Alleran Tan

Nuts, you beat me! Another amazing Jona sim.

More adorable family stuff from the skipper. Shore leave stuff! ----- ((Leaf and Bean, First Promenade, Deep Space 224)) It was loud here. While there was always background noise aboard a starship—the hum of the EPS, the low bass thrum of the core, the whisper of life support systems cycling air—it was quiet, in more ways than one. The subtle, subdued colour scheme of Federation starships was no accident, selected for to counteract stress and encourage focus. People usually worked in small groups, Quinn was often on her own in her ready room, and even the largest of the crew lounges didn't have the space for a sizable crowd. So here on the Promenade, with brilliant lights and colours bursting from the shop facades, with hundreds of people heading back and forth, conversations ranging from the low to near shouted, the pound of footsteps interspersed with bursts of laughter and the occasional whooping shriek of delight... it was loud. She liked it. It was vibrant and alive, pulsing with energy. A reminder of her connection to the universe, beyond the confines of her fancy tin can in space. Taking a sip of her tea, the hybrid looked back toward her son, his voice animated and his hands making sweeping gestures as he talked about his latest classroom project. D. Reynolds: ...used polaritons to create a giant quantum vortex, which I used to model the Bouman black hole— A. Reynolds: Daddy! Amelia launched herself out of her seat before Quinn had time to react. The tiny blonde whirlwind shot across the cafe's seating area, weaving between tables and people, only avoiding collisions thanks to the fast reflexes of the adults whose paths she crossed. Her target reached down and scooped her up, planting a kiss on her cheek and grimacing at the childishly wet one he received in turn. Brunsig: A terror as usual, Schatzi. Reynolds: Why don't I get an adorable German nickname? Brunsig: What would you like? He planted a kiss on top of her head as he completed his approach to the table. Like her, he was out of uniform, dressed in a simple pair of khaki slacks and pale blue shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. It suited him, and she felt her heart give a gentle thump against her ribs, a small flourish of pink appearing under her freckles. Brunsig: Schnuckelschneke? Igelschnäuzchen? Hasenfürzchen? Dylan snickered at the series of suggestions—Nibble Snail, Little Hedgehog Snout, and Bunny Fart respectively—and Quinn threw up a hand in defeat. Stick with the classics, don't change the habit of a lifetime; she knew a lesson when she walked into one. Reynolds: Cupcake it is. It was a nickname she'd not only got used to, but grown oddly fond of, at least when it came from him. He smirked at her as he settled into an empty seat, clapping Dylan on the shoulder. Amelia clung on to him and settled in his lap, exhaling her delightful, bubbly giggle, a sound which rarely failed to make Quinn smile and lift her spirits. D. Reynolds: Hey Dad. Brunsig: Pickle. A. Reynolds: Haha, Pickle! The grin dropped off the teenager's freckled face, and he rolled his eyes at the invocation of his childhood nickname. Quinn offered him a sympathetic look, only half-heartedly trying to keep the grin off her face while Amelia sang "pickle pickle pickle" on repeat. Much like Dylan at her age, once she discovered something funny, the young girl clung on to the joke well past its expiration date. It was cute right up until it wasn't, and then it was a very specific kind of hell. D. Reynolds: Can I go? Reynolds: Your Dad's only just got here. D. Reynolds: I'll be back for dinner. I promised Mirra I'd show her sickbay on the Gorkon while everyone's on leave. She wants to be a doctor, and on Ketar she never really— Quinn frowned, ready to object further, but Walter waved off the extended explanation. He flicked his hand in a shooing gesture, granting permission for the young teenager to abscond. If he didn't mind, she didn't mind. It was just hard, sometimes, to realise how grown-up and independent Dylan was becoming. A young man in his own right, with his own ideas and ambitions in the world. Brunsig: Go on, beat it. ::He wagged a stern finger in his son's direction.:: Don't get into any trouble. Slurping the last few dregs of his papalla juice, Dylan muttered a hasty goodbye and dashed off into the crowds. Walter watched him go, presented Amelia with a PADD to keep her entertained—a tactic both immediately and thoroughly successful—and turned to Quinn. She sipped her tea and caught a server's eye, and lifted a hand to show she'd like to order something soon. Brunsig: Who the hell's Mirra? Reynolds: Sienelis' niece. They're about the same age, she's a smart kid. It's been good for him to have someone his own age to knock about with. Brunsig: And develop a crush on. Reynolds: What? No. ::She paused and looked at him, and he looked back at her with raised eyebrows.:: You think? Brunsig: Sometimes, Cupcake, you're so dense it hurts my soul. He shook his head in despair, though she could see the smallest tug of a grin and a light sparkling in his blue eyes. She chuckled in reply, though it was a little muted. Dylan and his first crush. Quinn hadn't the faintest idea how, or if, she was supposed to guide him through the tangled web that romance wove. After all, she hadn't exactly navigated her own in an exemplary manner. But she hoped it was a good thing. Growing up the way she had, she'd always been self-conscious about her Deltan heritage, and rarely interacted with people her own age. She'd never had the chance to have a teenage boyfriend or girlfriend and experience young love, and sometimes Quinn wondered what she'd missed out on. Reynolds: This is good for him, right? Normal... interpersonal or social development or something. Brunsig: Or something. Reynolds: ::She sighed, and he shrugged.:: You're no help. I'll have to talk to Corliss. Brunsig: Bring some insulin. And save me some peanut brittle. Her chuckle had a little more force and warmth to it this time; Corliss had won over even Walter, reluctant as he was to show it. The approaching server drew her gaze, a young Andorian woman with a brilliant smile, powder blue skin and hair dyed the colour of candyfloss. Before she arrived at the table, the German picked up the menu and scanned its contents, while Quinn finished her tea. Brunsig: What's the coffee like in this place? Reynolds: Jo approved it, so it can't be half bad. Brunsig: Pastries? Reynolds: I can recommend the Delvan fluffs. A. Reynolds: Can I have one? Quinn grinned and shook her head, the precocious five-year-old able to zero in on anything food-related, whether it was a comment in a conversation or a replicator spinning up two rooms away. Walter looked toward her, and she shrugged. It was a special occasion, the family together for the first time a while, and there was no harm in a few treats. Reynolds: I suppose so. She answered with a delighted squeal, scrambling off Walter's lap and back into her chair, ready to receive the baked bounty. Quinn leaned back in her chair, smiling as she watched her daughter, while her husband laid out the order for their cheerful server; fresh drinks and pastries for all. Sometimes, she thought, it was easy to believe she wasn't an admiral, he wasn't a captain, and there weren't starships outside waiting for them. It was nice to forget that anything existed outside of moments like this. And so she did. -- Rear Admiral Quinn Reynolds Commanding Officer USS Gorkon T238401QR0 & Captain Walter Brunsig Commanding Officer USS Triumphant

((Corliss and Loxley’s Quarters, Deck 5, USS Gorkon)) Loxley: Oh, that reminds me, who is Captain Marisol? Good thing she wasn’t holding the scissors right then, she might have taken off a good chunk of curls or two. Instead she flushed brightly, stumbling over her words before catching herself laughing, having to bend over to get her breath back. Fortune: W-Where did you hear that one?! Loxley: A couple of crewmen were talking about her in sickbay earlier. I was sure I’d heard your name mentioned, too, I wondered if it was someone you knew? Fortune: Oh stars above...Marisol’s the name I chose on our mission! ::she kept wheezing, hiding her face against the back of the chair.:: Someone wrote a book, can you even believe…! ::she let out a long sigh, shaking her head.:: Got caught off guard with that one, I’ll tell you what. Loxley: Someone wrote a book about your alias?! Ha! I was sure the crewmen were talking about a real person, not a character. But I guess if she’s you, then she’s kind of both. Fortune: Well, she was a person at one time, I suppose. A friend of my grandmother’s but there’s not a way to link anything to her, much less piracy. Loxley: Nobody ever writes books about me. ::he mock-sulked:: So who is the secret author? Someone on your away team? Fortune: I don’t know! ::she waved the comb in the air, puffing up her cheeks.:: We’re on a mission to find out, and then! Well! I don’t know! Then we’ll know. Loxley: Intriguing. Fortune: If what Lena says is true, you’re in them too. ::she snipped a stray lock quickly, brushing out everything with a hum.:: Loxley: Oh? That’s… ::he blinked:: ...Actually, that’s pretty worrying! And how does Lena know? Fortune: Uhh….::she blinked, frowning.:: Hm..maybe she made it up? We were trying to distract someone, after all. Loxley: Well maybe she wrote it. She’s got access to the intelligence files. And she’s always watching people, I bet nothing escapes her notice. Fortune: Hmmm…::she clicked her tongue in thought, taking the comb to thread over Loxley’s hair before ruffling her fingers through it.:: Fuzzy! Good question...I haven’t seen her around lately. I hope she’s okay. Loxley: She’s probably right here right now, watching us from the shadows, making notes for her next novel. Fortune: Ah, hang on… She took up some of the oil, scrubbing it between her hands before running her fingers through his hair again, plucking at it to force the hair to stand up, while also causing the quarters to smell very, very good in full force. Fortune: Aaaaand there! Look at your new fuzzy hair! Lox leaned forward to look in the mirror, turning his head this way and that to get a good look. He raised one hand and gingerly prodded his new do. Loxley: That’s amazing. I think you’ve actually made me look good. ::he stood up and brushed himself off, a few ginger strands falling to the floor:: I mean, it’s a shame I’m just going to stick my hat back on and ruin it… Fortune: Heeeey! ::she pouted, grabbing up the bottle to clean off her scissors.:: You’ll hide all my handiwork! Loxley: I was joking! Don’t make me report you for assaulting a junior officer with a spritz bottle! Fortune: ::she wiggled it at him with a grin.:: Then don’t make me use this on you! Lox picked up a brush from the table and waved it in her direction. Loxley: So, does this mean I get to do yours? Fortune: Oh not to cut my hair, you don’t. But, ::she tapped the comb against the brush, setting her implements back in their places.:: I wouldn’t mind you brushing my hair. It’s very relaxing, as you said, to have someone do it for you now and again. Loxley: Shame. I did have some amazing hair styles in mind for you. Another day perhaps… I mean, you have to sleep sometime. ::he chuckled:: But I’ll settle for just brushing for now. She plunked into the seat, her head leaning back with one leg crossed over the other. Lox ran his hands softly through her hair to dislodge any significant knots before he applied the brush. His technique was gentle and probably completely ineffective, but pleasant. Fortune: How’s the project with Smog coming along? Any interesting data yet? Loxley: She burps fire when she’s full and she enjoys flying on the holodeck. She’s less keen on Andorians, though. Or one Andorian with an ion mallet in particular. Fortune: I’m very concerned, but at least she’s got a little fire? Dragons need that, from what I’ve read in all the little tales and things. Loxley: Yep, exactly. The only ‘science’ bit I’ve done so far is observing her while the ship is at warp. As far as I can tell, she doesn’t much care. I’m going to try her out in zero-g at some point, once she’s more settled in. Fortune: Well, she’s probably having the time of her life. Or perhaps she’s like a little lizard, where not much disturbs them. I saw a few in a book once! Lox picked up a couple of bottles from the table, given them an experimental sniff before using one of them. It didn’t smell like bleach so he figured it would be fine. As he continued to brush her long hair, he could feel a familiar tingle in his mind, that empathic bond that had first appeared on Giang Sinh and they still seemed to share. It was the same contented comforted feeling from their night walk on the beach, hand in hand, last shoreleave. Loxley: We should do this more often. Well, not the cutting part, otherwise I’d have nothing left. Just… ::he gestured vaguely:: ...this. Fortune: I wouldn’t make you bald, dear. Your curls are too pretty. ::she grinned, peeking an eye up at him as one leg bounced lightly.:: You’re right though! This was a blast. We could do something simple together. Chess or reading, play around with Smog… Loxley: Book club sounds good. Or music club? Take it in turns to play each other music we like. Speaking of which, what are we listening to right now? Fortune: Ah! It’s called the Waltz of Tours. The story goes that one afternoon, one of the heads of the Houses was going on a walk about town, and heard a small child playing the tune on a lap harp. So they decided to support the child’s musical knowledge and thus the Waltz of Tours came to be. Or, so the story goes. ::she shrugged.:: I heard it at a festival when I was little. What about you? What do you like? Loxley: I think you find out a lot about a person by their music tastes. On Earth, the magic age seems to be 15. That’s when everyone seems to find the type of music that fits them. For me, it was rockabilly, classical music from centuries ago. But it’s seriously catchy. Fortune: Rockabilly? ::the word sounded odd to her, a mishmash of others it seemed.:: You’ll have to show me sometime, yes? Lox paused mid-brush, a faraway look in his eyes for a moment. Loxley: Actually, that gives me an idea for a holoprogram… Fortune: Does it now? ::she seemed amused at that, shifting in the chair as she watched him.:: You’re winding up my curiosity moment by moment. Loxley: Just an idea… I might need your help, though. You do have a lot more style than I do. ::he smiled:: Out of interest, what are your holodeck programming skills like..? Lieutenant Corliss Fortune Highest Quality Counsellor Brain USS Gorkon G239510CF0 & Lt (jg) Loxley Medical Officer USS Gorkon R238401JT0

Just a lovely, quiet sim for shore leave that made me smile. Caution: Sweetness overdose risk! ----- ((Corliss and Loxley’s Quarters, Deck 5, USS Gorkon)) Large bristle brush. Styling scissors (the nice ones with a gold trim). Fine-tooth comb. Tea tree oil. A small red candle that smelled of Revann, bringing her mind to a forest, fresh air and nature abounding. She inhaled, grinning. Amongst all other ways, this truly was her favorite of stress relief. Trimming her hair. Which, astoundingly, seemed to have grown the last time she had undone her braid (or perhaps it had always been this long, and she was just now able to take the time to notice). It appeared to reach just below her waist in long blonde strands, curling just a little at the ends. One hand brushed through from the top of her head towards her shoulder with a sigh. Fiddling with her wigs always gave her a sense of calm, but nomoreso than her own hair did. But it needed a little TLC to get back in the ring! Today she wore just a simple tank top and shorts, a far cry from her normal exuberant outfits. But one had to be comfortable when sitting for a long period of time! She hummed, picking up some of the oil and coating her fingers in it. Fortune: Computer. Play The Waltz of Tours. A grand string of instruments started to swell, and she hummed along. She had once seen a band play it as a child, and had adored the song ever since. It was slow and comforting, with a swell of music towards the end. She clicked her tongue, stroking her fingers through her hair, pulling a section from over her shoulder to in front of her. Ah, her bangs were a sight as well, honestly. She took up the brush, slowly combing the oil through the strands of hair, her fingers riding along the waves made by it. The door opened just as she was mid-brush, her head tilted to the side as if weighted down by it, one leg balanced on the chair as the other tapped the tune on the floor. She perked up, waving the brush after pulling it from her hair. Fortune: Loxley! Loxley: Corliss! ::He waved back in mock over-enthusiasm:: What am I walking into here? Fortune: Little bit of a hair day. Salon. Something. I had some nail polish out but I may not do that. ::she ran her fingers through her hair, ruffling over the top of her head with a tut before grinning at him.:: Would you like to experience the teachings of the Corliss School for Hair? Lox smiled back. He’d never gotten around to asking Corliss about her wigs. He knew they weren’t for vanity. They might be purely for fun, though. But it was only an idle curiosity on his part - he knew that if it was something important, she’d tell him. That’s how these things worked. Loxley: The Corliss School for Hair? ::he lifted his cap off and tousled his own tangled mess:: I don’t think mine is anything like as luxurient as yours. Or as long… wow, that IS long! Fortune: Hah! I’ve been growing it since I was a child. ::she held up a lock, the ends curling slightly at her touch.:: I’ve yet to really cut it in its entirety, and I’d loathe to do it now. Loxley: By all means, m’lday, do your worst. Wait, no, your best. I mean do your best. Fortune: Best, worst, same same. ::she wiggled her scissors in the air before vacating her chair, patting the headrest.:: Sit, sit! Anything in mind specifically? Loxley: I used to have hairstyles when I was younger. Always trying to find the one that would actually make me look ‘cool’. But none of them did, so now when I go to the barbers I just settle for coming out with shorter hair. Fortune: ‘Cool’ you say? Very subjective. ::she pointed her scissors at him, a hand on her hip with a grin.:: I shall do my utmost best. Plus, you can see it in the mirror and judge as you please. She waved her scissors at the seat again, before leaning to grab up the comb, mumbling to herself a moment and trading out instruments before straightening up with a small spritz bottle and a see-through cape. Fortune: Wetting the hair makes it all flat and easy to handle. Ready? Loxley: No, but when has that ever stopped me? Lox took the seat, mildly worried that the scissor gesture could turn into a threat if he didn’t. The smell of tea tree oil still hung in the air, pleasantly refreshing. Loxley: So, just a short back and sides, right? Or am I not going to escape that easily? Fortune: Oh no! We’re going to do this intricately. ::she snipped at the air, grinning.:: May take a bit longer than just that. Loxley: Just as long as I don’t end up with a perm. And watch out for the ears - they’re bigger than you think. She hid a chuckle, nodding for now as she pulled a crinkly plastic bib around his shoulders, humming along. With a spritz of water to his hair, it was time to begin. Lox squinted as the spray bottle created a fine mist around his head, his bright ginger hair turning a much darker, duller shade with the damp. Fortune: Hmm...let’s see. With a simple twist of the comb, she started running it through the wet strands easily. A few here and there were unevenly grown, but with a simple snip it took care of those. She hummed along to the music, her mouth moving as if talking to herself for a moment before clicking her tongue along with another snip, a small bit of hair falling prey to her scissors once more. Lox smiled up at Corliss’s reflection as she bustled about, a look of extreme concentration on her face. The brows furrowed just so, the eyes wide and bright, the mouth in a little pout. It was one of the many things about Corliss that Lox found endearing. Loxley: This is… strangely relaxing. Fortune: Mmhmm...everyone likes a good haircut now and again. ::her hand grazed the back of his ear, then she playfully tugged the edge of it before carefully snipping some ends of hair.:: I’ve had a lot of practice with my mannequins over there, but do speak up if I pull you around somewhere too harshly. They have no pain receptors, as it were. Loxley: That’s not the most reassuring thing I’ve heard from someone waving scissors over my head. ::he glanced over to the mannequins:: What do they say about your hairdressing abilities? Fortune: I think they’d have some good opinions about the styling I give the wigs. ::she grinned at him in the mirror, slipping a hand into his hair and ruffling it a little before combing it back down, foot tapping to the beat.:: We can chat, nothing’s really loud and I don’t like using a blow dryer. Loxley: That’s part of the ritual, isn’t it? Talk about the weather, where you’re going on your holidays? Well, there’s no weather in space but shoreleave is as much of a holiday as anything else. So, anywhere you want to visit at the station? Fortune: If it snows, I’ll remember who caused it then. ::she grinned.:: Hm, not in any particular fashion, no, but I’m open to exploring around. Loxley: I was thinking some shopping to start, get these quarters decorated. Well, the parts that aren’t already covered in wigs. I hear they have some antique shops and a place that specialises in old Earth music. And then we treat ourselves to an excellent, fulfilling meal followed by partying until we fall over and can’t stand back up. Fortune: Oh that sounds lovely! ::she laughed, combing over his hair again slowly.:: I daresay we’ll have all the bits and bobs to last us until the next shore leave, eh? The quiet snip snip of the scissors and some more ginger locks fell away. Looking in the mirror, Lox was convinced that his hair was certainly shorter - as to being ‘cool’, he’d have to wait until Corliss had finished her handiwork. Another random thought struck him and he gave a little frown. Loxley: Corliss, do you have secret stashes of stuff around the ship? Fortune: ...hm? What do you mean? Loxley: I just don’t know anyone else who has so many accoutrements readily available. ::he gestured to the semi-professional salon setup:: And I thought maybe you had some smuggler training, things hidden in vents and piled up in Jeffries tubes. Fortune: Oh! ::she chuckled, trading out the scissors for the brush and sweeping his hair in grand gestures to make it stand up.:: I’ve always been one for managing to have something always on hand. I’d say it’s a talent, my dad was one to tap your shoulder, ask if you’d like to see a plant, and then just...pull one in a pot from seemingly nowhere! I’ve still to wonder how he did it... Loxley: Oh, that reminds me, who is Captain Marisol?

An interesting and thought provoking discussion amongst the villains of our last mission. Great work, as always. It's interesting learn that Serren is going to be... engraved. Should be awesome! ----- ((Berth 94, Mares de Oro Casino Private Dock, Nassau)) Arms crossed over his chest, dark eyes staring up at the gaping hole in the side of his yacht, Alred could not say he was having the best of days. Sacrificing the Ferengi vessel to the Vulcan in the first place was a wager made in haste, but in hindsight, it appeared as though he’d dodged a rather hefty round of phaser fire. On the underside of his yacht, cutting through the plating to his private morgue and surgical space, carved into the duranium and steel, was a large, typically human depiction of a heart. Alred sighed with gravitas weighing it down, and an indistinct sound gruffly escaped from his throat as his hand wiped over his face, thumb and forefinger rubbing into his eye sockets. Why were Trill always like this? Why were they always so obsessed with him? The refrigerated morgue had leaked out the coolant, rendering half of his stasis bays next to useless. It would take a chunk of latinum to repair. A piercing alarm rang out around the small berth as the metal ring door—now stuck open—juddered and shuddered. Another ship nose appeared through the force field above, gliding through serenely like a Betazed oyster slid down the throat. Another sigh leapt through the half-Deltan as he prepared himself for the conversation ahead. She didn't wait to dock, the hum and whine of a transporter beam the herald of her arrival. Dressed in a crisp white suit, blonde hair tousled just so, the Trill woman sashayed across the docking bay to stand alongside him. Her green eyes glittered with a dangerous mix of amusement and anger, a smile cloying at the edges of her lips. Lladre: Well, now. This didn't go to plan. Evatt: It wasn’t quite what I had in mind. ::A dark eyebrow arched as he surveyed the damage.:: Somehow, he did that with a type-1 hand phaser. Lladre: Resourceful. Evatt: Impossible. He corrected and set his jaw. Determination kindled in anger aflame, revenge being the powerful motivator stoking the fire, but it wasn’t the state of his ship digging the knife into soft hybrid ribs. Sealed away, unknown to anyone outside of his personal crew. He was going to have to have them all shot. Evatt: She took the machine and didn’t leave me a thank you card. Lladre: That is disappointing, Alred. ::She slipped her hand into her pocket, the picture of sophisticated chic.:: It was supposed to be safe with you. Evatt: It was safe with me. Who would look for it here? Beneath the clear-cut lines of the yacht, the shrouded compartment built for his nefarious purposes had served as the vault for the item. For someone to know it was there, their gathered intelligence was no less than impeccable, or purchased at a high price. Alred pursed his lips behind his beard as he slipped his hands into the pockets of his crisp dark suit. Evatt: I’ll send someone. Find out where she is and take it back. Somehow avoid that Trill carving another hole in my ship. The response brought a satisfied smile to her lips, and she nodded. Stood there together, they could be a pair of fashion models in a designer's latest photoshoot, cool and cosmopolitan, effortlessly beautiful. A shame the ruined side of his yacht let the perfection down. Lladre: Shoot him. ::She said it with bored indifference, as much care as one would offer the fly buzzing about one's food.:: He won't be any trouble if he's dead. Evatt: I intend to. With a type-1 Starfleet phaser. See how much of his organic hull I can engrave. He looked to his side at the outrageously beautiful Trill with a slight smile turning up the corner of his lips; the charm in it fluent and smooth, voice like a glass of honeyed jacarine whiskey. Plans sliding into plans. She met his gaze with a faint smile of her own, his plan for revenge finding amused approval. Evatt: There were others he was with. I’ve asked Volku to check the casino feeds. Lladre: Good. I want it back, Alred. We learnt enough to build our own, but sourcing the components without drawing attention is a challenge. ::She arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.:: Especially if someone is already nosing about our business. Even in their circles, it would attract questions, complications, and scrutiny they didn’t need to fulfil their desired goals. Opportunities came thin on the ground. Perhaps it was time to manufacture some. For freedom, one must make sacrifices. Evatt: I will return as soon as they repair this. ::He gestured up to the yacht, damage apparent.:: They have assured me a day at the most, but promises make the sweetest lies. Lladre: At least it will please least Ran if you can't. He's relishing the chance to do what he wants for a change. But the Commission, in its eternal wisdom, insisted on "widening his horizons". ::She shook her head.:: They last put him into a forensic pathologist. Can you imagine? You want to build among the stars and they have you grubbing around with corpses. The symbiont commission being one of them. Promising the everlasting delights of a universe of knowledge, seeking galactic secrets, and hoarding them for millennia to come, only to share it with spotted hosts with little to no regard for their wellbeing. Taking the least amount of care for their bodies, throwing themselves into danger for the thrill, safe in the knowledge their consciousness would live on in a tuber-sized root slug embedded in their abdomen. Tortured beings trapped in an endless cycle, unaware the hosts didn’t have power over the symbionts; the symbionts gave it to them. Evatt: Sometimes, my darling, betrayal comes from the ones we expect the least. Lladre: That's why I prepare for everyone to betray me. Her words set like a hot stone dropping into water in his stomach, with the barest flicker of it registering in the pull of his eyebrows and the twitch of his lips. He dredged up amusement as he looked toward the elegant Trill, with a tilt of his head and the flare of a hybrid Deltan smile. Evatt: A deal is a deal. Especially one made with the devil. Lladre: I'm not the devil, much as some might like to cast me as one. ::She smiled.:: This is a war, Alred. A fight for freedom. Casualties happen. Evatt: And nothing riles the Commission more than exercising free will. If his preternatural charm had any effect on her, it didn't show. Perhaps it was the symbiont's ability to suppress the host, a mental strength and fortitude which kept the intoxicating effect at bay. Perhaps she had evolved beyond such things. Or perhaps she was just a capable actor. Lladre: It's not anger, Alred. It's fear. They clamour to be hosts, to take advantage of everything we have to offer, but they demand all the sacrifices to be ours. They expect us to exist on their whims, to live how they think we should live. ::Fire flared deep in her green eyes, a rare heat igniting in her voice, and Alred leaned away slightly.:: Binding us with arbitrary rules because they're afraid of our power, because their tiny, pathetic existence cannot accept the reality of ours. If we don't comply, they try to kill us. And the Federation, in all its infinite compassion and mercy, stands back and allows it to happen. The blaze and shine of her impassioned explanation left the hybrid gazing at her, undisguised desire in his eyes and his smile. Lladre, to him at least, likened a beacon atop a lighthouse in the dark, drawing all toward her while the sharks swam beneath. Deadly, yet altruistic. For those not of the Trill, it was a simple concept to dismiss. They were born, they joined, they merged, they died; the symbiont lived on with the memories of lifetimes, ready to serve the next. Evatt: The Federation, in all its infinite compassion and mercy, has stood back for centuries and watched species die. Lladre: And they call me a monster. Just like that, the fire vanished. As though it was never there, the stunning blonde back to nonchalant glamour. She looked across at Alred, meeting his gaze with a lazy smile. He amused her, with his unfettered and unashamed pursuit of passion. He did what he wanted with his life, society's rules be damned, and that was an attitude she appreciated. Lladre: A drink? I can stay long enough to see if the engineers have given you a promise or a sweet lie. Evatt: Is that so? He smiled widely and earnestly; a terribly delicious thrum of the unrestrained Deltan in him, seeking the pleasing and the satisfying like a Risian to new experiences. He flourished his arm toward the doorway, back through to the docking ring, the casino, and a gratifying evening awaited. Evatt: Aren’t I the lucky one? It would be my absolute pleasure. fin -- Alred Evatt Surgical Hedonist G239304JM0 & Lladre Criminal Mastermind T238401QR0

I love seeing these little personal moments of our characters. Great work, Lox! ----- ((Catell Cas-gwent, Wales, Earth )) The sky was bright but grey. Somewhere over the distant Welsh hills rain was coming. Rain was always coming in Wales. Or leaving. Or right there soaking you to the skin. Loxley placed his hands on the lichen-spotted castle parapet, feeling the rough ancient stone under his fingers, and gazed up at the sky, squinting against the pallid sunlight. High up above a tiny black dot circled. It looked like a bird, but Lox knew it wasn’t. A plain baseball cap of sombre charcoal grey perched on the wall nearby in deference to the occasional gusts blowing in from the estuary. The hybrid lowered his gaze down to the white river Wye rushing below and ran his hands gently over the stones with a soft sigh. Loxley: I don’t know, Ma, so much has been happening all at once it’s hard to keep up. ::he spoke into the open air, seemingly to himself:: And that’s what it feels like – I’m running to keep up all the time. I mean, I knew Starfleet would be tough, more so than the hospital I worked in, but this is exhausting. He paused and pushed one hand absently though his tangled ginger hair before continuing. Loxley: Maybe I was naïve, but I think I was expecting to be treating more sprained ankles and occasional engineering mishaps. And I was hoping for more medical marvels, researching and writing articles, becoming famous I guess. But the reality isn’t like either of those. Well, they are there, sure, but the away missions… ::he shook his head slowly:: …talk about seat of your pants. There’s no way the academy could prepare anyone for all this! The adrenaline, the excitement… Loxley’s lip curled in a half-smile, half-grimace. The terror, the near death experiences, the nightmares that followed. But those weren’t things he wanted to burden his mother with right now. Loxley: I suppose it still feels like I’m trying to find my feet. Daft, I know, but there it is. I mean, the crew of this ship, they are phenomenal. The way they just get on with things. You should see them in an emergency, Ma, the team work. It’s amazing. He paused again, mulling over his thoughts. Speaking them out loud like this he was starting to understand more about how he felt. Loxley: Actually, you know what? I think I know what it is. My first mission, not long after I got here, was… well I’m not sure how much I can tell you to be honest. But it wasn’t… usual. I felt like someone intruding into a private party, where the other people had been before. And I think that feeling has lingered. ::he drummed his fingers on the stonework:: Huh, I should see if I can do something about that I suppose. See? Talking to you is always a help. Lox picked up the grey cap and fiddled with it as he considered his next words carefully. Loxley: So, I met someone, too. Ship’s counsellor in fact. Betazoid, beautiful, smart, funny, maybe a little eccentric. ::he smiled to himself:: You’d like her. She tends to go off on random thought paths like you. Plus she appreciates the past and can throw out some killer put-downs. Oh, and I think she may have been a pirate in another life, or something. And, yes, I know you’re going to have a thousand questions, but they can wait. For now. And I know you’re going to want to meet her and interrogate her and all the rest. She’s also helping me with something else, something I might have got from Da. I know doctors and suchlike told me I didn’t have any Vulcan “mind-powers” but, well, turns out they might have been wrong. So, there’s that. ::he sighed again:: And I’ve also spoken to a Vulcan here, re-learnt some of the old meditations he tried to teach me. ::he held up his hands in a placating gesture:: But don’t worry, it doesn’t mean I want to go and see him or anything, or even speak to him. Just that, well, he is my Da… It’s complicated, but I wanted you to know that I was thinking about a few things, so it doesn’t come as a surprise. There was silence for a moment. The gusts had turned a little chill now and they carried the odd spot of cold rain with them. Lox pulled the cap down on his head. Loxley: Let’s see, what else? Oh yes, I have a dragon now. ::he chuckled:: It sounds a lot more impressive than it really is. She’s a miniature Maravel dragon, only a few inches long. Technically I’m observing her for a research project but she’s really more of a pet. Called her Smog, I thought you’d like that. Give my love to Cerys. And I’m sure I’ll be hearing from you very, very soon. He gave a short laugh as he turned his back on the wind and the view. Loxley: =/\= Computer, end message and send to Doctor Lillian Loxley, Cardiff University, Earth. =/\= The rain was starting to make more of a concerted effort now and Lox knew it wouldn’t be long before the castle walls would be soaked. He smiled to himself, though – it had felt good to talk through these things with his mother, or rather with himself. And he’d finally identified something that had been bothering him since he’d joined the Gorkon. The Gorkon and the Skarbek were the same in many ways, but so different in many more. Q had flung him into that ‘reality’ with the other crew almost as soon as he had arrived and that disjointed feeling, of not quite being in the right place, had haunted him ever since. The doctor nodded to himself – that was definitely something he could fix. Loxley: Smog? Smog! Come on, girl, time to get going before you get soaked. The black dot circling above floated towards him, finally revealing itself to be a small winged scarlet lizard, barely larger than his thumb. It landed on Loxley’s outstretched hand and scurried along his arm with its four legs, clambering onto his hat and taking up residence there, curling a scaly tail around itself. Lox turned to face to sturdy wooden door set into the stone archway nearby and raised his voice. Loxley: =/\= Computer, arch… =/\= Lt (jg) Loxley Medical Officer USS Gorkon R238401JT0

Woo, welcome to the fleet!

Question for our readers... which sim has the best title of 2020, and why is it this one?

((Holosuite 2, Embassy Garden Hotel, Yarista, Palanon, Tyrellion system)) Loxley: :: a slight frown creased his forehead:: How so? Fortune: Well..::she scooted closer, the popcorn tilting in her lap.:: You make me wanna relax a little. Take it slow, or well, slower than I normally would at least. ::she smiled.:: Maybe we bring out our...softer...sides? Loxley: I wasn’t aware I had a… firm side. She reached out and poked his cheek in thought, nodding after a moment. Fortune: Mm, seems pretty soft to me. ::she grinned, winking and letting hand fall to her lap.:: Have you been working on it? Your empathy, I mean? Loxley: Not in the slightest, no. ::he answered cheerfully:: Oh, but I did go and see a Vulcan about meditating, getting a slab of rock from my homeland and maybe spending ten days in a boiling desert fighting terrifying beats in order to help combat my nightmares about being eaten alive. So there’s that. Fortune: ...do you require sunscreen? I can bring a tiny umbrella! We’d have to ask Tasha for her claymore should we see her however…::he did mean literal combat, right? Something to think on…:: Loxley: Okay, I exaggerated for effect but... oh wait, this is a good bit! Fortune: Oh! She sat up a bit, eager to watch. It was very interesting, one part making her laugh when the man convinced the other woman his hand was missing. Loxley: Sorry, what was I saying? Oh yeah, so Lieutenant Vorin is helping me find my Vulcan side a bit more. There’s a thing, a ritual, Vulcans go through in their adolescence. A right of passage, it involves surviving in a particularly wild part of the planet for ten days. Fortune: Interesting! ::she blinked, taking a bite of the oddly very cooled popcorn. Huh. That was fast.:: So it’s coming up for you then? Loxley: I never did it, and I doubt I would even now, but he suggested I might be able to attempt ‘something’ if I wanted to. Fortune: Oohhh...perhaps a stand-in for it then? Perhaps we should find a boiling desert for you to traverse. Loxley: Deserts, boiling or otherwise, are not kind to people with my complexion. ::he ran a hand through his scruffy ginger hair as emphasis:: And it always struck me as odd that a race as logical and sensible as Vulcans had this whole send-your-kids-off-to-maybe-die thing. Do Betazoids do that, too? Fortune: We don’t quite have anything akin to that, a few traditions that happened either when one is quite young or quite old but nothing like that. ::She took another bite of popcorn, trying to quell the loud crunching so as to hear the movie.:: So what are you and Vorin deciding then? Are you going to try? Loxley: ::shrugging:: I’m considering. It’s mostly a case of working out what I’ll get out of it for myself I guess. He took a handful of popcorn, too, and stuffed it into his mouth. As dull and dry as the stuff was, there was something strangely moreish about it. As he crunched, he considered what Corliss had said about traditions. Loxley: Well, at least our children won’t have to go through weird deadly exper…. ::his mind caught up with what he was saying and he choked on his popcorn:: …*cough* I mean… not that I was assuming we would… Fortune: I mean they do a festival for great health for newborns. ::she took a sip of her drink curiously, the noise of the drink pausing for a moment as the sentence caught up to her.:: ….wait, what? Loxley: Well. ::he coughed again, trying to clear the dry snack:: As it happens, I had been thinking… Fortune: ::she blinked.:: About...what? Loxley: About asking if you wanted to share quarters? Or is that too weird? Fortune: Oh! ::she nearly dropped the popcorn despite it settling in her lap, laughing nervously.:: No! No, I mean! So long as the children don’t come before. ::she giggled, a grin breaking out on her face.:: Loxley: I’d hope not, unless something goes really wrong with biology. Or time. Although with the Gorkon, neither is impossible, but I’ll take that chance. Fortune: I daresay my mother would be disappointed if she wasn’t allowed to throw a huge bash. ::she let out a sigh, adjusting the popcorn on her lap.:: Hm, I’m not so sure…::her eyes flicked over to him with a sly grin.:: Whatever will we do with my assortment of wigs? Loxley: Well, I mean it was only a suggestion. If you don’t want… ::his face flushed a little green as he blushed:: She playfully tossed a piece of popcorn at him, before stealing a kiss to his cheek. Fortune: I’d love to share quarters with you. I just have to tease a little! Loxley: Ah. Well that’s okay then. Teasing is practically obligatory. ::he threw some popcorn back at her:: And as for your wigs, can’t you just wear them all at the same time? Fortune: A mega wig...I daresay you’ve opened my eyes. ::she flicked another popcorn kernel at him.:: Or you can wear half and I can wear half and we can be stylish together! Lox launched another cereal-based missile and took advantage of Corliss’s distraction to dive under her guard and hug her around the waist. She squealed, playfully swatting at his shoulders and snorting with laughter before wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Loxley: I win! Fortune: You did, then? What was the prize you fought hard for? I daresay our movie is ending… Loxley: I thought this was the prize? Is there more? Fortune: Perhaps a kiss and then one more movie, to waste the rest of our day away in this warm and cozy place? Loxley: You have a deal. For tomorrow we return to the Gorkon. But tonight is for us… And, with his arms around her, Loxley pulled Corliss close to claim his kiss. The film, largely forgotten now, strobed them in light and dark as it continued to play.

Another great JP, this time from Lox and Fortune! They're just so goddamn sweet, like eating a stick of fairy floss and following it down with a 4L bottle of soda. Enjoy! ----- ((Holosuite 2, Embassy Garden Hotel, Yarista, Palanon, Tyrellion system)) A gentle summer-night breeze ruffled the curtains by the open veranda, bringing with it that scent of warm rain that follows a storm. Inside the room was dark and intimate. Rows of plush red velvet chairs facing a flat screen which took up one entire wall. In the front row, chairs had been supplanted by a single large comfy sofa in the same velvet. Corliss Fortune was already curled up amidst the cushions as Lox joined her, giant cartons of toasty popcorn fresh from the replicator balanced on a tray in one hand. Loxley: Snacks? I’m not exactly a popcorn fan but some things are traditional. Fortune: Now, popcorn is a new one to me. ::but the curling plumes of smoke had caught her interest, and the warmth of the box radiating towards her hands felt nice.:: What’s it like? Loxley: It basically has the texture of cardboard. But if you cover it in salt and butter, it tastes like salty butter and cardboard. Fortune: Mm, sounds rather unappetizing, but people like it, yes? So it has to be delicious. Lox flopped down on the oversized sofa and tucked one leg under him, leaning his shoulder against hers. He gestured to the flat screen with his popcorn box. Corliss took one as well, curling her body around it to inhale the warmth that was pulsing from it. Loxley: So, what are we watching? Roman Holiday? Maltese Falcon? Something scary? Fortune: I’ve heard great things about Roman Holiday, and something called Bringing Up Baby. Loxley: I know the name of that one but not much else. My vintage Earth film knowledge comes from my mother. Is it just about child rearing? Fortune: Rather that the Baby in question is a large Terran Leopard. I’m not certain how one raises such a creature, however. Are they like Toto? Loxley: As in the little dog from Wizard of Oz? Not so much, no. ::he smiled:: Dorothy would have had a much easier time of things in Toto had been a leopard. Fortune: Could watch one after another, ‘s not like we don’t have time. ::she playfully nudged her leg against his, settling back with their shoulders touching once more.:: Could nearly watch the world away in how warm and cozy it is in here, hm? Loxley: Now that sounds like an excellent plan to me, Lieutenant Fortune. And, yeah, I like this room. I might ask for a copy of the holoprogram. Fortune: Sounds like a plan to me! The already dim lights turned a little dimmer still and the screen lit up with an eerie glow in the gloom. A moment later and grainy black and white images of Rome, four hundred years ago, cast a flickering light around the room. Lox frowned briefly at the actress onscreen - she looked familiar somehow. He shrugged, probably just one of those things. Loxley: Recovered from your athletic endeavors yet? Fortune: Slowly but steadily, I can still feel a little knot in my back, I swear. Loxley: Well, if there’s anything I need to rub better, let me know. ::he waggled his pointed eyebrows suggestively in a way only Vulcans could. Or at least half-Vulcans. A full Vulcan probably wouldn’t waggle anything suggestively if it could be avoided.:: Fortune: ::she cracked up in a laugh, gently nudging him with a bright grin.:: I may very well take you up on that, so long as you let me give back just the same. Loxley: Seems fair. Fortune: I know a few interesting hand massages from an old roommate. She tended to use a stylus to write upon a PADD. I do applaud her efforts, but she’d had to get a brace from writing so much later on. ::she wiggled her own hands in a jazzy manner.:: She let me borrow the paper showing how to do the massages so we could learn, no achy wrists! Loxley: Stylus? Wow, old school. I applaud her efforts. That said, some instructions would be useful. My medical education doesn’t really extend much past the basics of physiotherapy. Which basically means I can prescribe exercises for patients to ignore. Fortune: There’s something to be said for the old school, and I’m sure I can find the old file to send to you, eh? ::the movie caught her attention and she gasped, squirming closer and crossing her legs up into the seat.:: Oooh look at that! The black and white movie created stark shadows as Loxley turned to look at Corliss. Her face was half in shadow, half in light. The popcorn carton lay forgotten next to him as he slipped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her gently on the forehead. She blinked, giving him a confused smile. Loxley: Thank you. For being you. Fortune: Hm? You’re welcome? ::she chuckled, pecking a kiss to his nose in return.:: What’s all this about then? Loxley: I mean… I don’t know what it is exactly, but when I’m around you I just feel so… comfortable? That’s the best word I can think of. I don’t know if it’s an empathic thing or what. Fortune: Hmm, could be. Could be an us thing too?

Great! I look forward to reading it.

((Shuttlecraft M'Dank, Tyrellian System)) Two and a half hours had passed as Jona waded through the bureaucratic red tape. He had been handed off from official to official until he'd finally been granted a meeting with the commanding officer of the nearest starbase to the Sagittarius Reach - a Starbase still a few weeks away from the far-flung edge of the galaxy that counted Dehner Base among its residents. He wasted no time in filling the stern-looking man in on the pirate raids plaguing the science facility. ch'Ranni: Thank you, sir. We both appreciate whatever you can do. Vodek: =/\= Indeed, Lieutenant ch'Ranni. We welcome your insights into this situation. Starbase 11, out. =/\= The viewscreen's feed from the distant starbase winked out to be replaced by the star-filled UFP symbol. Jona sat back in his seat and gave a hard look over at the Andorian woman next to him. She didn't look particularly pleased. ch'Ranni: I'm sure Captain Vodek will do everything he can to make sure Dehner Base is protected. zh'Lev: ::frowning and crossing her arms across her chest:: I don't know, Jojo. He was hard to read - even for a Vulcan - but I didn't get the impression that pirates three sectors away were at the top of his priority list. ch'Ranni: Now, Vexa, that's not fair. Dehner Base is a distant outpost. I'm sure he's got his hands full - zh'Lev: Yeah, yeah. I know. It just feels like we're alone out there sometimes. ch'Ranni: ::pause:: Well, space can be a lonely place, you know? zh'Lev: ::pause:: Yeah, I know. An awkward, pregnant silence filled the tiny craft and made it feel as if the coldness of space was seeping in through the transparent windows. After an eternity of seconds, Jona cleared his throat. ch'RannI: So, how's ... what's his name ... Brax? zh'Lev: ::rolling her eyes:: Brix. His name is Brix. And we broke up, actually. Jona's left antennae registered his surprise even if his facial features didn't. ch'Ranni: You ... broke up? zh'Lev: Yes, two months ago. Brix wanted to leave because of the pirate attacks and I wanted to stay and continue my work. ch'Ranni: And? zh'Lev: And so he did. And I did. ch'Ranni: I see. zh'Lev: ::huffing slightly:: To be honest, it was over already. That was just the final skel in the ksennuv. We wanted different things. ch'Ranni: Like us? The woman turned her head to the side to stare at her one-time romantic partner. Her gaze fell upon his jawline, the jaw muscles taut with tension. Stubbly white hairs poking through his skin and threatening to become an actual beard if not touched up in the next few days. She reached a finger up and stroked the hair near his ear. zh'Lev: No, Jojo, not like us. Even at our worst, I never believed we wanted different things. We both wanted the same thing. We wanted what was best for the other person. ch'Ranni: Well, that sucks. zh'Lev: Yes, it does. ch'Ranni: What will you do now, V? zh'Lev: I have to go back. ch'Ranni: You ... ::hesitating:: You could stay here. zh'Lev: ::meeting Jona's gaze:: You could come back with me to Delta Vega. The stab in Jona side could be felt physically. It was difficult to breathe for a second but he finally got his words out. ch'Ranni: I don't think I can do that. zh'Lev: I understand. And I think you understand why I can't stay either. The two Andorians stood up from their cushioned seats reluctantly and hugged, holding each other tightly in the confines of the cramped shuttlecraft. Jona didn't want to let go but was forced to break contact after he could no longer justify the continuance of the embrace. Vexa cupped his face with her hands and softly kissed him on the lips. When they parted once more, Jona used his thumb to wipe away the single tear that glided down the young woman's cheek. With a final silent nod and a brave smile, Vexa took her place on the transporter pad. ch'Ranni: Wait. Jona turned and rummaged in a cabinet bin for a second and pulled out a finger sized device. He tapped out a code on the mechanism and handed it to the woman. ch'Ranni: A long-range subspace transponder beacon. It's coded to my attention. If ... if you're in trouble ... if there's no way out - zh'Lev: I know. Thank you, Jona, for everything. Love you always. ch'Ranni: Love you always. With a tap on the pin on her chest, Jona's first and best love shimmered and dissolved in a spray of light particles. Through the shuttle's window, Jona could see the Bolian craft she'd arrived on come about and seem to snap forward as it warped out of the system. ch'Ranni: ::whispering:: But, Vexa, what about us? ((END))

((Shuttlecraft M'Dank, Tyrellian System)) ch'Ranni: Um, excuse me? Surely the UT had glitched for a second. zh'Lev: I need you to kill someone. Nope, that's what she said. Jona sat back heavily in his padded chair and let out a long breath. ch'Ranni: What's going on, Vexa? Talk to me. zh'Lev: Maybe it's better if I come aboard. ch'Ranni: Yes, yes, of course. Sending coordinates. Jona tapped out the command on his comm panel and swiveled his chair around after the transmission cut out. He lifted himself from his station and bounded toward the back of the small craft just as the woman he once loved with his whole heart coalesced into being from a pillar of sparkling blue particles. The zhen grabbed him in a tight hug and they stood in silence for a few moments, content to let the galaxy around them continue on undisturbed. After what seemed like a selfish, self-indulgent amount of time, Jona pulled himself away from the petite woman and looked into her cerulean eyes. ch'Ranni: What's this about? zh'Lev: I'm in a lot of trouble, Jona. You're the only one I could think of to help. ch'Ranni: Ok, start from the beginning. The two took seats facing each other with Jona refusing to let go of the woman's hand lest she disappear like an ethereal ghost in a gloomy mist. zh'Lev: It started about six months ago. Things were going fine on Dehner Base. And then the pirates returned. ch'Ranni: The Eildyr? Jona spoke the name of the nefarious ship that had raided the research outpost under the direction of the Losarian pirate Tarius Kaironn. He spoke it as a question but instantly knew the answer even without meeting Vexa's beautiful eyes. zh'Lev: ::quietly:: Yes. The Columbia took Kaironn into custody but you let his crew go. ::beat:: Well, they returned with a new leader, a man named Gijo and they began their raids again. ch'Ranni: But, how - zh'Lev: Why did you have to leave us all alone out there on the frontier of the galaxy, Jona? For a split second, the Andorian bristled at the woman's accusation. The swell of irritation deflated quickly though. ch'Ranni: ::shaking his head:: Vexa, there wasn't anything we could do. The Columbia was recalled - decommissioned - we couldn't stay. Surely, the base's defenses - zh'Lev: It wasn't enough. ::tears had begun to form in the corners of her blue eyes:: They took out the defenses on their first raid and then pulled back. Hit us again a week later and then disappeared into the shadows. Disrupted our monthly supply convoy and tucked tail and ran. There wasn't anything we could do. Jona squeezed her hand to try to communicate that she was safe now but she barely responded. The young woman stared out at the stars, avoiding his gaze. She continued on with her story with a vehemence that surprised him. Her soft, white curls bounced at her shoulders as her anger mounted. zh'Lev: Some of the base's staff have left. And the rest are ready to. If something isn't done, Dehner Base will be a ghost town within a few months. ch'Ranni: What about the Losarian government? Jona brought up the one saving grace of the Sagittarius Reach. Meeting the Losarian people in that far-flung region of space had been a coup for the Federation. Nearby reasonable allies were a godsend for such a remote installation. It had been quite the feather in Captain Whittaker's hat to broker good relations with the people of Losaria. zh'Lev: ::shaking her head:: There's little they can do. They can't keep watch over us all the time. We need your help, Jona. ch'Ranni: What am I supposed to do about it? zh'Lev: ::pleading:: Talk to Starfleet. Let them know the direness of the situation. Beg them to send someone to the Delta Vega system and rid us of those damnable pirates. The Andorian sat back in his chair. It was a tall order. Who was he that anyone at Starfleet Command would ever give him the time of day? His gaze met the pained stare of his once beloved Vexa. The gnawing bite of guilt cut into his gut. ch'Ranni: ::letting out a slow breath:: No promises. ::beat:: I'll see what I can do.

I really enjoyed reading this little side story, and I hope we see more of Dehner Base in the future! ----- ((Shuttlecraft M'Dank, Tyrellian System)) Jona ch’Ranni was dead bored. There was no other way to express the intensity of what he felt sitting in the pilot’s chair of the Type 2 shuttlecraft. An empty starfield was splashed across the [...]pit windows. Dabbles of starlight - so often the source of poetry for anonymous writers spread among countless worlds – taunted the normally good-natured Andorian. It wasn’t the stars at fault themselves. In fact, he hadn’t met a star he didn’t like. Except for Betelgeuse - it was a jerk. It was the tedious and menial work of waiting for a rendezvous with a supply freighter that had Jona on the wrong end of the joviality wagon. For the hundredth time, his thin cornflower-blue fingers tapped out the activation sequence on the control panel that would initiate a refresh of the sensor data. Jona sighed heavily and wondered who he had angered on the ship to pull such an assignment. No doubt the rest of his shipmates were laughing and clinking glasses with each other on the beach. They would regale him with the exquisite foods and picturesque scenery he had missed out on. ch'Ranni: Well, they can just stow it. The lanky Andorian stretched his arms above his head, working the kinks from his lower back and repositioning his frame in the seat. He ran his hands down his face, rubbing his palms into his tired eyes and tried to shake the weariness from his brain. He tapped the key sequence on the panel again – for the hundred and first time – and the gods answered his unspoken prayers. A ship. ch'Ranni: Computer, put the approaching vessel on screen. The computer focused on a sleek Bolian freighter that exited warp, leaving a trail of luminescent super-excited particles in its wake. It bore down on the tiny shuttle like an unsuspecting insect. Jona came from a race of aliens that counted insects among their evolutionary progenitors, and so, he found the analogy a little on the nose. Nevertheless, the arrival was expected … even if a bit delayed. ch'Ranni: Shuttlecraft M'Dank to Bolian freighter. Welcome. Lieutenant ch’Ranni, here. Ready to receive the supplies. With any luck, Jona could be on his way back to the ship within the hour. He might even make it back in time for the springball tournament scheduled for 1800 hours. A small lopsided grin crossed his face as things suddenly didn’t seem so bad. The viewscreen activated and the face on the screen made his heart leap into his throat. The azure skin and pale, curly locks of the woman were etched in his memory. It had been years since he had last seen her. Time had been kind to her and now she was more beautiful than even his rose-colored memory allowed. The scientist with the impish smile that he had fallen head over heels for at Dehner Base was the last person he expected to see again – especially with how they had ended things. zh'Lev: Hello, Jona. It’s good to see you. ch'Ranni: Vexa. The one word was all he could croak out before the air left his lungs with the cheap shot that reality delivered to his gut. After a few seconds Jona realized that he was not breathing and consciously inhaled again. What would it look like if he fainted at the sight of his former girlfriend? ch'Ranni: Why are you here? Apparently, he was now able to form complete sentences, which was a marked improvement. The Andorian girl sat back in her chair, the curls of snow white hair framing her face and bouncing in response to her movement. Her ice blue eyes seemed to search the screen, piercing straight through his shields and searing the hull of his heart. Her antennae bobbed forward as her voice took on a pleading tone. zh'Lev: Jojo, I need your help. ch'Ranni: Of course, what can I do? The words were spoken without hesitation. Both knew that Jona would be unable to refuse whatever she asked. When they had parted ways, it was as if his heart had been shredded by a dull knife. After his reassignment far from the Sagittarius Reach, they had tried for months in a vain attempt to make things work. But they had drifted apart in the ocean of time and space. At the end, he had made a renewed attempt to solidify their relationship only to find that she had moved on. Jona’s face flushed a darker shade of blue as the pent-up feelings came crashing back on him. He truly missed her and now would do whatever she required, if only to get her back into his life in some small way. His heart swelled as he realized she had tracked him across the quadrant. It could mean only that she had realized the error of her ways. They could regain what they had lost and rekindle the spark they had shared together. zh'Lev: I need you to kill someone.

((Sto’Vo’Kor, Crew Lounge, Deck 9)) With a smile, Samira listened to the friendly banter between her superior officers. She took a few steps back with the idea to hop on to the next pool table, but decided against it. She had done that once, which resulted in a tear in the table’s green velvet. She had never forgotten the mouth off she had received from the owner of the table. Even while the proprietor was… a holographic one. Until this day, she wasn’t sure if it all hadn’t been a prank coming from one of her brothers. When the steward arrived, the temptation to order a glass of champagne in order to celebrate was high, but she ended up requesting a glass of whiskey. She had too many questions to rejoice, hardly knowing what the job entailed. But looking at the current setting, she didn’t want to fire all her questions either. After everything, both the Admiral and Jo had experienced on Trueno, they needed a break. Neathler: Next to pool and springball, are there other activities I should… ::She paused briefly.:: train? Quinn gave the question some thought and sipped from her bottle of root beer. Images of motorbikes and solar-powered ships came to mind, but she didn't want to force every hobby of theirs onto the brunette. Another idea popped into her head, something they'd never managed to organise with Genkos. Reynolds: No. ::She raised her eyebrows with a small grin.:: But you do have to bring one of yours to the table. Samira chuckled at the response. One of her gloved hands ruffled her short hair for a moment, seeing the steward approaching them with their drinks. She waited until he arrived and took her glass. Swirling the golden liquid before she took a sniff. Somewhat disappointed, she looked in the bar's direction. No Klingon bartender to be seen, otherwise she would be drinking the genuine stuff instead of the synthoholic version. With a deep breath, she took a sip. Guess it would have to do. Neathler: Well, there’s the sparring in the gym. Although knowing she hardly saw the Admiral in there, she figured it might not be something for the hybrid to do. Or maybe the Admiral visited the gym at different hours than Samira did. She took a step back, leaning against the pool table behind her, placing the glass on the edge. Neathler: And I finally managed to set up the holodeck version of the Giáng Sinh Biathlon. I’d like to cut a few more seconds of my time before I send the program to my brothers so we can compete our times. ::Smiling, she raised an eyebrow.:: I’m sure they wouldn’t mind some extra competition. It had almost taken her a year to get the last touches to the program as she wanted it to be perfect. For some odd reason, she still didn’t understand herself, she was spending more time in her quarters now she had Ko. If only… now why didn’t she think of that, next time she should take the critter with her to the holodeck. And choosing a warmer setting for the next challenge would make it perfect. Jo grinned at that, taking a long drink from the newly replicated beer bottle in hand, and pointed around it at Quinn across the pool table from her. A flash in blue eyes appeared, the quick quirk of an eyebrow, amusement clear on the blonde’s features. An oft topic of debate, usually over some form of pastry in their meetings. Sometimes cake. Not a trace of guilt in there, but “if you can outrun a dinosaur, you can do laps of the ship” had come out of her mouth recently. Marshall: Funny you should mention that, Sami. I’ve been trying to get Quinn into the gym for a long while now. Maybe not sparring but running, lifting, doing things that move the body out of the “sat down behind the desk in the Ready Room” position. Quinn breathed out a sigh, lifting an open palm. Dismay and question, all in one sweep of the hand. It was a return to a familiar battleground — and not one she could so easily dominate as the pool table in front of them. Reynolds: Did Walter put you up to this? Samira chuckled while Jo took a swig from her bottle, glancing sideways to the Captain with added mirth. Walter, the blond captain of the USS Triumphant. The ship that had come to the Gorkon’s rescue a couple of times already, and maybe even more, in the time before she was part of the Gorkon crew. Samira didn’t know the man, only having seen him at the Admiral’s wedding. Other than that, he was somewhat of a mystery. At least in this universe. There was a dream version of the man she knew better, she respected even. Neathler: If you’re looking for competition, we could set up something for you. Just between the three of us. ::She paused briefly, a twinkle in her eyes showing.:: Or you could make it a family outing, sir. Mister Walter included. Reynolds: Hell, no. ::Few things were more dry than her voice at that moment. Vulcan deserts, perhaps, but even then there was no clear victor.:: He might be my husband, but there are limits. The blonde’s laughter bubbled up at the immediate and unrelenting response front he Admiral, letting loose the well-cultured decorum usually on display. This was the Quinn she knew; genius, adrenaline-junky, and swore like a Livernois Shipyard docker. Marshall: In that case, here’s to the first meeting of the new and improved Pool Club. With a fresh round of drinks supplied and dished out, Jo offered her beer bottle to the centre of the pool table and, with a cheeky grin bearing on her features, arched her eyebrow. With a more demure grin — but a grin nonetheless — Quinn inclined her head and looked toward Sami, her expression saying "wait for it". Marshall: Though, what do we call it? Eight Balls Of Fire? Triple Threat? Reynolds: The Triple Threat Pool Club. I like it. Samira took a few steps closer, raising her glass like the others did with their drink. The anticipation on Quinn’s features made Samira realize how these two women knew each other through and through, making her feel like a little intruder. Neathler: Triple Threat Pool Club, it is. Although she had no idea what kind of threat she was posing herself. Her eyes shifted to both of them, two people she looked up to and would have to work with closely from now on and get to know them in the process. It was only now Samira realized she had agreed to a huge task. If something happened to one of them, she would have to step up. Hopefully, that day would never come. Her gaze went to the current game. She should look at the situation from a different angle. Isn’t the best way to know the enemy, by learning how they worked and thought? In this case, playing a game of pool and then work out a strategy to defeat them? Translated getting to know them better? Which was probably both their plan from the beginning. Yep, she was going to conquer this little quest. Neathler: Care to show the youngest of the Club how it’s done, s… Quinn? ::She winked at Jo, who chuckled right back.:: We’ll need to work out some strategy later on. Reynolds: I hope you're going to be this enthusiastic about helping me beat her at springball tomorrow. With an impish flicker of a grin, and a worried side look from her XO, she walked around the table to find her shot. A crack of cue against hard resin and the cue ball went zooming across the table, bouncing from cushion to cushion and smacking into other balls, spending them spinning in a perfectly choreographed, showy and totally unnecessary trick shot. Reynolds: Until then, a masterclass it is.

((Sto’Vo’Kor, Crew Lounge, Deck 9)) Before Samira accepted the pool cue, her right hand automatically reached for her gloves and in a matter of seconds, the leather fabric covered her hands, except for her fingertips. Only then she reached for the cue, a grin on her features, nodding thanks to Jo. At least the cue ball was easy to locate, she had spotted the white ball in one of the pockets as she had done the brief tour around the table. A few seconds later, the cue ball reappeared on the table at the starting point, which would make it trickier to pot the striped three. She took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders and clearing her mind. Trying to convince herself she was just playing some pool with her brothers and not the highest-ranked officers on the ship. She took her position, lined the cue with the white ball and the target ball, and gave it her best shot. The striped three barely made it to the pocket and disappeared. Yet she had ticked the white ball a bit too gently, the cue ball rolled slowly until it courteously stopped and wiggled itself against the five and the seven. She stood up straight and looked at the result, shaking her head. Neathler: Well, that didn’t go as planned. Tilting her head to the side as she regarded the balls both potted and not, Jo chuckled and took a swig from her beer bottle. A satisfied small sigh escaped as she looked up to Sami with a grin, Quinn reaching for her bottle of root beer between shots. Marshall: El Comandante here will already be calculating the trajectory and geometric arc she needs to pot the next one. Reynolds: And the all-important velocity. ::Quinn shot a grin at the pair, moving around the table to position herself for her shot.:: Don't worry about it. It's as much an initiation rite as it is a game of pool. Velocity, Samira couldn’t shake the feeling the Admiral was somehow having a go at her first shot with that comment. She took a few steps away from the table so that anyone could walk around it and have an overall view... Neathler: Initiation rite? Are you starting a senior staff pool club? She knew about social clubs existing among the lower deck crew, and she was pretty sure similar clubs existed among the officers too, but seeing she didn’t contribute much to group activities, she wasn’t up to date with those. Marshall: Technically, we started one. ::She scratched her cheek and leaned her hip against the table, pointing the bottle of beer toward Quinn.:: Then our third left, so we’ve got an opening. Quinn found her shot, leaning over the edge of the table to line it up. Cue ball smacked into its target with a sharp crack, rolling away to thud into the cushions, while the other sunk into a pocket with a satisfying thud. She straightened, cast her eye over the new alignment of their battlefield, then looked toward the brunette. Reynolds: How about it? The Gorkon's in need of a new Second Officer and you're the first name on our list. About to return the pool cue to Jo so the blonde could make the next shot if she ever had the chance, Samira dropped the wooden cue as the words of the Admiral seeped through. They were kidding, right? She kneeled down to pick up the stick, and when she raised, she looked from the Admiral, towards Jo, back to the Admiral who grinned right back in an undisguised show of amusement. Neathler: Me? She could think of plenty of names, plenty of persons with more experience and older than herself that would suit for the position that was now open after Genkos’ transfer. Names like Whittaker, who had commandeered a ship before; Nkai who usually sat in the centre seat when the Senior Staff were away; Sevo, who had been the First Officer before; Erin, who had a lot more experience than Samira; all came to mind. Confusion etched on her features, she looked down at the pool cue in her hands, before handing it over to Jo, who took it with a grin. Marshall: You. Reynolds: One day I'll offer someone the post, and they won't look at me like they think I'm out of my mind. ::Her eyebrows lifted, humour colouring her voice.:: One day. Marshall: But that, ::she pointed the pool cue over the table, like a jousting lance,:: is not this day. Still speechless, Samira looked at the point of the cue now pointing at her, accusingly, then to the amused look on the Admiral’s face. Were they pulling a joke here? In all her time, ever since she graduated from the Academy, she had hardly sought for contact between the higher ranks. Even when she reached lieutenant commander, she felt closer to those of the lower ranks. And yet here she just received an invitation to become the Second Officer of the ship, not just any ship, the flagship of the task force. She hardly even knew what the job entailed. With James gone, she was alone in guiding her own department and as Second Officer she figured she would have to be present with even more meetings and making decisions that concerned the entire ship instead of just a department. Neathler: But why me? I mean, ::Her hand reached to the back of her head, ruffling her short hair just briefly before she lowered it.:: I’ve never given any indication of… ::She paused briefly.:: I hardly have any experience. On the other hand, it was the opportunity of a lifetime. A privilege that, if she’d say no, might never happen again. Wasn’t this what she wanted? Something she had earned and accomplished herself, without the help of her family? Marshall: Two years as an officer on the flagship of the Tyrellian Taskforce, and one year of that as the acting Chief of Security and Tactical… ::The blonde scratched the back of her neck with a quick click of the tongue, then leaned her hip on the pool table, punctuating her speech with adequate gestures of the beer bottle.:: You’ve got an impeccable record, Sami. Strength to strength all the way through. When Quinn asked me who I thought it should be, there really was only one. A swig of the beer bottle later and she was ordering another round from the bar, recalling a conversation the two had on Giáng Sinh many moons ago, and how Samira had then seemed like a deer in the headlights. Granted, they were stealing some of Soup’s tequila to “ward off the cold”, and doing so with the Chief of Security might have been a conflict of interest, but still hilarious. Marshall: You’re always prepared for department meetings, I’ve never had to chase you for anything so much as a written record on someone joining... Reynolds: If it's any consolation, few people feel completely ready for it, so don't let that stop you. ::Her lips twitched, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.:: One day I'll tell you a story about how I went from leading a cosy department to being First Officer to over a hundred thousand people. A hundred thousand people, at least the Gorkon crew, only had a population of six hundred people. Samira gave it some thought. She never had walked away from a challenge before. The only difference this time was that there was more at stake. Both the Admiral and Jo thought she was ready for it, otherwise, they wouldn’t have made the suggestion. Now all she had to do was convince herself. She inhaled deeply, letting out her breath slowly as she nodded. Neathler: It’s a huge step, and there’s only one way to find out if I’m suited. ::She looked at both of them.:: Very well, I accept. ::She smiled briefly.:: And I’d like to hear that story one day, si… Quinn. The brunette smiled with a small nod of approval, while Jo was a little more overt in her delight. The blonde beamed with a grin mid swallow, but that didn’t stop both arms going out to the side in a victory lift. They had time to go through all the ins and outs and routine changes in the coming weeks of shore leave, but for that moment, the three of them stood around the pool table under the dim lights of the Sto’Vo’Kor lounge, the future looked a little brighter. Marshall: That’s the spirit! Welcome to the team, Sami. ::Shaking the dwindling beer bottle in her hand, she let out a small happy sigh.:: I think we need another round or two in celebration. Reynolds: Sounds like you just volunteered to me. She waggled her almost-empty bottle in the blonde's direction. Jo narrowed her eyes playfully to the Admiral, trying and failing to contain the amused smile stamped on her features, and waved to get the attention of the stewards.The wonderful thing about having the Admiral with them in the lounge was the care and attention given by ship stewards, at least it was in the beginning. They were far too used to the two rocking up for a game these days, content to let them play on without checking in every two seconds if everything was alright, or if they needed more ice for the burns dished out in either direction. Neathler: Maybe between the two of us, we can find a strategy to defeat the Champion of Pool? She raised a quizzical eyebrow towards Jo who grinned back, mischief evident in blue. Marshall: Diving in head first, I like it. Told you, you were made for the job. Reynolds: This must be what mutiny feels like. Marshall: Only if you’re lucky.

Another bit of excellent writing, by our CO, our FO, and... well, now, that would be telling, wouldn't it? Congratulations as appropriate! -- ((Sto’Vo’Kor, Crew Lounge, Deck 9)) They waged wars on a field of green; strategy devised, and tactics enacted, put to the test on the lush verdure lacking in blooms. Trajectory and geometry were the currency of the day; mathematical statistics and probability winning out over brute force. Armed warriors stood on either side, the pitched battle between made with long wooden weapons — gladiators in the arena — without the cheer from a spectating crowd… ...As it was shore leave, and the lounge was blissfully bereft of patrons. The dull thunk of a striped pool ball hit the felt boundary and disappeared down into the corner pocket. Triumphant smile notwithstanding, Jo stood up from her shot and leaned on the cue, beer bottle lifted with some measure of victory, finger pointed from around it toward the battlefield between the blonde and the hazel-eyed woman opposite. Marshall: That’s two. You’ve got to admit, I’m getting better. And watched as a rebounding ball from the shot knocked the white into the centre pocket. Marshall: Kinda. Eyebrows raised, Quinn lifted her gaze from the inexorable path of the cue ball into the pocket. She grinned, raising her palm parallel to the ground, and rocked it from side-to-side with a chuckle. Out of uniform, in worn jeans and a loose t-shirt, she didn't look the prim and proper Admiral that she usually was — and, at times like this, that was how she liked it. Reynolds: Kinda. Even as the smile refused to dissipate any, Jo’s tongue lodged in her cheek and a long sigh deflated her chest. Marshall: One day, Quinn. One day. Beer bottle handy, Jo took a swig and glanced across the open expanse of the crew lounge to where their Chief of Security and Tactical would make her appearance from. Possibly an odd request to meet the two in the lounge, but it was a far sight better than being holed up in Quinn’s Ready Room for the duration of all the comings and goings expected. She watched the Admiral setup for the next shot through a swig of beer. Marshall: Do you think she thought you were pulling her leg? Reynolds: I hope not. ::The crack of resin snapped through the air as the white collided with another ball, sinking it with barely any thought at all.:: Though perhaps "come and play ball" isn't the more obvious of invitations. Marshall: What can I say, you’re a subtle creature. Quinn chuckled in reply, shooting a sly twist of a grin toward Jo with equal precision to her pool playing. Trying not to smile and failing quite aptly, Jo heard the doors swish open and looked over to see the young Security Chief in all her glory entering the wilds of the crew lounge. Lifting her beer bottle up to catch her attention, Jo beckoned her over. Marshall: Sami! Over here! Sto’Vo’Kor, a familiar place, frequently visited the last two years and yet, for obvious reasons, nerves were rushing through her body as she stepped through the doors this time. Samira wore black jeans, and a light grey t-shirt, fingerless gloves, matching color with the shirt, hidden in her back pocket. Casual clothes as requested in the invitation. Ok, this was just a game of pool. Maybe she should have practiced a bit more, she couldn’t remember the last time she had played a game. Wasn’t it with Blackbird while he was on the ship? She took a deep breath as she stepped through the doors. Too quiet, everyone was down on the station or on Palanon. Or not that quiet when she heard the recognisable voice of the First Officer calling her. She walked over to the pool table, plucking a bit of grey fur away from her shoulder, nodding in greeting as she arrived. Neathler: Sir, Jo. ::She quickly glanced at the different coloured and striped balls on the table. :: Who’s winning? Probably an unnecessary question, but it was the first thing that came to mind. Quinn smiled, one hand on her hip, leaning on her pool cue. As much as she preferred formality, not one for allowing her officers to refer to her casually on duty, at times like this it felt incongruous. Reynolds: We're off duty, Sami. You can call me Quinn. Quinn instead of sir. That would take getting some used to and not exactly the way she was raised. Still, it was only for the duration of this game; she figured for now. Marshall: And I wouldn’t say “winning” so much as “succumbing to my eventual slaughter”. Albeit a little slower than last time. You’re losing your touch, Reynolds. ::A cheeky grin sprouted as Jo plucked her beer bottle from the side rail and she turned the grin to Sami.:: How are you at the old game? Come prepared to be my saviour? Neathler: I’m afraid, I’m a bit rusty, I haven’t played in a while. ::She looked at the setup, a hand going through her short hair.:: And I admit, I’m more familiar with snooker than eightball. Do you pot the balls by number? Marshall: Some players do. ::She took a swig from the bottle.:: But I tend to pot whatever I can before Quinn turns this into a massacre. Reynolds: I feel I should point out she takes her defeat with good grace because she knows she'll be murdering me at springball tomorrow. Samira raised an eyebrow. So that’s what was happening when the Commanding and First officers held meetings? Either playing pool or springball? Still, it was good to see them both taking some time off for themselves, although she still was wondering what she was doing here herself. Neathler: Got to keep the score even somehow. Maybe I should just observe and learn from the best. And in the meantime come up with a strategy to not be slaughtered instead, Samira thought as she already studied the position on the pool table, thinking of which shot she’d try first. Quinn glanced toward Jo, a sly twinkle in hazel eyes, and then looked back toward the brunette. Reynolds: Maybe it's time to step up. Step up as in not observing? Right, of course. Her eyes still on the game, unaware of the interaction between the other two, Samira walked around the table, looking at the game from a different angle. What was she thinking, of course the Admiral would want to see how well she played? What was the point of inviting someone to a game of pool, if that someone just observed? At the corner of the table she took a step back, looking up at the others. Neathler: In that case, I’d pot the three first, with a gentle shot. That would leave the cue ball at the correct position to go after the eight. Picking up the tail ends of Quinn’s grin, Jo chuckled through a swig from the beer bottle, and held out the pool cue to her commander counterpart to take. The fun was always in the opportunity to kick back together without that mantle of duty weighing down the shoulders like a backpack of bricks; throw off the shackles of command and enjoy easy conversation through the guise of playing a game. Marshall: I think we have a contender. How about it, Sami? Give Quinn a run for her credits.

((Deck 10, Arboretum, USS Gorkon)) ((Present Day)) Arlo finished talking and realised that she had begun to cry. A lone tear had slid gently down her cheek, leaving a sad stream of wetness in its wake. She sniffed and brushed the rivulet away with a delicate sweep of her pale cheek. She looked down to find the glass of apple juice that Corliss had kindly fetched her was empty. She didn’t recall finishing it. She looked at Corliss. Corliss held out a small cloth to clean her face, letting her take it. Fortune: What happened next…? Thornton: Cormoran explained when he confessed that Javica and he had panicked after they realised that they had taken their eye off of their work and the sirilium had combusted with some of the other agents they had been experimenting with. Javica had managed to hack into the security database and forge a record which showed me using a PADD which they then said had been responsible for the loss of sirillium containment. Corliss clicked her tongue, letting out a low whistle. Not paying attention was one thing, consciously subverting their classmate’s project, integrity, and even livelihood was another. Fortune: On one hand, I’m impressed at the whole...hacking, part, I suppose. On another, they certainly were trying to set you up, weren’t they? I can’t blame you for any hard feelings towards them. What happened to them? She laughed derisively as she thought about their punishment. Her parents had been furious and had believed they had gotten off lightly. They had even petitioned the Judge Advocate General for a harsher sentence but Arlo had not wanted to see either of them again- not after the board of inquiry- and because of that their sentences had both remained as they were. Thornton: Both were sentenced to four years at the penal colony on Dramia. Cormoran was killed in a prison riot about a year into his sentence. Javica was released about a month before I transferred to Gorkon. She sent me a letter after finding out that I was on Helaspont but I never read it. I just deleted it. I hated the idea that she knew where I was… so I transferred and et voila- here I am. ::she sighed.:: I look a mess. ::she let out another humourless chuckle.:: Corliss: Too often people assume ‘forgive and forget’ means the literal version of the wording. Rather, it means to move on. I don’t blame you for not accepting her letter, whatever the insides of it contained. ::she curled her hands together in her lap, humming.:: So, you have trouble trusting others...which, I can’t say I quite blame you there. Arlo sniffed anew and took a moment to compose herself. Thornton: Yeah. I was never the most popular kid at school. I'd sooner sit and watch the stars than play Pareses Squares or Velocity. So when I connected with Cormoran and Javica, it was…. really special. Really special. We used to spend all of our time together, we dreamt about what we'd do with our careers and how we'd all end up serving as senior officers on a starship together. ::she laughed bitterly.:: And when I found out Javica had pressured Cormoran into pinning the blame on me to save their careers, it just….. it was just the worst possible feeling in the world. I was just shattered by it. The sense of betrayal was huge- and it never went away. She fell into a sombre silence. Reliving the memories had been painful, opening a wellspring she had put a cork in four years ago. It was several minutes before she spoke again. Thornton: Sometimes….. sometimes I think that I'll never be able to trust anybody in the same way ever again. I keep everyone at arm's length because I don't want to ever feel that way again. Fortune: Actually, there’s many a ‘fun trick’ we can try to build you up back to the level of trust you once had. Everyone calls them ‘tricks’ ::she smiled, chuckling.:: I’m not sure why, but whatever pleases them. Thornton: Go on. ::she said, a frisson of intrigue tuning her into Corliss' words.:: Fortune: Well, the smallest steps should always be taken. Baby steps, I’m told, despite babies not really walking? Isn’t it toddlers? A-Anyway, ::Corliss shook her head quickly.:: the first few steps is to delegate a few things to others. Perhaps asking someone kindly to pass you something from the replicator, or asking them to close the door behind them. You can step up to asking them to take over say, something you’re working on but haven’t done by end of shift, but for now I think the small ones will do. She frowned, both confused and incredulous. Thornton: That really works? Fortune: Consciously, it does seem and sound very very strange. But it’s much akin to exercise. ::she flexed her fingers out, wiggling them before slowly drawing them into fists.:: You do the same thing every time, with the expectation of an end result. In this instance, you asking for some coffee, and then them giving you a cup. Mentally, your mind goes ‘oh! That’s what’s going to happen’ and it connects, like a plug. Plus, it’ll give you the opportunity to bond with our fellow crewmembers by checking in with them and perhaps doing a favor or two back. ::she paused.:: I’m not saying just...willy nilly ask them for a cup, you could ask for a PADD...I...does this make sense? Thornton: I… think so? Deep down, Arlo knew that she could not keep people at a remove in the long run. It was draining and it was cultivating her something of an unwanted reputation. Corliss was a trained psychologist and as difficult as it might be, she chose to defer to her experience. Had the situation been reversed and the Betazoid had come to her with a scientific issue it was probable that she would have deferred to Arlo. Fortune: It’s just like the volunteering! ::she motioned at a plant with a smile.:: It’s not like they’ll go ‘Arlo will always jump to volunteer’, but it’s more like ‘well she helped out once, and it was a positive experience, so we know to trust her’. The mind builds up all these experiences and background information that we never really think about fully. Of course, I’m not saying ignore your gut reaction, if you think a situation is bad then do what you must, but reaching out to others-slowly-will help rebuild what was broken. Thornton: Okay. ::she cleared her throat.:: I can try that. ::beat.:: Baby steps. Fortune: Toddler steps? Thornton: You're the first person I've confided in. ::she smiled kindly.:: It'll be a long road getting to where I want to be… but I…. I feel a little more optimistic and lighter. Thank you, Corliss. Fortune: One of my favorite quotes is ‘a journey starts with a single step’, and a step is all it takes to get going! Now, is there anything else I can do for you? With a small smile that felt surprisingly genuine, she pointed to another Capellan lotus. Thornton: Please could you pass me that flower?

((Sickbay, USS Temecula)) ((Stardate 239112.14)) ((Five Years Previously)) The world came back to Cadet Arlo Thornton by degrees. At first she was aware that she was alive then she realised she was lying on something relatively soft. She tried opening her eyes but they felt impossibly heavy, like someone had welded duratanium to her eyelids. So she tried to move her fingers- but could only manage her fingertips. It was a start. She could feel others present, hovering over her making soft whirring noises that sounded far off and murky- yet close at the same time. Her mind, a thick soup of confusion struggled to remember what had happened. Had there been…. a fire? An explosion? She recalled a rushing wall of heat and a storm of red and orange. And black. Smoke. And then the world came back to her all at once, a storm of pure, unadulterated memory. Overwhelmed, her mind raced faster than it that had ever done before. Before she knew it her eyes were open, she was gasping and retching for the sterile air, her body shooting up from a prostrate position. To the left of her somebody dropped something, to the right of her a voice called out. Nurse: Doctor! Doctor Rubani!! A statuesque Bajoran woman appeared in seconds at the end of the biobed Arlo now found herself. She was pointing a medical tricorder in her direction, taking readings. Rubani: How are you feeling cadet? Thornton: The lab! There is a fire! ::she searched the room for answers, eyes still wide with fright. Was that a security officer by the door? Rubani: How. Are. You. Feeling. Cadet?! ::the woman's tone was harsher, leaving no illusion that she demanded an answer. Thornton: Fine, I'm fine. What about the lab? Has somebody put out the fire? Security Chief: Cadet. ::He stepped forward, a harsh countenance on his face, the lines bringing out the anger more prominently than when he had been younger.:: We actually have quite a few questions about this fire. Rubani: Prophet's Sake, can't wait you wait two minutes?!. ::she closed her tricorder with a disgruntled chunter.:: Don't answer. ::she snapped.:: Go easy on her, she's had a traumatic experience. Five minutes, no less. As the Bajoran walked off, she ushered two nurses away without so much as looking at the bewildered Arlo. The Chief, an elderly Klingon by the name of Kalim, snapped his shirt by pulling at it roughly, clearing his throat and crossing his arms behind his back. Security Chief: It is a disservice to drag this out, both to me and to you. Thornton: Drag… what out? ::she said, genuinely confused.:: Kalim: What with the witness testimony- Thornton: I don't und- ::she started to protest but her words withered into ether under the gaze of the imperious Klingon.:: Kalim: Cadet. ::he warned, his eyes sinking lower as he tried very hard not to glare.:: With the witness testimony, it has come about that you are the cause of the explosion in the lab earlier, and were only caught as you miscalculated. What say you in response? It was like somebody had taken a pick axe to her heart. So overwhelmed with emotion was she that the words were robbed from her. She couldn't believe it…. no. She wouldn't believe it. There was no way that was possible. She had been monitoring the interaction between the sirilium and the catalyst agent they were using to allow it to function with the warp plasma. She couldn't see how observing rather than interacting could have led to the explosion. Thornton: It couldn't have been me! I was only there to observe! I wasn't interacting with the sirilium or the force field! Kalim: Witnesses state they saw you interact with a PADD just before the explosion, leading them to feel that you have a hand in what occurred. Security is currently reviewing footage but I have always been of the mind to confront the ones at the base of the incident. ::he switched his arms to cross in front of him, one hand holding the other wrist tightly.:: We will of course interview them as well but as they were so insistent, it has led to some eyes being drawn your way. Her mind boggled at the very thought that anybody could have believed that she was responsible for the explosion, even accidentally. Surely the computer access logs would show that she was simply there to observe the reaction and that she didn't directly interfere? And the PADD, she couldn't remember interacting with one. In fact, she hadn't brought her with her. She had left it on her bunk. Thornton: I didn't…. I didn't have my PADD with me. And I don't recall using one while I was there. I was at my station in the lab. Arlo's brow knitted together into a deep frown. Why would somebody say that she was using a PADD when she had not been? The only people in the laboratory with her were Janika and Cormoran. Her friends. Her best friends. Surely…. surely they would not have…..? Thornton: I don't understand. :: she said to herself.:: They couldn't have…. Kalim: It’s...true we didn’t spy a PADD nearby, however, it is a miracle anyone survived it, quite honestly. We’re still searching through the rubbish. He cleared his throat, snapping his shirt again as he rolled his head, popping the tension in his neck. Kalim:...the truth will always out, no matter how others may hide it. If as you say you have no clue about it, then that will show. For now, we have to take the precautions given to us by the witnesses. She lay back down on the biobed, her head foggy with confusion and malaise. She was certain that she was not to blame for the explosion that by the sounds of it had destroyed the Temecula’s Science Lab. But if she could not prove that and the evidence suggested otherwise, she would be looking at expulsion from the Academy and a possible stay at the Federation’s pleasure in a penal colony somewhere. It would be an ignoble end to a career that had barely started. Thornton: I…. I don’t understand. ::she turned her head, her eyes half focused on the Benzite security guard stood near the exit, an unwelcome reminder that she was now considered a security risk.:: I was… so careful. I am always so careful. Kalim: Sadly, Cadet, as I am oft reminded, we are limited creatures. Our mistakes can sometimes cause us great misfortune, but we are prone to them. Or some jibbering nonsense S’Rann attempts to lay out for me. All the same, I’ll leave you to rest until the CMO releases you. With a bow of his head, he stepped away, allowing her to her thoughts. ((Time Jump)) ((Stardate 239112.17)) ((Three Days Later)) ((Brig, USS Temecula)) After being discharged from Sickbay, Arlo was ushered straight to the brig while the investigation into the science lab explosion continued. She had done little besides sleep and eat. She wasn’t allowed visitors outside of Kalim- the ship’s grizzled Security Chief- and Doctor Rubani who came to check on her injuries. The evidence against Arlo was stacking up- there was no security footage of her interacting with a PADD shortly before everything went to hell. Doctor Rubani had found no evidence of concussion or other neurological injury which meant that she could not have possibly misremembered. There was no PADD at her work station. Javica and Cormoran had been working with PADDs, but she didn’t want to throw them under the shuttlecraft. After all, the three of them were best friends. You didn’t do that to the people you cared about the most. Arlo was on the verge of sleep yet again when the clanking forcefield doors pulled her back from the brink. She sat up wearily on the uncomfortable slab that was her bed and waited for Kalim or Rubani to appear. It was the former. Thornton: Hello, sir. ::her words here monotone, tiredness and boredom having robbed her of the desire to imbue her voice with emotion.:: Kalim: Remember how I said the truth will always out? All Arlo could do was nod. She was tired of playing the unwilling mouse to Kalim’s cat. She just wanted it to be over. Kalim: You have...questionable friends, and I would encourage you to perhaps take caution in who you seek accompaniment with in the future. ::he cleared his throat, his hands cupping together in front of them.:: The evidence helped, but Cadet Cormoran has come forward about their involvement in the incident, along with Cadet Javica. We’re in the midst of getting to the bottom of things, but as of now, you are cleared of all wrongdoings. Kalim’s words were like a shot of adrenaline that surged through her body. Every inch of her was keen and alert. Fatigue and depression had disappeared in a flash, replaced by attentiveness and confusion. Cormoran had… come forward? About what? A billion and two questions hurtled through her confused mind. All she could manage to spluter was…. Thornton: W-w-w-w-w-w-what are you talking about? ::belatedly she realised that had sounded rude.:: Sir. Kalim: It seems you’re at a loss for words. ::he held out a PADD with their verdict and findings on it.:: Hopefully, the ability to process reading has not yet left as well. The forcefield fizzled between the two of them and vanished into nothingness. Hesitantly, she took the proffered PADD and looked at the screen. She read the report six times before it could sink in. On the seventh read through she collapsed with a deflated flump onto the hard slab that had been her head. All she wanted to do was sleep again. Her gut twisted, her heart hurt, her body felt cold with the icy spear of betrayal. She looked at Kalim, fatigue and heartbreak etched all over her face. Thornton: oO This has to be some kind of mistake… they wouldn’t. Oo ::she struggled to breathe as the enormity of what they had done hit her.:: They… forged the security recording and lied under oath? Here, he did seem to sink a little. Honor, oaths, they were important to his own heritage, as important as breathing and life itself. Kalim: Truly dishonorable, no matter the cause, but we assure you that we are looking into it and are going to have the appropriate punishments in place. Her voice cracked with emotion. Whereas moments before she could think for the all the questions in her mind- now there was only one. Thornton: Why?

A lovely and frank exploration of the mind, by Arlo Thornton and Corliss Fortune (Highest Quality Counsellor Brain). Took me a little while to get to it, because the moment I started I knew it was going to be a good one, and I wasn't disappointed. Hope everyone enjoys reading it as much as I did! ----- ((Deck 10, Arboretum, USS Gorkon)) As a counselor, being versatile and expecting the unexpected was part of the job, truly. You never really knew what someone would say next, nor where they would ask to meet up for a session. Since she was on duty, she had her usual pink bubblegum wig on, the curls laid around her shoulders as she popped into the arboretum, the smell of warm dirt and whatever those bright red flowers were permeating the air. She whistled idly, ducking inside. Fortune: Arlo? Though she was still on leave Arlo had volunteered her time to assist with the replanting of several delicate Capellan lotus flowers that had been brought aboard by one of the civilian botanists that called Gorkon home. It was a task that required a high degree of meticulosity which if not properly handled could lead to the loss of the entire crop- which meant that the Assistant Chief Science Officer could spend her day indulging in one of her favourite hobbies. She had first developed an affinity for xenobotany as a teenager watering the myriad of plants that crew throughout her parents cafe. For a time she had considered turning the avocation into a career before the lure of astronomy and xenology proved too strong a siren’s call to resist. So engrossed was she in her task- examining the stem of one sickly looking lotus with her loupe (a kind of magnifying lens attached to a band around her the top of her scalp which afforded her a microscopic examination of the filaments) - that it took her several moments to realise that a familiar voice- soft and warm with just the hint of a laugh- had called her name. She looked up from the lotus and got to her feet. Thornton: Corliss? She turned around to see the ship’s counsellor stood on the other side of a particularly dense Anterean shrub that the lotus flower she was planting would grow in the shadow of. As ever the Betazoid was bewigged, this time shoulder length with a soft-yet-bright pink hue. Not for the first time, Arlo wondered what her actual hair looked like underneath. Fortune: Oh! ::she jumped, twirling around with a laugh.:: You startled me! It’s much quieter here than I assumed. Looking abashed, Arlo’s cheeks tingled as they warmed with a soft red blush. She hadn’t meant to make her jump, but she herself had been surprised by her arrival. So consumed had she been in her task that she had not realised the time. For a split second she wondered if the counsellor had come in search of her to chase up a missed appointment before she remembered that Arlo had suggested having their session in a location other than Corliss’ office. Thornton: Sorry. ::she replied, her tone rueful.:: Do you wanna come round? ::there was a small gap between the shrubbery large enough to allow a person access to the lawn. Nearby was a sign that made it clear ball games were not permitted on the green (something that Arlo was sure nobody paid the slightest bit of attention to).:: What do you think of the Arboretum then? Fortune: I like it, I think. Makes me think of a real forest. So! ::she clapped her hands together, smiling.:: What’s first then? Arlo could see what Corliss meant. The space was filled with a wide variety of tall perennials that stood tall and proud. The overheard lights filtered through the landscape creating a dappled appearance that was instantly relaxing. There were paths meandering throughout the large space as well as lawns for the planting and feeding of other flora. It seemed like the ideal venue for a counselling session, especially for those- like Arlo- who felt claustrophobic in a counsellor’s office. In response to Corliss’ question, Arlo removed the loupe and passed to her before crouching back down in front of the small hole that she had dug with a nearby trowel. Thornton: Here, put that on. The magnification should already be set. Have a look at the stems and the microfilaments. Do any of them look withered or decayed? Instead of green, they should be turning a reddy-brown colour. Corliss took it with ease, looking it over curiously before crouching down as well, looking over the stems slowly. Fortune: I remember being smaller than my knee and doing the same for my father. ::she twirled the loupe in her hand with a smile.:: Sadly, he got an infestation once...hard to see the green amongst the browns. But this one looks fine. This one, ::she turned her gaze onto another little plant trying its hardest to stand the test of time.:: seems to have a splotch of brown. Not ideal. Thornton: Thanks for meeting me here, by the way. I offered to help out Doctor Klechlacen with the replanting of the lotus’ and then forgot all about it. ::she didn’t really want to admit that she didn’t care much for Corliss’ office- as inviting as she had tried to make it.:: Fortune: It’s not a problem! It’s a change from the usual, for sure. ::she changed her gaze to another, squinting as if trying to determine its fate.:: Plus, had you asked my father, he would perhaps waxed poetic over how vital our green friends here are to the day to day living. So...would you like to talk about the last mission? There was a loaded question. Did she want to talk about their shared experience on Trueno? Absolutely not. Did she need to talk about it and her state of mind following the mission? Absolutely. Not that it made it any easier to do so. Thornton: Depends how much free time you have, counsellor. ::she said, affecting an air of nonchalance.:: What do you want me to talk about? Fortune: Anything? Everything? Actually, I didn’t get a chance to congratulate you on your promotion! That half pip looks good on you. Have any exciting plans to celebrate? Beyond the champagne we had at the party, I mean. The truth was that she didn't want to celebrate her promotion. She felt like she did not deserve it. Not after she let her temper get the best of her. She would have returned the black and gold pip to the Admiral- but a healthy fear of the quiet but utterly intimidating woman meant she was much to fearful of her reaction to do so. Thornton: Not really. ::she replied, still forcing a casual air.:: That stem with the splotch of brown, trying rejuvenating the area with this xylemic regenerator. It might be that water molecules are not getting through the inner layers. She handed Corliss a small device approximately six centimeters long, half of which was taken up by a thin microfilament that glowed with a soft yellow regenerative light. Fortune: Oh my, that can happen? How frightening! ::she took up the device easily, slowly waving it over the splotch of brown.:: What a poor little plant. ::she hummed softly.:: Nothing in mind at all? Thornton: ::she bit her lip.:: I don't think I handled myself well on Trueno. I went in distrustful and I didn't give Hankins the benefit of the doubt. I…. I don't know what that says about me as a Starfleet officer. Fortune: Quite honestly, there’s nothing in the Starfleet manual demanding you to be swayed one way or another. Do you feel you trusted your gut down there? About Hankins? She let out a sigh as she considered the question. Her gut had been right about Hankins all along. The idea that there was a killswitch embedded each creature and he had kept that from them had proved that. But it wasn't so much that she didn't trust him, she had not trusted herself to behave. And she had not. Thornton: Well… I think I did. After all, the man was playing god to get his name in the history books. He wasn't genuinely interested in those creatures and their welfare. ::the thought made her blood boil.:: Fortune: I think it’s important to trust others, but as an officer, I also think there should be a modicum of...hesitance. He played with life, which while fascinating, is obviously dangerous. ::she flicked off the device, squinting at the stem slowly.:: What do you think? Have they recovered? ::she smiled, a hand holding her head up on her lap.:: She motioned with the loupe and affixed it in place when Corliss handed it back. The regenerator had only partially worked. With another audible sigh, she realised that it was not going to be a viable candidate for planting. Thornton: Not entirely. The structure of the xylem was just too weak I think. We'll had to turn it into compost. ::beat:: I don't think I trusted myself down there, Corliss. I knew I was going to react the way I did at some point. Corliss: To dust, we return, as a valuable asset to the next generation. ::she tilted her head in thought, slipping a lock of hair behind her ear that had escaped.:: You didn’t trust yourself, you say. Is this something new…? She was at a loss for a moment, unsure of why that was. She had always kept people at arm's length for most of her adult life. It just felt safer to do so. Thornton: I've… been like that for a long time, I think and because of that I'm… scared to let people in? ::she knew she sounded like a textbook case and it made her cringe.:: Corliss: You’d be surprised-or not-that that is a lot of people’s fear. ::she smiled, twiddling the device in hand.:: We know ourselves, and to let someone else so close to what we view as a negative aspect of ourselves is...nerve-racking. Arlo nodded in agreement and picked up one the lotus' that she had already checked over before Corliss had arrived. She planted it in the spoil with great care and then ran a root generator over the top of the soil to ensure the viability of the plant. She couldn't quite meet Fortune: Well, what is it about others that make you hesitate? Is there a specific reason or is it just….something you feel rather than can describe? Thornton: It's a feeling more than anything. I've lived with it almost all of my adult life. ::it was a powerful realisation, one that threatened to rob her of breath.:: I…. I feel like…. I feel like it's better to keep people at a remove so I won't be disappointed too much when they let me down. Fortune: You make assumptions of others of a negative state, and when they achieve it, you feel...vindicated, of a sort? ::she hummed, rocking her head back and forth.:: You said this started in your adult life. Was there a certain moment? Something that just...started it all off? Arlo didn’t answer as he let the lotus flower tumble from her hand. It landed silently on the lawn. Her mind left the replanting- left the Gorkon even- and remembered for the first time in years as everything slid into place. Burning. Crackling. Smoke. Screams. Alarms. Sirens. Dread. Terror. Blame. She drew a sharp breath, her mind returning in a disorientating rush. She couldn’t remember having stood- but she was on her feet, gasping greedily at the air, hungry for steadying, calming breaths. Her hands felt clammy, her forehead thick with sudden rivulets of sweat. Anxiety stabbed at her, like a thousand needles upon her psyche. She knew that was the ‘something’ that Corliss had asked about. Her eyes darted about, her mind whirling to put all the pieces together. She looked down at Corliss with a wide stare. Thornton: The Academy. ::she said, then after hesitating, she continued.:: My final year cadet cruise, a-aboard the Temecula. Corliss blinked, hesitating before gently holding her hand out to place upon Arlo’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. Corliss: Deep breath now. You’ve grown quite white. Do you need to sit down for a moment? It was a good idea. She bobbed her head and started to sit on the grass, shaking a little as she did. Corliss reached out to stop her. Corliss: No, on a chair. You look like you’re about to pass out, honestly. Here. She hefted herself up, nudging the plants away and scooping the lotus up, settling it atop a planter for now as she offered her arm up to Thornton. Corliss: You need a shot of juice. Thornton: I do? ::she looked at the counsellor vaguely, her eyes glassy but her brow knitting together ever so slightly.:: Corliss: Juice. The sugar spike will help even the adrenaline, it’s why some people who get their blood drawn are given juice at the end. ::she gave Arlo a soft smile.:: And who doesn’t like juice, hm? Thornton: I guess… ::she mumbled.:: … I hadn't thought about that in a long time. Burning. Crackling. Smoke. Screams. Alarms. Sirens. Dread. Terror. Blame. The rush of emotion and of sensory inputs rushed upon her again. She closed her eyes and braced herself. Though still intense, there was a distance to it that it made it more manageable. Just. She sat on the planter and looked down at the ground. Thornton: I must look ridiculous, huh? Corlis adjusted her a little to sit her up, squeezing her shoulder with a nod, grabbing a replicator and fiddling with it to summon a cup of apple juice just for the occasion. Corliss: No, someone who has a doodle of fake glasses on their face by marker looks ridiculous. You look tired, Arlo. ::she grabbed the glass, holding it out for Arlo gently.:: Here, slow sips. She did as the counsellor instructed, not even wondering where she had managed to get a replicator from. The apple juice was pleasantly sweet and wetted her suddenly dry throat. Thornton: Thank you. ::she said, full of gratitude.:: Corliss: Take some time, deep breaths. ::she took a seat next to her, one leg bouncing lightly as she smiled at Arlo.:: Something happened, I take it. More so than you’d like to think about. Again, she did as she was told. She breathed in through her nose and exhaled slowly out of her mouth. Just as she had done on Trueno. Just had she done in the days and the weeks after the Temecula. Burning. Crackling. Smoke. Screams. Alarms. Sirens. Dread. Terror. Blame. She pushed through the unpleasant sensations swirling about her body and mind and continued to sip from the apple juice. Once they had subsided, she turned her attention to Corliss. Thornton: There was an explosion in a science laboratory aboard the Temecula while I was stationed there as part of my final year cadet cruise. ::she shook her head, her stomach suddenly felt as though it had been flooded with churning ice cold water.:: I was in the laboratory at the time and…. and I got the blame. Corliss: Really? ::she felt an eyebrow twitch up at that.:: That certainly doesn’t fit...you, I think. ...so, what happened? Arlo spent many years trying to put the events aboard the Temecula but the injustice of what had occurred still burned within her. She looked down at the grass again, took a breath and began her story…. --

... and with more to come! Although I'll make those sims their own post.

[JP] Lt. Sienelis, Lt. Marshall, Lt. JG Josett & Taeval - Romulans, Countrymen and Lovers (Part XVII) ((Little Ki Baratan, Ketar V)) Releasing a breath in a slow, steady stream, she met Bear's gaze with a resigned glint of amusement and a stiff grin. The thin pencil of light flickering through the raindrops caught her notice — and even if it had not, the look in his eyes was more than enough to send her heart beating a drum roll against her ribs. There was no cover, no way to easily break the sniper's line of sight, the escalation unexpected. Josett: I think I'm with the Romulan. I hate this planet. He wanted to agree, but the roll of thunder cracking through his chest was enough to drain anything but a nod away. They needed to swap places, and they needed to do it quickly. His coat would absorb more of the shot, he was bigger. It would give Lena a chance to make a run for it. O. Marshall: In a rare display of public affection, darling, I think you should hug me. An unfamiliar spike of hesitation rooted the hybrid to the spot, seeing his plan for what it was. Concern for Bear fought with her usual self-interest and survival instincts, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she realised if it was Ollie proposing to put himself between her and the phaser beam, she wouldn't have thought twice. Chasing away a grimace with a grin, she held out her hand toward him in a casual, languid movement. Josett: If you die horribly, I'll make up an epic tale of heroism and sacrifice to tell your family. Won't be a dry eye in the house. O. Marshall: Embellish all you like, they’ll never believe a word. She reached for him and he reached for her, an arm around her waist and his hand slipping into waves of dark curls at her nape. Eyes closing, he turned his back toward the calculated trajectory the beam would take. Bear heard the shot and the sizzle as it cut through the rain, burning it to steam... ...and saw the second shooter from the alley the Andorian had darted into, weapon aimed at Lena and the beam of the disruptor dissipating through the air. She breathed out an incredulous laugh, the smooth slide into his arms ending in a clumsy collision. The hybrid sagged to one side in an attempt to hold on to him, one arm refusing to oblige and hanging limp by her side. Josett: That didn't go— ::She sucked in a sharp gasp as fire burned through her torso, tortured nerves finally catching up to the reality of their situation.:: Oh, f— ::And her breath whooshed back out in a bubbling wheeze.:: Bear reached for his weapon, drawing it in time to fire an unwieldy shot at the direction the second had come from, hitting bare brick and not much else. Another shot rang out as Lena sagged in his arms, dragging Bear to his knees with her. The blast from the rifle behind shot overhead and dissipated into the cobbles. He swore under his breath as the phaser clattered to the ground, heart trying its best to rip out of his shoulders, his hands grasping for a hold on to her and his boots slipping on the slick stone. O. Marshall: Lena, stay with me. Stay with me. We’re going to move, just hang on. She exhaled a wet laugh, a trill of disbelief and desperation ringing through it, one hand grasping hold of him, as though he were a lifebuoy. It was like being a guest in her own body, limbs and muscles refusing to work as she wanted them to, the most basic attempts to move lost in a firestorm of pain. Josett: I told you— ::Words stopped and started between breaths, all of it an effort.:: Blaze of glory or bad decisions. This isn't either. O. Marshall: No, it isn’t. ::He choked out a laugh, catching it at the last second before it got into his eyes, the rainstorm cracked overhead..:: So if you die on me, I’ll kill you. Panic skidded into his bones and muscle as he tried to think of the next logical move they had to make. Get out of there, out of the line of sight, without knowing where the Andorian was, or who else could have weapons aimed at them. Either he picked Lena up, and they set off, or any moment now the second shooter would line up another shot and they’d both be down. Bear hooked his arm beneath her knees and lifted her to him, scrambling on the inky black stones, and bolted for the cover of a nearby shop, just in time for the third shot to whizz down and exploded the handheld phaser to pieces. Satisfied they were at least out of the eye-line of the rooftop assassin, it still exposed them to the empty street if he retraced their steps. Running for it was the only option. He fumbled for the combadge in his pocket as he kissed Lena’s head through dark curls. O. Marshall: =/\= Marshall to Johns. Chris, where the hell are you? =/\= Silence responded, the signifying croak of a communication unable to find the intended recipient on the other end. No time to think about that, Bear swore under his breath again and bundled Lena up against him. Rain smacking down into the cobblestones, dripping from to the overhang, the crackle of thunder in the sky above, and the neon lights flickering. Somehow, he had to get them back. O. Marshall: =/\= Marshall to Sienelis. =/\= Sienelis: =/\= What's wrong? =/\= Maybe it was something in his voice, maybe she figured that he wouldn't bother her for nothing — either way, there was no accusation in her answer and a definite note of concern. His heart slammed against his ribs as Bear looked for Lena’s stashed phaser, his eyes peeled on the streets surrounding, waiting for the Andorian kethead to come out of the shadows. O. Marshall: =/\= Lena’s been shot and we’re being tailed. I need somewhere to get to and I need it now. =/\= She started to answer, then there was a pause, just enough time for a quick exchange between brother and sister. Sienelis: =/\= Where are you? =/\= Coordinates, he should’ve memorised the map of the place, learned all the exits and mapped a strategy out of the town in case of… He shook his head, looking for anything that could mark them, and looked up at the sign above the overhang. O. Marshall: =/\= Outside a place called Votrosa. =/\= Another pause, and then this time it wasn't Valesha who answered. Taeval's mild tenor spoke through the open channel. The man’s voice could calm a herd of wild Lopp on the Bajor plains. Taeval: =/\= Go inside. Valine should be in there. She's a gentle soul, she'll not know what to do with you, but tell her you're meeting me and to let you into the basement. We can meet you there. =/\= O. Marshall: =/\= Right. Make it quick. =/\= The communication cut and Bear took an unsteady breath, slipping Lena’s phaser from her holster and adjusted the setting higher. Panic slid away to anger. Fear ceded ground to rage. If they wanted him, they could come and get him. But touching Lena was going to get an Andorian killed. fin (for now) -- Lieutenant Valesha Sienelis Science Officer USS Gorkon T238401QR0 & Lieutenant Orson Marshall Intelligence Officer USS Gorkon G239304JM0 & Lieutenant (JG) Lena Josett Intelligence Officer USS Gorkon T238401QR0 & Taeval tr'Sienelis Refugee Centennial City T238401QR0

[JP] Lt. Marshall & Lt. JG Josett - Romulans, Countrymen and Lovers (Part XVI) ((A short while earlier: Little Ki Baratan, Ketar V)) Despite the rain, the streets of the Romulan quarter found a little liveliness in them. Where the buildings dilapidated buildings lacked in maintenance, flags wrapped around or flowers sprouted from the dishevelled brickwork. Bear huddled a little tighter in his greatcoat as the rain continued to patter down from on high, forming puddles where the cobbled streets dipped through years of overuse. Small flowering plants grow in between the broken flags, stretching for the sky and sun where it was out, nature trying to retake the masonry for itself. Walking beside Lena, his pirate’s mood had taken a downward spiral since they’d arrived there for the morning meeting. Where perpetual cheer and an effervescent personality filled in the cheeky grin to the brim, it lacked the same lustre, and the sparkle in her amber eyes faded. Through a soaked beard, he smiled in a brace against the cool and bumped Lena’s shoulder with his. O. Marshall: You can talk to me, you know. She gave him a sidelong glance, a crooked grin and a wry glint in amber eyes. Somewhere below that [...]sure attitude and jovial demeanour, she knew it. Last night, between the quick-fire banter, there'd been an undercurrent of... something more. Care that went deeper than two fair-weather lovers careening through a partnership for the fun of it, enjoying it while it lasted, waiting for the day one of them wanted to move on. And she railed against it. Josett: About? O. Marshall: About what’s bothering you. I don’t think I’ve seen you nearly frown this much since we ran out of rum on the Do' joH. Josett: Those were dark days. ::She chuckled, flicking her rain-soaked curls over her shoulder.:: Still need to replace the emergency brandy, come to think about it. O. Marshall: There’s still space if you replace the coolant for vodka. Romulan ale for the warp plasma. ::He reached for the back of his neck as a raindrop slicked down his nape.:: And there’s no telling what you keep in those definitely not smuggling holes. Josett: Definitely not. Structural oddities that have absolutely never housed the Crown Jewels of Mosete Four. Her husband grinned at the thought of the pirate stuffing the assorted royal finery into secret spaces hidden within her beloved shuttlepod, and somehow the mental image had her still wearing a pair of the glinting jewelled earrings when the port authorities showed up. Taking her refusal as red that talking about it would not happen, Bear inhaled the crisp wet air and looked up in the direction they were heading in. O. Marshall: It’s the greeting I wish I’d got from Jo when we got back. Apart from the family dinner, she’s still not spoken to me, and I’m not sure what to do about it. Walking alongside him, Lena cast a look in his direction, ridged brow raised. Family wasn't something either of them talked about much. Hers were dead or estranged, and his were... unconventional. To hear him volunteer, the thought caught her off-guard, and the usually quick-witted hybrid didn't know how to respond. Rain pattered against the leather-like material of her jacket, filling the brief silence, and she did the only thing that came to mind — push the conversation back toward him. Josett: What's going on with you two? O. Marshall: Hard to say. We used to be close, then I went to the Academy, away from home… ::He trailed off, shaking his head as he looked into the middle distance to nowhere in particular.:: I didn’t go back to Volan III much after that, and I don’t think she’s ever really forgiven me for it. A few more footsteps splashed against wet paving, and Lena jammed her hands inside her pockets. Questions of piracy and crime she was comfortable with, the complicated entanglements of family she was not. She had no frame of reference, save for a few hazy memories of a mother she cherished, and a few razor-sharp memories of a father she wished she could forget. Josett: You could try the patented Josett Manoeuvre. Turn up at her door with a bottle of something ruinous and see what happens. O. Marshall: The last time I did that, she threw a cup at me. He flicked an eyebrow to her with a small grin twitching at the corner of his lips, and slipped his arm through the loop of hers, returning his hand to his pocket. Let it never be said they walked around a town in the rain under the glow of neon advertisements holding hands, of all things so pedestrian as that. O. Marshall: Maybe one day, with you as a hybrid shield. Josett: Well, you know me. ::She grinned at him, though it remained muted.:: Willing to fling myself headlong into danger and flying crockery. O. Marshall: My parents like you. Josett: Who doesn't? O. Marshall: Sometimes, I don’t think you do. Rarely had anything so quickly and efficiently wiped the grin from her face. As Bear looked to Lena, following Bajoran ridges like a ladder to amber eyes, he frowned, losing focus, and looking over her shoulder instead. The momentary flare of cobalt, like the skin of an Andorian caught his attention. Then the neon light advertising the “Bolian Brewhouse” threw off a soft outer glow through the rain onto the street. She followed his gaze, searching the street for whatever had caught his attention, grateful for the distraction as a cold briar of brambles wound itself around her heart. Josett: What is it? O. Marshall: I thought I saw that Andorian from the diner. ::He skimmed his hand through his hair, sending a spray of water in all directions.:: The one with the weird eyes. Her gaze grew a little sharper, flickering around the potential hiding spots and vanishing alleys. Zeron had caught them out before, leveraging local knowledge that neither she or Bear had, and he'd been a friend. The kethead hadn't been the most subtle of creatures, but that didn't mean he couldn't be wily. Josett: I can't see anyone, but we've already found out that doesn't mean much here. We should keep away from the back streets. O. Marshall: Avoids an ushaan-tor in the d— He stopped dead, looking up through the haze of the rain at the narrowed beam in front of them, coming from the roof of the building above. Orange and lancing through the dim light, the round circular targeting dot lit up the front of Lena’s jacket where her sternum lay behind, and Bear’s heart leapt solidly into his throat. O. Marshall: Lena. ::He said it slowly, like an out-breath.:: Don’t move. TBC -- Lieutenant Orson Marshall Intelligence Officer USS Gorkon G239304JM0 & Lieutenant (JG) Lena Josett Intelligence Officer USS Gorkon T238401QR0

[JP] Lt. Sienelis & Taeval - Romulans, Countrymen and Lovers (Part XV) ((Memorial Square, Little Ki Baratan, Ketar V)) Valesha's gaze lingered on her partner as he walked away, oblivious to Taeval watching her in turn. In truth, she was a little afraid to be on her own with her brother, with nowhere to run and no one to take solace in. Now they had to have a conversation and face whatever the conversation might reveal. She swallowed, and it was then she finally felt the weight of her brother's gaze. He smiled at her, and she gave him an exasperated, affectionate frown. Sienelis: What? Taeval: I'd ask you if you know what you're doing... but you do, don't you? She pulled in a breath and breathed out a sharp sigh, a taut smile in a tense expression. What Taeval would think of Chris, what he would think of them, was something that had been swimming in her mind since the moment she'd found out her brother was alive. But there was no judgement in his eyes, only concern. Valesha could understand why — if their situations were reversed, she'd feel much the same way. Sienelis: I think it's the only thing I am certain about. ::Her gaze darted back to Chris' receding form.:: You'll like him. Taeval: I already do. I might even take him up on that marriage proposal. He's wasted on you. His grin was mischievous and teasing, taking ten hard years from his face, turning him into the boy she'd grown up with instead of the world-weary man she'd found. He grinned and tweaked her nose, she swatted him on the shoulder, and they both laughed when he pulled her into another hug, squeezing her close. It was a feeling like no other, bound up in her little brother's arms after believing him gone for so long. Taeval: Khiarra, I— I need to ask... ::He paused, hesitation in his pacific voice.:: If you're here, where's Mamma? Just like that, without even seeing him, she knew the years were back on, and then a few more. Her throat tightened and heat burned behind her eyes. It was the question she'd been dreading, and it was every bit the whiplash of hurt she'd expected. A tornado roared through, tearing her to pieces, and she held him tight, fingers digging into the thick, damp material of his coat. Taeval's breath whooshed past her ear, and his chin dug into her shoulder. Taeval: It's all right. ::He kissed the side of her head, his voice raw.:: It's all right. You don't have to say it. But she did. She owed him some kind of explanation; he deserved to know. Ignorance was purgatory, a unique suffering where the mind tortured itself with possibilities and scenarios. No doubt he'd already spent ten years wondering, and the least she could do was give him the truth, no matter how much it hurt. With a deep breath, she slipped out of his arms. As much as Valesha tried to meet his gaze, she couldn't, telling her story to the base of his throat. Sienelis: We got away from Romulus together. But the evacuation ships were... Ancient. Decrepit. A desperate response to a desperate situation. Not fit for hauling cargo, let alone people. Accidents waiting to happen. Death traps. Taeval: ::Quietly,:: I remember. Sienelis: It was quick. ::Valesha laughed, and she didn't know why. Maybe it was the ridiculousness of it, the fact it was supposedly a comfort.:: The inertial dampeners failed in her section of the ship, it was over in a second. She didn't suffer. The rain drizzled around them, the laughter of the nearby children a curious source of hope and resentment. They would learn of the disaster through stories and history books, a generation removed from its predecessor's grief and anguish, and they had no idea how lucky they were. One day, she'd tell her own children about a world lost, and she wondered if they'd ever be able to grasp the enormity of it. Taeval breathed out a sigh and wiped his hand over his face, wiping away the mix of rain and tears, bowing his head. His reaction sent a fresh ache ricocheting between her ribs and she looked away, fingers digging into her palms while she fought to keep control. Her companions were nowhere to be seen; Bear and Lena had long since exited the square, and Chris was no doubt head-first in a sweet shop. Taeval: Do you ever wonder when it's going to stop hurting? Sienelis: All the time. A weak laugh huffed past her lips and she looked back to her brother. He'd found a wan smile from somewhere, and laid his arm across her shoulders, pulling her close for another quick squeeze. Valesha echoed the gesture with an arm around his waist, swallowing against tears once again. She wasn't alone anymore. There weren't the words to describe how complete the loss of Romulus had been. Every connection to the people, places and things in her life, from the profound to passing, gone. Destroyed in the flames of a supernova. Her entire life obliterated, her future cast into a completely alien society. Even as she'd rebuilt her family — found a new best friend in Caedan, fallen in love with Chris, let Bear grow on her like a fungus — there was always a lingering sense of isolation. None of them understood. How could they? Taeval: Come on. Let's sit down and you can tell me what happened after that. Where've you been? What have you been doing? Sienelis: I, um... ::Dark eyebrows quirked upward, and she offered a sheepish smile.:: I joined Starfleet. Their brief journey toward the table stopped there, as Taeval dropped his arm and took a step back to regard her. Disbelief led the parade of reactions that marched across his face, followed by concern, a touch of dismay, and then amusement took up the rear. Zeron had said as much, but somehow he hadn't quite believed it. Taeval: Are you trying to [...] Father off, or is it just a happy coincidence? Sienelis: Happy coincidence. ::Her grin was fleeting, swift to evolve into a frown.:: So you know he's alive, too? Her brother nodded and paused to pick his answer carefully, their father ever a source of conflicted emotions for the twins. But before he found the words, her communicator buzzed and a familiar voice snapped through it. O. Marshall: =/\= Marshall to Sienelis. =/\= Instinct demanded she snap at him for interrupting. The tenor of his voice stopped that instinct in its tracks. A subtle inflection that made her heart skip all the way up into her throat, her breath catching in her chest. Sienelis: =/\= What's wrong? =/\= TBC -- Lieutenant Valesha Sienelis Science Officer USS Gorkon T238401QR0 & Taeval tr'Sienelis Refugee Centennial City T238401QR0

[JP] Lt. Sienelis, Lt. Marshall, Lt. JG Josett, PO Johns & Taeval - Romulans, Countrymen and Lovers (Part XIV) ((Memorial Square, Little Ki Baratan, Ketar V)) Taeval laughed and nodded, pressing a kiss to her forehead and pulling her back into a fierce hug, not bothering to dry his cheeks in the ongoing rainfall. A night spent staring at the glow of a PADD screen, trying to think of ever more obscure facts she should know, of trick questions to catch an imposter out, to get a sense of whether her motivations were genuine, and here she was. Squeezing him tight, hiccuping through tears of joy and looking exactly like the sister he remembered, only with better hair. Over her shoulder, he could see the trio of aliens watching them. One wearing a grin that could light up whole stadiums. The other two hand-in-hand, their smiles more subdued — especially the woman — but smiling nonetheless. A strange mix, and one that he had struggled to understand since Zeron had mentioned it. With another squeeze, he pulled back to smile at her again, brushing a tear away with the pad of his thumb. Taeval: You could start with why you're here with two humans and a Cardassian. ::His affable smile was familiar and warm, threatening Valesha with tears once again.:: I couldn't figure that part out. He spoke in a low, mellow tenor, a contrast to her often sharp and acerbic words. She laughed and nodded, wiping away the damp from her face. Oh, wasn't that a long and strange story. One in a dream, the other while running to avoid false charges, the last while undercover on an Orion Syndicate ship. Bonds forged in the most unusual of circumstances, often vibrating with tempestuous passions, but powerful enough to see them here by her side. Sienelis: They're friends of mine. ::She took a step to the side, holding on to his arm, and looked toward them.:: They helped me find you. Do... Do you want to meet them? Taeval: I would. She grinned at him and arm in arm, Valesha returned to the bistro table with her brother with a skip in her step, brimming with energy. Rarely was her smile this brilliant, eyes glittering with undisguised joy. Sienelis: Taeval, this is Chris, Bear and Lena. And... this is my brother. While Bear nodded with a slight bow of his head, smiling for the buoyant energy Valesha exuded in spades, Chris looked contentedly happy. This was what they’d worked so hard for, to see how incredibly joyous his partner could get, her beaming smile worth every single step they’d taken and the rest that would come. The spread of warmth through his heart was electrifying. Johns: It’s very good to meet you, Taeval, though I have to say, I did promise I’d ask you to marry me the minute we met. Taeval: Oh. He paused, bemused, while Valesha breathed out a soft noise of despairing amusement. Taeval sent a curious, uncertain look toward his sister, the mild-mannered expression of someone not sure exactly what the joke is. She grinned at him, squeezing his arm, and he smiled placidly back, his gaze returning to Chris. Taeval: As I understand it, human courting rituals involve flowers, food and fine jewellery. You do seem to have come woefully under-prepared. Johns: If the proposal is sincere enough, who needs the trimmings? ::He smiled, the playful twinkle in his eye, and gestured to the plaza garden.:: We’re in a flower garden, there’s food on the table, ::then the flicker of an eyebrow to Valesha,:: though we might have to steal your fine jewellery. Valesha exhaled a shallow breath, her smile clinging even as her heart gave an anxious thump beneath her ribs. So many times she'd wondered what Taeval would think of Chris, not just as a person, but the person she wanted to spend her life with. She'd rehearsed the conversation in her head, over and over, but now the moment was here, she didn't know how to say it. The flicker of hesitation, however small, across her face caused a chunk of ice to melt and spread in Chris’ stomach. Sienelis: Chris is— ::A tremor of nervousness darted across her expression and she chose the Rihan instead.:: Ahrir'annhaer mnean. Taeval blinked a slow close and open of his eyes, though that was the only outward expression of his surprise. He looked away from Chris, toward his sister, dumbstruck for a short while until he found his voice again. Taeval: You're getting married? ::He paused, and his dark eyebrows lifted.:: On purpose? She huffed out annoyance through her grin and smacked him square in the chest, a laugh bubbling out of the Romulan man in response, holding up a warding hand. Both still riding the euphoric high of reunion, the twins had the same grace in their movements, though he was more languid and reserved than Valesha's intense energy. He reminded Chris of a ballerino he knew back in Paris; ease about him, effortless confidence, like it was a second skin. Johns: We could try for accidentally instead, ::her Russian lifted his shoulder with a soft amused grin,:: but declaring intent thwarts that a little. O. Marshall: She’s still got time to change her mind, Taeval. Hold on to that hope. The blond leaned back in his chair and Chris sent a flat biscuit his way with a flick of his wrist, catching Bear in the forehead. General scowl dished out, Bear looked to Lena, witness to his indignity, and the muted smile on her lips brought a slice of it home, quite unlike his grinning counterpart. Maybe it was the reconciliation of family after so long or the acceptance of brother and sister; something had become stuck somewhere with talons and wouldn’t let go. Squeezing her fingers gently as he had that morning, Bear sent a questioning eyebrow her way. Her answering grin was crooked, perennial cheer harder to maintain in the moment. She had no intention of answering, of exposing that soft underbelly of her persona, of explaining how the reunion was everything her reconnection with family hadn't been. Instead, she leaned over to swipe the biscuit formerly known as projectile, and crunched on it. Sienelis: Ignore Bear. I usually do. O. Marshall: You all do until you want something. ::He twitched a smile to the young Romulan and inhaled with a new breath as he looked at Lena.:: I’m satisfied he’s not an assassin, so, how about we take a walk? Leave them to catch up. Josett: A fine plan. Lena slipped her hand from his, and in an exaggerated movement, hauled herself to her feet. Swagger firmly in place, she sauntered up to the trio and patted Valesha on the cheek with a grin, eyeing Taeval up and down with an appreciative sigh, before looking back to the Romulan. Taeval flushed at Lena's overt ogle, and Valesha scowled at her. Josett: I, for one, am glad you found him. Sienelis: Lena— Josett: Very glad. With a last sly grin at Taeval, serving to darken the Romulan's blush, she moved away to Bear's side, chuckling to herself. A laugh caught onto Chris’ shoulders as he watched the wonder that was Lena, and bit down on his lips when Bear shot him a steel blue look and a raise of his eyebrow. It simmered into a smile as her blond husband fell into step with his dark wife, and Bear slipped his hands into the pockets of his greatcoat, collar up around his neck. He sent a gentler smile to Valesha, one with more weight to it. Proud of her, maybe, though something a little more tender he tried to cover. O. Marshall: Shout if you need us, we’ll stay in range. After a simmering look toward the hybrid, which Lena shrugged off with a mischievous twitch of her brow, Valesha met Bear's gaze. Her expression softened, and the fondness she tried so hard to hide was obvious for once in warm eyes and a mild smile. Sienelis: I will. Thank you. As the two intelligence officers moved away, their slow walk through the light shower a little warming to the heart and soul, Chris drew out the additional chair set around their table for Taeval. While there was nothing more the Russian wanted than to spend time with Valesha and her brother, there were conversations that would be easier to have if he wasn’t there. Slipping his PADD into his pocket and stepping up to his Romulan, Chris stole a kiss from her forehead and sought out emerald eyes with hazel. Johns: I won’t be far. Call it a chance to find some osol twists for later. Sienelis / Taeval: You don't have to— The pair spoke over each other and stopped with a shared grin, Taeval brushing the rain from his curls and rubbing the back of his head, Valesha huffing out a soft laugh. Chris chuckled and squeezed Valesha's arm gently, shaking his head at the twins with undisguised amusement. Johns: Yes, I do. You’ve got a decade to catch up on, I don’t mind making myself scarce for that. ::He glanced at Taeval, and the familiar features of his wife to be, as he pulled his collar up.:: Do you want to join us for dinner later? Taeval: I would. ::He smiled, and graced Valesha with a sly, sidelong look.:: Unlike some, I can even cook. Sienelis: I can cook. I choose not to. Johns: I’m still waiting for bliny pancakes. One day I’ll get them. Favouring him with a withering glare that swam with tease and affection, Valesha sniffed imperiously and lifted her chin. Sienelis: Anticipation of a pleasure is a pleasure in itself. Chris echoed the posture, lifting a bearded chin with an intrigued grin on his lips, resisting the urge to snake his arms around her and lay siege to those supercilious features. Johns: Is that so? I’ll keep it in mind. Taeval: Maybe you should let him go before you dig yourself in deeper. Her brother leaned in to murmur the recommendation in a quiet voice and with an amused smile, though she could see something else worrying at his eyes. Something he wanted to say or ask, and wasn't prepared to do so in front of Chris. She sighed her defeat in the matter, shaking her head, and leaned forward to capture her partner's cheek with her hand and steal a quick, soft kiss from his lips. Sienelis: All right. Stock up, would you? I promised Caedan I'd bring some back. ::She grinned a little.:: He likes the purple ones. Johns: Your wish is my command. ::Said with heavy Russian emphasis on the rolling trill of his accent, he reached down for her hand and gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.:: Try not to drink them out of tarka while I’m gone. A flicker of an eyebrow with a wry grin to his wife to be, and the same sent to Taeval, Chris beat a retreat from the reunion into the heavy rain-soaked streets of the Ki Bataran facsimile on the hunt for Romulan treats, while Valesha and her reunited brother settled in for a long conversation. TBC -- Lieutenant Valesha Sienelis Science Officer USS Gorkon T238401QR0 & Lieutenant Orson Marshall Intelligence Officer USS Gorkon G239304JM0 & Lieutenant (JG) Lena Josett Intelligence Officer USS Gorkon T238401QR0 & PO First-Class Christopher Johns Operations Officer USS Gorkon G239304JM0