Yalu

@Talos Dakora@TalosDakora

@Kali Nicholotti made a full recovery from her death.

Great stuff here, @Ulasso!

Hoo Hoo Hooray! Congratulations and welcome to the fleet. It was a pleasure getting to write with you in the Academy this week. Now get on out there and have some fun! 😊

Yogan Yalu descended the grand staircase and entered the main awards hall six hours early. Confident that he wasn't going to be late, he proceeded to assist the staff in putting out the centerpieces dressed in a classic black tuxedo designed by Vulcan textile historian T'Pantz. Completing his look was a Bajoran silk bowtie by infamous D'jarra holdout Raunda Kollur, a patterned pocket square by Andorian allergist Onleefur sh'Neezin, and imitation eyeglasses by the only optician ever involuntarily dismissed from the Trill Science Ministry, Dr. Yucansi Jusfyne.

For as long as Humans have been domesticating animals, they’ve been keeping certain types of them as companions. Archeological evidence indicates Humans have had pet dogs for at least 12,000 years. Ancient Greeks and Romans openly grieved over the loss of their pets. The emergence of the middle class in 19th century Britain transformed pets from a decorative symbol of status into an integral part of the family. In the 20th and 21st century, pet rocks, virtual keychain pets, and robotic pets have become budget-, space-, and time-friendly companions for many. A ubiquitous part of the Human experience to date, pet ownership is also well represented in the Trek future, with Vulcans, Klingons, Betazoids, Cardassians, and other species known to keep pets. Some of the most familiar pets to Trek fans include Livingston, the lionfish that lived in Jean-Luc Picard’s ready room aboard the Enterprise-D; Porthos, Jonathan Archer’s pet beagle; and Spot, Data’s notoriously untrainable cat. While these three have received by far the most screen time, pet appearances and references can be found all over Trek. When Liam Bilby faced certain death at the hands of the Orion Syndicate, Miles O’Brien promised to care for his cat Chester. Even after four years in the Delta Quadrant, Kathryn Janeway was comforted to learn that her former fiancé had found homes for her Irish Setter Mollie’s entire litter of puppies. Lwaxana Troi held her pet vine in such esteem that she brought it to her daughter’s engagement banquet. And a newlywed General Martok lost his beloved pet targ to the call of Kahless when his bride “accidentally” left the front door open as she moved into his house. While Trek pets are often portrayed as treasured companions, the connotation is not always so benign. Q once derogatorily referred to Neelix as Janeway’s “pet Talaxian,” turning the word into a slur. Jadzia Dax, upon seeing a palukoo for the first time, guessed that Bajoran resistance fighters kept them as pets and sang songs about them around the campfire. Given the desperate circumstances of the Cardassian occupation, Kira Nerys perhaps unsurprisingly shattered Dax’s misconception by correcting, “No, we used to eat them.”

Woohoo! Congratulations and welcome!

As this Life magazine cover from June 1997 says, the Titanic disaster re-emerged from the pages of history and captured the public consciousness throughout the mid-1990s, culminating in the release of the blockbuster film we all know and love in December 1997. In the Voyager episode Year of Hell, Tom Paris designs transverse bulkheads to protect the ship from a Krenim attack, with Titanic's watertight bulkheads as inspiration. Given that this episode and the film were released only 5 weeks apart, it seems as though Voyager's writers might have had a little "Titanic fever" themselves.

Wahoo! 🥳 It was great writing with you in the Academy this week. Congratulations, welcome to the fleet, and have a blast!

Love this! Napkin Math sounds like an NPC name I'd have come up with.

Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. @Etan Iljor’s moral conundrum is a wonderful glimpse into Trek at its finest. I really enjoyed this one.

@Addison MacKenzie The fact that a GIF exists of this makes it even better.

@Genkos Adea I love this guy.

I love the denouement part of a mission when writers can get contemplative about the experiences their characters have just gone through. @Lt Aine Olive Sherlock has done a great job here of blending recent events with the character's backstory and putting a satisfying conclusion to Sherlock's undercover ordeal on a pre-warp planet. Nicely done, Jared! ((Room 04-0201 (Sherlock's Quarters), USS Excalibur-A)) It had been some hours since Aine was transported back to the Excalibur unexpectedly. Unless that concussion lasted longer than she thought, it definitely hadn't been three months. Which could only have meant one thing: the crew left on the Excalibur discovered the same thing they had down on Demes II. She'd given her debrief, but as happens, was told nothing in return. And she would know nothing until the official reports were filed. They'd found the Betazoid and learned he'd been there for many years. That the Admiral was responsible for that too. He was a pawn in some twisted game, they all were. There were many things that happened on Demes II that Aine was not proud of. From the word go, her faith in the Prime Directive felt violated. And some of her less proud moments did the same. She wondered if there would be repercussions for her, for the Commodore, for the rest of the teams on Demes II. It didn't matter. Whether they came or not, the questions would. And her answers wouldn't change one way or the other. She would stand by her choices. The blue tint of her skin and facial markings of the Demesians were long gone. The furs she wore, soaked by an unfortunate response from the Cleric, were turned in to be reclaimed by the ship's replicators. Save for one piece. The knife she'd replicated based on Dr. Boeschg's research. It wasn't an actual Demesian artifact, but it would serve as a reminder for the experience. A reminder of what Starfleet is, or should be, were it not for people like Admiral Regillensis. Maybe she'd even take Doctor Adea, Genkos, advice and put it on display in her office. It would be a good start. Back in her quarters, she'd gotten cleaned up. It was nice to finally have tea that didn't taste like the mats in the Security Departments training center. Last leave, she was able to work out a replicator recipe for her favorite tea. It had previously only existed on the Resolution. And since she never uploaded it to a starbase for the Federation database, it disappeared with the ship. The warmth and bitterness offset ever so slightly by the sweetness of the milk, felt like home. Much like the hum of the deckplates below her bare feet. She stood, cupping the mug of tea, wearing nothing but the thick robe that some would describe as pink but she liked to think of as "light salmon," staring out the transparent aluminum windows of her quarters. The starboard side of the ship offered no view of Demes II, just a slightly hazy from the reflective glow of the planet view of the night sky as the Demesians would see it come nightfall. The Demesians. She took a long slow sip of her tea, ignoring the slight burn. It was nothing compared to the "burn" on Demes II. The burn that will be the inevitable. The damage is done to Demes II. And she knew there'd be talks about pulling up all the Federation equipment. Whether left or taken, Demes II would be in chaos. She knew there would be those who weren't there talking about the Prime Directive. To her, there was only one answer: help them. Allow those who want to move forward, move forward. Allow those who want to keep the old ways, keep them. She thought about her own home, not her now home the Excalibur, but Ireland. Ballinaclashett was a small village. Farmers. And just down the way, fisherman. There wasn't a hover transport to be found. Nary a replicator in any house. Farming equipment was the one exception. Just four hours walk north, and you hit the city of Cork's shuttleport. Cork itself, a modernized city. Tall buildings of white aluminum and reflective golden glass rise among the ancient buildings below. Having both wasn't impossible. But she knew the Federation probably wouldn't see it that way. And they wouldn't listen to a lowly Lieutenant who was in Security. It was a part of the job they'd studied. Past cases. Cases that helped to establish the rules and regulations. Maybe Demes II would be that way one day, maybe not. She just hoped the ego that was what Starfleet could be, was put to the side, just once for the Demesians were mere victims. Looking out the windows, she focused on one star as she sipped her tea. She imagined it was Sol, though she couldn't be sure where it actually was. Her mind sped towards it, past the rings of Saturn, through the asteroid belt, onto Earth, ending on the still mostly green isle. Her shoulders suddenly slumped and she set the mug and what little was left of the contents down on the table in the living room. If someone asked, she'd say she was just tired. But it was so much more. There was anger, for the Admiral. Sadness for the Demesians. Disappointment in what she'd come to believe and been taught. And even through it all, hope. Hope that the right thing would be done. Sherlock: Computer... The familiar chime that was sometimes an annoyance was a welcome sound. Sherlock: Lights. End Lieutenant Aine Sherlock Chief of Security USS Excalibur NCC-41903-A R239712AS0

@Addison MacKenzie M.D., Ph.D., FASFS

I'll put in an order for one of these t-shirts.

Crazy Mary's Discount Emporium. "She's clinically insane for savings."

I am always in awe of @Karrod Niac's character work, worldbuilding, and knack for picking up breadcrumbs from throughout a mission and tying them together. Here, we got all three. Cracking sim, Brian. ((Village Centre near The Barn, Yanthi Village)) Lower Cleric Ulst Rekaa had been greatly troubled of late and had not felt the warmth of the Ember as she had in days gone past. Ever since the thunderous calamity outside the Emberhearth some weeks earlier and the sudden invasion of the injured strangers, something had disquieted her to the point of intense distraction. She'd twice lost her place during the daily litany and the Upper Cleric had spoken of their surprise and disappointment with her waning attention to her duties but she could not purify her mind. To make matters worse rumors, the ever present currency of the city, were swirling around numerous strange events and odd sightings. Strangers moving through the nights, figures skulking by windows and on roof tops, odd questions being asked by even odder people. Ulst sat in the center of this maelstrom of rumor and gossip and with each new tidbit, her memory turned back to the foreign strangers. After yet another sleepless night and a desperate prostration before the Ember, she turned to the skraats of the Morality Patrol. She had gone to them and they had heard truth in her tale of potentially dangerous foreign strangers. Now, flanked by two of the stoutest patrollers and wearing an expression she reserved for those fallen from the Flame she found herself confronting those very same strangers, slithering their way towards a large barn. The patrollers hailed the strangers with pious authority that brought them to an immediate and fearful halt. Arcah: Rekaa, are these the ones you encountered? Ulst looked from one ashen face to the other most carefully, remembering well the strangeness of each. Though they looked like many in the city there was an unnatural quality to them which made her flinch away if she stared too long into their eyes. Rekaa: Yes, I swear it by the Ember. Arcah: And do you think they are the ones bringing change to our world? ::she pursed her lips:: Think… carefully… before you answer. Ulst hesitated, the weight of the moment apparent. She knew strangeness abounded in Yanthi and something was threatening the good people of the city and could not shake the sense that somehow, these odd folk were involved. But yet, she had nothing but that vague disquieted sense. Doubt manifested where she had been so confident earlier. Rekaa: ....I'm...I'm not certain they bring the change...but they are of a strangeness beyond any I've known. By the Ember, I swear there is something heretical about them. There was a terrible moment as the skraats considered her words and evaluated the strangers for themselves. Arcah: Well then… ::she turned to mass behind her:: Seize them! Gnaxac: Uh-oh… Nicholotti: Lieutenant! Jolara/Tiberius: response What happened next was a horror beyond any she'd ever imagined before and Ulst stood stunned as the entirety of the Patrol was struck low around her. The violence was so swift, so savage, and of a kind beyond any knowing. The woman who had claimed divinity, who herself had Embraced the Ember with Ulst's guidance, had used those same sanctified hands to assail men twice her size in moments. But that was far from the worst of it. The strangers called forth the very spirit of Fire to aid them in their dark designs. Crimson bolts lashed out, tumbling men to the ground as if they'd been poleaxed, strange burns on their clothes and skin already mottling. Ulst fell to her knees and wailed for salvation from the impossibly supernatural. Sherlock: Threats clear! Everyone alright? Gnaxac: ::with a shaky grin:: S-s-s-smashing. Jolara/Tiberius: Responses? Ulst rocked back and forth on her knees, in shock and terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought. The wraiths she had angered hadn't seen fit to let her pass mercifully with the others and instead turned their hungry attention towards her. Their eyes shone with a horrible glint and Ulst could not believe she had ever been tricked into thinking these things were merely lost strangers. Nicholotti: Look, we are not what you're thinking. If you trust the Ember, have faith... With a combination of terror and furious instinct driving her Ulst swung her arm and slapped the woman full in the face as hard as her frail arm could. Rekaa: Daemons! Heretics! Murderers! Strike me dead but I will not hear your foul tongue speak of the Sanctified Ember when you have wrought such horrors this night! The woman, or whatever it was that wore the skin of a woman, recoiled from the blow and looked to the carnage they had wrought. When her face turned back it seemed...apologetic, as if the casual slaughter were a trivial affair barely worth notice. Ulst felt a deep coldness within her very soul. Nicholotti: They are just asleep. They will wake up soon with nothing more than a headache. Ulst hissed and spat. Rekaa: You lie! I saw you call upon elemental fire to strike them dead! Ty'sen ::Ulst nodded to the largest of the skraats just a few hands to her side:: was a champion brawler before he embraced the Ember! He was never once felled by an opponent and you did so in moments! Why!? Why have you brought this evil down upon us? Do we not suffer enough?! Ulst's terror was growing into something approaching hysteria. She tried to recite the litany of the Ember but the words would not come. Sherlock: It's true. We're not here to hurt anyone. In fact, Cleric, I think we all have the same goal. Gnaxac: ::curiously:: W-w-we do? ::then he cottoned on, and nodded enthusiastically:: We do! Jolara/Tiberius: Responses? The absurdity of their words combined with the sickening terror and Ulst heard herself laughing before she even realized she was doing it. It was a sick, hysterical chitter. Some lucid part of her mind wondered if she was going mad. Rekaa: What? How could you possibly confuse your foul designs with my duties. I serve the people...the same you so blithely assault for reasons beyond my ken. Sherlock: It's clear you know there are some on your planet that come from other worlds. We come from another world. The difference between us and them is we came here to stop them. We came here to help you. The words collided with her like a great wave and Ulst was left thunderstruck, uncertain of how to respond. She have never conceived that there was anything beyond the stone and soil beneath her feet. To learn, so abruptly, that all she knew was nothing came as something of a shock. She looked at the woman speaking, tried to mouth words, found none, and vomited. Several times. It was a few retching minutes before she pulled herself together but somehow the act had made her feel better. Looking at the state of the woman's clothing who had spoken to her, Ulst felt suddenly embarrassed and apologetic. Rekaa: Sorry...about your cloak...you may be daemons...but none deserve spew upon them. Ulst rocked back from her knees and sat on the cold stone, curling into as small a figure as she could. Her voice became small. Rekaa: Worlds? Daemon invaders here among us? Has the frost taken my senses and cursed me to madness? Gnaxac: H-h-hard to believe as that is with a bunch of unc-c-c-conscious people around you, I know. Nicholotti/Sherlock/Jolara/Tiberius: Response Rekaa: I can't...how...you're not of Demes? Not of our people? But you look...sound...I don't understand....::Ulst shook her head and sighed deeply.:: I don't understand anything anymore. Ember protect me, I am lost in the wilderness without flame. Gnaxac: W-w-what can we do to convince you? Nicholotti/Sherlock/Jolara/Tiberius: Response Ulst looked to each, trying to find the sure and certain signs of deception but found none. Whatever these things were they could've had her dead or worse a dozen times over already and, considering the foul smelling state of one's cloak, had reason enough. But yet they seemed concerned for her. Their words were strange but their voices were calm and full of patience. Rekaa: Your names. Your true names. Not these...figments you shroud yourselves with. I would know at least the names of those who had damned me so. Nicholotti/Sherlock/Jolara/Tiberius: Response Ulst nodded and tried to compose herself fractionally. Some of the litany was reforming in her mind and the heat in her breast was returning slowly. Rekaa: You claim to serve this world...that you wish to help...how? Is that what you brought you to this place? She pointed a shaky finger towards the barn. Nicholotti/Sherlock/Jolara/Tiberius: Response Rekaa: I am a servant of the Ember so long as I draw breath. If there is a taint of evil here I will see it gone...whatever shape it takes. I will follow and judge your divinity for myself. Nicholotti/Sherlock/Jolara/Tiberius: Response Tags/TBC! ======================================== Ulst Rekaa Lesser Cleric of the Yanthi Emberhearth V239509GT0

I really liked the range of Yalu-thoughts here: From @Kali Nicholotti And simultaneously, from @Genkos Adea

Woohoo! @Wyatt Ral, it was a pleasure simming with you in the Academy. Congratulations and welcome to the Fleet!

I was coming here to do the same! Great sim, @Genkos Adea @Kali Nicholotti!

Woohoo, congratulations! Great work in the Academy this week. It was fun writing with you. Have a blast out in space!

AKM 101: Introduction to Addison MacKenzie, M.D., Ph.D., FASFS

Woohoo! Congratulations @Karl Muller and @Connor Dewitt! It was a pleasure writing with you in the Academy this week. Welcome to the fleet. Hope you have a blast here!

@Hallia Yellir, ex-science officer, now chief engineer, cracking me up.