June 15 is the 25th anniversary of our community's founding in 1994.
Join our celebratory thread to tell us what you love about our community, what you've learned as a member, or what keeps you here! 🎉🎊
Greetings I'm Belinda. I currently live in Dallas. I work as a Labor & Delivery nurse. I take care of the mommas, not the babies. (And sometimes the fathers/BFFs/grandmas/sisters if they get out of hand. We joke our job is at least 1/4 security.) It has been about a decade since I have been active as a Trek writer, but I greatly enjoy collaborative writing. I found SB118 through a google search for starbase images. Go figure Have a terrific Sunday!
To: email@example.com Subject: Cadet Tanneth Lyre, M.D. - Arrival at Starbase 118 Message Body: (( Commercial Sector, StarBase 118 )) ::The sensation of being a very small fish in an enormous ocean affected different people in different ways. For Dr. Tanneth Lyre, the press of minds engaged her mental defenses so solidly that she might as well be a Ferengi instead of descended from Betazed on her mother's side and Vulcan on her father's. It was not merely psychic defenses that were on red alert either. The 5'4" slightly-built counselor stood with her back against a storefront window, her left arm snaked around her ribs as if she were hugging herself. The noisy crowd seemed to pulse around her, some hurrying, some deep in conversation as they strolled. Some were even gazing about as if actually *trying* to drink it all in instead of trying to push it all away. For the next week or so, until she was assigned to her first real posting in the fleet, she and her classmates would be tourists on this galactic beehive. 'I do belong here,' she reminded herself with a barely perceptible hardening of her delicate features. Having pursued an undergraduate degree in Health Sciences, then medical school and internship before joining StarFleet, Tanneth was a decade older than many of the young cadets that had made the journey with her. However, her size and lineage belied her chronological age; and in fact, more people were surprised that she was 32 than were surprised she was a cadet. The suppression of her Betazoid features tended to enhance her Vulcan discipline. It was relatively easy to lose herself as she analyzed each group of people in the wandering mob, allowing her training as an observer notice the gestures that gave clues to their immediate pursuits and relationships. Two women walking together drew her interest. The younger was immaculately dressed, her older companion in a comfortable, well-worn jumpsuit. They positioned themselves closer than casual friends usually would, and as Tanneth fell into step behind them, she noticed that their gaits were extremely similar. Mother and daughter then, she speculated. The daughter appeared taller, but was also wearing high-heeled boots. She also seemed to be doing most of the talking and almost all of the gesturing. Perhaps familiarizing her mother with the shopping center? Some minutes later the twosome and their observer came to an establishment boasting hair and skin treatments from over one-hundred worlds. The glass front gave window to a mirrored interior broken by fabricated stone and animal hide furnishings. The lighting was multidimensional, with pot lights bringing objects d'art into stark focus, and hidden light sources ensuring that every reflection was indirectly but perfectly illuminated. The two women spoke to a garishly dressed young man and took a seat. Without consciously intending to the curious blue-clad cadet had followed them inside, drawing the gregarious receptionist's attention. Receptionist: Ah! The fresh meat has arrived. ::Tanneth's head tilted as she tried to mesh his friendly tone to his words, which she had in the past heard delivered with sarcasm or derision. Unable to decide if he was truly glad to see her she chose to remain silent, forcing him to address her again or ignore her. If possible, he seemed to grow even more friendly as he glanced at his terminal.:: Receptionist: You report in at 1500, right? We have just enough time to tidy you up a bit after your journey. Want to be perfect for your first impression, I'm sure. ::Unaware until that moment that she was less than perfectly groomed, Dr. Lyre turned toward her reflection, her hand automatically going toward her hair. It was still smoothed neatly into a French twist. Her make up looked as freshly applied as it had just when checked it before disembarking the transport.:: Receptionist: We'll start with your hair. A wash and trim to start? ::When she turned her attention back to the receptionist a young woman came from the back and called the mother and daughter back. Recalled to her earlier investigation, Tanneth agreed to the personal services.:: ::Two hours later she walked out of the 118 Salon, chocolate brown hair washed, trimmed, and set into large soft curls hanging down her back in a style she would never bother arranging for herself. Though still uncertain, she had decided to take the flamboyant stylist's word for it that the 'softer' look was the correct impression she wished to make as a fresh StarFleet psychiatrist.:: With half an hour before they were expected to report, she joined the queue of cadets eagerly waiting at near an auspiciously placed vendor. Tag! Anyone. Cadet Tanneth Lyre, M.D. StarBase 118