Rahman and Rivi Vataix

Heh. Such a great image.

Well done, ensigns! Welcome to the fleet!

Yeah, that's gonna end real well...

“Memory Turn your face to the moonlight Let your memory lead you Open up, enter in” – Memory, Cats. ((USS Invicta, Classroom, Deck P/S7)) ::Nothing. Emptiness. The kind of emptiness that might have been the prelude to creation, or conception; the first instance of being.:: ::It was dark. It shouldn’t be dark, but he didn’t know how he knew that, or why. He. Yes, he. But again, the uncertainty as to the origin of that certainty. He felt before him with… hands. Two of them. His. Legs and feet. Also his. And a surface. Carpet. He could not have said how he knew any of these things.:: ::Around him there were voices, wordless high-pitched cries of confusion. And another voice, deeper, older, responding. Adult.:: Gupta: Where are we? ::He didn’t know. From the sound of things no one new. The older voice asked more questions, got no sensible answers. He didn’t know who she was, who any of the voices were, but he knew that was not right. A growing sense of unease filled him, a sense akin to déjà vu, a memory just out of reach, slipping away as he grasped it.:: Saavok: oO Who are they? Oo ::He felt certain that he should know.:: oO Who am I? Oo ::The feeling of unease grew stronger. He should know that.:: oO Who am I? Am I?...Oo ::In a moment of existential uncertainty, he clung to what he knew. He existed.:: oO I am. Oo ::He held fast to that thought, repeating it over to himself. Whatever else might be uncertain, he existed.:: oO I am. I am. Oo ::Like a train finding tracks beneath the snow, his mind found grooves of thought worn deep by repetition, catching on them despite the smothering blanket of forgetfulness that bid him be still, relax, forget.:: Saavok: oO No! I am. I am. I am. Oo ::And despite the resistance of his mind as it fought the forgetfulness every step of the way, the train of thought began to move along the familiar tracks.:: oO I AM. … I am… Saavok! Oo ::It was his name, he knew that, and with it came the memory of a face seen in the mirror. With it came knowledge, numbers. He was four Vulcan cycles old. Vulcan. That was his species. Defined by their mental discipline; a discipline he’d been taught almost since birth. He could feel the forgetfulness snatching at his thoughts, but he refused to be distracted. His mother had taught him as a baby, and she was amongst the most disciplined; a Temple Priestess. She had given him the strict control of thoughts, whilst his father had shown him curiosity and how to think outside the strictures when necessary. His father was here somewhere.:: ::Around him the class came under Mrs Gupta’s control. Mrs Gupta; that’s who the adult voice was.:: Gupta: Come now, children, let’s be calm and think. Now, does each of you have someone beside you? Children: Yes. Gupta: That’s good. Now, everyone should have a buddy. Can everyone reach out and take a hand? We’re all friends here, so let’s hold on to each other and keep each other safe. ::Saavok felt a little hand worm it’s way into his. With it came the touch of another mind, coloured with confusion and forgetfulness but still faintly recognisable. He’d touched this mind before.:: Saavok: ~T’Sara.~ :: She blinked in surprise as the word slipped into her mind, and there was a nagging feeling that it should mean something to her - something *important*.:: T’Sara: ~ Huh? ~ Saavok: ~That’s your name. I know you.~ ::He showed her a mental image of a little girl with pointed ears, upswept brows and a delicate smattering of spots down the sides of her face, like freckles.:: T’Sara: ~ Okaaay... ~ Saavok: ~You’re… Captain Vetri and Commander T’Lea’s daughter.~ ::The the names came slowly from his sluggish memory, but he concentrated and there they were, and with them came faces that he showed to T’Sara.:: T’Sara: ~ Why did I not remembers dem? Or anyfing else? ~ Saavok: ~I don’t know why we’re forgetting, but you can stop it happening. You have to concentrate, like this.~ ::He showed her the outline of a basic meditation.:: ~Start with remembering your name, and things about you. Don’t forget.~ ::Could she remember? Could he stop himself forgetting?:: T’Sara: ~ Saavok. Das you. ~ ::Around them the class settled for Mrs Gupta’s story; a light of hope in a very dark place.:: TAG Saavok Vulcan Child USS Invicta (As simmed by Doctor Saveron) R238802S10

Congrats!

It's gonna be an interesting shore leave, that's for sure.

Remind me never to get into an argument with Luna... Washington: Commander Walker, we need warp drive in 5 minutes or we're all dead! Walker: Well, then we're all dead cause it's gonna take at least two hours. Washington: Walker, we don't have two hours! Walker: ::pulls out phaser:: Hey, if I say it's gonna take two hours, it's gonna take two hours. Got it? Rahman: :: exchanges a knowing look with Luna and silently nods::

Meanwhile, back on the surface of Nygel II... All fun and games with singing and dancing, until... ::goes to make a new player achievement::

Oh man, I know I shouldn't laugh, but... Just know, Sergio, that earns you a cruel Rahman smile.

I think this pretty much sums up that entire scene/the Rahman/Moonsong relationship so far:

I know he's too young for this (at least, I think so. Not quite sure with Vulcans), but this popped into my head while reading this: Narrator (in the voice of John Cleese): And that was the day Saavok learned he liked girls.

Rahman upon overhearing Alora's laughing behind closed doors in the science lab considers walking in to investigate. Then she remembers her last encounter with Alora's plants.

A few fun ones from Act 3: Hmmm, this makes me think this isn't her first time. I wouldn't be surprised if Saveron runs for office in the 2396 presidential election... and wins. I've also submitted Sarah's sim to the Top Sims contest as a great little snippet into life in other corners of the galaxy that puts our adventures in the Corridor in context. And from the mind of one Luna Walker...

((Vireinn Colony, Federation Space)) ::Images of the ships involved flashed up on the screen as the Andorian news anchor reported on the attack. Unexpected, unexplained and apparently independent of any known government or terrorist group. The slipstream starliner, the Charles Lindbergh, had been carrying the Trill Chief of Staff, Anaria Kthria, on her way to some important negotiations, along with three hundred tourists enjoying a cruise through the exotic Menthar Corridor. Suddenly, they were all involved in something none of them could have anticipated.:: ::One of the ships on the screen was very familiar.:: Vorana: You served aboard the Garuda, didn’t you? ::The Commandant of the Romulan refugee camp gave him a sidelong look from dark eyes.:: Saveron: Affirmative. ::The Vulcan acknowledged.:: However I – and the majority of the crew that I served with – transferred to the Invictaalong with Fleet Captain Kells. Vorana: The Menthar Corridor seems a volatile region of space. Saveron: An accurate summary. ::He allowed.:: It lies beyond Federation space, and is politically volatile. ::Nearby two Romulan youngsters were teaching Saavok a game of chance, but Saveron knew that his son would be listening. Like his father, the boy had friends in the Corridor.:: ::His companion snorted in amusement.:: Vorana: I think, Commander, that you are a master of the understatement. Between the Cardassians, the Tholians and the Breen, they are caught between a rock and two hard places. Never mind the Kubarey and these other new powers beyond them. ::Refugee she might be, but Shatil Vorana made it her business to keep abreast of galactic events. One never knew when her people might be able to take advantage of them. In their current situation, they could not afford to miss an opportunity.:: Saveron: The galaxy is volatile; we impose a regularity upon it. ::He observed.:: ::Turning away as the news report wound to a close, he surveyed the bare-bones community hall where many of the children were being supervised. Vorana moved ahead of him and stepped through the door into the late afternoon sunshine. The star was a yellow main-sequence primary, the light slightly yellower than on Terra, less orange than on Vulcan.:: ::Around them squat pre-fab dwellings were being arranged in pie-segments by teams of Romulans using a small crane, whilst the larger buildings were being assembled from kits. A cold wind blew and Saveron tucked his hands into the voluminous sleeves of his heavy robe. The buildings were square and grey, the ground barren, the wind biting.:: ::Commandant Vorana regarded the scene in silence for several long moments.:: Vorana: Your Federation wasn’t exactly the epitome of generosity when they gave us this world. ::She observed dryly.:: ::The Vulcan gave her a bland look.:: Saveron: You would consider something else more preferable? ::He queried.:: Vorana: I’ve seen Federation worlds, they are luxurious. You could have given us the same, and all the comforts you enjoy. ::The Vulcan knew well that there weren’t any fully terraformed temperate worlds entirely unclaimed in Federation space. This planet had been a deliberate choice, in more ways than one.:: Saveron: And made you dependant on, and indebted to, Federation generosity? You would not have thanked us. ::Vorana gave a humourless snort and looked away, knowing that he spoke the truth. Romulans were a proud people, and found taking charity difficult. And always there was the paranoid suspicion that they would be forced to reconcile – and blend – with the Vulcans. Here they had freedom to be themselves. This Vulcan man, who was nothing like what she’d come to expect from their distant kin, seemed to know them all too well.:: Vorana: Be careful Saveron; if you prove too apt you may find your posting permanent. ::That earned her a look from grey eyes, thoughts uninterpretable behind the customary mask.:: ::To his eyes Vorana was the classic Romulan, from her forehead ridges and sallow skin to her instinctive mistrust of the Federation and his people; yet she was also a talented leader and cared for her own. Saveron knew that it was imperative that the Romulans have space to preserve their culture. Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations.:: Saveron: That will not be the case. ::He told her simply.:: I received my transfer orders two hours ago. I am to return to the Corridor. My transport arrives in the morning. Vorana: Then I guess this is goodbye. ::She said dryly.:: ::He nodded.:: Vorana: Not everyone will miss you, but you helped give us something many others wouldn’t have; a place of our own. I think that many of your fellows would have seen us absorbed into your population, but we will not be Vulcans! ::She looked again at the unprepossessing sight of the plasticrete pre-fabs and the dusty plain they sat on.:: It’s more than we would have done. Saveron: That is one of the reasons that you are here, and not on t’Kashi. We would not be Romulans. END Commander Saveron Acting Ambassador Romulan Colony Vireinn

Well hello there! Glad to have you with us!

I would watch this show. Made by the same guy who did the Worf of Wall Street trailer:

Congrats and welcome!

XD ...little did they realize this was all part of Rahman's diabolical plan to get her laughs.

Congrats! Welcome to the fleet!

Read more at Variety

Congrats and welcome!

Hehe... this week on Days of Our Invicta Shoreleave We've all been there, Nia. We've all been there. Also...