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    Ensign Laehlani Antorii - Once and Future Things

    in 2017

    Posted

    ((Deep Space 26, Level 13, Nova Room Bar))

     

    ::As Ensign Laehlani Antorii sat at the far end of the star lit Nova Room barside and brought the intricate crystal tumbler to her delicate lips, she inwardly hoped that taking a deep sip of her Antosian Spiced Cocktail would somehow be enough to ease her troubled mind. Then again, being a trained Counselor also meant she could easily diagnose when someone, even herself, was self soothing - albeit innocently enough - with an alcoholic beverage. Needless to say once again her mind had a way of running off even the simplest of respites that could be had.::

     

    ::The real truth was, though she was currently dressed to the nines, wearing one of her best form-fitting gowns that matched her blazing blue hair perfectly, sipping one of her favorite homeworld drinks, and quite literally drawing more than a few glances and open jawed stares from some of the other patrons, Laehlani herself was lost in a world entirely in her own mind.::

     

    ::As she gazed out into the dim glow of the Nova Bar, she didn’t so much as see the various people and events happening around her, as much as she looked through them, almost as if these faces of strangers were a unique sliver of mirror glass that she could somehow divine the answer to both once and future things alike.::

     

    ::Sitting here now she wondered why she had bothered to even do this to herself. To dress all up, to beautify herself and go out into the bustling bar and gambling establishment, when she neither wanted nor sought company, nor desired in any way to cast her “lots” for frivolous earnings.::

     

    ::She suspected it had something to do with preservation of self, of that small innate way every being has of somehow stroking their own ego when they feel anything but confident in their life choices. Perhaps it was vanity, perhaps it was a small inconsequential temptation of fate, or else a small prominent snub of the thumb at it. Either way, the effect was the same. All she had were her thoughts, and this one corner of reflection in which she would allow her mind to unfurl itself upon, like a century plant falling from its highest bloom into a more humbling reality.::

     

    ::So far the start of her hopeful career at Starfleet had, at least in her own estimation, not been going to plan. It had not been long since she’d graduated the academy. Had barely been able to even have an adequate chance to prove herself as both a competent and professional Counselor and Starfleet Officer. There was nothing wrong with her original posting upon the Blackwell, the crew that she had met had been quite lovely. In fact, if she was honest, perhaps that was the true source of her brooding tonight.::

     

    Antorii: oO Come on Laehlani, you’re not actually in trouble for what happened. If anything, you ran far too prematurely. If only you had stuck around long enough and spoken to him instead of immediately jumping at this first chance to abandon ship under the guise of that Training Symposium, things might have been quite different. Oo

     

    ::It was true, she had run. But what choice had she had? She had been like kid Icarus, too overjoyed by the prospect of wings and the warmth of a brilliant new sun in her life to even remotely notice that the wax was already beginning to melt thin on her feathery hopes. She had simply crossed a line. A division in the ether where mere mortals were not allowed to just whimsically brave at their every choosing. And even if her fall had been entirely one of her own devising and by-in-large exclusively in her own reckoning, she alone knew the fearsome weight of striking stone when you had once made your home among the stars.::

     

    ::Sighing to herself and lost too much in her own thoughts, she set her drink glass down perhaps a little too hard. Though it didn’t break, it did make a loud clack sound as it tumbled several of her ice cubes and a bit of the bluish alcohol over her hands and counter top.::

     

    ::Swearing semi-quietly to herself in Antosian, she immediately began floundering around for a bar napkin, when suddenly one was presented to her from just over her right shoulder. Looking up as she took hold of the extended napkin, she met the eyes of a rather good looking human male.::

     

    ::From first glances he was tall, perhaps a tad taller than even she was, which she found a rarity for most humans. He was solidly built, with closely cropped hair, ashen features, and adorned most prominently with a grin that was perhaps two parts understanding, and one part sensed opportunity.::

     

    ::Taken aback by this stranger’s presence, and half embarrassed by her recent act of clumsiness that only mirrored the original act that had sent her scurrying off on the USS Darwin in the first place, she was unconventionally at a loss for words. The stranger seemed unfazed and simply gave her a moment to compose herself as she wiped her hands.::

     

    Antorii: Thank You.

     

    ::She said, still unsure of the man’s intentions, or what there was even to be said at this point. So far self-preservation seemed to be dying a harsh, brutal death tonight.::

     

    Rawlings: Don’t mention it. Happens to the best of us.

     

    ::The man glanced away calmly for a few moments, still somehow very much in the moment with her, but also giving her space. Laehlani had been around long enough to know that most men, regardless of species, often showed less tact than he seemed to exhibit so far. In fact, it seemed he displayed a sort of cool-headed manner about himself, not so much being afraid to speak, as he seemed to allow the ball to be entirely in her court. If all that there was to be of the exchange was all that had already come to pass, she sensed he’d be just as well off with it. And truly she knew she would be too.::

     

    ::Perhaps it was the part of the Antosian Cocktail that hadn’t spilled or the emotional roller rink she had felt herself skating on ever since she had departed the Blackwell for a short time, but as she looked up at this stranger, Laehlani felt a sudden deep need to be held tonight.::

     

    ::She didn’t know one single thing about this man, not even his name for that matter, but she quickly felt something slipping within her. Some cautionary lever that was being flicked down into a lower gear, some inward restless churning that made her speak before she had a chance to stop herself.::

     

    Antorii: Listen, I don’t normally do this but… ::She began, only to have the man gently interrupt her, his full attention on her.::

     

    Rawlings: Then don’t. Trust me, it's not what you really want.

     

    Antorii: Excuse me..?  ::Completely shocked.::

     

    Rawlings: Right now, in this moment, you think that’s what you want. But you don’t. Trust me, I should know.

     

    ----------------------------------------

    Ensign Laehlani Antorii

    Counselor - USS Blackwell

    Andaris Task Force

    A239403LA0

    • Like 1

    Graduating Class of 239406.05

    in Graduation Hall

    Posted

    DATES: The class began on May 30, 2017 and ended June 05, 2017.
    LIST: sb118-academy4

    COMMANDING OFFICER: Commander Brell
    FIRST OFFICER: Lt. Commander Rustyy Hael

    GRADUATE:

    • Sera zh' Aella

    We're so glad you're here. My door is always open if you ever need anything! :wolfy:

    • Like 3

    New character’s rank

    in Poll of the Month

    Posted

    I often start my new character at Ensign as I like to see them evolve from the start of their career, but it depends on the reason I'm creating them so it can vary a lot. I might be using them as a stand-in department head while training junior PCs to be able to take over, in time, and need them to have a higher rank, or they might even be an enlisted character to flesh out the wider crew or a civilian.

    Ensign Colleen Bancroft & Lieutenant JG Choi Ji-hu - Remedial Unarmed Combat Training (Part 1)

    in 2017

    Posted

    [FLASHBACK]

     

    ((Starfleet Academy, San Francisco Campus - Colleen Bancroft’s Quarters - 239105.10 11:10 Hours))

     

    ::Colleen was just finishing up a paper for her Hostile Species Diplomacy course when a ping came in on her PADD. She wrote the last couple paragraphs, saved the paper to her terminal, and then grabbed said PADD. A private message sat in it from one of her instructors, Mike Logan, who she had trained under since she’d gotten to San Francisco. He owned a dojo in ‘Frisco proper, where he taught Aikido, Judo, and Jiu-jitsu, as well as an Anbo-Jytsu class. Mike also taught Anbo-Jytsu at the Academy, as well as one of the basic Unarmed Combat courses.::

     

    //

    To: Cadet Third Class Bancroft, Colleen

    From: Master Chief Petty Officer Logan, Michael, Instructor, Starfleet Academy

     

    Hey Colleen:

    Happy Friday. I’ve got a student in my class this semester who is massively struggling. At this rate, he’s going to fail, and yes, I know we still have two and a half months (or so) to go. I know you’ve got your own class load to manage, what with the dual major and all, but is there any chance that you can do some private lessons for him?

    -Mike

    //

     

    ::Colleen sat back in her chair and considered. He wasn’t wrong that she had her own course load, and it wasn’t simple or very easy, but she also hadn’t been training as much this semester - she could use the training time, as well as a chance to teach. Besides, it was unarmed combat. She had yawned her way through the course and still would have gotten an A+ if it’d been possible. Leaning back forward, she pulled up her reply box.::

     

    //

    To: Master Chief Petty Officer Logan, Michael, Instructor, Starfleet Academy

    From: Cadet Third Class Bancroft, Colleen

     

    Mike:

    Yeah, I can do it, favor to you. Can I count this towards my Judo ranking? (Kidding) Do you mind if I use the dojo for it though? Trying to schedule time at a campus dojo is a bitch.

    -Colls

    //

     

    ::It only took a minute for the Master Chief to respond.::

     

    //

    To: Cadet Third Class Bancroft, Colleen

    From: Master Chief Petty Officer Logan, Michael, Instructor, Starfleet Academy

     

    Yeah, go ahead and use the dojo. You have your key, but you also know the rules, no interfering with regular classes! And I’ll think about counting it.

    -Mike

    //

     

    //

    To: Master Chief Petty Officer Logan, Michael, Instructor, Starfleet Academy

    From: Cadet Third Class Bancroft, Colleen

     

    I was kidding about the ranking, but thanks. After two and a half years, I definitely know the class schedule; I’ll be sure not to interfere with regular class. Send me your student’s details and I’ll get him into shape.

    -Colleen

    //

     

    ::Colleen exchanged a few more messages with him, getting the student’s details in the process, before bringing the conversation to a close. She glanced at the student’s profile - Choi Ji-hu. He was an Engineering major and Mike’s note said that the guy was miserably failing the class. Couldn’t throw, couldn’t get thrown, couldn’t… well. The guy needed help.::

     

    ::Colleen sighed, and then composed a message to the other student.::

     

    //

    To: Cadet Second Class Choi Ji-hu

    From: Cadet Third Class Bancroft, Colleen

     

    Cadet Choi:

    Your TAC101 instructor has asked me to provide you with private lessons in the curriculum, so that you might pass his class. Would you please send me your current schedule, so that we may figure out when best to train?

    Sincerely,

    Cadet Colleen Bancroft

    //

     

    ((Starfleet Academy - Choi Ji-hu’s Dorm Room - 239105.10 11:20 Hours))

     

    ::Ji-hu was sprawled out on his unmade bed, halfway through reading a paper on Denobulan nanotechnology in the treatment of degenerative neurological disease for his end of term course paper when a ping came from his wrist-mounted PADD. He keyed in a command, summoning his VI assistant.::

     

    Choi: Turing, put the message on screen.

     

    ::He flopped off the bed and into the chair in front of his console. The private message was from a fellow cadet, a third year, which was odd until he read the body of the message with mounting horror. He had fumbled through the basic combat courses as best as he could. His shooting was dismal, but he’d had managed a C- in small weapons, miraculously. Unarmed combat was another matter, he was failing, dismally, in terms of both grades and skill.::

     

    Choi: ::sweating slightly:: Crap, crap, crap… Turing, crap. Send my schedule… and answer in the affirmative… Send message. CRAP!

     

    ::He tossed himself on his bed, chest heaving, trying to get a breath. It was one thing to embarrass himself in front of a cohort of 30 first and second years and Instructor Logan, now he was going to have to take remedial combat with an upper year! Why couldn’t he just stick to tech and science?! Nanotechnology, math and systems architecture made sense. His flailing limbs did not.::

     

    //

    To: Cadet Third Class Bancroft, Colleen

    From: Cadet Second Class Choi Ji-hu

     

    Cadet Bancroft:

    Affirmative. I am attaching my course schedule.

    Sincerely,

    Cadet Choi Ji-hu

    (Message prepared by a VI Assistant)

    //

     

    ::Colleen received the message and quickly glanced through it -- a VI Assistant? Huh -- and then looked over the schedule. The way she figured it, if she was going to get this guy into shape to pass this course, they’d need to practice a minimum of two to three times a week, every week. Based on the schedule, and compared against her own, she figured lessons on Wednesday and Friday nights, and Sunday afternoons, would be best. She attached the schedule and a map to the dojo before composing the message.::

     

    //

    To: Cadet Second Class Choi Ji-hu

    From: Cadet Third Class Bancroft, Colleen

     

    Cadet Choi:

    I have attached a schedule of when I think would be best to practice. I have secured space on a dojo off campus, where we will be able to practice without any interference from others, including your classmates. Please respond as soon as possible as to whether the attached schedule will work for you.

    Thanks,

    Cadet Bancroft

    //

     

    ::The response came back shortly after Ji-hu had calmed himself enough that he was considering a trip to the dorm’s cadet mess hall for some noodles, but the message sent him into fresh terror. A dojo?! Was he going to be fighting a ninja or something?! Ji-hu responded in the affirmative, dread mounting. He had hoped the instructor would let him squeak by and keep what little dignity the cadet had left, but that was not to be the case. This would mean a couple of months of extra lessons before the end of semester. A couple of months of endless embarrassment. He found he wasn’t hungry anymore.::

     

    ((Mike’s Dojo, San Francisco - 239105.10 18:27 Hours))

     

    ::Colleen brought the push broom down the last section of mats before shaking it out the window. It was a beautiful spring evening outside, and the skylights in the ceiling cast brilliant beams in from the west, giving the large room more than enough light without turning on the internal lights. She had already dressed out in her gi, but had hesitated before tying her black belt around her waist. Instead, she had placed it back in her bag and pulled on her old white belt, which had so much use that it fell completely limply at her waist - and stayed tied easily - and was more a dark grey than white at this point. Putting up the broom, she glanced at the clock. She expected her new student here momentarily. But first…::

     

    ::Colleen sat down in seiza, facing towards the north wall of the dojo, and bowed to the Shomen before going over to the small desk against the south wall and resuming her seiza to review the dojo logs.::

     

    ::Ji-hu had arrived half-an-hour early--he was always early, especially when it came to traversing the bewildering geometry of San Francisco’s layout--but dithered outside the dojo before finally taking the plunge. As instructed, he came in his school issue Academy tanktop and jogging shorts, which made him feel like a gangling mass of noodly limbs, unlike the majority of other students, more athletically inclined, who seemed to fill in their exercise outfits perfectly.::

     

    ::To his intense relief the school seemed quiet, and he left his sneakers on a rack in the first room. He followed Bancroft’s instructions and soon entered a large room straight out of an old action flick, sun glancing through the windows above, casting dramatic shadows through the beams.::

     

    ::A woman sat on her knees inside the room in the white dojo robes Ji-hu was sure had a fancy name, but which escaped him. He cleared his throat.::

     

    Choi: Uh… C-C-Cadet Bancroft? I’m… uh… Cadet Choi.

     

    ::Colleen flicked off the PADD she’d been reviewing and turned towards the door, where a man in Academy standard issue workout clothes had just entered. He looked nervous as hell.::

     

    Bancroft: Hey! Yeah, I’m Bancroft. Welcome, Cadet Choi. Hope you found your way here easily enough.

     

    ::Ji-hu nodded and placed his backpack down just inside the door and took a few steps in, feeling awkward.::

     

    Choi: Th-thanks for… doing this. ::clearing his throat nervously:: Ma’am.

     

    ::Colleen smiled and rose to her feet to move towards the door, offering a hand to the other Cadet to shake.::

     

    Bancroft: Yeesh. Ma’am? I’m only a year ahead of you. Call me Colleen. Please.

     

    Choi: ::feeling his face burning red hot as he shook her hand:: Okay. Ji-hu. You can. Call me.

     

    ::He kicked himself inwardly. As graceful an entrance as he could have expected walking into a dojo. At least there weren’t any other students to observe his fumbling, both athletic and social.::

     

    Bancroft: Ji-hu it is then. Pleased to meet you. You can relax here. We’re the only ones here and the next class isn’t scheduled until tomorrow morning.

     

    ::Colleen flat ignored how red Choi’s face was getting. She understood social anxiety, although maybe not to the level it seemed the other Cadet had it at.::

     

    Bancroft: So. First things first, we’ll run through the same warmup routine as they do at the Academy, yeah? Ah. Yeah. And another quick thing: I don’t expect you to have already known this. Before you get on the mat, please be sure to bow towards the front. ::She gestured towards the Shomen at the north end.::

     

    ::Ji-hu nodded and pivoted on his heel, giving a respectful bow towards the shrine-looking setup at the far end of the room. As a polite Korean son he could at least manage that much.::

     

    ::Once Choi had bowed on, Colleen ran them through the warmup routine with efficiency, but made sure not to run through it so fast she lost him or caused him to overheat or give up. Once they were finished with the warmup, Colleen began.::

     

    Bancroft: Okay, so. First things first. Punch me.

     

    Choi: ::eyes going wide:: M-m-ma’am?!

     

    ::Colleen raised her eyebrow at him.::

     

    Bancroft: No, seriously. Punch me; you’re not going to hurt me. ::For emphasis, she gestured sharply towards her stomach.:: Good punches and kicks are crucial to everything from here on out. Also, learning to fall, but we’ll get there.

     

    ::Ji-hu felt a sweat breaking out across his back, he was having trouble breathing. He attempted to channel his inner action hero, like a loose-cannon starship captain who doesn’t play by the rules from the vids he loved, tried to remember Instructor Logan’s lessons, and swung his fist back before bringing it out in front of him.::

     

    ::He sort of missed her stomach and punched her in the left boob, but it was more like her chest deflected his fist entirely. Ji-hu took a couple of steps back, mortified.::

     

    ::As Ji-hu flailed to hit her - and hit her lightly in the left boob, far enough off to the side that she barely felt it - she sighed inwardly.::

     

    oO We have a lot of work to do. Oo

     

    A Joint Post By:

     

    Ensign Colleen Bancroft

    Security and Tactical Officer

    USS Gorkon

    G239404CB0

     

    AND

     

    Lieutenant (JG) Choi Ji-hu

    Engineering Officer

    USS Constitution-B

    C239402CJ0

    Para Nalai - Going Down

    in 2017

    Posted

    ((Caraadian Battlecruiser, Deck 8, Engineering Section))
     
    Nalai: ::sullen and angry:: Two days! It couldn’t hold itself together for two measly days.
     
    ::Sub-Lieutenant Para Nalai hit a bulkhead with his fist and regretted it instantly. He was not at all a fan of personifying ships, but right now, he was almost sure that this ship was willingly ruining him.::
     
    ::He looked onto his display unit, the connection bars to the main computer in the top-right corner were flashing erraticly. One moment, he had perfect data uplink, one later there was no connection.::
     
    Nalai: It cannot even decide if it wants to fail or not…
     
    ::The display showed in all sorts of red many failures in the main reaction-core room. He would just have to turn right, down that corridor, duck under some hanging pipes, go through that door and…
     
    Computer: Access denied.
     
    ::Nalai tried to use the manual opener at the side of the door.::
     
    Computer: Access denied.
     
    ::The engineer stopped his fist mid-air while it was on its way towards the display. With his luck, the display surely would shatter and only add to the pain that was already throbbing in his knuckles.::
     
    ::Actually, Nalai did not even know why he was trying. He had been one of the lowest of the lowest, assigning the cleaning teams to corridors and the technicians to the lightbulbs that needed changing. Sometimes even doing so himself.::
     
    ::The display still showed error codes en masse and all of them did not say anything to him except „Do something about me!“. That was no problem, he would make something up when he found a way inside.::
     
    ::His look fell onto a service hatch a little back up the corridor. A good idea almost made him smile. The panel was removed within seconds, that was something he actually knew how to do. Then, with some more hue and cry, he squeezed his bulky belly through the tiny opening.::
     
    ::Luckily, behind it, the tube got much bigger and he had no trouble reaching a second hatch that would open into the core-room with his own access code, not without sending an instant warning to the bridge. Not that anyone there cared, most of them were ailing somewhere with the plague or already being dead from one of many explosions.::
     
    ::The second hatch opened and gave way to a wave of heat. After Nalai could open his eyes again, he saw a labyrinth of fire-spitting energy conducts, unhealthy current discharges and dangerously dangling ceiling tiles. He closed the door in front of him.::
     
    Nalai: Thats… Thats just too typical. Not one of those super-awesome smart-asses from engineering command is left. Just let old Para do it, two days before his year off!
     
    ::He took a deep breath and opened the hatch again. He would have proudly described his parkour efforts as „better than Lara Croft“ if he had actually known who that was. In reality, his thoughts were more concerned with him ending up as a roasted chicken or a current-induced x-ray-image of himself.::
     
    ::Against all odds, he reached the console at the other side of the room. It was right next to the door he initially wanted to enter through. He was breathing heavily and his palms were sweaty. A stinging pain in his forehead reminded him that it was since two weeks time for his next cigarette.::
     
    Nalai: ::grimly and determined:: Let’s see…
     
    ::He pushed some buttons and some of the red lights were vanishing, while others appeared instead. He managed to stop the leaking from the pipes, but the biggest read-flashing warning messages were not disappearing.::
     
    ::By accident he summoned a navigational status map onto the screen. He saw the miniature representation of the battlecruiser directly plunging towards a tiny planet.::
     
     Nalai: ::resigned:: Oh my, we really need some help here…
     
    ______________________

    MSPNPC
    Sub-Lieutenant Para Nalai
    Engineering Officer
     
    as simmed by
     
    Lt Isabel Pond
    USS Darwin-A
    D239212IP0
    • Like 2

    JP Lt. Shayne and Lt. Pond: Marriage Miscommunication

    in 2017

    Posted

    ((Deck 7, Shayne and Pond’s Quarters, USS Atlantis))

    ::Something was bothering the love of his life.::

    ::Shayne’s back complained insistently as he hefted yet another box from the towering stack that still remained in his and Pond’s shared quarters aboard the Atlantis . It never seemed to diminish. They’d been at it for hours, but there was always another collection of things to move, place, or shove forcefully out of the way. Such tedium would normally be demoralizing, but then he would remember the reason for this extra labor, and he would lose his rancor immediately. After all, Isa needed her stuff moved in as well, and Shayne was only too happy to oblige.::

    ::As he observed her, however, it was clear that she was troubled. She had the look of someone wondering how to best broach a difficult subject. They didn’t normally have issues discussing anything. Secrets were not conducive to romances. Besides that, she seemed highly uncomfortable. She’d look at him when she thought he couldn’t see, and dart her eyes away as if caught in the middle of an uncouth act. He hadn’t seen her this disconcerted since their relatively recent visit to her family on Trill.

    ((Flashback 1, a few months ago, Pond residence, Leran Manev, Trill))

    ::Shayne stood in dismay as Isabel disappeared up the stairs, leaving the helmsman alone with her parents. Not even in his worst nightmares had he imagined something like this happening. And now he was left alone to maneuver the treacherous nor’easter of meeting the girlfriend's parents for the first time.::

    Raffa: Isn’t she lovely… I am Raffa, and that’s…

    Kylani: ::interrupting:: I’m Kylani, very nice to meet you.

    ::What an odd couple. They seemed well paired, if not slightly adversarial. Raffa seemed content to render Kylani into the shadows, but Kylani herself was not nearly as ready to allow Raffa to relegate her to a corner.::

    Shayne: Randal Shayne- a pleasure to meet you.

    Kylani: Can I offer you something refreshing?

    ::Alcohol- at least at this juncture- would be a dreadful idea. He never touched the stuff when his wits were needed, and in this most delicate situation, wits were the only thing that could help end this evening quickly and decently.::

    Shayne: Erm, water would be lovely-

    ::Kylani immediately turned and headed into the kitchen area. Perhaps she was one of those exceptionally energetic people.::

    Raffa: So you’re from Earth, right? We lived for a long time there, before Kylani got pregnant. Hence Isabel’s name… I guess you’re in Starfleet, too, aren’t you? Where else would Isa met someone like you…

    ((End Flashback))

    ::He shivered at the unfortunate memories, and again turned his attention to Isabel. As she put down another box and straightened her spine, Shayne gently took hold of her hand and looked her in the eye, curious and kind.::

    Shayne: Babe, is there something you want to talk about?

    ::Maybe there was, maybe there wasn’t. But this surely was not any of these matters where one could ask to talk about it. It was much too delicate and too important. One had to voluntarily reveal the opinion of it to be strictly truthful, of that Isabel was sure.::

    Pond: Uhm, not really. But I sure hope that nickname isn’t going to stick.

    ::He hid his embarrassment with a smile. Pond wasn’t the type for cute, silly nicknames, and Shayne had forgotten that in his haste to comfort her against something that wasn’t there.::

    Shayne: Absolutely not.

    ::He continued his unboxing with his face bright red, but still grinning. Something was on her mind.::

    ::After the matter was settled without coming to any conclusive results about what it was that Isabel bothered, the Trill tried some careful advances from her side.::

    Pond: ::casually:: What were you thinking about?

    Shayne: The dinner with your parents. I still have nightmares. ::Shaking his head.:: You remember it?

    Pond: ::laughing, emptily:: Of course I remember. My dad had known you for ten seconds and already almost blurted out the most embarrassing story of my later youth…

    ::Too late Isabel realised that Randal probably had already forgotten about that. After all, Raffa had barely been able to start with that before her storming off to the upper floor.::

    ::He cringed anew as the memories swept through him. Just once, violating the temporal prime directive didn’t sound so appalling- he might be able to redo the dinner.::

    Shayne: I was really trying to forget about that…

    ::There was a way of getting out of it once again, presenting itself. It probably would have been better to get things cleared out right there, who knew what Randal was imagining. However, clearly he wasn’t interested in doing that and Isabel moved on.::

    Pond: Oh common, it was nothing. ::laughing:: And it was not the only story that evening that nobody wanted to hear!

    ((Flashback 2, a few months ago, Pond residence, Leran Manev, Trill))

    ::After a while, Isabel returned downstairs. She felt quite bad for leaving Shayne that abruptly with her parents alone, but her father’s comment had been just too much. Now, she had calmed down over the nice view of the bay from the bedroom and was ready to face whatever monstrosities her dad’s humour would have in store for her.::

    ::She found them at the kitchen table. Randal had somehow acquired himself a glass of water while her parents were drinking bajoran wine, as always. The father was just telling some stories from his time on earth, which surely would lead (after a considerable amount of time) to the time when he would meet Kylani, getting married and probably even conceiving Isabel.::

    Raffa: … I lived in a district near London, called “Caldwell”. You know, it is one of these places that is in a constant cycle of being considered a bad neighborhood, becoming a place to be and then fall back again. Naturally over a couple of decades, of course. When I arrived, doing the last semester of engineering school on a foreign world, it was just on the brink. Not that bad anymore, but still cheap. Can you believe it, my buddy moving in across the street paid five times as much just three years later! Five times! ::Raffa shook his head, as if he was believing his own exaggerations:

    ::Shayne applied every scrap of will power toward keeping eye contact with the rambling Trill. He could barely stand to listen to this tirade while Isa was secluded upstairs, the result of Raffa’s insensitive words. But in the pursuit of propriety, he’d wait until she appeared again. After that, he didn’t know what he’d do. It rather depended on Isa’s bearing.::  

    Shayne: ::Giving an empty smile.:: There’s something to be said for financial prudence.

    Raffa: It was at the graduation party half a year later when I’ve met this young woman over here, just a freshman at the most renowned law schools in the area, but…

    ::Isabel made as loud of an entrance as possible, shuffling some glasses around while getting herself something to drink.::

    ::He jerked up, delighted to see that Isabel had reappeared. Her storming away in a huff made him realize just how deeply her father’s words had stung, and until know, he didn’t know if she’d return at all. But it appeared that she had found some sort of inner peace. That was just as well- now Shayne would have someone to share the torment with.::

    Pond: Dad, don’t bore my boyfriend with the whole story, that is no way to behave on the first day.

    Raffa: ::mocking:: At least better than abandoning him after 30 seconds, mind you.

    Shayne: ::Unable to stop the thought from crossing his mind.:: oO Oh, shut up, you insensitive fool! You’re the one who drove her away! Oo

    ::Raffa glanced at his daughter, obviously judging if there was a chance for her to take the bait a second time. But she appeared to be all calmed down now. However, there was still a slight pause which had to be filled.::

    ::Shayne was furious, but he didn’t like the way Raffa was looking at his daughter. No matter how much he’d like to loosen the grip on his emotional reins, he knew he had to try and keep focused.::

    Shayne: You...were telling me about your marriage.

    ::If there was one thing he’d learned from this whole mess, it was that Raffa enjoyed speaking. At great length. Whether he wanted him to or not.::

    Raffa: ::With a sigh:: Ah well, it is such a lovely story how we were getting married…

    ((End Flashback))

    ::Of course, the had been no way to stop Isabel’s father to tell the story anyway. Isabel had to be contented with the mere satisfaction of forcing him to tell the second or third shortest variant.::

    ::At that point, Isabel had an idea that could lure Randal out into the open. It involved some truth bending on how much she liked that story herself, though.::

    Pond: It is a lovely story though, isn’t it?

    ::He looked at his girlfriend, aghast. What had she said? How could she like the story? She actively encouraged her father to tell the abridged version. He could see his loathing for the whole thing reflected in her eyes. What did she mean?::

    Shayne: ::Chuckling to voice his confusion.:: No. It bored the both of us to tears- you remember that.

    Pond: Ah well, you remember that, too. ::only slightly getting off track:: But it is about love and passion and after all, I have never seen anybody that happily married.

    Shayne: Well, I suppose it had its moments. Are you talking about something specifically?

    Pond: Uh noo, not at all. ::Slight pause, then an excited outbreak:: Hey, do you remember the next embarrassing thing? ::now realising that excitement was the wrong emotion, Isabel changed it to something more appropriate.:: We must have won an award back then…

    ::Shayne cringed as his thoughts continued upon their treacherous, torturous stroll down memory lane…::

    ((Flashback 3, a few months ago, Pond residence, Leran Manev, Trill))

    Raffa: So, Mr Shayne, how long did you say you and Isa are together? I am afraid our daughter is not very industrious while writing letters.

    ::Isabel gave him a crooked smile, which was her way to take that as a compliment.::

    Shayne: Oh, um… it’s been some time. Bordering on a couple of years now, wouldn’t you say? ::Looking at Isa.::

    Raffa: Wow, that’s about the time when it gets serious! So when are you planning to marry her?

    ::His daughter’s eyes went from “I have everything under control” to “and what’s my saying in that?” within a moment, but her mother was quicker on the response.::

    ::Shayne’s eyes bugged out at Raffa’s statement. This wasn’t possible. Why was he facing this? Why couldn’t Isabel’s parent be more sensitive? Most fathers- in his painfully- were quite protective of their daughters, and would study any suitors quite carefully. Now this man was complaining at him for not tying the knot already.::

    Shayne: ::To the universe:: oO You are having far too much fun at my expense. Oo  

    Kylani: Darling, remember what we said about approaching sensitive things slowly? ::laughing friendly, now explaining to Shayne:: You know, just because we hit it off right away, he always thinks it must be like that with everyone else. ::again to her husband:: They’re still very young, they have all the time in the world.

    ::If it weren’t for Kylani, he didn’t know what he’d do. She seemed quite sensible, understanding, polite and sensitive- everything Raffa wasn’t. It was refreshing to be reminded that civility still existed in some capacity.::

    Raffa: ::jokingly upset:: Young? My baby girl is… uhm… is 26 already…

    Pond: ::whispering, happily upsetting her father even more:: Twenty-Seven

    ::Shayne’s shoulders dropped even lower.::

    Raffa: 27! ::to Randal:: You know, if we had been you, our oldest one had already been walking at this point!

    Shayne: oO I doubt it, sir! You would talk him to death long before that could happen! Oo

    ::Isabel crunched some numbers, leaving her forehead in wrinkles. They really did not add up the way her father was thinking they would.::

    Shayne: ::Temple throbbing painfully.:: Well, I guess we’re not there yet.

    ::Isabel had enough at that point and decided to step in and try to move the conversation to a different topic.::

    Pond: You know, enough of that, we’ll figure the right moment out, am I right?

    ::The sentiment earned his wholehearted support. And as he considered, he realized this was just a minor irritation. At the end of the day, he still had her.::

    ((End Flashback))

    ::Isabel smiled and glanced at Randal, judging if he had noticed the convenient point where she had ended her recollection of the events she had been talking about.::

    Pond: I guess you have to understand my father, he surely was just making up for all the years he wasn’t able to tease me and for all the ones lying ahead of us.

    ::Now he was more sure than ever that something was going on. Something that Isabel was hoping he would notice as well. But what? For such a perceptive creature, he felt exceptionally thick at the moment.::

    ::Isabel cuddled a little closer to her boyfriend, both in anticipation of these years and as a sign for him that she was indeed ready to take these on seriously.::

    Shayne: ::Eyebrow raised.:: Well, your father has a way with words. But I guess I can accept that. And nothing is going to spoil my joy of the many years lying ahead. ::Embracing Isabel back.::

    ::And then a horrible, flimsy wisp of thought came to the forefront of his mind, and a moment’s consideration expanded it so that he could focus on nothing else. The painful recollections about stories regarding marriage, Isabel’s poignant comments…::

    ::Was she talking about getting married?::

    ::The whole world stopped. Absolute joy and terror seethed in his heart. Did she want to? Well, she always said she wanted a family some day. He’d never really considered the implications of that desire. Sheer exhilaration coursed through his veins. What did he say? Should he ask to clarify? Should he pursue the topic? Should he run and hide? All of these things sounded quite good at that moment.::

    ::Being tightly locked in an embrace, Isabel definitely felt a change in Randal’s posture. Some muscles definitely were contracted which normally wouldn’t be in this situation. For a moment, names in an old language flowed through the doctor’s mind, the ones the humans had decided that their muscles should have. Even though painstakingly learned in med school, she remembered only the Trill ones.::

    ::Maybe thanks to that silly overflow, she wasn’t quite able to grasp that this reaction most likely meant that he had finally understood. This failure in recognition led to her continue beating around the bush.::

    Pond: I have no doubts about that! You don’t want anything to change, do you?

    ::Her endeavour was tricky. She wanted to find out if Randal was ready yet. It didn’t came to her mind that he could not want to get married, it was just that he sometimes could be just a bit too pleased with the things how they are. To find the answer for that question, which could only be “yes” or “later”, was actually the easy part. She could wait, no problem. Not too long, but she could. What Isabel actually was afraid of was that he would take all that banter as a prompt to propose. That would be a problem, because it was a moment, which had to be perfect, maybe even more so than the actual wedding day. And the only way she could make sure that it would be exactly as she imagined it was to do it herself.::

    Shayne: ::Now thoroughly convinced that she was speaking of marriage.:: Well, not for the present. Aren’t things, you know...good the way they are?

    ::He said that while cringing inside, desperate to not offend the love of his life. If he was wrong about what she was talking about, it could lead to a huge miscommunication, a possibly a larger argument. What if she wasn’t satisfied with the way things were? Was that why she was bringing this up? Already he could see conflict.::

    Pond: Yeah sure… ::looking the other way, out of the window:: Sure they are.

    END

    Lieutenant Randal Shayne
    Helmsman/Ops officer
    USS Atlantis     NCC 74682
    G239202RS0 

    and 

    Lt Isabel Pond
    Medical Officer
    USS Atlantis
    D239212IP0

    • Like 1

    Cmdr Brell & Cadet Morin - Point, Red.

    in 2017

    Posted

    ((DS26, Recreation Deck 2, Holodeck 14))

     

    ::Though they had both been there responding to the crisis on Kriosian III Brell had been mostly leading teams from Atlantis and Morin had spent nearly the whole time assisting in sickbay. The younger Bolian’s time was also taken by his academy coursework. This chance to learn on the job out among the distant stars had not gotten him out of having to sit through lectures. Right now that all seemed a million light years away as both were focused on one thing; winning.::

     

    ::Morin dodged the metallic disk still flashing red, it bounced off of the holodeck wall and came right back for him. He aimed his phaser and shot grazing the edge of the disk. It counted and began to flash blue aiming itself for his uncle instead. He jumped to his feet to taunt.::

     

    Morin: Nice try!

     

    ::Brell smirked at his nephew’s comment. Morin had improved his game quite a bit at the academy and had gotten in a few impacts on him. So far he had managed to keep ahead of the younger man, but it was far closer of a game than he would like. He readied for the disk to come at him and fired long enough to send the now flashing red disk flying towards the opposite wall. Morin had given him a chance by exposing himself to taunt him. The disk bounced off of the wall and just as Morin was turning his head to react it impacted him between the his shoulder blades sending him diving to the ground.::

     

    Computer: Full Impact - Game, Brell.

     

    ::He took a few steps forward and knelt down offering his nephew a hand, then pulled him up on his feet.::  

     

    Brell: Good game.

     

    Morin: You got … lucky … Go again.

     

    ::Brell looked to Morin and it was clear that after three games in a row that he could easily play another. He merely sheened with exhilaration of extended physical activity, while his own red tank top dampened by sweat showed how much more exerted the commander felt.::  

     

    Brell: I thought we had agreed to best two out of three. Computer end program.

     

    ::The phaser disappeared in from their hands and grid lines of the small holochamber replaced the seemingly full sized velocity court they had been standing in.::

     

    Morin: You just know I win by running around a lot.

     

    Brell: ::Smirking.:: Perhaps.

     

    ::The two exited the holodeck and started down the walkway. They had plans to meet up with Hars, Lyldra, and the twins later on. Brell was looking forward to cooking a big meal for his family and having help in the kitchen in the form of Morin. He too had been expected to help out in the kitchens of the family underwater homestead as a child. So it was nice to have someone around who knew more than telling the replicator what they wanted.::

     

    Brell: Would you like to grab a bite to eat?

     

    Morin: Food already?

     

    Brell: Well we can't cook in few hours all hungry and smelling everything. It would make us unable to concentrate. As a Doctor to be you should be able to tell more about cognitive function when an individual is hungry.

     

    ::Morin rolled his eyes, then poked his uncles belly for emphasis.::

     

    Morin: As a Doctor to be I think you could skip a meal.

     

    Brell: That isinsboratanation, Cadet.

     

    ::Both Bolians laughed loudly causing a few people to turn towards them. Brell appreciated his nephews concern and he was someone whom he could always count on for support. Even if it came in form of a jibe.::

     

    Morin: We could head back early. I would not mind playing with the twins a bit

     

    ::Brell could not believe how much they had grown in weeks they had been away tending to the Kriosian crisis. They were making whole words and simple sentences now and had greeted him him with a flurry of da-da’s upon seeing him. He had worried it had been long enough that they might forget him in throws of learning by leaps and bounds on near daily basis. The nineteen month olds were quite aware of his absence and missed him, coming home to them was one of the best feelings.::

     

    Brell: Sounds like good idea to me.

     

    Higgs: =/\= Ensign Higgs to Commander Brell. =/\=

     

    ::He sighed, Higgs was the watch officer on duty aboard Atlantis right now and he would only be calling if there was a problem.::

     

    Brell: =/\= Brell here, yes Ensign. =/\=

     

    Higgs: =/\= Sir the holodeck systems crashed about thirty minutes ago, and now other subsystems are not responded correctly. We are having some kind of cascading problem over here. =/\=

     

    Brell: =/\= Recall the Engineering staff, and I’ll inform Commander Rhyn about the sution before coming aboard. =/\=

     

    Higgs: =/\= Yes, sir. =/\=

     

    Brell: Well it looks like duty calls. Tell your aunt and co-uncle that I could be late, and that I well be with you all as soon as I can.

     

    Morin: Yeah, no problem. oO I’m sure they are used to it. Oo

     

    ::They gave each other a quick hug goodbye and parted ways, Morin towards the habitat module one cross-way and Brell to the nearest transporter room. Little did either know that Brell would not be coming back until very late. The problems aboard Atlantis only seemed to grow, subsystem by subsystem. It was not too long before he had to call in help from the station and inform Renos that something was going on.::


    TBC
     

    Commander Brell, First Officer

    USS Atlantis, NCC-74682, Andaris Task Force

    Academy Deputy Commandant - PotW Co-Facilitator

    E239109B10

    Simming stereotypes

    in Poll of the Month

    Posted

    I can't really vote on that because the answer doesn't cleanly fit into any category. I have definitely selected species because I like their stereotypes and want to play them that way, like Icavoc. Other times I like to break the rules and make them rebels! (Within reason) Like with making Renos a deviant. It really all depends. When I look for a species I often have a particular concept in mind  - so when I chose the J'naii I already knew I wanted a gender non-binary character.

    King Mwinuroja - We Didn't Do It

    in 2017

    Posted

    ((Capitol Palace, A’Kir Isle of Governance, Planet Kiros))

     

    ::We didn’t do it.::

     

    ::The words were on the lips of every A’Kir citizen as news of the terrible seismic tragedy on the Kirosian continent swept through A’Kir territory.::

     

    ::King Mwinuroja charged down the labyrinthine corridors of the Capitol Palace with furious determination, while his advisors flanked him, mouthing off with their various opinions and dissemblements. The King of the A’Kir, the most important elected official on this side of the planet, stood nearly seven and a half feet tall, his hide black, marked with a silver patch that covered half his bull-like face, dividing his countenance in a way that made his two profiles were quite distinct. His people had chosen for him a gold-colored tie with a conservative dark blue suit. This was no day for his dress to be showy. His horns were tall and sharp, an ivory-colored ornament to the fierce, unwavering look that started from his eyes, large and dark, and extended through the grim set of his mouth and the flaring of his nostrils.::

     

    ::Of course the Kirosians were going to blame the A’Kir for the shaking of the earth. The Kirosians blamed the A’Kir for everything.::

     

    ::The high, green walls of the Capitol Palace curved elegantly in rounded and sometimes suddenly angular directions that would have confounded anyone not familiar with their maze-like layout. Mwinuroja marched forward, confident as ever in his path. The building’s design was descended from an ancient construction tradition, created so outsiders would never find their way through, while insiders easily knew the way. It went back to ancient times, when labyrinths were built for protection against Kirosian invaders from across the wide oceans. Thousands of years ago, Kirosians came in sailing ships of wood and pitch that the modern mind almost couldn’t envision as functional. The archaeological record showed it, the appearance of ramheaded figures in ancient art, the evidence of inter-continental conflict and struggle in prehistory.::

     

    ::History showed it, too. The political and cultural barrier between A’Kir and Kirosian was long-standing and acrimonious. Attempts at peace had been made, but it is not easy thing to wash bad blood from the hands of history, and the two sides of the world never could find a way to meet in the middle. With advances in technology came advances in armaments and battle tactics. With advances in culture came advances in inter-cultural resentment and isolationism.::

     

    ::Mwinuroja had tried to work toward peace from within, but his people were so stubborn in their ways. He had worked hard for years to keep their internal struggles from spilling over and becoming acts of aggression against the Kirosians. He had sacrificed his time, his youth, his public reputation, to forge a better world, to fight the political fights that kept the A’Kir out of any direct conflict with their neighbor. He had shown the people a strong leader, a fierce king, and he had given his life over to holding the ties of their fragile political system in place, maintaining internal order and freedom from strife sometimes through nothing but sheer force of will.::

     

    ::And now did the very earth rebel?::

     

    Mwinuroja: WHAT fresh hell comes now with the new hour?

     

    ::Rounding a corner that wouldn’t have been visible if you didn’t know it was there, King Mwinuroja strode into his situation room, a large chamber filled with terminals, assistants, and at one end, a private, hidden office that was his alone. The advisors charged in toward their various destinations, joining the fray of frantic comms, shouts and fevered whispers of collaboration between the staff housed there. One shout rang out from a young, dappled steer, updating the king.::

     

    Assistant: Majesty, the communication from Starfleet is online.

     

    Mwinuroja: Very well! I shall communicate from my office, and mark you that I am to receive no disturbance.

     

    ::At least the A’Kir weren’t afraid of making offworld contacts. The Council still denied them a voting seat, but it was willing to hear their problems. And it had sent this Starfleet to help.::

     

    ::Inside his private chamber, deep at the center of the labyrinth, Mwinuroja closed the door so he could be alone. He felt like stamping his feet in a charge. He was mad as could be, fit to gore. Taking a moment to collect himself, to try to reach his better nature of diplomacy, he moved to his large wooden desk, sat down behind it, and switched the comm on, prepared to say exactly what his constituents expected of him in this situation.::

     

    ::We didn’t do it.::


     

    King Mwinuroja
    Leader of the A’Kir

     

    simmed by
    LtCmdr Ren Rennyn
    First Officer
    USS Blackwell, Andaris Task Force

    A239102RR0

    • Like 1

    LtCmdr R'Ven: Defiant letters in the darkness

    in 2017

    Posted

    ((USS Blackwell, Chief Science Officers Office))

     

    ::Sometimes times the brightest days can have their own special darkness. A shadow that cast itself on life and one that resists all attempts to dispel it..::

     

    ::Merrick sat in his office, the lights dimmed to the point where the fixtures were but glowing embers, hardly enough to be seen against the blackness of the room. However between them and the screen in front of him there was more than enough illumination for Merrick to see his screen.::

     

    ::D E A R::

     

    ::Four letters hung there staring at Merrick as if daring him to add anything more.::

     

    ::He was writing family. Rodulan family. Yet the Vulcan part of himself, the part that was cultural rather than biological, demanded he excise the emotion laden word. Merrick just gazed at them, transfixed and silent as he contemplated what seemed to be an exercise in impossibility.::

     

    ::For the past several months Merrick had been at war with himself about home, about talking to his people. However for a man with so many memories locked inside his head, fighting with himself had taken on new and epic proportions. Voices and emotions spoke to him. There were images of alien landscapes. He could smell the gardens, hear the tinkling laughter and feel the happy little kisses of children on his cheeks. Other memories displayed for him broken vistas where the Borg had come and decimated entire homes, tribes, cultures and even planets. The burning sense of loss was almost overwhelming as he continued in his unmoving vigil of his screen.::

     

    R’Ven: oO Home. Oo ::It was a word that had become unmoored from almost all meaning.::

     

    ::Even Merrick’s own childhood had been one of travel, moving from this planet to the next. The only cord of continuity was the Vulcan ship that threaded itself through his life. It represented family, school, work, and in many ways life. His whole personality . . . .his whole being had been consumed and tied by all things Vulcan. The language, the culture and the driving desire for logic and order.::

     

    R’Ven: oO But are we Vulcan . . or . . . ? ?  Oo

     

    ::The very plurality of his question was a reminder of the changes he had gone through . . and was still going through.::

     

    R’Ven: oO No! . . . we are something more. Oo

     

    ::The desktop was pleasantly cool to the touch as Merrick rested his hands on it and leaned forward to watch his screen. It was if through sheer desire and determination that he could force more letters to appear. The futility of that desire was making itself felt as pain, spreading from his neck and across the back of his head.::

     

    ::He was not even sure why he was composing this letter. Merrick was writing someone he had not seen in decades.::

     

    R’Ven: oO Would she still want to hear from us . . . from me . . . after all this time? Oo

     

    ::The only answer was silence and four letters glowing defiantly in the darkness.::

     

    ::Standing up Merrick stepped away from his desk. He could hear his shoulders pop as he stretched. After a moment of silent contemplation Merrick folded his arms behind his back as he came to a decision and turned to face his desk and the quartet of letters still standing on his screen.::

     

    R’Ven:  Computer delete the last letter and begin again.

     

    ::Instantly the screen became a blank canvas upon which Merrick could once again attempt to pour out his thoughts. The question was how would it appear when converted to text?::

     

    R’Ven: Greetings Akeelah

     

    ::It was a compromise between ‘To: Akeelah’, and ‘Dear Cousin’. Neither felt . . . genuine.::

     

    R’Ven: It has been some time since we have last spoken and I am curious . . . how are you doing?

     

    ::Actually the last time they had spoken Merrick was still living on Vulcan and had gone to Rodul for one of his sporadic visits. It had been during a time that his parents were reconnecting with relatives that they had not seen during the occupation. it had given him a strange feeling of contentedness and had a centering affect on him. Now he felt so much less Rodulan than he had ever felt. He felt so completely removed from himself that he felt almost alien in his own skin.::

     

    R’Ven: I have been through . . . . a few changes since last time we met.

     

    ::Partially assimilated by the Borg, lost his telepathy, accused of treason, promoted to Lt. Commander and department head, assigned to a new fleet and ship to name a few. The first two changes were in sealed medical records available to his Captain and any medical staff it pertained to. The third one was accessible with digging and the last few were on his service jacket.::

     

    ::All of it felt like a cacophony of sudden and disjointed changes, like a man stumbling drunkenly in the darkness and crashing through the events of his life. What would being next?.::

     

    R’Ven: I wonder if perhaps there might come a time when we could meet again, or perhaps correspond. It has been many years since I have had a chance to speak with family.

     

    ::He was conveniently ignoring his parents, who no doubt were out gallivanting from one place or another. Then there was Dorn his older and adoptive brother. It had been years since they had talked as well. Merrick's isolation was partly of his own creation.::

     

    R’Ven: I look forward to hearing from you. ::and he signed it:: Merrick R’Ven.

     

    ::Merrick slid into his chair and turned to face his desk. Resting his elbows on the arms of his chair, he interlacing his fingers together he stared resolutely at his monitor. He was satisfied that at least there were more than four letters this time, even if they were not the same ones as before.::

     

    ::The letter was so short and it looked painfully stilted and forced even to him.::

     

    ::Sighing, Merrick looked over one last time and was satisfied that there was nothing else he could think to add.::

     

    R’Ven: Computer, please send to Akeelah D'Sena of the Constitution.

     

    ::As the letter spun and then vanished from his screen Merrick leaned back in his chair wondering what the woman on the other side would think of his letter . . . or even think of him. Would she welcome family after so many years of silence? . . . . Would she answer? . . . . Would she even remember?::

     

    ::The answer would require time and patience. Two qualities Merrick had in abundance.::

     

    ---------------------------------

    LT. Commander   Merrick R’Ven    

    Andaris Task Force | CSO @ USS Blackwell   

    Training Team                       A239210MR0

    • Like 1

    Captain Zaekia & Cadet Morin - Living the dream

    in 2017

    Posted

    ((USS Blackwell, Deck One, Captain’s Ready Room))

     

    ::The only thing more dazzling than the perfectly white teeth grinning back to Akinor was his hair. As white as the snowcaps of the stunning Eromeva mountain range, it was combed to perfection. He adjusted his collar and cuffs as he groomed himself so he would be ready to face his new crew. After all first impressions were important and you only got once chance to do it right. This would set the tone for how things would be under his command and he wanted to make a good impression upon his crew as much as he was sure they wanted to do the same with him. This would be his second command and he couldn’t have been more excited as was evident from the spirited singing on an upbeat song that matched the joy and excitement in his heart.::

    Zaekia: Everything is awesome!

    Everything is cool when you're part of a team,

    Everything is awesome, when we're living our dream...

     

    ((Meanwhile, on the bridge))

     

    ::Morin could not believe his luck. Getting to work on a brand new top of the line medical starship for his cadet cruise and working with real patients for the first time instead of holograms was a dream come true. He was positive he was going to be posted to some far off starbase or installation where he would be doing nothing but waving a dermal regenerator over scrapes and bumps maybe mend a broken bone or two. But here he would be in out in an unsteady region working with some of Starfleet’s finest on a dedicated medical vessel where there would be experts in many fields he could learn from. They would also be a first responder to any medical emergency in the whole of the Expanse from what he read about the region on the trip to DS26 from earth it was more than possible they could be called upon to assist someone.  He was excited as he stood before the ready room door of the ship's captain with a huge grin on his blue face. Without hesitation he rang the chime.::  

    ((Captain’s Ready Room))

     

    ::Captain Akinor Onali Zaekia, a Kalean of only 300 years, was in his prime. His people often lived to 850 years old but the oldest had lived for over a century, reaching the impressive age of 1,003! Akinor wondered what it might be like to live that old. When he thought about ageing, he didn’t think about his body or mind slowing down or growing weak. Many generations of his family were currently in excellent health. To him, it sounded fantastic. He could scarcely imagine all the things he could see and do over such a long time span. It had been a terrible shock to him to learn that most other humanoid species lived nothing near as long as that. He had already lived three times as long as many individuals of a shorter-lived species! Akinor had done much in his life and joining Starfleet had opened up many new doors and catapulted him through them. It was an unusual career path among his kind, and indeed he had the great distinction of being the first Kalean accepted into Starfleet! This was a point of great pride for him. Not to mention, the knowledge he had gained had garnered respect on a personal level for him among his peers and for his order. Being in Starfleet made him stand out in a crowded order and provided a fulfilling career in its own right. That career was once again headed in new and exciting directions!::

     

    ::He heard the door and wondered which of his crew had come to see him. The most likely candidate and the one he was waiting on was his First Officer. They hadn’t worked together before but Commander Rennyn came highly recommended by his direct superior Fleet Captain Renos. If he’d been looking forward to working with the Trill before now, sharing Hasperat with him had only fueled his enthusiasm. He was very much looking forward to another meeting the Trill and hoped they would have a good working relationship. With a last glance in the mirror he pushed a stray white hair off his forehead and faced the door, inviting the visitor in confidently, in a strong clear voice.::

     

    Zaekia: Enter!

     

    ::The young Bolian entered, keeping himself standing as straight as possible. He had never met a member of the Captain’s species but knew they were one of the few beside Andorians and his own people that had cobalt based blood. He didn’t know much else about the non-federation member Kaleans but their medical data would be the first thing he looked up after he left this meeting. He had to make sure he would how to help save the man’s life without needing to reference a PADD at the surgical biobed if such an emergency circumstance ever occurred. He realised that he was going to have to do a lot of reading on species not extensively covered by Starfleet Medical Academy.::

     

    Morin: Cadet Morin,  reporting for duty sir.

     

    Zaekia: Well, well, well! This is a surprise. Blue skin. No spots. You, sir, are not my first officer but you surely do get the prize for most eager crew member. Welcome!

     

    ::The young cadet was thrown off. Every officer he had ever interacted with had been quite formal. Granted most of them were also teachers whose job it was to ingrain respect and proper protocol into their student's heads. He kept himself at full attention waiting until he was told to do otherwise.::


    Morin: Th..Thank you. Sir.

     

    Zaekia: At ease cadet. Relax. I understand you're here to complete your cadet cruise and medical residency.  What expectations do you have?


    Morin: ::Standing at ease.:: Yes, Sir, I am looking forward to working with real patients and getting to learn how to be a Starfleet doctor first hand. I feel really lucky to be here.

     

    ::It had been his dedication to his studies that had gotten him placed here but he felt everyone worked hard and there were only so many positions available throughout the fleet for advanced placement. He already knew some his classmates were jealous he had been sent to the Blackwell as they had told him as much quite directly.::

     

    ::The Captain nodded and smiled, he would have loved for an opportunity like this to have been available when he was at Starfleet Medical all those years ago. He couldn’t imagine anything more exciting than having the opportunity to study and learn on the job. Of course, Cadet Morin would not be able to treat any patient without proper supervision, however, the chance to learn on a working Starship like this was incredibly rare and highly sought after. Not only had cadet Morin shown himself to be among the top of his class, he had expressed an interest in the species out in the Par’tha Expanse through the reports and exercises he turned in. Since the Olympic Class medical ship was launching in the region, a golden opportunity had presented itself and he had been delighted to support it.::

     

    Zaekia: You don’t need me to tell you how lucky you are but you can thank me and help yourself by studying hard. There’s no room for complacency here and I have high expectations. I’ve a lifetime of experience in the medical field, that’s 278 years in all, so far, including 80 in which I was a lecturer at two prominent medical schools. If you need any help, advice or guidance about anything I would be delighted to help.

     

    ::Akinor might not have taught in a classroom in some time, but one of the things he had always loved was being able to share some of his knowledge to enrich the lives of others. In doing so he elevated others, he elevated his order and himself.::

     

    ::Captain Zaekia was more relaxed with certain protocols and had a more open and friendly demeanour than some commanding officers he had worked with but he stopped short of putting his feet on his desk. The was a healthy amount of perfectionism in him and the reputation he had as someone with high standards was well earned. The bar he’d set for himself was notoriously high and he expected the best from his crew too. He didn’t mind fun and wanted a happy crew but there was a fine line between managing a culture where people could enjoy their work and were more productive as a result, and having things become lazy, slack or carefree. With 5 years of experience commanding the Intrepid Class USS Edinton, he felt he managed to get the balance right. Now a new crew was going to have to adjust to his style and hopefully, there wouldn’t be too many teething issues. He glanced fondly towards there the model of the Intrepid ship sat next to the newest model he had acquired, for this very ship. Then he returned his attention to the Bolian before him, who seemed to be understandably nervous. Meeting superiors for the first time was often nerve-wracking and though he had tried to break the ice with his friendly demeanour, it seemed Morin was unsure about just how much he could relax in this setting.::

     

    Zaekia: You know we’re not so different you and I. I’m not referring to the wonderful complexion we have or the cobalt blood that courses through our veins either, though those are acceptable examples. I come from a medical background myself, you know. My first assignment was to the Starfleet Academy Dreshna Campus on Andoria. Can you imagine? After all those years at Starfleet Academy and Starfleet Medical, only to be assigned to such an installation to care for the new crop of cadets? It rarely got above freezing, even in the summer… in many ways, it was just like being at home! ::Cheerfully::

     

    ::He chuckled fondly at the memories he had of those times. There would be plenty time to swap stories later, for now, he wanted to get to know something of this cadet who was joining them::

     

    Zaekia: Why don’t you tell me about yourself?
     

    Morin: Well sir I am from Bolarus, where my family operates an undersea farming business out of our homestead. I enjoy vectorboarding … also springball.

     

    ::He stumbled over his words wondering where his confidence went. He hated bringing up the fact he had been orphaned at age eight, as he had so much family he never felt it: and people always reacted to that piece of information of his past with pity.::  

     

    Morin: I have an uncle in Starfleet as well whom I’m close to.

     

    Zaekia: ::With genuine glee:: Delightful! I like a good holoadventure myself! No family in Starfleet for me. You won’t find another Kalean in Starfleet at all as it stands actually. I’m a unique case. ::Chuckling again:: Was your Uncle your inspiration for joining, or was it something else?
     

    ::He was unsure how to act. He was expecting someone firm and rigid like nearly all of his instructors had been at the academy. This Captain Zaekia was open, humorous, and seemingly had genuine interest in learning more about him. He felt a bit intimidated by someone who has practising medicine for hundreds of years and still looked young.::  


    Morin: He was kinda. I lived with him at an embassy and on a starbase for awhile. I think it was seeing all the aliens working together and all of the heroic acts Starfleet officers did that really made me want to go to the academy.  

     

    Zaekia: ::In a tone that suggested he had just discovered something extraordinary:: Oooooh! So you want to be a hero!

    Morin: Well … yes … but not in a run into danger without thinking way. I don’t care if the whole federation knows what I do or if it is just one person oO Or their family. Oo who I helped save who thinks me heroic.

     

    ::To the young Bolian, all doctors and medical staff were heroes for caring about others more than themselves. He also, ever since taking basic psychology classes at the academy had begun to wonder if he wanted to save people simply because no one was there to save his parents. He liked to think he would have found biology interesting and still been led to medicine from that interest. He also hoped some of that made sense to the Captain other than ramblings of one who must be to him  an incredibly young person.::

     

    Zaekia: I understand. You want to make a difference. Be a force for good! A common goal in those who choose this path. I hope you find your career as rewarding as mine has been to me.

     

    Morin: ::Smirking.:: It just might not be quite as long of one.

     

    ::He nearly gasped. He had been put into a relaxed mood by the commanding officer’s joviality and had just possibly put his foot in his mouth because of it. What would he do if age is a sensitive topic to Zaekia’s people? Or they may not like to talk about how much longer they live than most other humanoids. They could pity them for living so comparatively short lives, he hoped that was not the case. At least so far he did not get any condescending vibes from the captain’s words.::

    ::Zaekia’s grin matched that of his new blue friend. If this was a joke he could give as good as he got and wondered what the cadet would make of his retort.::

     

    Zaekia: Perhaps but from my point of view it can be difficult having to work with children all of the time. I’ll try to cope.


    ::Of course, he didn’t regard any of them as children, as his sarcastic tone ought to reveal. He didn’t know how old Morin was but if his best guess was anything like accurate, anyone this age on his world would be barely halfway through their apprentice degree. There would be another 22 years ahead before their education was finished! If members of these short-lived species were to spend as much time in education as the Kaleans did, half their lives would be used up before they truly entered their orders as fully qualified adults! That was to him at least an incredible thought. It was helpful to him to avoid thinking about the age differences, otherwise, it was tempting to see them as children with little experience of the world.::

     

    ::The Cadet let out a short laugh. He felt relieved that the response to his comment was one of humour. He liked this idea of a Captain that would crack jokes, though he was sure it would not be the same with every officer on this ship who was going to be his superior. Which was basically all them as he was a Cadet.::

     

    Morin: I think we know how to change our own diapers so we should not be too much of a worry. Might need burping in the form of a pat on the back from time to time, however.  ::He cut himself off here before becoming too relaxed with what he said around the higher ups.::

     

    Zaekia: If you seek my praise you’ll have to be truly astounding.

    ::As much as it was delivered in a friendly manner, he was careful not to be overly playful about this. He had a reputation for having some of the highest standards in the fleet, nevermind Andaris Task Force. He believed there was a time for having fun and a time for working hard. If hard work was worth rewarding, the end results were more so. What good was it to try endlessly hard but achieve nothing? Those who achieved great things would receive great rewards, while those who achieved nothing could expect nothing in return. He had enjoyed meeting this cadet a great deal and liked that he had a sense of humour and was brave enough to loosen up a little around him. There was potential there. His First Officer would be chiming the door any time and he was sure Morin had other things he wanted to be doing as well - like settling himself in and meeting his new colleagues.::

     

    Zaekia: Well it is a pleasure to meet you Mister Morin and I’m sure I’ve taken up quite a bit of your time already. Is there anything you’d like to ask me before I let you go?

    Morin: Only who I will I be coordinating with in regards to my distance academy class requirements? My orders did not say specifically and I’d like to meet them as soon as I can as well.  

     

    Zaekia: That would be my First Officer, Rendal Rennyn. I thought that might have been him at the door funnily enough - or perhaps our new CMO Graeme Cook. ::With a cheeky grin::

     

    Morin: I see, Well I will wait in line to meet him then and go check out my quarters. ::He stood and saluted.:: It was a pleasure to report in and meet you, sir.

     

    Zaekia: Yes it was! ::Cheerfully::


     

    Captain Akinor Onali Zaekia - Commanding Officer, USS Blackwell NCC-58999

    * Executive Council & Captain's Council Member

    * Academy Commandant

    A238805EB0

     

    &

     

    Cadet Morin, Medical Trainee, Uss Blackwell, NCC-58999

    Simmed by,

    LtCmdr Brell, First Officer, USS Atlantis, NCC-74682

    PotW Co-Facilitator - Publicity Team - Training Team

    E239109B10

    Lt Cmdr Yogan Yalu – When symbionts sleep

    in 2017

    Posted

    (( Deep Space 26, Central Hub Level 3, Starfleet Intelligence Sector Chief’s Office ))

     

    ::When fully illuminated, the office looked completely normal, like any other Starfleet installation anywhere else in the galaxy.  At the moment, however, with the lights low and flickering, and the station’s natural green glow cast about, the place looked eerie, sinister, as if something were afoot around every corner.  Like one might think an intelligence office should look, if all he had for reference were holosuite programs about espionage and interstellar intrigue.::

     

    ::In this office, nothing could be further from the truth.  On most days, it more closely resembled an office block at Starfleet Accounting than an intelligence outfit.  The men and women who staffed this location were data analysts, not field operatives.  They pored over information that came in from across the neighboring sectors, finding commonalities and drawing connections between things that were otherwise dissimilar.  Or at least they had been doing so, before they all fell asleep.::

     

    ::Tucked away in his office, Yogan Yalu had all but face-planted onto his trio of computer terminals, the data streaming down the screens in rows of letters and numbers.  The 42-year-old Trill officer had a sorely disappointing fantasy life, seldom dreaming about much at all besides his work.  For some reason, however, this sleep was different.  It was deep and full of vivid imagery, with characters from his own and four previous lifetimes making random appearances, one immediately after the other.::

     

    ::He saw Vorss, the third husband of his fourth host, chatting over a raktajino with Viyana, the mother of his first host.  And his own new bride, Zenna, whom he married earlier this year and was now carrying their first child, was hunched over a dom-jot table, in the middle of a match with his second host’s childhood best friend.::

     

    Yalu:  What is going on?

     

    ::No one answered him.  They continued about their business, mingling with each other like guests at a dinner party.  As they faded from view, they were replaced with others, and Yogan knew them all.  Nearly two hundred fifty years’ and five lifetimes’ worth of friends, acquaintances, lovers, relatives, and friends, cascaded before him in a way that filled him with dread.::

     

    Yalu:  Is this what happens when you’re about to die?

     

    ::From his extensive work alongside humans, Yogan had heard of a phenomenon in which one’s life “flashed” before one’s eyes when facing imminent death.  He thought it to be rubbish, like most aspects of human culture, but couldn’t ignore the similarity of that phenomenon to what he was currently experiencing.::

     

    Zenna:  Would you like to play?

     

    ::Yogan’s wife casually beckoned him to join their game of dom-jot, but his confusion only paralyzed him further.  He looked at Zenna, heavily pregnant, with suspicion.::

     

    Yalu:  You only found out you were pregnant two weeks ago.  You’re not showing yet.

     

    ::Zenna immediately vanished, as did her anachronistic dom-jot partner. They were replaced by two other figures from Yalu’s past lifetimes, but their faces and names blurred in his memory, and he couldn’t remember which host they belonged to.  Was it Idarro’s favorite aunt?  Or Ethezia’s university professor?  Oled’s best friend?  Or Mavili’s obnoxious neighbor?::

     

    ::His entire life had been devoted to understanding and processing data, but he was unable to make heads or tails of what was unfolding before him.  Unaware that he was dreaming, he was confounded by how flagrantly the universe betrayed the rules of logic and physics.::

     

    ::From the distance, four figures emerged and began walking toward him.  Unlike the flurry of relatives and business associates that had been milling about, Yogan had no trouble recognizing this quartet.  They were his symbiont’s previous hosts.  The four people who, despite having lived in different times, he knew better than anyone else.  The four people with whom he, someday, would exist alongside, within a new host.  As they neared, he felt their collective presence, which triggered his own sense of inferiority.  They were great, he was average.  They were worthy of the gift of joining, he was not.::

     

    ::They closed the distance and stood before him, side by side.::

     

    Hosts:  You still have much to learn.

     

    Lt Cmdr Yogan Yalu

    Starfleet Intelligence Data Cruncher

    Deep Space 26

     

    as simmed by

     
     

    Lt Cmdr Didrik Stennes

    Lead Counselor

    USS Blackwell NCC-58999

    Justin

    D238804DS0

    FNS Contributor

    "There is but little need to spend time with foolish diversions for time flies away so swiftly by itself; and, when once gone, is never to be recalled."

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