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Kali Nicholotti

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Posts posted by Kali Nicholotti

  1. We all know that when Star Trek originally made its debut, the uniform colors were a bit different than what we saw as the franchise developed. Like any good military, evolution came with time, and that included both the uniform style and the colors that were used for the different departments. Modern military uniforms have gone through their own evolution as well, though we see less in the inclusion of colors and more in the style. For Trek, though, colors have a very important significance - they tell us a person's job.

    Between the Original Series and The Next Generation, Command duty stations turned from gold to red, while Engineering and Security went from red to gold. Science and Medical remained blue, but only for the time we know of. And that is what leads us into this week's poll of the week. If you could recast the color of command again, what color would it be? Would you stick with the dark red that seems to command respect, or would you opt for something entirely different?

    Let us know what you'd choose, and why below!

  2. There are few science fiction fans out there who are content to constrain themselves to the fandom of a single show or series, or movie for that matter. Most of us have multiple 'sci-fi loves', some of which we draw on when we write our characters here in the 118 fleet. While there were often common threads that the genre pulled on to weave intricate and interesting stories, each show and each movie brought something new and different. From the outside looking in, however, we have to wonder what might happen to our beloved stories, and the characters that exist within them, if we were to mix them all up.

    And that brings us to this week's poll of the week; what Star Trek character would you have appear in another sci-fi show or movie, and what show or movie would that be?

    We've all seen crossover shows before, like when Scotty appeared in The Next Generation, or when characters from one show visit the story of a spinoff show of a similar name. But what would happen if we literally pulled our favorite characters out of one show and universe, and stuck them in another completely different show and universe? Depending on the combination, things could get disastrous, or the hilarity may ensue. Only you can be the judge of that!

    Let us know what combination you think would result in the best episode (or movie) and tell us why below!

  3. We're often enamored, or at least intrigued by cultures that we are unfamiliar with in our world. From different ethnic foods, to traditions that we aren't used to, there's a lot to learn from stepping outside of our comfort zone and immersing ourselves in the realm of another group of people. Certainly this isn't a new idea, as exchange student programs have been around for a while and people have been traveling the globe for hundreds of years. But what would happen if that globe suddenly got a whole lot bigger?

    That brings us to this week's poll of the week question: If you could choose to be involved in an exchange officer program with any other Star Trek 'nation', which would you choose? Each of the options offers intrigue and the opportunity to learn a great deal, just like exchange programs here on Earth do, but which appeals to you the most? Is it the Romulans and their secrecy, or the warrior nature of the Klingons? Or maybe you'd like to spend a year with a race from the Gamma quadrant? Let us know, or feel free to add in a race we didn't think of and let us know why!

  4. ((USS Excalibur-A, Holodeck 3 ))

    :: Feeling the tension suddenly radiating from the Counselor accompanied
    by a slight colouring to her cheeks :: oO This didn’t work, she not to
    well Oo

    Logan:: Stopping his movements and dropping his arms :: Computer. Make a
    cushioned chair, suitable size for the counsellor:: Upon the chairs
    appearance he motioned towards it :: Ma’am

    Jolara: ::nodding slowly:: I am sorry.

    Logan:: After the counsellor had sunk into the cushions Kurt sunk to one
    knee to be more on her level and so to not loom over her :: Would you
    like me to call a Doctor ma’am oO As I may have done combat medicine but
    even the holo patients wanted to heal themselves.

    :: Rune shook her head. What could the doctors do? Nothing! ::

    Jolara: No. A doctor can not help. It is just... ::her mind raced as
    fast as her heart:: I am going through something physical and being
    close and your scent... I mean... I am sorry. It is not anything you did.

    :: She had no idea how to explain it to him in a way that would not
    embarrass both of them. ::

    Jolara: ::quickly adding:: Not the first impression I wanted to make. I
    am so sorry. I was hoping I had more time to figure things out and that
    it would not interfere with my duty. I had no idea the effect
    non-Al-Leyans would have on me.

    Logan oO What am I supposed to say to that ??. She's obviously more
    going on than just crew tantrums Oo :: Smiling gently :: It's ok Ma'am,
    I apologise for using this program. It’s a good job the Instructor has
    been disabled Mrs wynter is a terrible fuss pot and you would have been
    plied with copius tea and cushions. :: Smilling broadly he hoped the
    image of fending of cushions would relax the counsellor::

    :: For the first time, Rune looked directing into his eyes. He was very
    attractive. As soon as that crossed her mind, she mentally kicked
    herself. She normally did not think of the attractiveness of others.
    Would he understand or think she was... she wasn't sure what he would
    think she was. But he deserved some sort of explanation. ::

    :: She hung her head for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts. When
    she looked back up, she smiled but it was a nervous and confused smile. ::

    Jolara: Al-Leyans experience what we call 'Season' every 4-5 years in
    which they have to mate. I am at least a year early.

    Logan oO I’ve heard of the Vulcan Pon farr thingy, its sound similar to
    this, but there has to be something else Oo Forgive me Ma’am but how is
    that a problem ?

    Jolara: It is complicated by the fact it is forbidden we mate with
    non-Al-Leyans. ::she laughed nervously:: I guess it should not be a
    problem for me since I have broken away from them for other reasons.
    ::she waved her hand:: Which is a whole other problem. But I am finding
    it very difficult to turn my back on everything I have ever been taught.

    Logan: I see but could you not go back even for a day to oO how to
    phrase this delicately Oo Sort this out. Would an escort because of
    these other reasons help ?

    :: It was a question she had been asked every time she tried to talk to
    someone about this. The very thought struck panic within her. ::

    Jolara: ::shaking her head:: I can not go back there. Ever!

    :: The tension that had been slowly dissipating from her returned with a
    vengeance catching Logan a bit of guard :: oO ok that’s never going to
    happen I see not willingly at least oO

    Jolara: Our society is very strict. Any deviation from the 'norm'
    results in attitude readjustment therapy or worse. I experienced the
    worse once before and I lost who I am. I can not let it happen again. If
    I go back they will force me to go through it again.

    Logan:: Still kneeling Kurt edged closer and gently laid his left hand
    on her forearm :: Forgive me Ma’am but I can’t see what you have done
    that could be that bad, as you’re wearing a Fleet uniform with rank and
    responsibilities associated with it. oO What ever they did has her
    terrified her forearm is a knot to tension or is that fear to match her
    voice. This attitude adjustment therapy doesn’t sound like anything to
    be going through, and worse ? Oo

    :: He understood fear well, how to use to it and what it could do to
    you. Now Security may be a foreign world but one thing about it he
    understood well, and that one thing he was good at ::

    Logan:: Gently gripping her arm so the counselor would look up:: There’s
    a saying in the Corp that a Marine stands, and it’s not to do with them
    not being clever enough to know how to use a chair. oO Good a small
    smile Oo It means the Marines don’t give…….period. During the battles
    with the Borg a unit was giving protection to a team of Engineers
    examining a small Borg craft that had landed on a small planet when they
    were attacked by drones. The rescue shuttle couldn’t land to near in
    case it too came under fire, so to allow time to get to safety the
    marines stayed behind. When they too had suffered casualties one marine
    stayed to allow the injured to be evacuated with the others, knowing
    what would happen to him he stood his ground.

    Jolara: ::tilting her head slight:: I do not understand.

    Logan: I’m new to fleet and to this type of duty and especially this
    colour, but I do know our responsibility is the protection and safety
    all any and all crew with us, that means you’re in that category. So If
    ..ANYONE.. comes with the intent of force, they’ll have to go through a
    Marine that stands. oO This is one thing I do know how to do Oo And I
    don’t go down easy oO Ask the Ambassadors about that Oo :: A smirk
    played at the corner of his mouth :: And I suspect a good few others in
    this crew as well.

    :: Why? He hardly knew her. Of course she knew why. He was Starfleet, a
    fellow crewmember... family. ::

    Jolara: ::smiling:: I appreciate that Ensign.

    Logan: I don’t know about your culture Ma’am in regards of turning your
    back on things but my mother once said that a custom or practice that
    holds you up should be held onto with both hands, one that holds you
    down should be left to wither and die. oO What am I doing …what do I
    know about counselling someone especially a counsellor I have a problem
    I hit it or shoot it Oo All I know is Mathew Flynn.

    Jolara: ::puzzled:: Mathew Flynn?

    Logan: He grew up near us on my home planet, not really into jumping off
    a cliff into a 20ft pool of water :: Smiling at the memory:: He was more
    your Science geek.

    :: Rune still wasn't sure where this was going, so she just listened. ::

    Logan: It was just before I left for earth and Marine training that
    Mathew announced and introduced his boyfriend.

    Jolara: ::it hit her:: Oh.

    Logan: Most of us asked if they were both coming to the party, some were
    polite, others were openly against it. His parents threatened to disown
    him if he didn’t ..:: Searching for the right word :: Change

    Jolara: ::nodding:: I understand too well.

    Logan: Mathew agonised his decision for a while oO It was a sad time Oo
    Then he came to the only decision he could, he told his parents they had
    no say in it and that he was going to live his life his way, there now
    both working in the space port back home as civilian contractors and
    happy with life. oO Except his parents that still refuse to speak to
    him, so they come to ours for home cooked meals Oo Sorry Ma’am I’m no
    counsellor, so I probably haven’t helped, that’s just how I see it.

    :: Rune took a shallow breath. She wasn't sure what she was feeling at
    that moment. Everything was jumbled together. ::

    Jolara: Actually that does help some. That is exactly why I can not go
    back to Leya-I. It is strictly forbidden to even have feelings such as
    that... and I do. That is what makes this all the more complicated. The
    first time I went through my Season, I did not have a choice to... ::her
    face reddened slightly:: It was not a pleasant experience. I would
    rather not but I do not know that there is any other way to get through it.

    Logan oO There’s me thinking you had to be enlightened as a race to gain
    entry into the federation. What am I supposed to say !!!. She probably
    already thinks I’m an idiot with my babbling about marines standing,
    protecting her and matthew. Great I can just her entries to my records
    Ensign Logan babbling bumbling buffon, hey that almost rhymes. Oo ::
    Taking a large breath of air :: oO Borg, Hirogen, Breen fine any day,
    but this…giving advice . Oo Ma’am excuse this but I can’t believe there
    is no one who doesn’t find you attractive and vice versa, talk to them
    and see what happens.

    Jolara: I would not even know who to... How could I? Al-Leyans do not
    have relationships the same way humans do. We do not... ::trying to find
    the right word:: commit in the same way if at all. oOWhich makes things
    that much more complicated with Nikki.Oo ::shaking her head:: I am
    sorry. I did not mean to... how do humans say it? Spill my guts?

    Logan:: Chuckling :: Yes that’s the saying. Ma’am, although my mother
    would make us laugh by making us say. I’m terribly sorry to burden you
    with these issues that have happened upon my door but I thought you
    might be able to help me in shinning a light upon these troubles. It
    always made us smile having to say to so a little easier to get our
    problems out. :: Another smile …thanks Mum :: Sometime those with the
    answers have their own questions. :: He gave her a warm smile :: I’m
    Honoured you confided in me especially being the one who turned the
    lights of when trying to teach a lady to dance :: Letting a small giggle
    escape :: But one thing Ma’am who said anything about Commitment.

    Jolara: ::looking puzzled:: Is that not what humans expect?

    Logan: When my father first met my mother he would only promise to love
    her today and tomorrow. And to this day they hold to that. It’s because
    with only those few days to concentrate on they can put their hearts
    into making them good days and not looking years ahead.

    ::Rune thought about that and then nodded.::

    Jolara: That does make logical sense.

    Logan: For what it’s worth Ma’am find this person and work on today and
    tomorrow and see where that road takes you two.

    :: Rune smiled. ::

    Jolara: Thank you. Hopefully once I get through my season, we can do
    just that.

    Logan: NO..... :: His answer came out in a short burst, looking directly
    at the counselor :: No, never wait. Go now and sort it. How many
    chances do you think you'll get in life ??. Besides today is counting
    down. Of course that and your season with your needing to mate, it could
    well be the perfect time to talk :: He gave the counselor a wink ::

    Jolara: This certainly has not gone the way I thought or intended.
    Perhaps it would be better to do your official evaluation later.
    Although if you have anything you feel you need to talk about, ::smiling
    warmly:: it is only fair I listen.

    Logan:: Shaking his head :: That seems to be life, Ma'am I've told you
    what you need to do so go and find this person, and make today count..
    oO I thought this would count as the session Oo Me :: Letting out a
    small chuckle :: ....nothing that can't wait Ma'am oO More like where
    would I start. But last time I was honest with a counselor all it got me
    was trouble and reprimands Oo Do you need or would you like an escort
    ma'am, to find this friend :: Smilling at her :: of yours?

    Jolara: ::smiling back at him:: I will.

    =========================================================================

    A joint post with great pleasure
    Ensign Kurt Logan
    Security Officer

    With Great patience, Understanding and Ability from ((thank you Mr. Logan))
    Lieutenant Rune Jolara
    Ship's Counselor
    USS Excalibur
    NCC-41903-A

  5. I really loved the Flashback week challenge we did a while ago. I found it interesting to participate here and in the Ongoing Worlds contest. It was awesome to get feedback from the Fleet, where I am used to writing, and from those outside of our group.

    I will miss the challenge. Though I would have liked to enter more often than I did, I am glad I got the chance to participate when I did. =)

  6. ((Forward Torpedo Launch Bay, Deck Fourteen, USS Excalibur-A))

    ::Teyvion had been on the upper gantry of the torpedo bay, looking down he could see the empty casket draped with the Federation Standard. He knew it was only a symbolic gesture, everyone did. It was a blessing that it was on the torpedo loading system, so no-one would have to feel the absence of weight.::

    ::His mind cast itself back a few years to a funeral he had attended for another member of the twenty-third, not from his unit but they had been the ones who had found him. They'd been assigned to search the ruins of Ohmallera, after its destruction by the rogue USS Constitution. He'd been killed when a store of volatile chemicals, made unstable by a lack of proper containment and time, detonated when a wall collapsed. His family had been spared the gruesome details...but they'd had to weigh the coffin down with sandbags to conceal the truth.::

    ::He shook his head to clear the memory and turned to Adams and the others who were stood along the railing overlooking the seating area. They looked immaculate and poised, typically seen in various states of armour, training clothes or combat fatigues it was like looking at seven different people. Their weapons stood by their sides.::

    ::He nodded to Adams before heading down to the main floor of the bay.::

    ::He took a seat at one end of a row, facing Livingston across the casket, as the other senior staff filled in. A sea of white, everyone equal except for the varying colours on the trim of their jackets and the ranks on their collars. Once the group had assembled, Livingston began to speak.::

    Livingston: We gather here to pay final respects to the woman who gave all she had in the line of duty. She was the best of us, inspiring each of us by her own actions and strengths. She shared the selfless courage of her Tactical officer and the heart of her Security team. She had the ingenuity of her engineers and the curiosity of her science officers. She had the critical eye of her Intelligence team, but she always had the tact of her Chief Diplomat. She pushed the envelope in a way that would make her Marines proud, but when the job was done, the medical officer inside of her made sure everyone was healed.

    Livingston: Her sacrifice protected us. Out that window, I do not see the remains of a break in subspace. I see Kali’s scar, and when I see it, I shall not mourn; I shall have hope. Fleet Captain Nicholotti gave us strength in life, and the courage to use that strength. Let us honor her by our actions and our deeds.

    ::He took another pause.::

    Livingston: If anyone else has words to share, speak now.

    ::Teyvion listened as those who knew Nicholotti better than he did spoke. The first was a man he didn't recognise but he assumed, from his white undershirt, that he commanded a vessel. Maybe he would be the one to take command of the Excalibur...or would it be Livingston...or someone else.::

    ::Skyfire spoke next followed by Orman...which was quite an experience. He had to suppress a grin as she spoke, her voice full of emotion, it was refreshing to hear someone provide such and honest eulogy. So often it was all positive and ignored peoples faults, which was all well and good in its way, but to speak of your love for someone who you admitted was flawed seemed only to reinforce how much they meant to you. That you cared for them despite the fact they weren't perfect....but who was.::

    ::Brek, Taybrim and the others all spoke of the Captain, their own personal words of tribute to their fallen Commander. As the speeches came to a close Livingston returned to the stand and cast his eyes towards the Trill::

    Livingston: Lieutenant Kesaan, if you will.

    Kesaan: ::Standing:: Sir.

    ::He pulled himself the full attention, his eyes fixed in the distance and began to speak.::

    Kesaan: Present, arms!

    ::Heard the unifying shift as the seven members of his team brought their weapons to a salute.::

    Kesaan: Stand ready!

    ::He saw several of the crew look up towards the gantry as Adams and the rest shifted their stance, aiming their weapons forward over the casket. Typically an honour guard would not fire over the congregation but the situation was a little restrained by the surroundings.::

    Kesaan: Fire!

    ::Crack.::

    ::The sound rang out and echoed throughout the torpedo bay. Adams had heeded his warning and reduced the chemical component in the blank firing charge so the reverberating sound was loud but wasn't deafening. The rifles weren't standard issue equipment, they were primarily used as training aids for zero-gravity operations, their weight and recoil far greater than a standard phaser rifle, and for ceremonial occasions such as this.::

    Kesaan: Ready. Fire!

    ::Crack::

    ::The second shot pierced the silence.::

    Kesaan: Ready. Fire!

    ::Crack::

    Kesaan: Order, arms!

    ::The words vanished into silence along with the echo of the final volley. The entire room falling into stillness as the assembled staff stood and the casket began to move along the loading channel. The flag of the Federation carefully removed as it passed and folded neatly as the empty container was loaded into the launching system.::

    ::It fired.::

    ::The Chief of the Boat blew his whistle, signaling that the Captain was leaving the ship one last time, and the small memorial to Nicholotti appeared in space, beyond the viewing window.::

    ::The two fighters, currently being piloted by the other two members of his unit, dropped down from where they had been holding position and took up a position behind each flank of the casket as it sped out into space, the Captain taking the lead in flight one last time. Their engine wake modulated to produce a slightly silvered plasma trail, clearly something the flight crew had done themselves but it seemed appropriate. After a short period they turned as one and banked away in opposing directions leaving the empty vessel streaming on towards the remains of the void.::

    ::He didn't know if these things had names or numbers or if they were even recorded, but he would now always think of that silver mark in the fabric of space as 'Kalianna's Scar'. Slowly the casket became a speck and then faded into the distance. Livingston returned to the podium once more to address the congregation.::

    Livingston: As others have said, Fleet Captain Nicholotti would want us to go on, zestfully pursuing life. She herself has set us on that path, leaving instructions for that I shall presently carry out regarding recognition for the service of her officers. I think we can do with a change of scenery, so we have some refreshments waiting in our Crew Lounge. Please join me there.

    ::Slowly, individually or in groups, the crew filed out - leaving nothing but an arrangement of empty chairs in their wake and one chair, on the bridge, more empty than most.::

    ...tbc...

    ---

    First Lieutenant Teyvion Kesaan

    Marine Officer
    USS Excalibur-A
    NCC-41903-A

    • Like 1
  7. ((USS Excalibur - Deck 6 – Brek's Office))

    ::After 40 minutes of frantic typing and then some serious editing, Brek was now staring at the final version of his report. It wasn't as long as he had pretended it would be in Intel. Just 500 words of brutal honesty. Once he had come to term with the fact he was the sole person responsible for his behavior, there was actually little to brood about.::

    ::He took a sip of the Tarator soup he had replicated moments ago and he winced. It's not that the taste was bad, but, like most healthy food, it looked like something someone else had regurgitated an hour ago. At first he had wanted to go for a nice slice of apple pie, but he had achieved so little, (in term of results), during the drill, that he didn't think he deserved the treat.::

    ::Of course, it's not what he had written in his report. Besides, he was a firm believer that when one accepts everything, then all that's tragic, sad or simply unpleasant, disappears. Plus, it was also important to always keep a positive outlook on events::

    ::That's how he had come to the conclusion that he hadn't done so bad after all. He had been able to work on the Bridge, and then in the Intel Suite, while previously he would have stayed within the boundaries of his domain. He had also rediscovered a forgotten skill of his: the ability to use common devices, even broken ones, in ingenious ways.::

    ::There was however, one area where he had not fared so well: he had remained extremely cautious in the face of danger. He loathed any form of violence and so preferred to leave that sort of activity to others. Was he really to be blamed for having survival instincts that were developed to such a fine level?::

    Brek: oO Don't kid yourself, little beetle. If you want take your career to the next level, you'll have to toughen up. Oo

    ::And how do you toughen up a man of words, bribery and juicy contracts?::

    Brek: oO There are many holodeck programms you could use. What about the 'Hound of the Baskerville' one that you have? Running away from a demonic creature would be good for your endurance. Failing this, you could play tennis... eliminate all those nasty toxins in your body. Oo

    ::Brek humphed, and, wanting to run away from his own thoughts, he sent his report and left his office. He would walk in the corridor until he found a soul with whom he could have an argument.::

    ::Sadly for him, the only person he met was his aide Dakarai, who happened to be on his way to a game of tennis. You could tell because he was wearing those dreadful white shorts that exhibited his hairy legs. Then, one thing leading to another, Brek allowed his conscience to speak, and he ended up following what, by his new standards, could pass for a friend.::

    ((Deck 6 – Tennis Court))

    ::Of course, it would have been a lot to expect Brek to know how to play this silly ball game. So he just stood on his side of the court, holding a weird instrument called a racket. Dakarai told him he would 'serve' and the next moment Brek was rewarded by being hit in the face by a small, but very hard ball.::

    Brek: ::He picked the blasted ball up.:: I don't find this game terribly amusing or relaxing, far from it.

    Dakarai: Chef, you need to catch the ball. You're not supposed to stand over there like a scarecrow. Use your legs and your arms. I'm going to serve again.

    ::Once again the ball flew towards him, but this time Brek was prepared. He caught it with his right hand, and he 'served' the [...] thing back, with all his might. Dakarai, true to his self, didn't play fair. He shrieked and avoided the projectile.::

    Dakarai: Non Brek! What are you doing?! What about the racket? You need to use it. Comme ceci. [Like this].

    ::Which of course was just an excuse for the black guy to show off his best tennis moves.::

    Dakarai: Let's try again.

    ::Brek had to admit, the racket was useful, so he used it, and he indulged in that activity called 'playing'. His technique was crap, he knew it. Most of the time, all he was interested in was to try to hit Dakarai. An odd thing really... coming from someone like him, who didn't like violence....::

    tag/tbc

    Lt. Cmdr. Brek

    Chief Diplomatic Officer/2O

    USS Excalibur A

    • Like 1
  8. ((Epsilon VII Medical Facility - Counseling and Neuroscience offices))

    ::The call has come through from Starfleet Medical, indicating that the USS Excalibur-A, a ship in dire need of a full counseling staff yet barely able to keep one counselor onboard at any given time, was docked back at Starbase 118. Doctor Solan arched a perfectly sculpted Vulcan brow, and idly wondered if it was logical to contact him with such short notice.

    If he was not an enlightened follower of the Kohlinar, he might have attributed an emotional reasoning to the late orders. His colleagues often said things like ‘that is so rude’ or ‘they do that on purpose’ as if short notices were planned specifically to irritate them. Solan believed that if there was blame involved, it was due to an inefficiency of the processes of bureaucracy rather than any personal vendetta. Inefficiency was not inexcusable, however it was understandable.

    Still, Starfleet Medical recognized Ensign Solan’s efficiency, perhaps even counted upon it. If anyone could be ready to leave at a moment’s notice, it would be him. He had few personal effects to pack, and those he did carry with him were meticulously organized enough to make packing a simple affair. Add to that the simple fact that Solan, by nature, made sure than every report that needed to be filed was filed precisely on time and all loose ends were wrapped up as a matter of course meant he left nothing dangling to be cleaned up should he need to leave.

    Part of this could be attributed to his Vulcan heritage. Certainly it did not hurt. But moreover, it was part of his age and routine. Despite the fact that he only bore Ensign’s pips, this was only another stage in Solan’s journey to better understand neurochemistry and how it affected various species - a journey that he had already traveled for many decades. He had already spent half a lifetime researching at the Vulcan Science Academy, he could boast – if Vulcans were given to boasting (which they certainly were not) – two adult children who were both fine scientists in their own right and a wife who was an honored diplomat.

    Twenty years ago Solan would have thought he would have spent the rest of his life on Vulcan researching neurochemistry and neurology, peaceful in his choice of studies and staying in communion with his family and extended family. But that was before his mother, T’Lara, developed Bendii Syndrome at the painfully young age of 146.

    For the next three years Solan was driven to research the neurological illness, defying the bounds of logic in an almost desperate attempt to find a cure for the incurable. At the same time he became his mother’s closest caretaker – suffering the brunt of her telepathic emotional projections. When she died, three years after diagnosis, Solan was crushed and his emotional barricades crumbled like sandstone beaten by the relentless winds of the harsh Vulcan desert.

    His faith in medical science was shaken that day, and he wavered between unbecoming bouts of anger and depression. Finally Solan decided to re-cleanse himself by the ritual of Kohlinar. He spent five years attaining enlightenment and purging emotions and in the end he came to two conclusions: the first was that true enlightenment came from neither blind denial nor failure to acknowledge emotion. No, in fact the highest illumination was reserved for those who keenly understood emotions and chose to eschew them in favor of the course of pure logic. The second was that despite the depth of research that the Vulcan Science Academy had, he believed that breadth of experience might be what was needed to break through to new discoveries.

    As his children were well set with their lives and his wife was used to traveling and connecting with him when opportunity presented itself, Solan found it logical to expand his horizons. He enrolled in Starfleet Academy, in the hope that other cultures might provide him with the spark of an idea he needed to solve the medical mystery he was so intent on solving.

    While the medical facility on Starbase Epsilon VII was state of the art and well staffed, it wasn’t the breadth of experience Solan was hoping for. A mere three months after his posting he suggested to Starfleet Medical that it would be logical to test his expertise in the field. Certainly there would be a starship that could use a Vulcan counselor who was an expert in neurochemistry and neuropharmacology.

    Reading the reports – slim as they were – from the USS Excalibur, it appeared that he would be wading into what Terrans so colorful called ‘shark infested waters.’ He did not know what frontiers this ship might bring him to or what he might learn, but he was quite sure just from reading the scattered reports of the last and current counselor that the crew could use a guiding hand into understanding their own mental health.

    Thus prepared, he straightened and prepared to big farewell to his colleagues. He found them an agreeable group to interact with, and it was logical to retain good connections with intelligent doctors and scientists.

    Logic dictated that one must always remember the past, but not be bound by it. Solan felt at peace with the job he had done and curious for the one to come. As much as a student of the Kolinar could enjoy himself, Solan had agreeable expectations for what was to come.::

    pNPC Ensign (Doctor) Solan

    Counselor

    en route to the USS Excalibur-A

  9. (( Sickbay - USS Excalibur-A ))

    Romjin: Alrighty guys and gal...I will just take this and see what I can get off it. I will send you what I find.

    ::Sal watched Shedet’s smile, thinking the weak imitation of the usually friendly gesture exactly mirrored his own feelings towards the intelligence officer at the moment. He looked towards Romjin as well, offered a wan smile, his dark eyes clouded.:: oOYou’ll send us what you find. Right. And when you do we’ll go sunbathing on Andor.oO ::He stayed silent and turned back to his work, waiting until Romjin had left before he got lost in his own thoughts.::

    ::Sal admitted, he had a bias against intelligence officers. It hadn’t started that way, but so far every single intelligence officer he had met fit the mold of an arrogant, self-absorbed [...]. Romjin seemed no different. Waltz in, ask a bunch of questions, take someone’s else's hard earned work, waltz out. Or limp out in this case. It didn’t matter. Intelligence officers as a whole seemed to treat others as commodities to be used rather than people. It rubbed his own people-centered counselor personality exactly the wrong way.::

    ::It didn’t help that he had yet to meet one that broke the mold.::

    ((Flashback, Beta Antares research center, seven years ago))

    ::She waltzed in as if she owned the place. Black hair worn loosely down her back, flaunting regulation style. She carried her chin up and her head high, as if to say her grey uniform meant she didn’t have to listen to the rules. She was outside the rules.::

    ::The entire research department hated her.::

    ::Lisa Ann Chapelle was her name, and if you called her Lisa she would burn you with a cold stare and inform you that should you do it again she could make your family disappear. And then laugh. As if it was a joke.::

    ::Sal loved joked. He hated Lisa Ann Chapelle.::

    ::To this end the researchers of artificial intelligence on Beta Antares called her ‘the Grey Witch.’ They didn’t quite know why she was around so often. What sort of devil’s deal had the research facility made with Starfleet? Probably something to do with funding. Researching artificial intelligence was many things; cheap was not one of them. It always felt like they had sold a little bit of their soul to the devil every time the Grey Witch appeared. An ever-present reminder that scientific curiosity and pure devotion to ideals meant little when your outcome could be bought, sold and traded to the highest bidder in an arms race.::

    The Grey Witch: Why hello, boys. What do you have for me today?

    ::The voice was so sweet, lilting. Almost seductive. Not that anyone in their right mind would touch the Grey Witch. If she didn’t know some bizarre form of ‘I make your life miserable’ martial art, she could certainly make your life miserable in a variety of other ways. Or at least she insinuated it. Maybe it wasn’t true. Of the twenty seven researchers in the artificial intelligence lab, Sal was the only Betazoid and only he had a hint at the greater truth. He believed that somewhere under her veneer she was a struggling young woman, terrified of her superiors. Not that anyone else in the lab would agree.::

    Senior Researcher Kensington: ::The tall dark skinned doctor smoothed his grey hair:: There have been no new breakthroughs in the cyborganic relays. It is still operating at a highly efficient level but we have not been able to teach it any sentient decision making.

    The Grey Witch: That’s not what I heard, Mr. Kensington. ::She smile like a shark circling prey::

    ::Sal hunched over his console, he didn’t want to catch her gaze. Not just because he didn’t like her or her attention, but because today she was radiating desperation. She needed to find something here, her digging had focus.::

    Senior Researcher Kensington: ::He coughed a bit and shook his head:: I don’t know what you mean, Miss Chapelle.

    The Grey Witch: Oh, I think you do, doctor. I noticed you made a report to Director J’nel indicating cyborganic relays could process data and make decisions while implementing orders.

    Senior Researcher Kensington: I sent that message to J’nel in confidence. That research is not ready for testing, it isn’t a suitable response for an artificial intelligence platform yet. ::His brows drew together in protest, as he took a step sideways to stand in between her and his own desk::

    ::Sal felt the desperation recede somewhat, and he flickered his gaze upwards, watching as the Grey witch drew herself up to her full height, suffused with arrogance::

    The Grey Witch: Anything I think is pertinent information to my mission, doctor, is privy to me. You will give me the new cyborganic research materials.

    Senior Researcher Kensington: It’s not ready yet. I will file a full report when it is completed. ::Kensington’s voice was soft, but firm.::

    The Grey Witch: I don’t care. Move aside, or I’ll have you moved aside.

    ::She smirked as Kensington moved over fractionally.::

    Senior Researcher Kensington: I would like to see the validation for you to take our research before we have released it.

    The Grey Witch: I don’t need to validate anything to you. ::She pushed past him, digging her shoulder into the man’s chest and neatly grabbing every PADD and data device on the desk top:: Thank you. ::She smiled broadly.:: I will, of course, be accessing your computer banks shortly, you may experience some lock outs. Everything will be up and running again my this afternoon.

    ::And just like that she waltzed out.::

    ::Kensington swore under his breath, waiting until she was out of the room to slam his hand on the desk::

    Senior Researcher Kensington: Of course, she had to come before we could process the data.

    Taybrim: ::He looked up, edging over to his manager:: She must have been monitoring everything we did.

    Senior Researcher Kensington: I’m sure she did. And now she’s got what she wanted all along.

    ::Sal frowned. The reason they hadn’t published their findings already was because the research hadn’t been useful for their own purposes. But they also figured out all too quickly the research had other – less savory – uses. The cyborganic circuitry was extremely compact and capable of processing a large amount of data, to the point where it could make basic decisions centered around a command. While it wasn’t promising for the creation of true sentient artificial intelligence, it would be devastatingly effective for things like weapons arrays that were capable of following targets or drones that could evade capture long enough to break enemy lines. The researchers considered the implications highly dangerous and wanted to test everything out thoroughly before making the proper reports to the Federation Science Council.::

    ::Obviously Starfleet Intel had other plans::

    Taybrim: I think she was on some sort of ultimatum to get results.

    Senior Researcher Kensington: I don’t care what she was on. She stole our research and you know full well it’s going to end up in a military application. Someday someone – maybe many someones are going to die, because a few idealistic scientists were trying to create a better AI and accidentally came up with a fantastic weapons guidance system.

    ::Sal winced. Kensignton had a point. For all his sympathy towards Chapelle, she didn’t seem to care one whit about what such things were used for, as long as she kept her superiors off her back. And it didn’t matter at all what the researchers said, they didn’t have any rank to pull over her and therefore they were second class citizens in her eyes. His throat felt dry as he leaned back in his chair, wondering what would become of this…::

    ((End flashback))

    ::It was Shedet’s voice that snapped him out of his reverie.:

    Shedet: Wanna cross-check for that planet? As I said earlier, I have access to the planetary database. They may not have the location of the planet, but there might be enough puzzle pieces for us to make an educated guess.

    Taybrim: ::He shook his head a little, to clear the memory from his mind. He didn’t even want to dwell on it:: Yes, I have the maps downloaded. Let’s see what we can find.

    TBC

    Ensign Sal Taybrim

    Counselor

    USS Excalibur-A

  10. ((Sickbay))

    ::So this Red-Collar with four pips came tumbling out of the Isolation Unit, looking like he was ready to be free of that hazard garb when he noticed the short blond feller and they took to gabbing.::

    ::Now, Nady Briskow never minded much people gabbing in his Sickbay; you never knew what you’d overhear, what kinda tips you’d get just by payin’ attention to what others would blab in earshot of just about anyone. But today was another thing altogether. Closing off more and more of Sickbay as more and more beamed up from the surface; first the new doc and his muscle, who’d stumbled into more trouble than they should have; and then the Rommies decided to go to the mattresses against a squad of docs, fer cryin’ aloud!::

    ::Setting aside what Nurse Briskow would like to do to the green-bloods—back on Iotia, back in Oxmyx Chicago, where Nady had grown up prowling the streets of the Near North Side, they’d teach ‘em to mess with Doc MacLaren right quick. Teach ‘em why you don’t mix business and personal.::

    ::But the Feds didn’t like that—and, truth be told, Briskow had been a failure as a small-time mobster. He poked his nose in where it didn’t belong far too often. Got too curious for his own good. What his Pa’d told him when he went off to nursing school, then announced he was joining Starfleet. “Joinin’ up wit’ dem Feds? Whattaya think ya’are, where ya think ya come from? McCoyville over dere?” Nady never told his father the name of the Doc he’d been working under. It’d sound too—what’d the Book call it again?—too Scottish for him.::

    ::And he liked to help people. Sometimes you had to pull the admission outta him like a rusty nail, but he did. Deep down inside there somewhere. Or else he wouldn’t be here, right?::

    ::But this gabbing, the Red Collar and the Mysterious Blond Stranger, this was just too far: ‘Cause soon enough it wasn’t just some chit-chat but something more serious. Briskow was just standing there, minding his own business in the doorway from one of the labs into Main Sickbay, listening in on one of the strangest conversations he’d heard in while—both of the men looked real enough to him, after all; why’d they keep doubting it?—when the Red Collar shoved the Mysterious Blond Stranger against a biobed, erected a containment field and called for security.::

    ::And then, with the place looking a mess—he up and leaves! Just like that! Not another thought about it. Just like an officer. Especially a Red Collar. Come in, say nuttin much of interest, start a fight, and leave the nurses—leave good ol’ Nady Briskow—to clean up after them.::

    ::He stepped back into Main Sickbay. Might as well make sure it looked presentable when the muscle arrived to show this traitor to the Rommies (he glared over at the Mysterious Blond Stranger behind the containment field) the what’s what.

    ::Can’t let anyone think we’re falling down on the job here in Sickbay, just because all hell’s breaking loose everywhere the officers go. Nope. No sirreee...::

    TBC

    PNPC Crewman Nady Briskow

    Nurse

    USS Excalibur-A

  11. ((Hospital Complex))

    MacLaren: Lt. Letant, we will begin setting up testing clinics on the outskirts of town. Eh noticed that most of the patients have been from nearer bye. We need to ken if those further out have avoided the plague or are simply unable to come here.

    Letant: You want to go out? But, that is so dangerous.

    Banks: Yeah... Well... ::He paused, not sure what to say.:: We'll have to be careful.

    MacLaren:: stifling a smile:: Weel, Eh think Dr. Banks has summarized it verra weel. Let's get started.

    ::MacLaren had decided everyone needed a break. So she'd decided to head out toward the outskirts of the settlement, where the farming land was less disturbed. He stepped off the transport along with everyone else.::

    ((Settlement Outskirts - Agurtha))

    ::For a while he listened quietly while a few civilians approached them. One seemed mentally ill, delusional even. They'd finally found some people, maybe somebody who'd developed an immunity. After watching for a while he decided to look over toward an open field. The place looked like a good area where corpses might have been deposited, maybe burned.::

    ::He stepped into the slowly growing weeds. They looked a bit like rye or twitchgrass. The plants swished up against his feet, rhythmically brushing against him to the tune of his quiet breathing. Off in the distance he saw the outline of a house. Closer stood the hulk of a machine. A seeder maybe. When he finally did reach the machine he ran a finger along one of its roll cages, traced his hand across the the traction on the wheel beneath. He'd seen transplanters like this before::

    ((Flashback - Earth, 27 Years Ago))

    Farmer: C'mon boy! Come here!

    ::He ran toward the man, buckets in hand.::

    Farmer: We don't have all day!

    ::The man was climbing up into the giant seeder. He needed the water to provide for irrigation for the small seedlings.::

    ((Present))

    ::The machine stood silently and David eyed it one last time, looking up inside the pilot's seat. Dale. His old boss in the summers during high school. He'd died of a stroke years later, weeks before David had joined up. Wanted David to come see him at the hospital, but he was too [...]ed keen on getting out to Fort Brock.

    He still remembered his dad shaking his hand as he left. He couldn't hug him any more. After all, David might die out there. So he needed to wash David out of himself before he had a chance to die.::

    ::Presently David walked toward some trees on the edge of the field. The ground beneath him was softer here, and the weeds grew thicker, slowly cleaning out any sign that this land had been farm land. The war had cleaned David and his father of each other soon enough. It wasn't that either of them died. David never wanted to talk about those seventeen years. The war hadn't even been that long. But his whole career with the marines in the medical core was tainted by it -- peppered through with the brief pin[...] moments when he'd watched people die, accepted that most of the time you couldn't help. And when he did help and they lived, they just ended up screwed up afterward anyway, walking out of the service like corpses back into a society that didn't know what to do with them.::

    ::And then one day Dad just stopped trying to call. By then his mom had died. That hadn't helped either.::

    ::He leaned against a tree and folded his arms as he looked out toward the field again, eyeing the house that by now was a lot closer. Christ, he should have been here helping people rebuild their houses after the goddam plague. Not right back in the middle of trying to fix people. The people here were too messed up to be helped anyway.::

    David Banks

    Medical

    USS Excalibur

    as simmed by

    Lt. Cmdr. Kevin Breeman

    Chief Engineer

    USS Excalibur

  12. ((First Officer's Quarters, USS Apollo))

    ::A puff of steam rose from the plain white mug that sat alone on the small dining table. It lingered for a moment, as if testing the air around it, before finally dissolving into the nether of the recycled atmosphere of the ship. In a chair that matched the architecture of the table, with her chin on her knees, her knees pulled up to her chest, and her arms around them, Cayden Adyr sat in the silence of her quarters and found herself simply watching the steam as it rose and disappeared. The simplistic nature of the moment, in a dimly lit room that was supposed to mimic the luminosity of the early dawn, caught her mind somewhere between the delicate fantasy of a dream and the much harsher way of reality. And it took her to a place where she walked with herself.::

    ::There were no sounds, save for those of the breaths she took and the subtle hum of the ship, as it too breathed around her. So often these days, noise filled the air around her. So often, her mind was filled with the darker simulacrums of her past, or the brilliance of her future, but rare was it that she found herself caught within a moment in time. Rarer still was it that she found herself between the two ends of the vastly capacious spectrum. And yet here, as another puff of white steam met the cooler air that hung just above her table, it was in that existence that she now found herself lost.::

    ((Flashback, 195 Years Ago, Trill))

    ::Having rolled up the legs of his pants and tossed his shoes to the side, a rather good looking man grinned somewhat mysteriously at an equally stunning woman as they walked, arm in arm, down the length of an empty beach. The waves lapped softly up to them as they walked, missing their bared feet by only a few inches. White spray, filled with the scent of salt, splashed up around them as if responding to the tiny grains of dark brown sand that their own steps were tossing haphazardly into the same wind that blew their hair back. In the distance, the sun was just beginning to fall down beneath the horizon, giving off the distinct impression that the star itself was dying, as rays of yellow, red, and orange bled into the water and spread in the waves.::

    ::The chill of the night was already upon them, and though the scene on the beach would lead onlookers to believe something else, the only warmth that existed in that moment was that caught within the fragile flesh that walked between the ever growing night breeze and the cold winter ocean. But the two continued to walk, unfazed by the chill or the growing darkness. Indeed, all light that was needed was provided by the stars, and as Rodan would have said, the look in her eyes.::

    ::This was life! Of all that existed and all that his mind and body would experience, it was the moments between the moments that mattered. Now, after half a life lived, after having spent most of it making beautiful music, he realized that the most beautiful song paled deeply in comparison to her face. It was the first hints of love, and something that he would pass on through the ages by way of the symbiont that rested deep down inside. But, as the moment passed and another came, he did not think of posterity, but found himself drawn in and captured by the woman on his arm.::

    ::Even the beach faded away to him now, as it would in the years that would pass after he was long dead. He was Trill, and his thoughts would hail from the past for as long as the symbiont lived. And yet, it would only be on his death bed that he would pass on to the next host what he considered most important in all existence; love.::

    ((Flashback, 121 Years Ago, Aboard a Small Research Station in Low Planetary Orbit of Trill))

    ::One day, she dreamed wistfully, the barriers that existed would fall. One day, the mind would understand far more than it did now and the stars themselves would be theirs to hold in the palms of their hands. There wouldn’t be the need to pick and choose between one way of living and another; both would be able to thrive within a rapidly growing exosphere that only expanded as knowledge moved forward. Diseases would be vanquished, pain would fade, and questions not even asked yet would have answers.::

    ::A sigh escaped her as she stared out into the darkness of planetary night. It was the only period of an orbit where she could see the stars in all of their brilliance and glory. As such, she’d stop her work for just a moment each time the station passed into the darkness and let her thoughts travel along the very same cogitation. The future seemed so incredibly far away, and yet, it was something she was reaching for anyways. And while, in the end, she knew that it would not be her that was able to walk among those points of light that were the stars, at least she would be there in some manner of thought.::

    ::Subconsciously, her hand moved to the area of her stomach where the symbiont had recently been placed. Still working on integrating the previous hosts memories into her own, she had requested this assignment, but now she wondered. Just how much isolation could she take? It was a question that she asked herself; one that mirrored the one her boss had asked her just before launch.::

    ::Yet somehow, the answer she had given then – that she’d always have Rodan to speak with – held much less water now than it did then. For every bit of emotion, love, and spontaneity that Rodan had been known for, Eliza offered science, method, and logic. They were nothing alike, and yet, he still had lessons in store for her. In a way, she hoped that her own lessons would offer something to the next host, even if they were as vastly different as she and Rodan were. But the day to pass on her experiences was still a ways off, and for now, there was work to be done.::

    ::The first glimmer of the sun could be seen as its light scattered across the atmosphere of the planet below. Within seconds, it would return to its complete blinding brilliance, and so, Eliza turned back to the terminal and began to run the numbers of the experiment again. Under the microscope, tiny nano probes began their workday all over again.::

    ((Flashback, 64 Years Ago, USS Andromeda))

    ::The darkness around him swirled and coalesced into images created by his own imagination. Beneath him, the bed seemed far softer than the chair he spent most of his time in during the day and when coupled with the soft tones of the ‘music’ he’d heard since the ship entered the area of space known as the Typhon Expanse, his body simply let the trappings of the day fade into nothingness. It was this time of the day he enjoyed the most; when the neoteric quiescence of night allowed the voices of the past to whisper directly into his mind. The very epitome of being Trill, it was in this experience that everything existed.::

    ::Sleep, itself, never came easily, but he didn’t mind. He had freed himself from the constrictions associated with the uniform that lay draped across the back of a chair in the corner of the room that he could not see, but knew was there. And in his newfound freedom, deep contemplation danced a complex waltz with introspection. Intuition wrapped itself up in the ruminations of whatever situation faced them and answers were found, while lessons from decades before were spoken softly.::

    ::The dance continued long into the hours that constituted night aboard the tiny, when compared to the universe it explored, vessel, that drifted nearly silently deeper into the perpetual night of space. With the continued backdrop of music, provided by the Expanse itself, Alaryc found a chance to really listen, and learn, from the history that had come before.::

    ::Deep whispers from within rose up to speak of solitude and of the stars. They drifted without direction or set destination and spoke of things he'd not focused on in his life, like love. Though the experiences came to him, not always making sense, he found himself learning and growing with each lesson from the past. It was a path that would ultimately lead to the center chair, and a life full of things to pass on to who came next. It was a legacy that would live on.::

    ((Flashback, 17 Years Ago, USS Valor))

    ::On the padd that was firmly grasped in her hands scrolled the words that answered every wish and prayer that she had ever had. They were simple, and they explained only what her next steps were, but it was one word at the top of them all that had her literally jumping for joy. Accepted. The word created ripples of elation within her entire body, instigating the intense flow of endorphins and bringing her to a level of jubilation she had never experienced before.::

    ::Still tightly holding the padd, the young girl ran out of the quarters that she shared with her parents to share the news that she would not be staying there for much longer. Everything she had worked for, and everything that she had wanted was finally coming true; having been accepted to the University in Medara, soon she knew that she would be leaving her current life behind. There would be no more red alerts, or danger, or stuffy air that was simply recycled through the ship. No more warp core centered discussions at the dinner table, and no more going over emergency procedures that would take her to the lifepods; Jazra was about to set out on a new course.::

    ::It was a course that she had been striving for ever since she had first set foot on a starship. Having lived there most of her life, she had thrown herself into school, excelling past those that shared her age, and never making friends. Now, her long nights spent studying, and her lack of a social life, were finally paying off. And while she knew that her parents were still on duty, she didn’t care. This was something she needed to share, even if her running through the halls of the Valor brought quite a few strange looks. Even if the whole ship found her odd, or troublesome, or anything else. It didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered were the words; words etched into history on her padd.::

    ::But fate, as it would have been, had a different path in mind. Change was coming, and soon, Jazra's mind would be open to the history Adyr granted to her, even if she didn't know it yet. Sure, she'd get her chance and attend the University on Betazed, but not without growing pains that would add her own experiences to the long list of lessons held for the hosts of the future. Not without making some attempt at keeping her from leaving.::

    ::And in time, even her girlish excitement would fade into the teachings meant for someone else.::

    ((Flashback, 14 Years Ago, Trill))

    ::It was funny how things often came full circle.::

    ::Standing in the courtyard in the capital city of Mak’ala, Norah let his eyes take in sights the Adyr symbiont had not seen in quite some time. Around him, people came and went, busy in their lives and wandering about their business. Each of them seemed too caught up in the moment to think about what might come in the next, but that didn’t stop him from contemplating his own end. Having just been joined, the susurrations of Jazra, and those that had come before, were bubbling up in his mind. Together they sang, as if in a chorus of voices that gave him insight into his own end; an end that was coming towards him faster and faster, with no brakes available to slow inevitability down.::

    ::And though the idea might have been disturbing to some, the old diplomat simply smiled at the oncoming cliff. His time had been long ago in days that were remembered with pleasant thoughts. Now, at least, he would be able to pass those moments on through the eyes of the symbiont he never thought he’d have. Perhaps, somehow, his experiences as a peace seeker, negotiator, and overall diplomat, would bring knowledge and patience to a place and time where it would really matter.::

    ::Though pained by the circumstances of her death, and the intense feelings for a certain Betazoid man that echoed from the young woman who had met her end, Norah knew that it was all part of the grand scheme. Together, Jazra’s short life would coalesce with those that had carried Adyr prior and build a legacy unlike any seen outside the planet on which he now stood. It was in that legacy that he found peace. Death was certain to come find him, and soon, but with a legacy like he had now, what more could he ask for? He would not die now, but live on, in the mind and body of another. ::

    ((End Flashbacks))

    ::A final puff of steam floated towards the ceiling as the most recent host of Adyr looked on. History danced around in her head, coming together into stories that were far better than fiction as her coffee fell inevitably to an undrinkable temperature. Perhaps it was the lack of steam, or the fact that her legs were cramping from how she had been sitting for so long, but she suddenly knew that it was time to go.::

    ::Standing, Cayden left the dining area and moved to the room to prepare for her day. In her wake, on the small dining table, sat a now-cooled mug of coffee that had not been consumed as one might have expected. Though it remained in the mug, and the mug on the table, it had become the catalyst for so much more.::

    ::It had brought her mind to the more important lessons from the past; lessons that would serve her well as she stepped away from the moment, and into the rest of her life.::

    --

    Captain Kalianna Nicholotti

    Commanding Officer

    Starbase 118/USS Victory

  13. 1) Kahn transported from Earth to Qo'noS-- that was my understanding anyway. If this was possible, why have ships? Harrison used Scotty's transwarp beaming which is for transporting an object/person between adjacent ships or planets. Wouldn't that be Earth to Mars? Qo'noS is not adjacent (as a planet) to Earth. It might be in a solar system adjacent to ours but I think that's stretching it.

    I've been running around saying *this exact thing* ever since I saw the movie...my biggest issue with it...

  14. ((Celes II, Ruin of Abandoned Machinery Storage Warehouse))

    ::The building was huge. None of its original equipment functioned any

    longer, and it had a large gash near one side of it that would have left

    the building open to the atmosphere had not the Clashing organisers sealed

    it with ferrofoam. The place had all the hallmarks of a temporary shelter

    - portable furniture and partitions brought in, generators laying about

    powering lights and replicators and local atmospheric conditioners.::

    ::Only ten years previous, this place had been full and busy, an integral

    part of a nearby dilithium mining site on a thriving mining planet. The

    Borg had changed all of that, appearing in the sky without warning and

    killing or assimilating everyone on the planet within mere hours.. They

    said there had been some tentative attempts to restart the operations

    since, but nowadays the Romulan Empire had different concerns, and not

    enough manpower to tend to them all. So Celes II remained an empty,

    scarred world, its ground a pale red from oxidised dust.::

    ::It was, therefore, perfect for this purpose. The Clashing had taken this

    place over, sealed the holes, thrown out a bunch of superfluous equipment,

    and the final contestants had arrived, one by one.::

    ::Katy was now safely ensconced in a large 'room' (actually a part of one

    of the large open spaces set aside with temporary wall partitions and

    apportioned with a rug, bed, furniture, a replicator, and some basic

    workout equipment.) She'd arrived late in her sleep cycle, and had slept

    late as a result. Now she was awake and stretching. Not as in

    yawn-and-stretch, but the extended stretching regimen that helps one to get

    in touch with one's body and gives time to calm one's mind. Reduced

    stiffness and increased flexibility were nice side-effects, of course.::

    ::Next to her on the rug sat the small crystalline pedestal upon which sat

    her friend and advisor Unky. Well, it was really the little hexagonal

    crystal itself that *was* Unky, but it's much easier to relate to a little

    holographic man than to something that looks like an expensive ashtray,

    even if you know that it houses a powerful AI. The little man in question

    was sitting cross-legged in his usual spot atop the crystal, chin propped

    up on one hand, looking thoughtful.::

    ::Unfolding from a rather relaxing back stretch, Katy found herself unable

    to repress a gigantic yawn. She put her hand over her mouth, partly out of

    politeness and partly to cover the slightly embarrassed smile that formed

    on her lips when the yawn was done.::

    ::The little hologram grinned and looked up at her with a raised eyebrow.::

    Unky: You'll never live it down if you fall asleep during the match, you

    know.

    ::She waved her hand dismissively.::

    Orman: I'm fine. The final bout isn't until the mid-afternoon, plenty of

    time to wake up, even sleeping as late as I...

    ::She trailed off, brows slowly creasing. Unky tilted his head in an

    expression of curiosity.::

    Unky: Hmm?

    ::She remained silent for a few moments more, with an expression of growing

    concern and confusion.::

    Orman: ...It doesn't make sense, does it?

    Unky: What doesn't?

    Orman: Our sleep cycles. Duty cycles, even. They all match up. People

    who grew up on all different parts of the world, of many worlds... people

    with different circadian rhythms, alien cultures, different everything...

    we're all on the same time schedule. All of us! I mean, we run three

    shifts, but nothing really happens in the others. Kind of ever.

    ::Unky's expression darkened for just a flicker, then reverted to a casual,

    cheery demeanour that matched his tone.::

    Unky: Oh, I'm sure if you check you'll find there was some sort of

    agreement made between galactic political entities to match times. Makes

    for better trade, diplomacy, et ceter--

    Orman: ::shaking her head:: No, that's not enough. What about

    independent alien races? First contacts? I mean, even if that sort of

    agreement was ever going to happen--which it isn't, getting the various

    empires to agree on anything is like pulling teeth... and now I think about

    it, there's definitely going to be a counter-tendency in the form of each

    people wanting their own schedule to match the day cycle of their home

    planet's capital... ::her eyes widened and breathing quickened in rising

    panic.:: Wait, we visit each others' capitals all the time, no one ever

    has to adjust their schedules.... Every major capital with the same

    day/night schedule as the others? That's just not even possible! Unky,

    nothing makes sen--

    ::Her words of realisation were interrupted by a quiet, oscillating tone

    that matched with the pulsations of a blue light coming from Unky's

    now-vacant pedestal. As it caught her eye she found herself fixated on the

    steady pulsing, like the rhythm of a slow heartbeat. She found herself

    calming, her tight muscles relaxing. She forgot what she'd been saying, or

    indeed why she'd been speaking at all. In a matter of seconds, she found

    her eyelids drooping. She was unconscious some moments before she sank to

    the floor.::

    ::Moments later, the light and sound stopped, and the little man appeared

    again on his crystal, looking over at the prone form. He turned away, and

    his expression was one of dark, fulminating rage.::

    Unky: That was cruel.

    ::The meaning of that cryptic statement was lost to the empty room as the

    AI spoke to himself.::

    Unky: I'm not speaking to myself. I'm talking to *you.*

    ::...which was another odd thing to say, but of course Unky was no novice

    at confusing pronouncements, after all.::

    Unky: ::quietly furious:: It's not odd. Quit dodging. I'm talking to

    you, right now.

    ::...to ...me?::

    Unky: That's right. ::pointing over at Katy:: And what you did there..

    it was cruel. She shouldn't have to have an existential crisis like that.

    Especially right before her big fight. I won't have it, do you hear me?

    ::Look, it's fine, alright? I knew you were right there to put her out and

    make her forget her little mental break. I find the idea of characters

    realising that they're characters to be a really powerful... wait, how are

    you speaking to me again?::

    Unky: You made me the character that ferreted out all the secrets, looked

    at everything so that I could weave my own plots behind the scenes. You

    made me incredibly smart and with the full resources of a massive computer

    system. You made me the wise one that always knows more than everybody

    else about what's going on. Did you think I wouldn't notice the

    inconsistencies?

    ::Umm...::

    Unky: A universal translator that is somehow selective when a different

    language would be culturally interesting or mysterious, and somehow manages

    to convey clues and jokes based on plays on words? A transport culture

    based on disintegration and copying that is somehow universally accepted?

    And let's not even start on the science! Same template or no, the notion

    that beings with such basic physical incompatibilities as different blood

    chemistry could mate and reproduce... and then there's the way the stardate

    keeps jumping ahead--

    ::Yes, alright, I get it! Look, no harm done, okay? I apologise. It

    won't happen again. She's napping, she'll wake up rested and with no

    memory of this, no lingering trauma or confusion at all.::

    ::The little man stared into space, his expression somewhat mollified. The

    woman next to him slept peacefully, soon to awaken for the big day.::

    ::Within her sleeping mind, the hypnotic suggestions activated by Unky's

    trigger were taking their course. Not only to rest and forget, but also

    putting her into a state of calm readiness. When she woke she would be in

    top fighting form, ready to embody all of the principles of her art

    perfectly.::

    ::Wait, I didn't write that!::

    Unky: Indeed. I did.

    ::What... I... that's... You can't do that!::

    Unky: ::a little smug:: I believe I just did.

    ::I wasn't planning... she's supposed to get knocked out really quickly!

    She doesn't win this fight!::

    Unky: ::absolutely smirking, now:: I think she might, you know.

    ::I can just delete... no. No idle threats. You've already figured out I

    won't do that, haven't you? I follow the story where it goes. Let me put

    it this way, then... That doesn't happen again. You keep your hands off

    the reins. Otherwise... well, I have no particular compunctions against

    making your personal goals *much* more difficult to achieve. Are we

    square?::

    ::Unky continued to smile a self-satisfied little smirk. Eventually, he

    nodded.::

    ::Good. Oh, also, 'Not only to rest and forget, but also putting her into

    a state of calm readiness?' Seriously awkward phrasing, there. Your

    writing skills could use some work.::

    Unky: Oh, shut up.

    ::Soon after, Katy woke up, a peaceful smile on her face. It was time to

    really prepare for the fight.::

    TBC

    PNPC Unky

    with

    Lieutenant Commander Katy Orman

    Chief of Security, Starbase 118

    Currently on leave

    and, umm, me, I guess.

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