bearer of a Brunsig family heirloom. To her surprise, it slipped onto her ring finger as though it had been made for her.:: Reynolds: It fits. Brunsig: I had it resized. Reynolds: You know my ring size? *I* don't even know my ring size. ::He huffed, rolling his eyes. Despite the show of annoyance, he was still holding her hand, and that shared connection betrayed the amusement and fondness in his heart. Walter didn't say it often, but he loved her, just deeply as she loved him.:: Brunsig: It never ceases to amaze me how someone as capable as you can be so utterly hopeless. Reynolds: It's part of my charm. Brunsig: ::Dryly,:: You keep telling yourself that, Cupcake. ::She grinned at him, and despite his best efforts, he smiled back, sliding his arm around her waist. There was a lot to think about, such as where to hold it, who to invite -- she knew for a fact her father would hunt her down to express his extreme dismay if he didn't get to be there -- and even how they'd marry. But for now she was content to enjoy the moment; the simple pleasure of being close to him and watching the world go by.:: -- Rear Admiral Quinn Reynolds Commanding Officer USS Gorkon T238401QR0
  2. 4 points
    I jut had to share this sim. I roped one of lieutenant Dermont’s PNPCs into what I thought was going to be a chance for some exposition of my background but he completely blew me away by making a scene that’s both funny and touching while also giving the reader SO much more insight into both of our characters! ________________________________________ USS Atlantis, Sickbay - Deck 5)) ::As the most junior doctor on the staff currently, Toh'jak had been given the short straw and assigned the third shift. It was no matter to the Klingon. He was currently bend over his pad, tweaking a ballad he had been attempting to write. He enjoyed singing during his morning exercise routine, he thought he would give it a try to create one himself. He was so engrossed with it, whispering the words under his breath as he went that did not even notice the doors to sickbay open.:: Termine: :: trying to catch the other Ensign’s attention without seeming rude or impatient, though he was definitely one of the two:: Uh… Ensign Toh’Jak. I need medical assistance. ::Glancing up quickly, he stood even as he flipped the PADD face down. His eyes did a quick glance to the ensign before him holding one hand within the other. He recognized the man as the one who had welcomed him on his first day. What was his name? Ah, right.:: Toh’jak: Ensign Termine, what is the matter at this time of night? Termine: Uh… Just a cut on my hand, that’s all. ::The Klingon grinned at the comment as Dante revealed the deep laceration. It was clear that is was not a simple cut. They need to stop the bleeding and knit the muscle quickly.:: Toh’jak: Ah, your "just a cut" is bleeding onto the floor and you will be lucky retain full function of that hand. Termine: I thought doctors were supposed to say things like “That doesn’t look too bad” or things like that. ::His grin grew even wider until it was all teeth.:: Toh’jak: Bah! You have clearly never been to a Klingon hospital. Termine: well, that’s fair. ::He indicated that Dante should sit on the edge of the closest bio-bed and as he did so, Toh'jak rolled his cart of instruments to his side.:: Toh’jak: So how did you manage such a severe wound? Working on some Federation tech, no doubt. Termine: I’d… prefer not to say Doctor, my injury is… a personal matter. Toh’jak: Ah! Well I have had several "personal matters" that have ended in injury. Though I was under the impression the Federation does not like us to settle our issues in such a manner... :: The two sat in silence for a moment while the doctor began his work, blue light shone over Dante’s red wounds and he felt the dermal stimulator begin it’s work with a tingle. Whether it was Dante’s distaste of silence between people, or the calming feeling of being taken care of, Dante soon found himself speaking again.:: Termins: Are… Are you close with your father Toh’Jak? I know Klingon houses are patrilineal, but I’m afraid I don’t know much about Klingon parenting. ::The question man Toh'jak freeze right in the middle of his work. He glared at the human for a bit. His father? The klingon gave another smile to Dante, but this time it was not in mirth. Bitterness was the closest word that might describe it.:: Toh’jak: Klingon fathers try to teach honor above all. But just as humans, we do no always see eye to eye with our parents. Why? Are you not close with yours? Termine: My father? Well… close wouldn’t be the right word. I spent my whole childhood with him, even being homeschooled, but I’d never say we were close. He… my father.. lets just say he has a strong personality. ::According to humans, almost all Klingons seem to have something of a strong personality, so that description was not much to go on.:: Toh’jak: Indeed? So among your kind he was a leader? Termine: My father is a renown opera singer, so I spend my childhood on tour with him. He’s been incredibly successful and attributes it all to expecting perfection from his cast and crew. It makes for fantastic performances, but a not-so-happy home life. Actors, at the end of the day, get to go home. Children don’t. ::Toh'jak eyes glittered a little at hearing about his father's career. Music was a noble pursuit. Some of the greatest heroes in Klingon lore were warrior bards. And while many would focus only the warrior half, much of their history would have been lost if not for the bard half. A song has power and life. The doctor nodded. Such a man would indeed have great weight upon his shoulders.:: Toh’jak: The path of the bard is a noble one, but a difficult one. I imagine that he took pride in make sure everything was perfect during a performance. The burden off-stage...a heavy load. Termine: Perfection… Perfection was the sword that always hung above my head growing up. Everything I did, everything I was had to be perfect in my father’s eyes, or I was nothing. I was to be his protege, the continuation of his legacy you see. He started training me vocally from before I could stand. The goal was that when he got too old to sing, he would manage me, so he’d never truly have to stop being… well, himself really. ::The wound was almost healed. He turned the dermal regenerator down to the lowest setting and slowly start knitting the skin back together. There would barely be a pink patch when he was through.:: Toh’jak: While there is a great honor to follow on your father's path, a child's destiny is their own. A confident man can accept that, knowing that his deeds will stand on their own. Given your present location, you clearly chose a different career. Was he accepting? Termine: Well… He didn’t actually agree to me joining starfleet. I ran away if you can believe it. I bribed a Ferengi cargo merchant to take me to San Fransisco when we were on tour on Vulcan. It was to be my debut performance, Don Giovanni, in the great stone amphitheater of T’herat. But I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t want that life but I was too afraid to tell him, too afraid to… disappoint him I guess.. but I never wanted to be a singer, or to have him control my life. I wanted to be an officer Toh’jak. I wanted to be here, making the universe a better place. oO I have met the human that mirrors my own life... Oo ::Toh'jak himself had left the Empire against the express wished of his father. He tired of watching warrior after warrior die in battle when they could have been saved by Federation medical technology. And the Federation was willing to share, but the oh so proud Empire disagree. His father had screamed at him as he left..."If it is a warrior's time, then it is his time!" But what if his time could be in another five years? Why not allow the warrior another dozen years of battle?:: ::So Toh'jak left after six years of service as a doctor onboard a battlecruiser and applied for Starfleet. His father has already been disappointed he had chosen the medical field, despite Toh'jak still being no doubt a fine warrior. But when he had left for the Academy? "For this dishonor, there is no atonement...":: Toh’jak: You did what was right for you! Follow your path, Termine! No man chooses for you. But how does this story give you such a gash? Termine: My cut? ::Dante had forgotten all about the pain in his hand as he had spoke:: oh… well…I guess he does have something to do with the cut. I got a letter today, from him. He has somehow tracked me down, through some of his friends who just to happen to be starfleet admirals. They told him which ship I’m on and, since we just HAPPEN to be in the same quadrant, he’s insisting that he comes for a visit. Toh’jak: And this led to anger? And a cut, somehow? Termine: I’m almost ashamed to admit it, but I cut myself when I smashed my own glass desk with my hand… although I guess if anyone could relate it would be a klingon, huh? Toh’jak: We generally try to inflict injury on the target of our wrath, but indeed. I can relate. ::He turned off his tools and pushed the cart away. Toh'jak grabbed Dante's hands and gave it a few squeezes to see if the young man cried out. After he did not, the doctor gave a nod. Toh'jak: All healed now, Ensign Termine. And I have learned much about you today. I too have a stubborn old man for a father. I wish you luck in the conflict that is no doubt soon to happen. Termine: Uh… thank’s doctor. For lending an ear and a derma regenerator. I just hope neither I nor my father end up back here, although I’m sure you’d be just as understanding of something like that as well, wouldn’t you? ::Toh'jak just gave another toothy smile to Termine as the ops officer stood and made his way to the door. Just as the doors opened, the Klingon called out.:: Toh'jak: Termine! If your father is determine to challenge you on this, suggest to him you settle it the Klingon way! As your crewmate, I would be honored to be your second for that... ::As the other man disappeared, Toh'jak just chuckled to himself. His voice had made the comment sound like a light jest, but with a Klingon one never really knew.:: END ============= Ensign Toh'jak of House Suhtaek Medical Officer USS Atlantis stubbornly simmed by: Lieutenant JG Valin Dermont Engineering USS Atlantis A239410VD0
  3. 3 points
    ((Brigand Cruiser “Rebuke”, Corridor - Deck Unknown)) ::The sound of screaming wasn’t exactly a rarity in those decks of the Syndicate ship Rebuke. However, it was the first time those walls had heard the laboured cries of a Laudean. By now the wailing had subsided into eerily melodic whimpers and gasps for clean air through the stench of her own sweat, blood, burnt hair and embarrassing urine. It wasn’t the poor girls fault. The urine wasn’t from fear or some unintended involuntary response. It was a side-effect, a by-product, of the electrical currents that were being forced through her from the electrodes attached to her fried, crispy and patchy haired scull. The room had seen this kind of thing before. It wasn’t about torture. - that was just a pleasant coincidence. The purpose of the currents, drugs, and implanted memories were about reprogramming. It forced those outside of the Syndicate to become the most loyal of operatives.:: ::The young Laudean woman Fasha wouldn’t be able to remember any of this place, nor the horrors that took place that day. She would wake up shackled in a cage with the others. Scars healed by dermal regeneration her head shaved clean. Her luck was about to change. She was going to be rescued. But she would be haunted by the shadows of these forgotten memories forever. They would lie deep in the black ocean of her subconscious. Then, one day, when her unseen masters were ready her memories and self would fade away and be replaced by what ‘they’ wanted her to be. Although she would live and move on, her life would never be hers again. She didn’t know it yet. How could she? But her tears that day were not shed for her pain. They were shed by her subconscious for her death.:: ((Brigand Cruiser “Rebuke”, Main Bridge)) Conn: The Thunder has dropped out of warp Magren. Jishi: So quickly? ::She laughed as she sat up in her chair.:: The Romulans would rule the galaxy if the Tal’Shiar moved as quickly. ::They had just informed the asteroid outpost of their pending arrival less than twenty minutes ago. Their operative must have been in the right place at the right time to get that tidbit of information so quickly and relay it to the Thunder. Her comment didn’t seem to be sitting well with their Romulan attache.:: Romulan: They move too quickly. Nothing verified, motives unchecked. If the Tal’Shiar worked as they do, the empire would have revolted or fallen centuries ago. They fell for your ploy far too easily. ::In a passive aggressive defiant tone.:: Perhaps, they merely lost track of us and decided it best to stop. Conn: Impossible! ::In protest of the accusation.:: I made certain they would be able to track us. Jishi: No. They were tracking us. They know where we are going. ::Jishi was confident in the plan and pleased with their progress. By the time they arrived at the asteroid outpost their Laudean sleeper would be ready. Starfleet would do what they always do - swoop in and save the day. Little did theyy know they would be returning to Til’ahn with a ticking time bomb in the facade of Laurel Fasha...:: ((Brigand Cruiser “Rebuke”, Corridor - Deck Unknown)) ::The room was quiet now. The corridor no longer echoed with terror and pain. Inside, on a dirty biobed, the living corpse of young Fasha lay cleaned and pristine like an ancient monarch on display. A dim, cold white overhead light, cast dark shadows over her calm face. Her eyes moved behind closed lids as she dreamed about sweet treats, beautiful creatures of fantasy, or whatever young Laudean girls dreamt about. Her mind and body experienced the kind of shock and trauma that a mind instinctively buries to protect itself. It would be weeks before the wraiths and demons of her death started to haunt her dreams. Then a few more before they started haunting her days too. But for now, at least, the numbness brought her peace.:: PNPC Magren Jishi The “Rebuke”, Commanding Officer And The Corridor - Deck Unknown As simmed by Commander Jorey - Commanding Officer USS Thunder-A Veteran Affairs / Training Team / CC T239002BJ0
  4. 3 points
    ((Yzieme Beach, Trill)) ::The light was fading from the sky about the same time as the sun began to set in the old man's eyes. ::The blond woman -- who had but this morning been Kudrem Kian -- sat cross-legged on the beach, nestled amongst the pale white sands. She was a stranger to many, barely a footnote on a ship that regarded crew as family. But even those few who knew her, would have been hard-pressed to recognise her. A fire blazed in her eyes, fierce and passionate, transforming her whole body. No more was she the shade stalking the corridors, seeking refuge in oblivion, terrified that everyone would realise that she was a failure. Now she was filled with passion and purpose, straight-backed and determined. ::Kudrem Kian was gone. Lladre had been reborn. ::Laid in front of her, head cradled in her lap, holding her hands as they lay upon his chest, was the man who had offered to help her only a few days earlier. He too was different. With the symbiont removed, his hold on life was fading fast. He was no longer Lladre; Perdut had been his name when he had been born, and that was what it would be when he died. Perdut: You shouldn't have done this. You don't have the time. ::She looked down at him, a fond and gently amused smile on her lips.:: Lladre: You of all people know that I don't like to be told what to do. ::Oh, he did. And how he'd loved it; the rebellion, the freedom, the carefree way that Lladre had lived their lives. The symbiont had offered everything he'd ever wanted, and so much more besides. He was dying now, but it was as a man contented and at peace.:: Perdut: How's Kian? Lladre: In stasis. That's more than it deserves. ::She snorted, and her lip curled in disgust.:: Weak-willed little creature. I would've recycled it with the rest of the garbage, except I think it'll be useful. ::Lladre had nothing but contempt for Kudrem's former symbiont. It had been wasting the life of a talented host, letting her wallow in misery and mediocrity when it could have been guiding her to greatness. They had only been joined a few hours, but already the woman was happier than she ever had been with Kian. ::Perdut smiled in reply, weariness barely lifting the corners of his mouth. He had, after all, heard much worse from the symbiont. They had *done* much worse. And he regretted none of it. Laws and morals were nothing more than the excuses of the weak-willed and passionless.:: Perdut: That's good. You'll need the insurance. Stealing from Starfleet will cause you some trouble. Lladre: For a little while, no doubt. ::She chuckled, smiling down at him again.:: But I have a plan for that. ::He smiled, and it felt like an effort that would move mountains. That didn't escape Lladre's notice, and her expression turned mournful, her hands squeezing his tightly.:: Lladre: I'm going to miss you. ::It was Perdut's turn to chuckle, a quiet, rasping wheeze of a sound. His time was ending.:: Perdut: I'll always be with you. ::He looked away from her, toward the stars glimmering in the sky, breathtaking in their beauty. He'd seen so many of them, experienced wonders that he couldn't even begin to describe. Lladre had taken him from his tiny, miserable life and given him a gift beyond measure. Every memory was a treasure, and he let them flood through his mind, filling his heart and soul with joy.:: Perdut: Thank you. ::He died with a smile on his lips, a solitary tear on his cheek. It was joined by more, falling from Lladre's eyes, as she leaned over to kiss his forehead. The decision to move on from Perdut had been one of the hardest she'd had to make, and his loss was keenly felt.:: Lladre: Thank *you*. ::She sat there for some time, the heat fleeing his body as the night cooled. Then, a quiet chime came from the device in her pocket, reminding her that time ever marched on. With a deep sigh, she untangled herself and stood, leaving him there in the sand, resting forever under the stars.:: -- Rear Admiral Quinn Reynolds Commanding Officer USS Gorkon T238401QR0
  5. 3 points
    ((Enroute to the Engineering Deck, USS Fortwith)) ((OOC - You can fit this into the timeline how ever you'd like folks, just had this fresh in my head, so I wanted to get it out there. )) :: Parsons had been a loyal officer, but perhaps even his mind had been a little warped since the beginning of all this. Mac moved quickly through the corridors that didn't have lift access, making sure to keep eyes out along the way for crew members that would need to be ready for the explosion ahead. He didn't even know if he fully trusted what was about to transpire, but they had no other choices, no other options that would even sound remotely sane or possible. He had to get to the core. oO What has gotten into him? Oo. :: :: He remembered the first time he'd brought the man aboard his ship. He remembered how green he was, and also how he had advanced through the ranks fairly swiftly. He remembered his pinning ceremony to that of a Lieutenant Junior Grade under his tutelage. He held back the smile that so often came to his face. But this time, he held his hand on his pistol, drawing it out in preparation for what was to come. The tone of the man's voice had Mac sniffing out mutiny... :: ((Engineering Section, USS Fortwith)) :: The doors to engineering slid open, squeaking as they did having been clearly damaged in the crash. The power was on, and the place was lit, but there was smoke about, and sparks now and again. Some of the uninkured crewmen were making projects of the sparks and smoke, attempting to clean what they could. He holstered his pistol for now, approaching the command and control station. Jeffrey was there. :: McMillan: I don't think the comms were working correctly Lieutenant... Parsons: No... no they worked just fine :: as he turned to face the man before him. :: McMillan: Listen, they have a plan... One that could get us home. Parsons: And you believe it right? There are Klingons onboard Mac... Klingons... McMillan: And they've proven useful thus far. Why now all of a sudden are you doubting me? Listen if you're not gonna follow orders, then I guess I'll have to do this... :: He was cut off by a punch to the throat. He fell to his knees, grasping at his neck. He looked to Parsons, who then kicked him in the face sending him backwards, striking his head hard on the floor. The man walked over to him, securing his weapon in his hand and stepping back. :: McMillan: :: With a winded, raspy voice. :: What the F*&# are you doing.... Parsons: You've been colluding all along... With the Klingons. You brought us here... You killed us REX... YOU KILLED US ALL THE MINUTE WE ENTERED THIS SYSTEM. McMillan: You don't know what you're talking about. That doesn't even make sense Jeff! Parsons: I do... And I'm not letting it go any further... Right after we attempted to get rid of the Klingon that came to Earth. We ambushed them... but somehow, we made it out alive. Somehow, even though many others gave their lives, good ole Rex made it out alive. And now we're here, with Klingons aboard trying to render aid. You're a traitor... :: He was so confused. He hadn't seen this coming at all, not even a hint of it at all. He stood for now, keeping his distance. :: McMillan: Well. Hmph. :: beat:: I guess you'll just have to take me into custody then right? :: You couldn't even touch the tension with a knife. He glared at the boy... who glared right back at him. He was swollen with pride, that he had everything all figured out. He wouldn't know the error of his ways. :: Parsons: Oh you can count on it... :: he started moving towards Rex :: :: He waited for the man to move within a foot of him while turning to place his hands behind his back. He turned suddenly and dove into the man's midsection, sending him backwards into the console. The pistol went flying to the left. Jeff returned with a series of blows to the back of the head, and a kick to the chest. Mac fell to the floor, head cloudy, face a mess... He turned his head right... oO The pistol... Oo. He lunged with every ounce he had left, grabbed the weapon, and turned it towards Parsons... He pulled the trigger, and a round flew, narrowly missing Parsons, and striking the area of the core. He recognized the green that began to spew from the coupling he'd apparently hit. Parsons was nowhere to be found. There he was again, only this time he wielded a spanner, striking Mac in the shoulder. He returned with a head butt, sending Jeff crashing to the floor. He moved to the console and opened the comm as quickly as he could :: McMillan: =/\=BRIDGE! GET READY!=/\= Bridge Folks: =/\=[Tag]=/\= McMillan: =/\= I don't have a lot of time here... There's... AAHHH.... There's plasma venting into the room! =/\= :: He turned to see the plasma spilling into the room, the coolant lines had gone, and the core was going awol at least per the console. He watched as plasma enveloped Parson, setting him ablaze and sucking the air from the room at the same time as ignition. He felt choked. He heard Jeff screaming, and watched as his skin bubbled like the crackling of a roast pig. It fell away from him and then into nothing but carbon spent along the corridor floor. He felt the heat rising... :: Bridge: [Tag] McMillan: =/\= DON'T YOU DARE RACHEL, THERE's NO TIME! I'M EJECTING the co...... Ugh..... AHHHHH..... =/\= Bridge: [Tag] McMillan =/\= Just make sure this wasn't for nothing..... =/\= He cut the comm :: :: His uniform ignited as the green plasma approached. He could feel the air within him boiling, rushing from his lungs, his legs caught fire, then his back and torso... He took his hand and put in the short code for ejection, just as his consciousness left him... :: :: The room suddenly was quiet, and rushing with wind all at once. The air was sucked from the room as the port side hatch opened, ripping the doors from their posts, sending the warp core flying through. It would eject from the side of the vessel in a smoldering heap of junk, ready to burst at the seams. The decompression seemed efficient enough to send the core some distance. :: TBC/Tags -- MSNPC Captain Rex McMillan Commanding Officer USS Fortwith NX-03 as Simmed by Lieutenant JG Na'Lae Mandak Helm Officer USS Blackwell Andaris Task Force O238901VL0
  6. 2 points
    (( Science Lab 22, Biochemistry Lab, Deck 8, USS Gorkon)) ::The lab was silent, ghostly even, the occasional sound of footsteps tapping along the deck plating, or the clanging of glass partially filling the absence of noise:: ::T’Pann’s slender body slouched over a metallic workbench, her dark, hawk like gaze, watching over a see-through petri dish. Accompanied by several analysis devices and a high powered microscope, cluttering the space around her. One hand, T’Pann used to hold the dish still, and another gently holding a tube full of a brightly coloured, yellow fluorescent liquid. T’Pann’s expression continuing it’s stoic dominance over her features. The steel bench was cluttered with PADDs, tricorders and other scientific equipment.:: ::T’Pann’s cold stare was broken ever so suddenly, by the dry sound of the doors sliding open, halting her from completing the next stage of her experiment. Irritation draped T’Pann’s features momentarily as several annoyingly energetic footsteps led to the inevitable breathing down her collar, all seeming to come much too soon. The peaceful silence of the labs, broken by a cheerful whisper, that escalated into a blaring shout.:: Sterling: So! Whatcha doin’? ::T’Pann moved away from the workbench, the tube still in her hand and her ringing like a bell. Only for the half vulcan’s eyes to meet with a familiar Tiburon/Terran hybrid, one who seemed to appear in the science labs far too often for than she really should. Ensign Iriin Sterling, a medical officer, primarily assigned to the ship’s morgue, sometimes referred to as ‘Mortisha’ by the crew, mostly due to her oddly cheerful approach to her profession.:: T’Pann: Rather delicate work, Ensign, I’d prefer it if you were a little more silent, i’m unable to focus when my ears are ringing. ::T’Pann spoke with a hint of sass in her tone, obviously attempting to express her displeasure of Sterling’s unrequired presence.:: Sterling: Sorry! I couldn’t help it! Our shifts ended early, mostly to celebrate being accident free for, get this, a whole 25 hours! :Her excitement bubbled like a steaming pot, bubbles of gigling joy practically secreting from her.:: ::Iriin backed off slowly, her posture easing onto an unoccupied console. T’Pann was oddly surprised at Iriin’s uncharacteristically docile state, much of the time she was described as, to put it lightly “Targ stool crazy.” by the other science staff that worked with her. Often taking to her work much more extreme methods than regulation would allow, often leading expedition teams into her idea of ‘fun’.:: T’Pann: I’m happy for you ::She replied in a sarcastic tone.:: Perhaps next time, a plasma burn may be more opportune. Sterling: Oh please! You love my presence! ::As T’Pann replied, she placed the tube of yellow liquid in a small rack beside the petri dish, before turning back to her salmon tinged crewmate.:: ::Truth be told, T’Pann found it difficult to maintain her stoic, “vulcanness” over her human side, especially around types such as Sterling, or even the more colourful Gorkon crew. The crew lacked harmony amongst their ranks, T’Pann often found herself concerned about the rowdiness demonstrated by the crew.:: Sterling: ::Iriin stepped forward:: So… aren’t you gonna introduce me to your… organisms? ::Iriin gestured to the experiment set up.:: T’Pann: Yes, you may. They’re a newly discovered form of amoeba, our scans detected them while we were in orbit of Sikuna. They replicate in a very odd manner, the amoebas use the remains from their own self combustion to reproduce at the end of their 2-4 minute lifecycle. Which seems to replace a cycle similar to mitosis. We have yet to figure out how this effect is achieved, our scanning equipment is not effective enough to penetrate the membranes of the organisms, let alone, locate the biological factors involved. ::T’Pann picked up a PADD.:: My hypothesis is that the proteins leftover contain the organism’s genetic information, which perhaps may be able to replicate itself, into forming a simplistic life form. Sterling: Interesting… though, i don’t understand why you’re not trying to modify a scanner. T’Pann: We’ve tried, yet our facilities aren’t advanced enough to attempt such an upgrade, though, we have several engineers on task with a tricroder that can scan the membrane. If we were on an Oberth Class, a Nova Class or even on Vulcan however, we’d be able to find a much simpler, and effective way through the membrane. However, since we are not on said starships, or planet, we must adapt using what materials we have. Sterling: That’s one hell of a membrane. Though, i do see your point. Our facilities aren’t as sciencey, or advanced as some other ships. It’d be a very bad idea if you had an Oberth class on the frontlines of the though, they’re science ships. I’d love to see the day when we get one of those Prometheus Class sickbays. I heard that the EMH program has shipwide access. ::T’Pann pouted slightly, turning away from the joyful Tiburon before her, picking up the tube of yellow liquid once again and placing the PADD nearby. T’Pann prepared herself to pour a small amount onto the petri dish, to act as a dye, which would allow her to observe the replicative process more closely. An archaic measure it was, as the countless exo/xenobiologists on board had been unable to scan the organisms more precisely. It appeared the membranes and the proteins were made up of an epidermal material that resisted conventional means, putting this advanced and civilised organisation in a tough space of waiting for an upgrade, or doing what they could in the name of science. T’Pann added several drops of the yellow liquid to the dish, before quickly slotting it onto the stage of the high powered microscope.:: T’Pann: That would be quite convenient. ::T’Pann’s icy, vulcan glare travelled down the eyepiece, observing a whole colony of yellow coloured, shapeless forms, going about their business as usual. Consuming nutrients, and reproducing. T’Pann watched carefully at the process of an organism over indulging, only to ignite itself moments later. In a matter of seconds the burnt remains slowly reconstructed vaguely similar life form, shortly before being interrupted once again by her loudmouthed colleague, but with a somewhat unheard of hushed tone.:: Sterling: So.. T’Pann, Baidan and I were wondering whether or not you’d be interested in filling in a spot at our jazz recital, which we’ve arranged to perform at the awards ceremony. One of our strings people had to pull out last minute, and we were wondering if you’d fill in with your... vulcan harp thingy ::T’Pann turned away from her microscope, turning to the salmon coloured medical officer on the tip of her heel. Her stoic impression, unchanged. The offer mildly peaked her interest, T’Pann had grown quite withdrawn from the instrument she’d been playing for years on end. She wasn’t exactly jumping at the opportunity, but nevertheless, it interested her to see how well a vulcan hard would fit in amongst the band.:: T’Pann: When will I be required to participate. Sterling: Hopefully after your duty shift, we were gonna have a meeting later tonight at 18:00 hours on holodeck 1, and maybe we’ll squeeze in a jam session, so bring your harp!. ::Iriin spoke, finishing her sentence with a ‘jazz hand’:: T’Pann: I will… consider your offer, I will see if I can accommodate your performance into my schedule Sterling: ::Iriin deepened her voice.:: It would be most illogical not to participate. I need another set of strings to go with my fiddle ::T’Pann sighed deeply, replying to Iriin’s vulcan impression with a disappointed glare.:: T’Pann: If you’re attempting to appeal to my human side, it is just as unimpressed as my vulcan side, Ensign Sterling. Sterling: ::S[...]ing.:: Well, it was worth a shot. ::Iriin tapped T’Pann’s shoulder, before shortly retreating to the door.:: See you at the meeting. Don’t be late! ::T’Pann replied with a solid nod, returning to her work of proving her own hypothesis. An oddly potent hum cut through the silence of the lab as data seemed to pour into her PADD, seeming to offer T’Pann a greater deal of focus in her work.:: ___________________________ Crewman 1st Class T’Pann - USS Gorkon - Science Officer ___________________________ Simmed By _________________________ Ensign Emilia Krugol - USS Gorkon - Security/Tactical officer - G239409EK0 __________________________
  7. 2 points
    We’re here with another interview with a newer member of our community. The title of this column is “Lower Decks,” hearkening back to the Star Trek: The Next Generation episode titled “Lower Decks,” in which junior officers aboard the Enterprise-D speculate on the reasons for recent unusual actions taken by the command crew near the Cardassian border. This month’s interview is with the writer behind Lieutenant JG Dave ‘Raven’ Young, playing a Human male science officer assigned to the USS Constitution. TRAENOR: Tell us a little about the writer behind the character — where in the world do you hail from? YOUNG: I’m from a little corner of Scotland where I live with my two kids. I’m steadily weaning them into Star Trek like a parenting boss. I’m a small business owner, namely I have my own Ice Cream Van where I tour around the local city selling ice cream cones to happy people. (More or less). It’s my own little bright yellow shuttlecraft. Is this your first simming experience, or have you done other forms of role-playing before? This would be my first actually. Well, my first role play with other people. I like many others dreamed of being a Captain when I was a kid and may or may not have acted it out at my local play park 20 odd years ago. Picture the one kid sitting at the top of a slide, barking out orders to imaginary crewmen. Yeah… SB118 trumps that by far though as now I have like minded people all over the world who actually want to respond to my Sci-Fi geekiness. What duty post are you playing, and how’d you choose it? I’m playing as LT JG Raven Young, the Assistant Chief of the Science department on the USS Constitution-B. I, like Raven thrive on exploring and learning new things so naturally he had to be a Stellar Cartographer. One of the best parts about being a Science Officer is going online and researching things. I’d be a pretty crummy Science Officer if I didn’t know a thing about anything. I’ve found myself googling interstellar nurseries, Gamma Radiation emission sources and more. Are there elements of real life that you especially enjoy incorporating into your simming? Yes actually. In many of my sims, I try to have Raven add a little bit of humour or light heartedness into the scene. I’d hope that when others read my character, they feel a little uplifted. That can only be a good thing, right? On the other hand however, I recently brought Raven’s father aboard the Conny as my first PNPC. Whilst Raven is a rather laid back and generally easy going guy much like I am in real life, his dad Jacob Young is the opposite. A tightly strung, cynical guy that tends to rub everyone the wrong way. I enjoy writing for a character like that, particularly if I’m in a bad mood. It’s quite cathartic in a way. Like venting into him. Do you take any inspiration from films, television, or books when writing your character? Although my greatest Sci-Fi love will always be Star Trek, I’m also a big fan of the Stargate series, particularly the earlier seasons of SG-1. I’d like to think I’ve taken a few character traits from Colonel Jack O’Neill when I designed Raven. The easy going attitude and humour being right up there. Another inspiration for my character is actually Mr Neil DeGrasse Tyson. Whenever I watch a video with Mr Tyson in it, I instantly feel inspired. I wanted Raven to have an inspired quality to him too that gives him a reason to be out there in deep space. Looking back on your experience so far, what would be one piece of advice you’d give to anyone who’s just joined? The biggest piece of advice I could give is do NOT be afraid to jump in. For my first couple of months here, I simmed quietly and in the background, reacting to the situations presented to me rather than coming up with new ideas and scenarios myself. When I gained enough confidence to start telling Raven’s story as more than just a background character, I feel like everything just clicked. I knew who the character was. His motivations were clear almost all the time. I have had more fun in the past several months simming as Raven than I have had in years and I am incredibly thankful to everyone who takes part. Thanks for your time, Lieutenant Young! You can read more about Lieutenant JG Dave Young on the wiki. The post Lower Decks Interview: Dave ‘Raven’ Young, Constitution appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  8. 2 points
    Last mission, we visited a Class L planet. What do these classes mean? The Federation, and Starfleet by extension, recognizes 20 distinct classes of planets. They are classed by factors such as planet age, mass, and distance from their sun, and labeled by an arbitrary alphabetic designation. Here are some of the more common classes of planets: Class M – derived from the Vulcan word Minshara, these planets are among the most habitable in the galaxy. Notable examples include Earth and Vulcan Class L – marginally habitable, able to support vegetation but rarely animal life Class P – glaciated, habitable planets, such as Andoria Class J – gas giants, like Sol VI (Saturn) Class Y – also sardonically called the ‘Demon Class’, these planets are in the habitable zone of their solar systems and have comparable mass and gravity to Class M, yet are highly toxic If you would like to learn more about Planetary Classifications, visit the wiki for more information! The post Ask the Scientist: Planetary Classifications appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  9. 1 point
    With huge thanks and appreciation to Anora Manor, Cory Stoyer, Oddas Aria, Jo Marshall, and one anonymous donor we’re now at nearly 37% of our yearly fundraising goal. If you’re enjoying your time with our community, please consider helping us maintain our website, which includes an incredibly large wiki, our forums, website, and a number of domain names. It costs about $1,500 a year to pay for everything we need, and it’s all supported by members like you who donate small amounts. Click here to join these members in donating to our 2019 goal. It only takes a few minutes and we never see your credit card information. The post July was a big month for donations thanks to these members appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  10. 1 point
    Are you tired of the character you’re playing? Maybe you didn’t realize the flaws in the character you created in the Academy and want a fresh start? Luckily, you can change your character at any time provided a few qualifications are met. Some considerations about changing characters: Are you wanting to change ships? Are you wanting to change duty posts? Are you wanting to start a secondary character? We have a tutorial on the wiki that will walk you through the simple process of creating a new character, and answer your frequently asked questions about the process. Click here to head to the Characters Guild on the wiki and read the tutorial about changing characters. The instructions are simple and it only takes a few minutes. The post Want to change your character? It’s easy! appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  11. 1 point
    ay what you mean. I do not trust your sugary words.” The Zaldans are a humanoid species with webbed hands. They are blunt and a simple human courtesy can cause great offense as they interpret such actions as phony. This can cause great difficulty in interactions with other species but they are a friendly and helpful people once this is taken in account. They are one of the few species to have entire ships crewed by the same species due to these difficulties. Zaldans are naturally aggressive and physical competition and challenges have become an intricate part of their culture. They are generally muscular, tall and athletic and therefore typically excel at inter-species sports. The species has a good relationship with Klingons showing they are respected as being honorable. The Zaldans have only appeared in a few Star Trek episodes and as a playable species there are lots of opportunities to expand upon their basic outline. Learn more about this species from their wiki page. The post Species closeup: Zaldans appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  12. 1 point
    Ensign Malko is looking forward to joining the ranks, and meeting fellow classmates.
  13. 1 point
    Space may be the final frontier, but it's made in a Hollywood basement...
  14. 1 point
    Please welcome our newest Academy graduate to the UFOP: StarBase 118 fleet: German Galven! The post New Academy Graduate appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  15. 1 point
    ((StarBase 118 – Deck 1040, section 3, Adler’s Quarters)) :: Adler’s quarters were not far from the Dungeon he was just in, only a few decks up really. He had programmed the computer to play music upon his arrival, so when the doors opened, he was greeted by a waltz, “An Der Schonen, Blauen Donau” by Johan Strauss II. :: :: After his first whiskey down at the Playhouse, Conrad had switched to hot coffees instead, and now he was just about ready to hit the sack. He leered at the mirror on the wall near the door and decided his hair didn’t need refitting before bed. He opened his jacket and unzipped the gold tunic about halfway on his way to the bed chamber. When he got there, he did an about face toward the exit and let himself fall backwards onto the oh-so-comfortable mattress. :: oO Nice quarters they have here. Not at all like on a starship. Unless I was an admiral. That’ll be the day. Oo Adler: Computer, decrease playback volume 50 %. :: The computer obeyed, and the music quieted a little. Conrad let the mixed excitement and frustration of the day escape his lips as he closed his eyes and let the computer waltz him to sleep. :: Computer: Incoming transmission from cargo freighter Tilma. :: Adler’s eyelids slowly reopened themselves. Adler: :: Quietly, to himself. :: What? Computer: Incoming transmission from the cargo freighter ... Adler: Yes, yes, I heard the first time. :: Conrad sat up in bed, sighing. :: Let’s hear it, Computer. Computer: Text only. oO Of course. Oo :: Conrad rubbed his eyes, smacked the back of his head a couple times, lightly, and got up and went to sit down at the computer terminal on the coffee table in the middle of the main room. When he activated the monitor, there were all sorts of promotional messages about station amenities he decided to deal with later. He opened the message from his family’s cargo ship. Essentially it told him that everyone was doing well, except that their space cat, Munkwitz, had passed on. :: oO Oh, that’s a shame. Oo :: It also told him he had a new baby niece and expressed hope he would be able to see her before she graduated college. :: oO We’ll see. Oo :: The letter concluded with well wishes and some kind of allusion to his mother’s most recent success in the freighter’s tiny kitchen, something about making a blood pie that didn’t sicken the crew. :: oO Oh, that’s a plus. Nice work, Mom. Oo :: Adler rose from the couch he’d sat on and stood looking out the window at the stars. An unbeatable view, always similar and dissimilar to other views from space, always home. In the morning, he would report for duty, but for this moment was his to take in as another waltz finished off in the background. :: ((Time Passes, undetermined)) ((Adler’s Quarters)) :: Aboard the freighter Tilma, things were getting hot. Conrad’s parents had been unable to afford the upkeep of their fine vessel’s gold toilet fixtures, so they’d been smuggling various contraband to keep up. Conrad had warned them time and again that Starfleet would eventually take notice and send him out to catch them. So, that must be why he was aboard right the Tilma now. Yes, that must have been it. Now they were under heavy fire from an unidentified pirate ship and had taken damage. His father was yelling something about never giving up. He said He’d blow up his own ship first. Amid Conrad’s pleas that he take no such extreme steps, the com system rang him awake and out of his dream. :: Silveira/or other Senior Officer: =/\=???=/\ oO What? I just went to bed. Oo Adler: What do you want! Crazy! :: Adler opened his eyes. :: Oh, I mean ... =/\= Adler. What can I do for you, sir? =/\= Silveira/or other Senior Officer: =/\=???=/\= :: Adler sighed and looked up at the ceiling. :: Adler: Computer, cancel playback. :: The music stopped. :: =/\= I’m sorry about that, sir. I had just gone to bed. What are your orders, sir? =/\= Silveira/or other Senior Officer: =/\=???=/\= Adler: =/\= Thank you for your concern, sir, but I assure you I am ready for duty. =/\= :: As an afterthought, Conrad double checked the uniform he was still wearing. It seemed okay. :: Silveira/or other Senior Officer: =/\=???=/\= :: As the Chief of Operations filled him in, Conrad got up and walked to the replicator. :: Adler: =/\= I’ll get right on that, Commander. :: Barking at the replicator :: Double espresso, one sugar, hot! =/\= Silveira/or other Senior Officer: =/\=???=/\= Adler: =/\= Sorry, Commander. I was just getting coffee. I’ll get right to work, Sir. =/\= :: Conrad took a sip before the channel closed, then set the cup on the nearby table. :: Silveira/or other Senior Officer: =/\=???=/\= :: Conrad went to the toilet, straightened up, zipped up the tunic and jacket, and rechecked his appearance in the mirror there. Running his fingers through his longish hair and running a hand across his neckline, he decided he could use a trim under the beard but let it pass for now. He had bigger fish to fry. Hopefully no one would put him on report this first time. He went to retrieve his personal tool case from under his bed, left the bed chamber, picked up his coffee, and left his quarters. Ensign Conrad R. Adler Com/Ops Officer StarBase 118 Ops O2395O7CA0
  16. 1 point
    I've been meaning to add this here for days. Awesome stuff, Anders!
  17. 1 point
    ((USS Gorkon, Deck 5 5OQ23, Tasi’s Quarters)) ::There was nothing more boring than waiting and after the last mission Tasi needed to talk to a friendly face. On the Gorkon she hadn’t really connected with anyone yet. There were a good number of people she could call on Deep Space 26, but the time difference meant most would be asleep or on the night shift. That’s what she told herself but deep down she knew it was a deflection from the real reason she had chosen to dial up this particular old friend. Finally, the slowly spinning Federation Symbol and ‘connecting’ progress bar were replaced with a familiar face. Tasi’s slack jawed, glazed over expression instantly melted away. She beamed at him with sparkling eyes and a playful smile.:: Tasi: Hello Commander. I hope you’re not too busy for a social call. I thought I’d keep that promise about keeping in touch. Tasi: oO I hope he wasn’t just being polite about that. Oo ::Tasi didn’t usually use rank around her friends - not off duty. She hadn’t seen Shayne since Commander Brell’s promotion to Captain and before that they’d fallen out of touch for some years. His career had prospered while hers had stagnated and she didn’t know how informal she could be with him yet.:: ::The face that appeared on the screen could not have been more welcome. The melancholy that always followed social occasions had weighed down on him since the end of the promotions ceremony. He’d been hoping- vainly, he’d expected- for a pleasant interruption to his musing, and a restoration of the energy that had been drained from his every faculty. Shayne was not a social person, but for a select group, that fact seemed to not apply. Take Tasi, for instance.:: Shayne: ::Feigning irritation.:: Look. If we’re on the bridge, call me commander. If we’re in the presence of an admiral, call me commander. Anything else, please just call me Shayne. ::She was one of the few people he preferred to drop rank around- not because he was a career-minded, bureaucratic paper-pusher obsessed with position and title, but because it simplified so many situations that might otherwise veer in an unpredictable, uncomfortable direction. Besides, Tasi had kept her promise to keep in touch with him, and Shayne was hardly going to punish her by insisting on strict military protocol. For the length of this conversation, “proper” bearing could find an airlock to fly out of. He gave a small grin, which she returned. It felt good to know that they could still have good-natured banter like this without having to worry about the rank barrier.:: Shayne: ::Utterly genuine.:: It’s good to see you. ::He realized he’d been holding his breath, and he released it, hopefully escaping the notice of the perceptive Tasi. Fortunately for him, she was too occupied suppressing signs of her own relief to notice his.:: Tasi: Thank you. It’s wonderful to see you. What’s new with you? ::Before he could stop himself, a putrid wave of resentment and cynicism rolled over him, a mere drop in an ocean of festering negativity. Pond’s disappearance had gnawed at his soul for months now. Though he’d tried to contain it, he suddenly felt utterly exhausted, and the moment he’d spoken, he knew he was making a mistake.:: Shayne: I haven’t died yet, so the usual. ::He bit his lip loathingly, wishing he could take back his words, and the vigorous anger he’d flashed at Tasi. She was so not deserving of his rancor- indeed, she was probably the one that would help him do something about it. Shayne generally despised counselors, and their offices, and their practiced strokes that delved into the psyche. As far as he was concerned, they could keep their intellectual tenderhooks to themselves. But with Tasi, it was different. Deeply different, and he was still at a loss to explain why, exactly. But it didn’t matter. He could not afford to lose her.:: ::Tasi was stunned. She’d had friends and patients lash out in this sudden, unexpected way many times before. Sometimes there were behavioural tells that gave subtle clues that this could be coming. Other times it hit you like a punch in the face. This felt like the latter. She hadn’t seen it coming and didn’t know what had provoked it. This didn’t seem like the Shayne she knew, but then how well could she say she knew someone she’d barely talked to in years. She became aware of her heart pounding harder and faster in her chest and took a slow, deep breath, collecting her thoughts before replying with a measured tone tipped with concern.:: Tasi: It doesn’t take a counsellor to see something’s troubling at you. Would you care to talk about it - friend to friend? ::Counselors! Why did they have to be so infernally perceptive? Of course, it wasn’t like he’d done a good job of hiding his distress. He glanced at her, and for a moment in time, it seemed like she was strained, worried.:: ::Afraid.:: ::And it felt wonderful, inexplicably so, disgustingly so. It felt so utterly etherial to be the one causing concern, instead of the one marinating in his own terrors and doubts and worries and miserable musings. For an instant, he was free.:: ::And then it all came crashing back down. How dare he feel anything positive about his friend’s discomfort. How dare he turn her well meaning, loving concern into a stepping stone for his own emotional strength. How dare he use her, the first friend he’d ever had in the fleet, and nearly the first one ever. He couldn’t have felt more soiled if he’d messed his trousers. He took a shaky, self-hating breath, and began to repair the damage.:: Shayne: I apologize. You, of all people, do not deserve me as you see me. ::Already exhausted, he let it all go, far more easily than he normally did with privileged information of this sort.:: ::He stared at it, at Tasi, at it, back at Tasi.:: Shayne: Pond has vanished. I don’t know where she is, or even if she’s alive. I haven’t spoken with her in months. ::As he said this, he began to pace, and absentmindedly fiddle with his full, lush ponytail. At the word “months”, he twisted, and ripped a sizable wad right out of his head.:: ::He stared at it, at Tasi, at it, back at Tasi.:: Shayne: ::Matter of factly.:: Ow. ::Whoever this Pond was, she clearly meant a lot to him for him to be so worried. It was hard to resist the urge to tell him everything would be okay. It never felt like things would ever be okay again when wrestling with grief and loss. Life moved on though. It was the harsh truth and to say so would be nothing other than callous. His emotions were completely normal though it would come as small comfort. Time was the only thing that could ease his pain, and having channels to vent his emotions. She wasn’t his counsellor - he had options aboard his ship for that, but that didn’t mean she couldn’’t be there for him as a friend.:: Tasi: I am sorry Randal. There’s nothing anyone can say to ease the pain and worry of someone we care about going MIA. I’m sure it comes as small comfort right now, but it’s normal to feel worry and grief. I just want you to know that I’m here for you. Do you want to talk more about it? Shayne: No. Most definitely, assuredly not. ::There was nothing more to say on the matter- certainly nothing Tasi deserved to receive. Maybe a trip to the holodeck would be in order, before he beat someone into a pulp. Or ripped out any more of his usually well-tended locks.:: Shayne: The Gorkon! How is it? Finding your way there? Is it as crazy as I’ve always heard? You know, I always wanted to transfer there, just to see what it was like. ::Through the midst of this loud, forced menagerie of preposterous questions and outright falsehoods, he could feel the disciplined part of himself recoil in horror at his explosive exposition.:: Shayne: oO Shut up, you ragged, impotent fool, shut up! Oo ::His goal had been to cover his despair, but he had failed spectacularly. Tasi knew this was a deflection. He was hurting very badly and didn’t want to talk about it. She wasn’t here to force him to do it. She shifted her weight in her chair and smiled with all the grace of a queen, choosing to pretend Randal wasn’t acting to wildly out of character for him. Instead she chose to focus on the question itself, answering in good humour.:: Tasi: It’s not what I expected, but then is that really a surprise? Things so often seem to go that way where Starfleet is concerned. My first mission has just concluded.. It… could have gone better. ::He listened as if his life depended on it, using her words and her voice as a life preserver. He knew that, from this point on, he could only speak truths, else he give away even more of his distress to the one person he both cared about and was able to protect in this moment.:: Shayne: ::Sensitively.:: What happened? ::She didn’t want to speak ill of the crew, or of the first officer. It wouldn’t be proper to talk of the mission and the diplomatic incidents caused by Commander Sevo, or Doctor Sim. They were good people and it wouldn’t do to spread gossip that might negatively affect their reputation. How many lives had the joined Trill seen? Not enough, clearly. Tasi had thought someone who had lived many lifetimes would be much more diplomatic. Instead, the red-headed woman suffered a short temper. Doctor Sim on the other hand, Tasi wasn’t sure if he was just young and inexperienced or if there was some underlying issue she should be aware of. She would talk to him about what happened in due course, but for now, her friend had her attention and he was awaiting a reply.:: Tasi: I think the important thing is that we did achieve our goal… We just did it in a more round-about fashion than anticipated. We have some downtime now on Trill. ::”Roundabout”. Despite their goals and training, that’s how most of their missions seemed to progress.:: Shayne: I’m just glad you’re alright. Tasi: Thanks, my friend. You know there’s something I’ve always wondered… ::There was a strange shift in the air around him, almost like the calm before the storm. Unconsciously he recognized it, and it frightened him for some reason.:: Shayne: Uh oh. ::It was his customary response to, well, anything really.:: Tasi: Are you made of copper and tellurium? ::He’d been expecting something… unexpected, but this trounced all that. It was such a seeming non-sequitur that his brain actually stopped, locked up, and refused to process it.:: Shayne: ...what? Tasi: Because you're CuTe. ::It was strange. He hadn’t thought it possible for his face to literally feel as if it was sliding off his skull. And yet, Tasi, as she had done many times before, was proving him wrong. Part of him was desperately confused. Never had Tasi given him any reason to think that they were anything more than close friends. That part of him was spiraling out of control, and Shayne had little hope of ever seeing it again. Bye bye, fragment of sanity. The other dominant emotion at the moment was a piercing… pain? Yes, pain. That pun was… astonishing. He felt his brain give up, and fizzle out his ears in a vaguely diarrhetic release of synapses. Compared to the cute romantic overtones Tasi, he just felt… shattered. :: ::Tasi watched his reaction coyly, and Shayne desperately hoped that his face was simply blank. It was a monumental effort to incite any sort of functionality, but he managed to smile, clear his throat and lean forward.:: Shayne: How long? ::”How long have you felt this way” seemed brusque, cruel almost. He’d have to break the news to her, and then try to smooth over the feathers. God, why did people find him handsome, or desirable? Then he wouldn’t be in this well-intentioned mess.:: Tasi: Does it matter? ::Her heart sank. While she hadn’t expected much, her heart still sank to see the expression written plain across his face, and to hear his strained voice. It was as she had always thought. What was she thinking? She held her breath in anticipation of the inevitable rejection.:: Shayne: Tasi… um… I… I really don’t know how to break this to you, so I’m just gonna say it. I have a girlfriend. We’re… we’re nearly engaged. Tasi: oO Nearly? Oo ::He felt his heart fracture a bit at those words, knowing how crippling they’d be to him if their situations were reversed.:: Shayne: oO And “have”? No, that’s not entirely true. Right now, all you have is hopes and memories. But you can’t give up now. She’s out there! Oo ::What could she say? She’d made him feel more awkward. This was supposed to bring a smile to his face how? It all seemed so foolish in hindsight. The corners of her mouth turned down, betraying her true feelings before she forced the most natural smile she could muster. She had learned something more about her enigmatic friend at least. Could things have been different had she been more courageous?:: Tasi: I’m really happy for you Randal. How did you meet? ::Her tone was as genuine as her interest. Regret might fill her thoughts later, but right now she still wanted to be the best friend possible. Maybe talking about his girlfriend would cheer Randal up.:: ::Despite the circumstances, he smiled grimly, recounting their first meeting.:: Shayne: A birth in Sickbay brought us together. An overdose brought us… close. ::He remembered the shifting, waving patterns in his eyes as the pain killer had done its work altogether too well. It had lowered his inhibitions, to the point where the usually silent helmsman had confessed his feelings about Pond’s beauty. One thing lead to another, and they were a couple. It was the fondest memory he’d ever had on a biobed.:: Shayne: And now, she’s gone. ::He hadn’t meant to say that, and he certainly hadn’t meant to say it so casually. But the damage was done. Again.:: Shayne: She was transferred, or lost, and I don’t know where. I don’t know why. And I don’t know when. No answer. But I can’t contact her. It’s driving me insane. ::No wonder he was behaving abnormally. The amount of stress and worry he was under. Tasi’s expression was completely serious and her heart went out to him.:: Tasi: I’m so sorry Randal. That’s truly awful. I can only imagine how difficult that must be for you. ::Someone would know what had happened to her and she was sure Randal would have chased down every avenue to find out what was happening.:: Tasi: No one was able to help you locate her? Shayne: No one wants to. I can’t get a clear answer out of anyone. ::He seethed, and wondered how long this could continue.:: Tasi: I hope you’re able to hear from her soon. Shayne: ::Smiling weakly.:: Thanks. ::The silence was deafening, and Shayne nearly tapped his fingers.:: Shayne: Well! It was… um… great to, you know, talk to you. Tasi: Sure. Goodbye Shayne. Take care. Tasi: oO That was a complete shuttle crash. Oo Shayne: Take care. ::And with that, he slammed his finger onto the off button with such vigor he felt his joint crack. He placed his head down on his desk, and didn’t lift it for a good six hours.:: ::The screen went dark much more suddenly than expected. She got up and flopped onto her bed, letting out a long sigh. That was embarrassing, especially for someone who was supposed to be good at talking to others. In that moment she felt like a fraud.:: Tasi: oO There’s one person I’ll never hear from again. Oo ::Exhaling loudly again, Tasi grabbed a pillow and put it over her head. She remained that way until the computer reminded her of a camping trip she was committed to attending. Reluctantly, she got up and started to get ready for it.:: ------------------------------------------------------------- Lieutenant Commander Randal Shayne Ops Officer/Second Officer USS Blackwell NCC 58999 G239202RS0 AND Lieutenant Tasi, Counselor - USS Gorkon Simmed by: Rear Admiral Renos Executive Council & Captain's Council Member A238805EB0 -------------------------------------------------------------
  18. 1 point
    I always love it when @Randal Shayne is left in charge ----------------- ((Bridge, USS Blackwell)) Whittaker: ::he looked to Shayne and spoke directly.:: Report. ::Shayne felt himself shift out of the role of commander, and into the mindset of a first officer, both relishing the relief that Whittaker’s presence afforded, and trying not to concentrate too admimently on the sudden drop in exhilaration and adrenaline. He hoped his decision to bring Whittaker back to the bridge had not interrupted anything the captain had been doing below, but Merzan’s request, the Klingon ships’ sudden movement toward the anomaly, and the other equally dangerous or problematic features of their situation left Shayne feeling as though no other choice were possible. Some part of him chafed at his cowardice- running for daddy as soon as matters got even slightly over his head. Nevertheless, Whittaker was one of the most competent officer’s he’d ever had the pleasure of working with. If anyone could take care of this, it was him. Succinctly, Shayne broke down there current dilemma.:: Shayne: Commander Walker is preparing to test a solution- I don’t pretend to understand it, but it has something to do with beaming down to the surface and attempting to rescue our people. It’s dangerous, so I figured I’d best get your approval on it. They’re on their way to the transporter room now. ::His mind raced, trying to remember that Whittaker had just arrived, and had not been party to the events of the recent past. What else was important?:: Shayne: The gik’tal has begun to move toward the rift- I’ve got Commander Ezo warning them off. Additionally, Mr. Ramirez reports that the anomaly will be closing again soon, in a matter of three hours or less. However, he believes that focusing anti-particles in to the midst of the rift might stave off that closure for a time. And, intriguingly, Commander Merzan has requested to join Walker on her escapade to the surface. ::His words, especially to an outsider who had not witnessed the exchange, sounded somewhat absurd, and so Shayne did not blame Whittaker for consulting with Jolara. It was at that moment that Shayne realized that he should have done just that. She was the counselor, after all, trained to read emotions and detect falsehoods as a secondary but important side effect of her main work. Whittaker hadn’t been on the bridge ten seconds, and already he was making Shayne feel foolish just by implementing sensible behavior. Whittaker: ::to Jolara:: Do you have any reason to suspect Merzan's motives? Jolara: ? ::Shayne’s own confidence in Merzan, and his own determination to not look like an impotent knob, had likely influenced his decision to not consult any of his other officers. He vowed to learn from his error, while still maintaining confidence in Merzan’s sincerity. He had not met a Klingon yet that lied, and he refused to believe that his first encounter with one would be with a Defense Force starship captain. Nagging doubts lingered, of course, but from what he’d seen of Merzan, and Walker, if anything poor were to happen on their little voyage, he felt it unlikely that it would stem from a betrayal on Merzan’s part.:: Whittaker: Alright. Mr. Shayne- give Commander Walker to go ahead to traverse the rift then take Ensign Ramirez, Lieutenant Mandak and Lieutenant James to deflector control to implement the ensign's idea to delay the decay of the rift. ::Shayne gave a swift nod.:: Shayne: Aye, sir. ::The first order of business was communicating Whittaker’s command to Walker, ostensibly in the transporter room at this point.:: Shayne: =/\= Shayne to Walker. The light is green. You may proceed. =/\= Walker: =/\= Will do Commander. We’ll be back soon. =/\= ::He had faith that Walker’s statement was true, but he couldn’t help but pray all the same. He liked this pink-haired commander, and though he regretted the loss of any Starfleet officer most deeply, it would likely be ever so slightly more painful if Walker were to not return. She had such a spark of life, and a love for the same. And, of course, a pregnant wife complicated the mix greatly. Suddenly, he wondered if he should request to take Walker’s place. Shayne was fairly confident that he could handle Merzan’s brusque brutality. But he certainly didn’t have the technical abilities, despite his status as Operations Officer. This was only proven by the fact that he still did not comprehend entirely her plan.:: ::They all had their assigned duties. His were waiting for him in Deflector Control.:: Shayne: On me, folks. ::Shayne made for the turbolift, and could hear the subtle scuffling as the other three individuals moved to follow him.:: Whittaker: Lieutenant Drass, keep monitoring the situation from up here. Ensign Leath, start scanning for anything that might give us a clue as to who is responsible for the creation of this rift. ::From the beginning, the readings had been strangely… formulaic. Orderly, in a way. The idea that it was an artificial creation had lingered in Shayne’s mind throughout this affair. Whittaker’s words now seemed to confirm that perspective. Whatever they’d found, he hoped it would cast more light on their problems.:: Drass/Leath: ? Mandak: And here we go... ::The turbolift doors shut before him, and the quartet plummeted into the bowels of the Blackwell. :: ((Deflector Control, USS Blackwell)) ::Shayne hated the Blackwell’s bridge, mostly because it was a preposterously small affair, deeply insufficient for the volume of people needed within it. When he’d served aboard the Apollo-A with Nicholotti, he’d be astonished by the sheer size of the Odyssey class control center. A transporter room in the back?! Multi-tiered seating? It looked more like a conference room. In his career, he’s luxuriated in the unnecessarily spacious, and groaned in the unreasonably cramped. Now, as he beheld Deflector Control, and how it was not too much smaller than the bridge he’d just exited, he finally resolved to talk to Whittaker at their next refit stop. Perhaps they might be able to scrounge up a larger bridge module for the Blackwell. It was worth a shot, anyway. He put those thoughts aside as Mandak spoke.:: Mandak: So... What now? ::Once again, he was entering a situation that demanded everything but his expertise, or so it felt. He thought himself rather fluent in engineer-speak, but Walker’s plan, and now Ramirez’s idea, eluded his grasp.:: ::Fortunately for the second officer, help was not long in coming.:: Ramirez: Uhmm… Lt. James, you are an engineer, right? ::A good question. He was aware that James was Walker’s wife, but beyond that (and a fleeting understanding of her skill set) Shayne knew virtually nothing about the pregnant officer.:: James: Yes. That’s right. Ramirez: Good. What I need from you is to configure the Deflector to produce the chroniton anti-particles. :: tapping on a PADD, and passing it to James :: These are the characteristics of the anti-particles we need to produce. Do you think it is possible? ::Shayne raised an eyebrow. The newcomer was already taking charge, and from the sounds of it, most competently.:: James: It is possible. Ramirez: Thank you. Please, let me know when the modifications are complete. I will give you then the information about the energy output and how narrow the beam must be. ::The ensign then turned to the newly promoted Mandak, and… did Shayne catch a whiff of affection? Or infatuation? Either way, the brief look on Ramirez’s face vanished within an instant of its appearance, and business was once again on the forefront of his mind.:: Ramirez: :: clearing his throat :: Lt. Mandak, Can you provide the exact location of the outer and inner rims of the anomaly, please? ::The request was simple, but satisfying it would likely be time consuming. Unlike what Shayne had come to expect from anomalies in his travels, this one stayed fairly consistent in size- another factor leading him to personally believe that it was created by mortal instruments, not by the random authority of chance.:: Mandak: ? Ramirez: Please, patch that information to my console once your calculations are complete… Mandak:? ::There was a controlled excitement in Ramirez’s slightly accented voice, and Shayne almost wanted to share in it. Their newest science officer was clearly looking forward to seeing what would result of his idea, and beyond that, Shayne knew that many science officers held the thrill of discovery above almost everything else. Casually, he looked at Ramirez, who promptly noted the intrusion.:: Shayne: You’re looking pleased. Anything I can do to help? ::Just like Merzan, Shayne despised sitting idle. When others around him were working, thas resentment morphed into an intolerable burden. He actually wanted an ensign to give him instructions- anything to be a part of the team.:: Ramirez: Sorry, sir. :: clearing his throat again :: Hmmm… Can you monitor the anomaly and keep an eye on the rift’s chroniton density, please? :: providing a PADD :: Here you will find instructions about how to do it, sir. Please, that that station :: pointing the a place close to Mandak's :: ::Shayne now raised both eyebrows. Most cadets or brand new ensigns demurred from taking command of any situation if offered the opportunity, and those that didn’t often had an inflated opinion of themselves and their abilities. But Ramirez was proving to be a most pleasant surprise. What a remarkable display of competence.:: Shayne: Aye, ensign. Mandak: ? ::After a short time, during which Shayne was just beginning to wrap his mind around his assigned task, James spoke up.:: James: The modifications are done, Ensign. Ramirez: Response ::There was no doubting the concern in James’ voice as she replied. Indeed, Shayne shared some of that apprehension.:: James: ::as casually as she could manage:: And you’re positive this will work ::The doubt was still present, but Ramirez’s confidence gave Shayne the courage to put some faith into their work.:: Ramirez/ Mandak: ? Shayne: From what little I understand, it’s got a good chance. James: Okay… Ready when you are. ::Shayne consulted his instruments.:: Shayne: Ensign, chroniton density is dropping, slowly but surely. We’ve got to hurry. Ramirez/ Mandak/James: ? ::As the process began, Shayne’s panel lit up with a warning he didn’t immediately recognize. After a moment, though, it came to him.:: Shayne: We’re firing an antiproton beam directly into the center of the anomaly. ::He squinted and looked closer.:: Shayne: Some strange readings over here… Ramirez/ Mandak/James: ? Tag/TBC… Lieutenant Commander Randal Shayne Ops Officer/ Second Officer USS Blackwell NCC 58999 G239202RS0
  19. 1 point
    “The mind is not a vessel to be filled but a fire to be kindled.” – Veritas motto I recently sat down with the crew of the USS Veritas, NCC-95035, in order to better understand one of the more unique vessels that compose our great fleet. The Veritas is not your typical vessel for a variety of reasons. For one, its location in the Shoals is quite unique: Tetryon emissions extending throughout the area make for some intriguing challenges from the very beginning! “(Y)ou cannot go higher than warp 5 in certain areas, and can by no means use slipstream drive or get communications out swiftly – subspace and letters are crackled or delayed at best” – Delieria, who plays LtCmdr. Sky Blake, the Ranger aboard the Veritas These kinds of restrictions, not applicable to any other post in the fleet, has some intriguing side effects, which, according to Delieria, was precisely the goal. By cutting down contact with the outside universe, and the bigger picture as a whole, the crew is able to concentrate on the smaller, yet equally meaningful parts of the region they inhabit, which fosters further creativity. “I think one of the most unique aspects of simming on Veritas is the region that we play in. The rules we’ve set up here intentionally constrain what we can do, which makes the space feel bigger. Writing in the Shoals has a distinct flavor, and the unique sociopolitical situation of this isolated, tumultuous region leaves us with lots of room to explore difficult topics while still maintaining a connection to the Federation and Starfleet.” – Cameron, who plays Evan Delano, the Veritas’ second officer and Operations manager There’s no doubt that the situation is tumultuous. Wherever the Veritas turns, potential threats loom in the darkness. Whether they be from extravagant antagonists, or dangerous alien species like the Tholians, Veritas is surrounded by perils. “We have just concluded an extravagant mission known as Kallo Ver & The Hunt for the Romulan Treasure Fleet – told by Kallo Ver, a long-running “antagonist” for the Veritas whom is surprisingly good at sending people on wild goose chases and is perhaps not the most reliable story teller” – Delieria That said, there’s much more to the Shoals than simply a “here there be monsters” aesthetic. Missions can and do vary greatly. “I’d have to say T’Katt’s exploring a derelict Romulan warbird with the other’s on his first Starfleet mission was my favorite moment” – Cory, the writer for Counselor T’Katt Dugoras Since arriving at the fleet and graduating the Academy, T’Katt has participated in one mission thus far, along with a shore leave. The revelation that Romulans were indeed in the Shoals before the Federation was a surprise to the crew, and points to fascinating missions in the future. The more personal aspect of the Veritas, and the stories that individual characters experience, are as diverse as the crew itself. Shore leave is the perfect time for these plots to shine through, and as the the Veritas enters its next debaucherous liberty period, I asked about some of the non-mission related adventures the crew would be undertaking on their own time. Whether they’re participating in a search for answers in regards to artifacts taken aboard during the last mission, such as in the case of Dugoras, or performing varied acts of medical research, such as in the case of Chythar Skyfire, the ship’s doctor, it seems that the crew generally takes full advantage of shore leave, and uses their time to display their intriguing characters to the fullest. The leadership style of Captain Roshanara Rahman is at least partly to credit, according to Lael Rosek, the ship’s Engineering officer. “Rich has more of a hands-off mentality than most captains I’ve worked with. Not to say he isn’t involved in the plot both IC and OOC, but he lets his crew drive the plot. He gives us room to throw in our own plot twists and I admit together we come up with some pretty interesting ones” – Rosek Of course, while the missions and personal plot arcs are interesting, relationships fuel everything. One of the best ways to tell a ship’s spirit, style, and overall quality is by the depth and meaningfulness of the interactions officers have with one another. “Rich and I are working to develop a friendship of sorts between Lael and Rahman. I’m surprised to find that they have a lot in common. In fact, Lael has a great deal of respect for Rahman, even to the point of seeing her as a maternal figure” – Rosek Others share a more romantic connection, as seen with Even Delano and First Officer Mei’konda. “Evan’s most important relationship is (big surprise) with Mei’konda, his husband. Evan credits his relationship with Mei’konda for getting him through the Academy, and sees the Caitian as a constant source of inspiration” – Cameron Still others are finding their way. “T’Katt hasn’t developed relationships with the crew yet, having only really met a few of them in person once either during a wedding, during counseling, or during the mission” – Cory With Cory being the newest member, this status is hardly surprising, but the fact that Lael Rosek was his Academy instructor made the transition more smooth. A ship is only as good as its crew, and so I asked what the personnel felt was the most important component of simming. “Making the plot move forward is the probably the most important. Second to that, then tags so that people have stuff to do. If you see someone’s struggling, toss a sim with tags at them. It may give them a nudge in the right direction” – Zephyr, who plays Dr. Chythar Skyfire Lael Rosek feels similarly. “I need to feel connected to those I’m writing with. Collaboration requires a certain understanding of the writer and the character to build those trusting relationships and to really tell the best story” – Rosek What with the limitations on the ship and crew posed by the Shoals, such teamwork would seem quite necessary to making the situation work successfully. But success seems to be a consistent companion of the Veritas, and since their inception in 2015, they have become one of the more recognized vessels in the 118 pantheon. Here’s to their continued voyages! The post Ship Closeup: USS Veritas appeared first on UFOP: StarBase 118 Star Trek RPG. View the full article
  20. 1 point
    (( Turbolift, USS Gorkon )) ::So far, Jo had managed not to die on the planet filled with Trills, of whom her experience had mainly consisted of beings whose ultimate aim in life was to die in a cataclysmic fashion. It was like they were all living on the knife-edge of a grandiose gamble with fate. She was contemplating their tendency to run headlong into danger, and if Ops should introduce some kind of Trill insurance policy, when the Turbolift doors were closing as she approached. She broke into a jog to catch it.:: Marshall: Hey, hold the lift! ::Emilia’s eyes widened at the approaching presence. With her arm stretching towards the panel in the turbolift, the doors came to a sudden halt after a quick tap of a command.:: Krugol: Oh! S-Sorry! ::Jo managed to slip between the doors and skidded to a halt, smiling at the familiar occupant. They hadn't shared many a conversation outside of their profession but were quite beyond introductions.:: Marshall: Emilia, good to see you! Heading down to Trill? Krugol: ::Emilia nodded:: Likewise, sir, a-and I sure am! Wouldn’t miss it for the galaxy. ::Emilia smiled, recognising the officer before her. She greeted the familiar face with a bright expression, reflecting her content attitude. Emilia took a quick note of her lack of stuttering, she wondered if her vibrant and content attitude was to thank.:: Marshall: Have you got anything good planned? ::she quirked her eyebrow:: You’re from Trill, right? Krugol: Of course i am sir ::She chuckled.:: I’m planning to do some wandering around my birthplace, ::Emilia quickly added.:: a-as well as drop in to see my family for a bit. Are you heading down to the surface as well? Marshall: I was planning on it. ::she nodded:: Can’t be stuck on the ship when there’s a planet to explore. ::The doors to the turbolift closed eventually, and then began the quiet hum as the two officers moved through the ship. Emilia sighed with her head held high with confidence. That may be the sugar rush talking, but since lunch, she felt several leagues more confident than she did the day before.:: Krugol: Well, i can tell that you won’t be disappointed sir. Trill is such a beautiful planet. I’d say it’s even comparable to earth. ::The mention of the planet made the Human smile; she liked Earth and had spent the best part of her young adult life in San Francisco, as did quite a few of the other trained Officers. Of course, it wasn’t her birthplace, or where she considered home to be, but it was still a beautiful world. Being a Human it was still only natural to assume that she had shuffled out of her mother’s womb there.:: Marshall: Oh? Fancy giving me a quick rundown of the hotspots? Krugol: Mak’ala city is a must see for any tourist or sightseer. You have hot springs, reserves, wonderful choices for where to eat. A-And let’s not forget the beautiful bathhouses and nature reserves. Marshall: It does sound like the place to be. The crew will love it, I’m sure. ::she clasped her hands behind her back as the lift moved:: I haven’t been to Trill since… when was it… the summer of twenty-three eighty-seven. Eighteen and dumb. Hiking up the Lekarna Mountains before throwing myself into the Springball quarterfinals. Krugol: Really? How’d that work out? Marshall: ::she chuckled and shook her head:: Knocked out second round. Good job really. More time for hiking and sending my foolish self off to become the Academy’s problem. ::she rolled her eyes at herself with a slight grin:: Whereabouts were you born? Mak’ala City? ::Emilia nodded pridefully:: Krugol: Yep! I was raised on the lesser populated eastern areas. It’s a lot quieter than any of the other areas, mostly because of the lack of access to business opportunities ::The turbolift smoothly slid to a stop and allowed the two occupants onto the requested deck for access to Boer Station then the planet beyond. The attached walkways were already bustling with fellow crew displaying the bloodshot eyes and shaky heads of first shore leave night parties. Usually that would be the point where the two conversing Officers would part ways to find whoever they were going to the surface with.:: Marshall: It must be good to see the old place after being flung around the galaxy so much. I imagine you’ll have a lot to tell them about. ::Emilia strutted out of the turbolift with her fellow gold shirt. She took in a sharp breath, taking in the busy atmosphere. Chatter in the corridors echoed throughout the deck, incoherently violating the ears of the listeners. Raising her arms above her head, Emilia stretched her stiff bones and muscles contained within her loose, knitted sweater.:: Krugol: No doubt, i’ll probably bombarded with questions again. ::She gazed off briefly into the distance.:: No doubt, mother’s still waiting on that special someone of mine ::she shuddered:: Marshall: Well, I hope you have a lovely time wandering around your home. ::she smiled brightly:: There’s talk of a camping gettogether at some point. You can tell me all about it then. Krugol: oO Camping? Oh god… Oo I-I look forward to it. ::She bowed her head slightly.:: ::About to run off for the connecting transport to the northern hemisphere, Jo stopped and turned back to catch the young Trill’s attention again. They hadn’t had much chance to get to know one another between missions, and while a conversation in a turbolift was as good as much others got, why go an inch when a mile was better?:: Marshall: It sounds like you’ve probably got your hands full with the obligatory family visits and by no means feel obliged here, but I’m planning on fitting in some white water rafting. There’s a river between the Thorain Mountains that I can never remember the name of. If you want to join, I can hold off going until you’re free? ::Emilia turned on her elevated heel. She smiled at Jo in a rather blissful, yet inquisitive manner. :: Krugol: Sure! I’m down for that. I-I need some exercise…. that doesn’t involve hitting a hologram to a pulp ::she chuckled awkwardly.::. Just contact me when you feel like it… then i’ll see if i can get beamed to your location. Marshall: ::she nodded:: Sure. Enjoy your time with your family and don’t forget to relax. Krugol: You too, sir. Enjoy your day. ::In the space of another wave, the two officers parted ways. Emilia straightened her body and walked with her head held high. Carefully, Emilia navigated the overflowing corridors, making sure not to awkwardly collide with any other officers, as well as avoiding getting in the way of anyone. Her eyes darted anxiously, watchfully, dodging potentially look destroying collisions. Thoughts of home flooded Emilia’s mind, making her flash a smile as she pressed herself up against the wall to avoid oncoming traffic.:: _________________________ Ensign Emilia Krugol - USS Gorkon - Security/Tactical officer - G239409EK0 ___________________________ & ___________________________ Lieutenant JG Jocelyn Marshall - Operations Officer - USS Gorkon - G239304JM0 ____________________________
  21. 1 point
    (( Isle of Derom, off the coast of Iklan Cape, Trill )) O. Marshall: You're a hard woman to find when you want to be. ::Jo frowned and looked up. The quiet evening she had planned to have on the little island watching the sunset was slipping rapidly out of her fingers. She was lost in her own head, daydreaming, thinking, pondering, trying to piece together thoughts that were entirely stumbling through her mind at the best of times. ::She rubbed her forehead, massaging her temple with her index finger, feeling a headache approaching with an irregular tentativeness in his usual swaggering gait. Couldn’t she just have a moment to herself? Apparently not in this Bear-centric universe.:: Marshall: Did you not think that maybe I didn't? ::Orson turned and leaned back against the railing, clearly not giving a care about her hermetic requirements.:: Marshall: Not now. I’m really not in the mood to do this with you. Transport back to wherever you came from, please. O. Marshall: That makes a change. No witty comeback? No parry of insults? Are you sick? ::She deftly avoided his palm going for her forehead and shook her head at him; she was tired, she had a lot on her mind - obviously it came across in her demeanour. She looked at her hands rubbing over one another, then clasped them together to stop fidgeting.:: Marshall: No, I'm fine. Work is kicking my aft from bow to stern. You know, that thing that everyone else does when you’re off doing whatever you do when you’re AWOL. There, shots fired. Now, will you leave me alone? ::He bumped her shoulder with his, knocking her slightly to the side. She resisted the temptation to just slide under the railings and into the sea, beating a track out of there and try to drown herself in the process.:: O. Marshall: Come on, Lieutenant Targface is here. What's going on? Marshall: I’m not going to spill my guts for you, vulture. O. Marshall: ::He shrugged.:: Try me. Marshall: No. ::Silence slipped into the cavern between them, a respite from the prodding, before a smile that broached on sympathetic but didn't quite reach it crested the mouth of the bearded man stood beside her..:: O. Marshall: Someone's on your mind. ::Her lack of answer told him he was right; she didn't need to confirm it, he was practically gleeful.:: O. Marshall: I'd know that look anywhere. ::then, he frowned:: It isn't Sera, is it? ::Jo rolled her eyes. Oh yes, a perfectly reasonable leap in cognition to make. Idiot.:: Marshall: No. While we're on that subject, get your own friends. Better yet, get your own ship. Do me the favour of disappearing for another year. O. Marshall: That might be a reality sooner than you think. Marshall: Great, let me know when and I'll pretend to care for the evening. ::Bear grinned in response beneath the beard, knowing full well she didn't mean it as much as she actually did, then turned and focused his attention on the small island they were stood on, lights and the rousing sound of music coming from the city on the mainland. A beat echoed between them, his hands drumming an off rhythm on the railing before continuing his line of invasive questioning.:: O. Marshall: Tell me about them. Is it someone I know? Marshall: Thankfully not. O. Marshall: You've never been very good at lying. Your nose crinkles. ::He poked her ruffled feature and earned a death glare in return.:: O. Marshall: It's the Scientist, isn't it? The blonde one that looks just like the... Marshall: No, it isn't. O. Marshall: Crinkle. Marshall: Bear. ::The death glare amplified.:: Please stop with the wild accusations. O. Marshall: Stop trying to deny them. ::he waited for a split second:: Talk to me, Josie. ::He hadn't called her that in *decades*; since he'd left their home on Volan III for Starfleet Academy. A nickname she had unceremoniously dropped when she was permitted to do so. It pained her to hear it in a way she didn't think was still possible; a remnant of a time when they were close.:: Marshall: I’d rather be shot at dawn than hear that again. That was a jerk move. O. Marshall: I do what I can to get what I want. You know that. ::the bastard chuckled:: Who is she? The Admiral's cousin? Sister from another marriage? A twin? Word is they don’t get along. Marshall: Something like that. Don’t think too much about it, you’ll give yourself a haemorrhage. ::Jo exhaled and tongued her cheek. It was likely that Bear already knew - he just liked seeing how far he could push.:: O. Marshall: Look, whatever it is, you need to get it off your chest and who better than your flesh and blood. Marshall: I suppose I haven't spoken to George in a while... O. Marshall: Very funny. You can talk to me. ::She exhaled a sigh and angled an eyebrow.:: Marshall: There's no need to repeat yourself. I ignored you perfectly fine the first time. O. Marshall: I'm trying to have a heart to heart with you. Marshall: I know, I'm trying to avoid it. ::Her thoughts had been unravelling long before he showed up in her little slice of paradise. By no means was he getting under her skin again. She narrowed her eyes at him.:: Marshall: And, just to make where you stand perfectly clear, I don’t trust your intentions as far as I could shoot them out of the torpedo launchers. ::Orson laughed and mimicked her lean on the railings.:: O. Marshall: Who am I going to tell? Everyone avoids me. It's like I've got the fabled albatross tied around my neck. Marshall: I don't care. I'm still picking out the shrapnel from the last time you destroyed my trust in you. ::He dropped his head, looking almost like a little boy again.:: O. Marshall: Come on. Hit me. Marshall: Oh, don’t tempt me. ::She blew out a heavy sigh and looked out at the crashing waves. The knife to the stomach was that he wasn't wrong. Her heart spun in confusing circles for the displaced Lieutenant that had put up with an Ensign for a shadow on a limping ship, constructing a slow and steady friendship. ::They were so different. Erin was brave and resilient, an inner strength like wool wrapped around a bat’leth, steel and grit in her blood, with galaxies in a soft and kind heart, gentle smiles amidst orderless freckles, while Jo was stuck being all dumb jokes, laid-back, no game plan, tripping over herself in her own uncoordinated manner. She was never any good at any of it. ::Bear's voice cut through the noise in her head, guessing at her thought process while she chewed the inside of her cheek.:: O. Marshall: Many before you have fallen for their superiors, Jo. Many after you will do the same. ::She rarely blushed to any magnitude that was perceivable, but it spread through her cheeks like she’d had a heavy night with a tank of rum. As soon as they heated, her walls were back up.:: Marshall: I haven't and I wouldn’t tell you even if I had. ::It was just another chink in her armour to him; something to poke and prod. Bear was a born manipulator, whether he liked it or not. She could use a phaser as a paperweight but it wouldn't change what it was inside; a fact she had forgotten on too many occasions. A chuckle rippled from the man.:: O. Marshall: No, I'm sure you haven’t. Deltan pheromones are all mixed up in your system. ::Jo said nothing, and stared at her hands clasped together on the railing. Maybe the attraction had started out as just that - a complicated concoction of chemicals. Then another year had flown by while Erin was on The Ark Project, and her affection for the woman hadn't lessened any. She was still wrapped around her core. ::Bear slipped his hand onto her shoulder and she shrugged it off.:: O. Marshall: Do you want to go grab a drink with me? Marshall: No. O. Marshall: One drink. See what kind of trouble we can get into like we used to. ::There was a momentary spark of the old sibling banter she couldn't deny, and spending time away from her own thoughts was appealing. However, "like they used to" was a very broad term.:: Marshall: One drink. I actually have to function tomorrow, not laid up in bed with one of your style hangovers. O. Marshall: It's the first day of leave. I know how to restrain myself. Marshall: ::She snorted:: No, you absolutely do not. You never did. --- Lieutenant JG Jocelyn Marshall Operations Officer USS Gorkon G239304JM0 & (PNPC) Lieutenant JG Orson Marshall Former Logistics and Communications Specialist Former 451st Ranger Platoon USS Gorkon
  22. 1 point
    ((Genkos Sim's Quarters, Deck 8. USS Gorkon)) :: Returning back to his quarters from his busy day carrying out medical exams, Genkos plopped his cane into the rack he'd had made specially before plopping himself down on the bed. As much as he fancied sleep, he thought he had better check his messages. Shifting himself over to the monitor, he tapped at a few buttons. There were a couple of messages, one about how the Rangers were going to be folded into the rest of the crew, another about the shift patterns in sick bay, and the last one was from somebody called Tillul Sim.:: oO Dad! Oo ::Reading the message it was an incredibly formal enquiry into Genkos' health and time aboard the Gorkon. Genkos smiled - his father was incredibly personable in real life, but on paper (or PADD) he wrote in an oddly staccato manner. He thought about writing an equally staccato response - mum would like that - but checked the time. He had ages until his next appointment - the CMO had postponed their appointment, so he had the rest of the day off. :: oO Do you know what, I'm going to call them! Oo Genkos: =/\= Computer, connect me to the house of Tillul and Laxe Sim, on Betazed. Put it on my monitor. =/\= :: After a brief pause, his monitor flashed and the friendly face of his father appeared. :: Tillul: Genkos! What a pleasant surprise! Genkos: Well I have some time, thought I'd give you all a call. Tillul: You're looking well, wait until your mother sees you! ::calling off:: LAXE! GENKOS IS CALLING! ::Just off-screen, Genkos could hear his mother's faint response.:: Laxe: What? Tillul: Just a second son. ::Tillul stood up and walked off-screen, leaving Genkos to mull over his decision - he'd not really spoken to them since joining the Gorkon. Did he give them the abridged version, or the warts-and-all tale that might not paint himself in the best light. But before he could make a decision, his father returned, this time with his mother. Tillul was a tall thin man, much like Genkos, but with white hair and a face line from smiling and laughing so much. Laxe was a little fuller, but not what one would call fat, and was a little sterner of temper. Not much, but still. :: Laxe: Hello my boy. Don't you look well? They feed you well on that spaceship? Genkos: They do mum, I'm getting my three square meals. Laxe: But you do get to eat non-replicated food sometimes right? Tillul: Laxe, replication is just as safe and nutritious as grown food. Laxe: I'm not so sure. ::Genkos smirked. Some things never change. :: Genkos: So, how are things with you? Tillul: With us? We're just the same as the day you left for your ship. Nothing's changed here. Laxe: But what about you? What's jetting around space like? Genkos: Pretty exciting. I - ::Without meaning to, Genkos gave them a complete history of the his time aboard the Gorkon. Starting with the tail end of the rescue aboard Starbase 173, the construction of Tasha MacFarlane's arm, shore leave aboard the Cloud Skipper, and then a detailed retelling of his time at the Sikuna colony, from his first encounter with the Governor, to his harsh words to Dhisuia and the beating she received because of it, and finally telling them all about the fight for her life that followed. His parents laughed and cried along with him - feeling immense pride when he detailed just how he designed and attached the Ensign's new arm, feeling appalled at his harsh words to the Romulan, expressing anxiety as Genkos described his and Commander Vess' struggle to keep Dhisuia alive. At the end of it all, Genkos was an emotional wreck.:: Tillul: Son, I cannot pretend to be proud of what you said to that Romulan. But - and I'm sure your mother agrees with me here - you did everything to atone for your words. Laxe: Actions speak louder than words Genkos. And you saved that woman's life. You kept your oath and kept her alive. She wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. Genkos: But she might never have been in that position if not for me. Tillul: That's a mighty leap of logic son. A Vulcan would scold you for that. What's to say that she, or somebody else, wasn't going to get beaten bloody that day? Tempers were running high. Laxe: It was inevitable. Genkos: Thanks guys. I miss you. Laxe: We miss you too. Maybe next time, convince your CO to have shore leave here. Genkos: Maybe I will, maybe I will. Laxe: We love you son. Genkos: I love you. Tillul: We'll have to love you and leave you though - we're going for dinner at the Costanz's and I'm not ready. Mentally or physically. Genkos: ::laughing:: Have a great time. :: And with that they were gone...:: Ensign Genkos Sim MD Medical Officer USS Gorkon G239502GS0
  23. 1 point
    ((Esperance, Eagle Eye Meadows)) ::Once the music started up again, Taz could hardly wait to get up from her seat. Don’t get her wrong; the ceremony was beautiful, and she was genuinely happy for Delano and Mei’konda. But it was also a lot of sitting… for someone who was as restless as her, sitting in one place for too long was torture.:: ::She raced over to the refreshments that had been set up along a narrow table near the bar. As she contemplated which treat to take — that pastry looked like it had her name on it — she felt the distinct presence of a snoop coming up behind her. She didn’t turn around as she addressed him.:: Taz: Do Vulcans like chocolate, Saavok? ::There was a loaded question.:: Saavok: It… disagrees with us. ::He said eventually.:: ::’Disagreed’ the way alcohol disagreed with most other species. His father had warned him to stay away from it.:: ::She finally turned around, a chocolate macaron cupped in her hand.:: Taz: Well, they’ve got plenty to choose from. Saavok: That is accurate. ::The little Vulcan selected some carrot sticks with hummus. Taz popped the macaron into her mouth — to the horrified look of a nearby waiter. Since her mouth was full, Taz just shot back a disdainful look, furrowing her brow.:: Taz: oO What? Oo Saavok: We are possibly expected to pace ourselves with the food. ::He replied quietly homing in on the fruit platter and wondering how much his friend had changed in the intervening years.:: ::She turned back to the younger Vulcan and nodded, swallowing the treat so she could speak again.:: Taz: This place is too fancy for me. ::Saavok looked around with an assessing air.:: Saavok: I anticipate that the intention is to provide the guests with an agreeable experience. ::Most of which was lost on the Vulcan mentality, but Saavok was growing up amongst aliens and at least understood the impulse; perhaps better than his father did. Still, Tasnim struck him as the type who was more comfortable up to the elbows in machinery than relaxing in luxury; much like her not-quite mother.:: ::As the rest of the guests finally caught up and were taking their seats at the tables, Taz looked over to the dance floor and smiled.:: Taz: So enlighten me some more, Pointy. Do Vulcans dance? ::Saavok followed her gaze.:: Saavok: Affirmative. We learn dance as a means of improving coordination and rhythm. ::He said.:: Father has explained the social aspect in many cultures. Do you dance? ::The last was added with a thoughtful look at Taz. She’d grown from an older child into a young woman, in that hasty way many shorter-lived species had. Saavok, his people evolved for a low-resource world, would take longer to mature physically. He’d befriended her following the incident with the Ronin-A, and she appeared to find his company agreeable. They did have some things in common; a will to further their understanding of the multiverse, and the lack of a counterpart in each other’s universes.:: Taz: Actually… I never really learned. ::A sad look emerged now on her face as she scanned across the room, taking note of all the happy faces. Back in her universe, such occasions of joy were few and far between. And certainly there hadn’t been much dancing aboard the Ronin or any other stop she and her mother had found along their journey.:: Saavok: Would you… like to dance? ::None of the usual, emotionally-neutral words Vulcans used seemed to fit the request. No doubt his dad would twist the language in order to find some other way to say that; Saavok didn’t bother.:: ::She turned her head back to the Vulcan. There was such purity in his questions and perspective. Trademark Vulcan curiosity and yet without the curt arrogance that often times accompanied it.:: Taz: I’d like that very much. ::Saavok could see no reason why she should not.:: Saavok: Then I shall endeavour to facilitate. ::Tasnim wiped her hand on the tablecloth, leaving a slight smudge of chocolate, before grabbing onto Saavok’s hand, startling him.:: Taz: So you’re going to teach me? Saavok: Affirmative. ::He nodded carefully.:: Taz: All right, then I’ll follow your lead. ::It was a discombobulating reversal of the usual dynamics of their friendship, and for a moment Saavok retreated into the comfort of Vulcan reticence.:: Saavok: Understood. ::They stepped out onto the modest dance floor, the only ones thus far, and Taz placed her arms on Saavok’s shoulders, her hands interlocked behind his neck. The music soon began again, and perhaps noting the new occupants of the floor, a slower ballad was chosen.:: Taz: All right, what do we do? ::He was accustomed to being taught, not to teaching others, and Saavok had to resist the urge to simply data-dump from his mind to hers, walls up against the touch of her fingers against his neck that gave him a telepathic pathway. Taz presumably had some telepathic abilities given her father was Betazoid, but they’d never communicated that way. He could feel what his father referred to in Standard as the ‘carrier wave’, the present of Taz’s mind.:: Saavok: The basic premise is to move in time with the music’s rhythm, and all movements are based on the footfall. ::He began to demonstrate, stepping from one foot to the other in time with the music, a simple side-to-side motion, facilitated by the slow music.:: ::She tried her best to follow, stumbling a bit in the rhythm. Saavok on the other hand seemed a natural, and Taz was surprised at the ease with which the boy had slipped into the music.:: Taz: ::looking down at her feet:: Okay, I think I’ve got this... Saavok: An additional displacement step is customary, such that if all participants utilise the same system, they collectively progress around the arena in an aesthetic manner. ::Vulcans didn’t go in for partner dancing much; the step that he demonstrated was apparently Betazoid in origin, but not dissimilar to a waltz step.:: Saavok: All further movements are based on the rhythmic step. ::He explained, as others moved around them.:: ::She was still looking down at their feet, counting beats in her head as she tried matching to his footsteps.:: Taz: That’s it? How do we know which way to go to move around? ::What other steps? There were many. But the key thing about teaching someone to dance, was that you did it quietly somewhere where you could stop and start the music to explain and demonstrate and try things out; not in the middle of the dance floor. They could just maintain the basic step, no one would fault them for that, but was was boring. Feeling decidedly cheeky, Saavok gave a mental smile.:: Saavok: ~~ Like this. ~~ ::Taz got a speed-of-thought warning of what to do, before Saavok pushed her out into a move that spun her around, pulled her back for a duck and pass, and curled her in again along his other arm.:: Taz: Oh my goodness! ::She had to take a second to catch her breath as she grabbed onto his shoulder as if she were about to fall off a cliff.:: Taz: Where did you learn *that*? Saavok: Watching holovision. ::He said honestly.:: ::She looked at him nervously but his confidence helped reassure her. She took another breath and relaxed her grip on him and stood a little straighter.:: Taz: Okay, let’s give it another go. Saavok: As you wish. ::This time, they did a few more steps before she felt one hand of his guide her to move along a new path as another hand of his gently pressed against her back. A few more attempts followed before she found herself smiling with the new familiarity. After she spun around one last time, she returned back to their starting position, arms resting again on his shoulders.:: Taz: You’re a good teacher. ::He tried to be so, not having a lot of experience in teaching.:: Saavok: It is advantageous to have an apt student. ::She laughed as the pair continued to move to the music, other guests now making their way to the dance floor to join the young pair.:: Taz: Uh-huh, I bet you say that to all your dance partners. Saavok: I have not previously had ‘dance partners’. ::He revealed.:: The experience is agreeable. ::She grinned.:: Taz: Well, then I think you’ll just need to come back and visit to give me lesson number 2. ::The invitation was particularly welcome. Somehow, he’d find a way to do so.:: Saavok: I would not object to that. End --- Tasnim “Taz” Shandres Engineering Trainee, USS Veritas I238705TZ0 & Saavok Vulcan Child R238802S10
  24. 1 point
    @Mirra Ezo keeping up diplomatic relations. ((Syrandio - Outside Syrandio Medical Centre )) ::A distraction. No big flashes of light or heavily armed backup. But they had to do something, keep them looking in their direction long enough to let Lieutenant Pran and Lieutenant Pandorn set the charges.:: Ezo: So, what do you have in mind? Open a channel in the guise of negotiating for the injured...? Adyr: Somehow I just don’t see them caring. ::That was unfortunately accurate. In fact, if they brought up the injured, they could just turn them into a liability. No slaver wants broken property.:: Ezo: Well, despite the outfit, I'm not currently Starfleet. Just a civilian. I might make an easier target, so to speak. No one knows to come looking for me? Adyr: I think not, and as a former Starfleet Officer – I assume – you’ll know why. ::So...they would have to make due with staying inside. Just her...a comm...and the angry army in front of them. oO I'm going to get us killed, aren't I...? Oo:: Ezo: I bet I can keep him talking. Long enough for the charges to be set. Adyr: Then lets talk, but we aren’t going outside. ::Mirra approached the front of the vessel at Commander Adyr's gesture. The haze had cleared somewhat, enough to give view to the waiting enemy outside the suddenly thin feeling hull.:: Ezo: ::taking a deep breath:: Keep them talking, right? Adyr: =/\=You're on.=/\= ::And just like that, it was live. Commander Adyr stepped behind her. She wasn't sure if it was as a show of support, or another deversion tactic. It could be the Commander just couldn't stand to look in the beady eyes of their so-called new owners. Not that Mirra blamed her in the least. Ezo: ::clearing her throat politely:: =/\= Hello? Am I speaking with the bu- ::pausing:: man in charge....? =/\= Rsssarkar: =/\=I will not warn you again, primitive creatures. You will not resist and you will comply as property should do.=/\= Ezo: =/\=Ah, yes. About that, you see, I am quite a stickler for protocol, as one must be in this day and age. I'm afraid I can't just turn myself over without substantiating your claim of ownership. Quite a bother, I realize, but I must ask on what authority you are acting under? =/\= ::oO Gods of useless buracracy please protect us...Oo:: Adyr: =/\=Response? =/\= (If any) Rsssarkar: =/\=Everything on this world, including it's primitive mammalian populations are now my property and the property of the Kam'Jahtae Empire. There is no point in resistance. Surrender to the inevitable.=/\= :: Kam'Jahtae? They were a long forgotten, albeit bloody, stain on history. From eons ago. It wasn't possible these were actual Kam'Jahtae...was it? Her wide eyes turned momentarily towards Commander Adyr in shock. Well, whomever they were, she had her mission.:: Ezo: ::confusion colored her tone:: =/\= Kam'Jahtae...? I'm not quite familiar with that particular branch of government. Did you just make that up? You see, I cannot allow myself to become a slave under such...flimsy claims such as that. After all, what would my ancestors think...? Do you have the proper documentation of ownership of this planet and it's inhabitants? Adyr: =/\=Response? =/\= (If any) ::Well, that did something. Previously, he seemed distracted, if not a little put off by the delay. Now, his focus was entirely on her. The jolt of hostility hit her like a scorching beam. She fought against the urge to take a step back in reaction. Instead, she braced herself.:: Rsssarkar :: =/\=Perhaps I will keep you alive until you learn your place. The Kam'Jahtae once ruled an installer concordium the likes of which you have never seen before. All we have lost will be restored.=/\= ::Alright. That wasn't the first, or probably the last time an enemy had suggested she learn her place. Or offered in so many words to put her there. Back on familiar territory. oO Please please don't let me get us killed....Oo:: Ezo: ::clearing her throat again with the utmost politeness:: =/\= My apologies Mr...ah, well, I am afraid I didn't catch your name...? ::silence met her, she was pushing against already borrowed time:: No matter, there will be plenty of time for pleasantries once we get this matter of ownership sorted. Now, back to the beginning, you say you ruled this planet previously? Rsssarkar/Adyr: =/\=Response? =/\= Ezo: =/\= Ah, yes, likes of which I haven't seen, I do remember that part. Can we back up to the organization again? Kamble-Jantey was it? oO By the Great Fire..please let the charges be ready...Oo =/\= Rsssarkar/Adyr: =/\=Response? =/\= Ezo: =/\= Oh! Do forgive me::She turned to Adyr, looking almost shameful, as if she'd just been caught in a cultural [...] Pas. Exaggeratedly gesturing towards her mouth:: It appears it's more of a long "ah" sound, Kam'Jahtae..::turning back:: Did I get it right that time? =/\= Rsssarkar/Adyr: =/\=Response? =/\= Ezo: =/\= Yes I am quite familiar with your terms. I however, would like to make sure I have taken the proper time to become completely informed with my surroundings and situations. You see, my mother always expressed to me the utmost importance of making a proper acquaintance, first impressions being so important. ::Actually, her mother had often told her to smile and keep her mouth shut most of the time. Apparently commenting on the number of chin hairs upon her great aunt's face was considered rude.:: Rsssarkar/Adyr: =/\=Response? =/\= ----------------------------------------- Lt. Commander Mirra Ezo, MD Diplomatic Officer USS Blackwell C239205ME0
  25. 1 point
    ((Tasha’s Quarters, USS Gorkon)) ::Tasha grinned, picking up the miniscule nacelle. She could feel each and every bump and imperfection in the material. Her new, cybernetic fingers were much more sensitive than her flesh and blood ones. The technology had been pioneered by Doctor Noonian Soong, and introduced to the federation through Data.:: ::Soongs work in the cybernetic field had been one of Tasha's main sources of inspiration during the construction of her prosthetic. She had reviewed technical information regarding Data's arms and read papers written about him. She glanced across the room to where a picture of Data now hung on the wall, holding a proud place between her Claymore and a model ship.:: ::It was odd, Tasha wasn’t quite sure why she had replicated the photograph. As Tasha, and almost everybody knew, Data had been killed in 2379 aboard the Reman Scimitar. Yet Tasha felt that his legacy survived, most notably to her through the advances he had led in the field of cybernetics, and now through her left arm.:: ::Upon returning to her quarters after the surgery one of the first things she had done was replicate the photo and place it on the wall. She felt it was her way of honouring him, and thanking him for what he had, indirectly, done for her.:: ::She smiled and picked up a pair of small, delicate tweezers and a small brush. She used the tweezers to pick up the miniature nacelle and dipped the brush in a pot of glue. Working carefully Tasha attached the nacelle to the pylon then placed the finished model aside to dry. Once it was dry she would paint it, and then it would truly be finished.:: ::Tasha heard a quiet meow as Spark jumped onto her lap and rubbed up against her, demanding attention. She smiled and rubbed his head, hadn’t Data had a cat too?:: Ensign Tasha MacFarlane Engineering Officer USS Gorkon G239311TM0
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