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Brek

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Brek last won the day on July 26 2014

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About Brek

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    Diplomacy is thinking twice before saying nothing.

Fleet information

  • Current Vessel
    USS Columbia
  • Current Post
    C.O.

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  1. i'm not sure what I prefer: the cold stare of the Counselor or the Klingon-werewolf (with an hair style that seems to come from the 80's) ^^
  2. I'll go with the simplistic 'resistance is futile', which I also use in rl .
  3. I like red for command, and since I'm here, I also very much prefer white for diplomacy. Purple makes me think of religion...
  4. I'd watch Spock anywhere. But I chose a scifi series that I actually watched from beginning to end (Bab 5).
  5. Aigle, I have always been impressed by people who can say anything at all in Welsh . Just the look of those words seem rather alien to me ;p. And I'm reminded of the name of that charming village: Llanfair­pwllgwyngyll­gogery­chwyrn­drobwll­llan­tysilio­gogo­goch....
  6. I often do that myself, start a phrase in one language et la terminer dans une autre langue... go figure ;p. I'd also choose Rihannsu, since Columbia is often traveling to Romulan territory.
  7. ((Hemix - The Island - Plains)) :: Tyler had been doing his best to reassure the shaken Security crewman. He wanted to assuage her guilt, but more than that, he needed Tula to be firing on all cylinders if they ran into trouble again. Tula had somehow managed to keep her pack and Tyler was greedily adding it's contents to their inventory when he heard Whittaker call out to Ezo:: Whittaker: “Mirra?” ::Tyler turned to see the young doctor staring into the trees, a troubled look playing across her face.:: Ezo: ::quietly to Tyler:: Sir...I- :: She trailed off just as Tyler's eyes found the spot she was focused on. The sun was completely down at this point, and whatever she was staring at was lost in the dense foliage. He was just about to turn back to the supplies, when he heard a primal roar and everything changed. In his mind Tyler was trying to process the situation, but it was all happening at lightning speed. Emerging silently from the trees, the monstrous form of Nugra was barreling down on him with teeth bared. The Gorn moved with impossible speed and Tyler had barely gotten a hand on his phaser when he was within striking distance. Bracing himself for contact, he watched his worst nightmare unfold.:: Ezo: ::darting out:: NO!! ::It was immediately clear to Tyler that Nugra was targeting him specifically, but in all of his training he'd never prepared for a situation like this. For just a moment, he hesitated, and in that split-second Mirra threw herself into the path of the rampaging Gorn. Tyler didn't have time to feel bad about that, as he tried to dodge Nugra's attack at the last minute. He was tertiarily aware of Nugra brushing Ezo aside with relative ease, sending the pretty young doctor flying, as he frantically tried to get clear of the Intel Chief's reach. Mirra's sacrifice had cost Nugra a bit of critical momentum and when he finally arrived at Tyler's position, he was almost out of the way. Almost. The Gorn's clawed arms extended as far as they could, desperately reaching for his escaping prey. Tyler felt streaks of fire on his face, starting somewhere above the eyebrow and dragging down through his cheek. Knocked off balance and blinded by blood that flowed freely into his eyes, Tyler felt the full 350 pound weight of the massive lizard on top of him, sending him crashing to the ground. Tyler raised his hands, desperately trying to fend off the Gorn's claws as they tore at his chest. The security EV suit was more heavily armored than the others, but he knew it couldn't stand up to the terrible claws for too long.:: Whittaker: “NO!” ::Struggling and grunting as he attempted to stop his superior officer from ripping the rest of his face off, Tyler felt himself losing strength. A pain in his ribs told him that at least one of the claws had punctured his armor, his jaw throbbed from one of the beasts vicious strikes, and he was dizzy from his already concussed head hitting the ground. Nearby he saw the prone form of Ensign Ezo, apparently trying to apply pressure to her injuries and was overcome with a feeling of hopelessness. He had failed her just like he'd failed Roland and Lewis and soon he'd fail himself. In what he knew would be his last moments, all he could think about was how different things could've been if he had just trained a little harder.:: Kelly: oO I'm sorry...Oo ::Suddenly a bright orange light bathed the scene and a phaser beam leapt out to strike Nugra, offering Tyler a momentary reprieve from his savage attack. Summoning the last of his strength, Tyler tried to crawl away but the Gorn was just too heavy and he was pinned. As the Gorn howled, Tyler saw the source of the phaser blast take a step closer, ratcheting up the intensity of the next attack. Another stream of phased energy struck Nugra, this time with enough power to force him to turn away from Tyler and face the Engineer. He wanted to help, to grab a phaser and come to their rescue but all he could manage was a raspy groan. Completely drained of energy, bruised and bleeding in 20 different places and dizzy from head trauma, Tyler's world faded from view just as he heard Theo take one final shot.:: ::Darkness:: TBC LtCmdr. Tyler Kelly Chief Security Officer USS Columbia O238811CD0
  8. I discovered Earl Tea Grey while watching TNG, and these days I have it once a week. Other than that I also drink coffee (and trying not to over do it), and all sorts of herbal/fruit teas, my favorite being one made with grapefruit.
  9. Made in France

  10. ((Bio-hazard Ward, Sickbay, Deck 12, USS Columbia)) :: Only minutes has passed since Ensigns Ezo and Oori had left Theo to himself, although it felt considerably longer to the injured engineer. He detested having nothing to do, preferring to keep himself busy in the minutiae of his life. Now, he was forced to lie there, unable to offer any meaningful assistance during the crisis the Columbia found itself in. It didn't take that long for him to start mulling over the events of the day, even though Theo knew that his propensity for over-thinking and second guessing himself could be dangerous :: Whittaker: oO An open Jeffries Tube hatch is a security violation. Why on earth did I not call Tatash? Oo :: A small voice at the back of his head, one he suspected was the more rational area of his mind, told him that the Gorn would have been impressed if he or one of his officers had been called to investigate what could have been an innocent mistake on the part of a technician. But then again, there was no repair work to scheduled to be carried out in that junction or anywhere near it. So yes- he should have called Tatash. He thought of his mother, Madeline, serving on the U.S.S. Orb Of Prophecy as its captain. He doubted that she would have been so stupid. Then again, she had given one piece of advice that he had remembered... :: ((Captain Madeline Whittaker's Quarters, Deck 3, USS Sparrow, Sector 005)) :: Theo had been living aboard the small Miranda-Class ship for three months, ever since that fateful last encounter with his father. His mother had made provisions with her sector commander to allow the 17 year old live with her for six months before he left to join Starfleet Academy. He was sat at the dining table looking out at the ocean of stars beyond as the ship cruised towards its current destination, Lembatta Prime. His mother crossed the room from the replicator and set a plate down in front of him. Sushi. He looked up at his mother :: T. Whittaker: Mother! M. Whittaker: Theo, don't start! Just eat it! T. Whittaker: But- M. Whittaker: :: dangerously :: Theo Michaelangelo Whittaker! :: Knowing that in defying his mother was a futile endeavour, he looked down at the unappetising balls of rice, spice and raw fish and grimaced. He had never enjoyed the Japanese meal, but his mother insisted that he healthily if he was to take his controversial decision to join Starfleet seriously. He stabbed one of the balls of fish and rice with his fork and ate it, swallowing it with a wince. Raw fish was not something he ever wanted to eat. Watching him closely, his mother sat down and began to eat her own, similar meal:: M. Whittaker: :: gently, as though tiptoeing around the words :: I spoke to your father today. :: Why she insisted on talking about the man that had turned his back on his only child six months ago, Theo would never understand. Both of them had made it clear that didn't want to discuss the other, but his mother did it anyway. He studiously looked at his sushi, intent on choosing the next morsel of food to 'devour'. He prodded one of them, coated in a slimy silver coating :: T. Whittaker: What's this? M. Whittaker: Andorian thrasskel- and don't change the subject. Your father asked after you. :: Theo scoffed. He very much doubted it. It had been six months and to Theo, his father had made his bed and was determined to live with it. He had expected his son to follow him into academia without giving a thought that Theo might not want to. When he had told his father he had wanted to become a Starfleet officer like his mother, their already barely existent relationship collapsed entirely, both disowning the other. After a lifetime of Josiah's impossibly high expectations and fierce arguments, Theo had had enough. He said nothing to his mother's probable lie :: M. Whittaker: :: imploring :: He misses you. :: Theo couldn't stop himself from scoffing. That was one falsehood too far. :: M. Whittaker: Oh come on Theo. Your father doesn't agree with you joining Starfleet, but he still loves you. T. Whittaker: :: he put his fork down with a clatter and looked at his mother :: No he doesn't. He doesn't love the son that wouldn't do as he said all the time and wanted to follow his own goals. :: His mother set her own cutlery down and looked out of the window, clearly wounded by the bite of her son's words. She had broached the subject of their estrangement several times and the response was the same. Theo thought that by now she would have gotten the hint and that she would stop. Evidently, this wasn't the case. After several long seconds, the elder Whittaker looked back at her son, her face utterly impassive. A Vulcan-like stoicism had fallen :: M. Whittaker: Fine. :: Her tone was final. She had brought an end to the conversation. Maybe then, she was starting to get the hint. But now, it was replaced by an unbearable silence that persisted through their shared meal. Theo tried several times to think of something to break the ice, but he couldn't. His mother never once lifted her head, focusing instead on eating. When they had both finished, she silently collected the plates and put them on the replicator pad, which dissolved them back into energy. She went and sat in a chair near the window and looked out of it again. Theo turned to look at her, starting to feel a pang of guilt for causing his mother upset :: M. Whittaker: :: sharply :: You have your security training exam with Lieutenant Mag tomorrow. T. Whittaker: Yes I know. Do you.... :: he still didn't have a good idea what to say, but knowing his mother had been Sparrow's chief of security before, he simply finished with- :: have any advice? M. Whittaker: Revise. Mag is not the easiest men to impress. :: Theo already knew that of course. The Tellarite was called 'The Slavedriver' by his subordinates and was infamous for his unannounced security drills and inspections. Theo didn't particularly like the squat little alien, but at the same time- he didn't dislike him as much as other aboard the patrol ship. Before he could reply, his mother continued :: M. Whittaker: I know you want to be an engineer, but security is an important part of a functioning starship. There is a saying that 'risk is our business' as Starfleet officers, and it's true. We put ourselves at risk every day we put on this uniform. The trick is to know how much risk to put yourself in. T. Whittaker: :: intrigued :: How you work that out? M. Whittaker: That... comes from experience. Trust me, I found that out when I was an ensign. T. Whittaker: What happened? :: She seemed to soften, her anger and hurt melting away as she turned to look at Theo. :: M. Whittaker: I was part of an away team that boarded an Andorian smuggling ship we caught attempt to flee Outpost Ganzera. I was sent to sweep the lower deck, looking for contraband. I'd almost finished when I caught one of the smugglers attempting to get at the stash. I thought I could take him alone, but I didn't realise he had an accomplice who was behind her. He knocked me out and they got away with it. It didn't even occur to me to call for backup. :: Theo mused that his mother must of learnt from that mistake since she was so fastidious. She paused in her story, as if recalling the event again :: M. Whittaker: When I came around in the sickbay an hour later or so, I beat myself up for not following regulations and not thinking before I rushed in where angels fear to tread. My CO came to see me a couple of days later and I apologised profusely for being an idiot and he told me that all young officers will make a mistake at some point. As long as we learn from it, it can be forgiven. :: Theo listened to the words and pondered them, never realising that this conversation would directly impact him one day :: ((Bio-hazard Ward, Sickbay, Deck 12, USS Columbia)) :: Pulling himself back into the present and back into the sterile room, Theo found comfort that his mother had found herself in a similar situation at the start of her career. While he didn't know Brek or Captain Livingston nearly as much as he would live, given that he was apparently senior staff (a notion that still perplexed him), he hoped they handled his... lapse with the same grace and gentleness that his mother's old CO appeared to have done. At least now he knew that he was not alone in his predicament. :: Whittaker: oO Like mother, like son Oo Lieutenant (J.G) Theo Whittaker Engineering Officer USS Columbia NCC 85279
  11. I'd have to choose Picard too. Besides, as a bonus there would be free bottles of Château Picard, which for a Brek is most excellent ^^.
  12. Marseille's Poolroom for Brek. There would be a nice 'foreign' atmosphere there, and since Brek is french-powered, he would be made to feel at home ^^.
  13. ((SB118 Holodeck)) ::As the holographic sun started to set the picnic wound down and perhaps to no real surprise Tatash found himself stood alone once more. Most of the human’s (or near enough) had departed to locations unknown without offering an invite, Vitor and the Captain had shared a quiet word before going their own separate ways and now it was just him left as the last few attendees departed through the archway. Still, it wasn’t exactly unexpected. Regardless of his performance or personality he was still the proverbial elephant in the room, even with the cheerful apron wrapped around his front he still seemed to be a relic from a prehistoric age in Earths past, a menacing hulking creature who was more alien then most of the other races that served aboard the ship except perhaps for Puddles, but most humanoids seemed to have an affinity for charming furry creatures that didn’t quite extend to grumpy reptiles. Even on Cestus it had taken a long time for people to finally integrate fully and get over these minor prejudices. Despite the Federations almost utopian ideal of collective harmony, it still only truly extended to those that matched the humanoid norm, that combined with hard feelings from Starfleets sad involvement with the Gorn’s civil war was bound to leave him at a disadvantage. His golden eyes scoured the surroundings for anyone else who might be malingering before finally tapping his finger on the arch terminating the program, leaving the holodeck nothing more than a golden gridded box waiting for the next fantasy before stepping out through the door into the large corridor beyond. Activity bustled around him, and for a moment he was reminded of the time he first set eyes upon 118 from a shuttlecraft’s window, this huge blue mushroom seemingly growing larger and larger in the [...]pit glass until finally it seemed so large it couldn’t even possibly exist. It was truly a testament to the best and brightest the quadrant had to offer. More amazingly perhaps was out of the dozens of miles of corridors he knew exactly where he wanted to be as he stepped into the nearest Turbolift. Tatash: Deck 454. Section C. ((Deck 454 – Section C – Right Docking Bay Door Utility/Mechanical) ::The lift certainly moved faster then he was used too, almost leaving his stomach by the holodeck as it rocketed up towards the crown of the station, finally opening the doors with a hiss onto a rather drab looking corridor. It was narrower than the others, and certainly missing the trappings of the more civilian friendly area’s, the lighting dull and the temperature warm enough to make him feel content, which meant for others it would be uncomfortably hot. A single door rested against the wall, which he opened with a quick entry of his security code revealing a smallish room beyond stacked with numerous crates marked a couple of decades ago, if it wasn’t for the stations perfect air scrubbers and filtration he had no doubt the whole area would be covered in dust and the faded murals left on the wall indicated this used to be some sort of small observation lounge from when docking relied on people as well as sensors to watch a ships position. What drew him to it was two things, first was the silence. Outside was nothing but vacuum and several layers of fireproofing meant that any noise from the dense machinery behind the walls that opened and closed the monstrous shipyard doors was muted. Secondly, was the breath taking view the slightly dirty window offered. A sweeping panoramic of the main docking bay designed specifically to give a view of anyone entering or leaving. He could see the Columbia being attended by the tiny little yellow worker bees, swarming around her with new hull plates and cabling as they repaired the vicious looking damage done to her by the Ferengi, with a few even giving the hull a fresh coat of paint. He had no doubt she’d be as good as new by the time they returned, but she was dwarfed by some of the other ships. Odyssey, Vesta and Sovereign Classes gracefully moored like beautiful tropical fish floating in a pool, their sleek lines and elongated, elegant nacelles contrasting to the squat and ugly appearance of the older Nebula class. He felt just like the Columbia must feel in that docking bay. The old workhorse, who may not be as pretty as her newer cousins, maybe not as fast or as durable or packed with the latest wizardry and gismos, but she has it where it counts. That’s what he had too, idly thumbing the new pip attached to his collar as he gazed across the docking bay before tugging out the silver flask Gavin had given him earlier at the reception.:: Tatash: Here’s to us, Columbia. ::He took a swig of the strong smelling liquid, immediately wincing as it fought back. Synthahol never quite managed to get it right, never gave that same bite in the throat as the genuine article. Nor did it have the same fire or after-taste, the same history of every grain distilled in the process. The sensation was almost overwhelming, and he had no doubt he’d have to hold his breath before going past any security checkpoint as it lingered on his pallet. But for this moment, it was the perfect accompaniment to a lonely moment of contemplation.:: --- Lt. JG Tatash Security Officer USS Columbia
  14. Brek

    Best Friends

    Definitely Christina the tarantula for me . I find spiders fascinating, and I love to take pictures of them. This said, there are no big spiders where I live, just the run-of-the-mill orb-weaver spiders and the nursery spiders.
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