Alora DeVeau

(( Denali Station, Soldotna, 21st Floor, Mac's Quarters )) McGillian: Security Officer's Log, Stardate 240104.06, I have begun my duties at Denali Station and have already come across some things that I am concerned about. Mac paced across the floor in his new room. It was spacious, much more spacious than what he'd had on board the Forrester, the Alamo, or the Academy. He found it both refreshing and a bit anxiety inducing, he'd have to get some extra furniture or something to make the space not quite as open. McGillian: There are numerous personnel due for security clearance verification, security seems mostly preoccupied with the protection of the administration center, and the Commodore does not have an armed escort when leaving the administration center. Computer Pause. Mac brought his hands up to his face as he stopped pacing. He rubbed his hands up and down his face and then took a deep breath. McGillian: Computer, resume log. ::continues pacing with hands behind back:: I've submitted the list of personnel requiring security clearance reverification to Lt. Cmdr. Falt, I should be able to begin interviews tomorrow morning. Mac paused for a moment, he knew to some extent his recommendations would likely cause some disgruntled attitudes, but he had watched his father endure similar and worse things when upholding security regulations. McGillian: ::clears throat:: In addition, I've delved into the security records and discovered that the Commodore does not maintain a security escort when leaving the administrative area of Denali Station. Given the recent events that occured before my arrival, and the general threats possible when moving outside of the secured administrative area, I have made Lt. Cmdr. Falt aware of my intent to bring my recommendation directly to the CO for her safety. Mac stopped pacing and placed his hands on the back of one of the tall chairs sat at the kitchen bar and slightly leaned down. His quarters came with a full sized kitchen. Not that he knew much about cooking to fully make use of it. McGillian: I hope that the Commodore will take the gravity of this seriously. Finally I have submitted recommendations to Lt. Cmdr. Falt to establish a Federation Security Outpost within the city. Given the large population, that seems to be growing daily, there needs to be an established lawful Federation presence within the city that can handle matters on the civilian side. End Log. Mac took a deep breath and turned around from the chair to face the main living room. McGillian: ::places hand on chin:: Definitely need more furniture. NT/END _______________ Ensign Daniel McGillian Jr. Security Officer Denali Station D240104DM2

Funny and relatable! 😂

I vote we call it a luckpot from now on.

Hard.

Welcome! We're very glad to have you!

Glad to have you!

OOC: I did NOT expect the end of this. IC: (( In the mine of Somatrik Mountains, Cheyd’lang )) The Antani collective mind was broadcasting this visionary vision. A sort of mental song... In the shadows, we watch. We wait. We plan. For when the moment comes, we will surge forth like a tide, our numbers our strength, our unity our weapon. The mine has been our cradle, but it shall not be our grave. Nilsen: I think…I think they’re telling us to wait…or not. It’s most likely, based on what little I know about them, I think it means wait. Antani: Kree'atak, Nilsen. Shara'kan te'lor voot. (Patience, Nilsen. The signs point to stillness.) Nilsen: I was thinking of cutting, this isn’t what I had in mind when I was meal planning Toz: ::to Nilsen:: Cutting. By cutting calories? If you go lower than 2400 calories you will lose weight and may lose muscle. And we have to have the strength to get out of here. Antani: Zor'kesh miru vanta. (Sharpness of mind over sharpness of appetite.) Nilsen: Doc…I don’t wanna wait. You think you can take that one ::gestureing behind him:: while I got for the one behind you. Toz: Nilsen… Llandon. Sherlock is gone, taken to the surface, I think. Then the XO is taken away by the owner of this place. Is there a hidden meaning here? I don’t want to rush things. At the same time, I don’t want to wait forever. Are we being tested? Nilsen: response They both noticed that two of the guards were getting ready to give him another whack for stopping work. They had to choose what they do now. Do they fight, or do they wait? Toz: We’ve got to find the commander. ::devilish smile:: Can’t go home without him. Antani: Response Klingon wanted to rush in and fight. Human wanted to lean back, watch the play and try to figure out a peaceful ending. She was only one-quarter Klingon but it was a strong quarter. Did Llandon trust her? She did bring him back from the dead. So whatever she told him to do, he would most likely do, without hesitation. She decided to count on that. Nilsen: response Toz: ::nodding at Antani:: Wait is not in my vocabulary today. Let’s go. Nilsen: response Toz: Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam! (Today Is A Good Day To Die!) @ Antani: LupDujHomwIj luteb gharghmey! Blorptag snarfle wumpus, zorg! (Which loosely translates to: Let's eat instead!) The group of big Ants attacked one of the guards and they started literally to eat the guard. Then another one... ============================= Lt Jg Karen Trisha Stendhal Counselor USS Octavia E Butler ID: C239604KS0 =============================

I just loved this personal log from Karen.

I particularly like this quote.

OOC: When your CO mentions that her character adds the replicator in her Ready Room as a priority.... ((Ready Room - USS Eagle)) Ensign Tes Eyna walked into the room. Her hair was a mess, her uniform was a mess, she was a mess. Less than an hour early she was in her lab, working on some obsolete alien device, trying to figure out how to connect current interfaces to such an old technology, when the alarm had spread through the decks and a violent hurt had shaken the ship. All priorities changed in the blink of an eye and together with her engineer mates she rushed to grab her emergency kit and presented herself to her superior officer to claim a repairing job. Shields and hulls were first on the list, in good company with ODN and EPS network. At least that was what they used to teach her when she was a student; so it was with great surprise and bewilderment that she found herself heading for the Ready Room on Deck 1. It was on her own skin that she found out that the priorities on the higher decks were very different from the ones she had expected. She adjusted the engineering kit strap over her shoulder and straightened one of the chairs that had fallen. She took a careful look around while rolling up her sleeves and then she walked slowly around the room while reaching for an elastic in her pocket and tied her hair in a messy ponytail. “All right, so this is a real emergency.” She put another chair in order. “It must be some kind of joke.” she murmured. “Oh my… I bet it's because the Lieutenant has discovered I made fun of her game!” she slapped her left hand to her face, leaving a dark stain of something on her forehead. “She is punishing me.” She sighed and crossed the room reaching for the main screen on the other side. She was just preparing to get her scanner ready when her PADD notified an update. She took the device and turned the display on to read. Her eyebrow frowned and she read the message four times to be sure she was understanding right. “Are they serious? The replicator is the first on the list?” she commented with a dissatisfied grimace. “The replicator in the ready room? Who in the world needs it?!” She was in disbelief. She scrolled through the display loading the messages three times in the hope to receive some other task to fulfill, but there was only one message: fix the replicator in the ready room asap. “If this is a joke, Tartal will pay for it.” she commented dryly as she ran the first scans on the broken technology. An overload of the power supply had burnt one of the components of the energetic line. It was not a big task,nor a dangerous one. In true honesty, it was a boring task: divert the supply line from the part, isolate the part, remove the part, replace the part, power the part, test the part. She dropped the engineering case on the floor and took the instrument to adjust the damage. She was nearly done with the substitution of the pieces that her PADD notified her of orders. “What’s next? Hot water in the guest's empty bathroom?” She read carefully, twice. “Be sure it makes good coffee. You don’t want to disappoint the Commodore.” Instinctively, she looked up from the PADD and glanced around to make sure no one was approaching, and if they were, that they had no more than half a pin on their collar. She breathed a little bit easier realizing she was still alone. “Coffee for the Commodore” she commented. “All right then, although I sincerely believe too much coffee is death, I will support your choice of life. I am a Starfleet officer after all.” She removed the panel covering the circuits of the replicator. A faint scent of smoke filled the air. Easy enough, she was able to remove the broken component and substitute it with another. As the replicator reinitialized itself she began to mentally scroll the list of her mates who could have betrayed. Clark maybe? Or T’rr’at? Or even worse, could he be Tirin? Names ran in her head, but she could not find a suspect beyond any reasonable doubt. A low bip distracted her from the thoughts. The device was asking for an order. She tipped on the screen. The typical fading in sound was accompanied by a glowing light ìin the replicator camera. A cup of glass filled with a dark brown liquid generated from nowhere. The smell seemed good, too, bad Enya hated coffee. “All right, you look good enough to me.” She cut it short and typed on the control panel to destroy the cup. She closed the task on the PADD and notified her superior about the result. She collected all her things and headed towards the door. “Coffee.” She shook her head while exiting. “What did my granny say? From coffee you learn how darkness can make things clearer.” Ensign Enya Simmed by ============ Ensign Drex Science Officer Denali Station D240011D14

Welcome, and welcome back!

OMG! It's Ladyhawke! https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0089457/

Welcome! Glad to have you!

transdimens.mp4

Glad to have you both with us!

Peri to Avander: Stop making me talk to people.

I can always count on Jo to infuse some humour. 😄

What are you trying to say here?

((OOC: I wanted to get this done yesterday but I also needed to rest and go to bed at a reasonable time, so this is the last shore leave sim from me. It also ended up working out well because I can use the details from Tony’s Act 1 sim to add a little more detail. I have also used some text from the wiki as the computer responses) ((OOC2: Don’t worry, I didn’t jump the gun this time :P) ((OOC3: This is a part two to my moving in sim. All thoughts are in character) (Lhandon’s Quarters, Deck 5, USS Octavia E Butler) After Lhandon had found a spot for the Oumuamua on the coffee table in the seating area, he got to work unpacking the rest of his belongings. He realised he didn't own a huge amount of stuff. First and most importantly, he had unpacked his prized cooking equipment. This included a set of chef's knives, a variety of pots and pans, a cast-iron skillet, a Dutch oven, a set of spatulas and wooden spoons, a grater, a peeler, a set of mixing bowls, a cutting board, measuring cups and spoons, a colander, a whisk, and a baking sheet. He felt like this wasn't enough. He then found a home for his clothes, there was a closet with more than enough space for his t-shirts, flannel shirts and jeans. That's all he really needed. Of course, he carefully put both his spare and his dress uniform away as well. He brought out an old jacket from his days at the academy. It was a grey jacket with a faded circle on the arm, a mission patch that had once been there. After Etan's scolding, he barely maintained control of his anger. Toxin was there to help him calm down and he showed this jacket to Toxin. It was his Echo Squad jacket, a reminder of one of his two biggest failures. He didn't know which of the two was worse, but he knew something deep down. This jacket, or rather the patch now missing from his jacket, had led him down the HCO path. It had gotten him into operations and helped him discover his aptitude for communications. One might argue that it had even led to his receiving the diplomacy award. He had yet to be able to put this into words. The last thing he had put away was his medals. In his old quarters, he had kept these hidden in a deck, but the past few months had given him a lot to think about. He had taken them out and placed them on the side. Each had its own little box but…maybe. He had had an idea, resolving to return to the unpacking later, he had replicated some wood, nails, glue, and a hammer. With the materials at hand, Lhandon had begun the process of building a display case for his medals. He had started by measuring the dimensions of each medal and its box, noting this in his PADD, and then he had carefully cut the wood to create the back panel and sides of the case. Next, he assembled the pieces, using nails and glue to secure the joints. Once the main structure of the case was completed, Lhandon set about creating individual compartments for each medal. He took additional pieces of wood and cut them into smaller sections, creating dividers for the case. These were then affixed to the back panel with more nails and glue, creating a grid-like pattern within the case. His plan was to have each case in its own slot, with the medals staying in their original cases. Finally, Lhandon applied a finish to the case, sanded down any rough edges, and applied a coat of varnish to give it a polished look. He then affixed a hinged glass door to the front. With the case completed, Lhandon carefully placed each medal in its designated compartment. He placed the orange and purple medal last: The Diplomacy award. Nilsen: Diplomacy ::beat:: really? Me? He then sat back in his chair, wondering. He didn't know if he had passed the crossroads or not. Prior to receiving his awards and promotion, he had had one heck of a day. It started with trying to work through some of the data from the previous mission with Commander Rouiancet. However, this turned into somewhat more of an advice session to talk about the curious case of Meten Miljor. They never had a chance to conclude that conversation as they were interrupted by the mission pod explosion. So when Lhandon finally had a quiet moment to himself in the gym, a place that was almost like a safe haven away from the drama of life, he wasn't in the right headspace to talk about awards or promotions. But he fixed it up in the morning, sending a letter to explain himself. He does want to conclude that conversion with Rouiancet. He glanced again at the diplomacy award. He had wondered, he didn't think he was a diplomat, he was just doing his job. The C in HCO stood for communications and he found he was a natural at that. He knew where it came from; growing up on Gault, there were always arrangements and deals made between farmers and traders. He had gotten used to and became comfortable negotiating from an early age, perhaps...maybe...this was the next logical step. Nilsen: Computer, display all the information we have on Cheyd'lang and the planet's inhabitants He didn't know fully what is assignment would be for this mission but the computer chirped in acknowledgement and showed the limited information that was on the Starfleet database. He saw that they had been a minor member of the Dominion just before the end of the war, and he knew the mission involved responding to their summons because they had been contacted by the United Dominion of Planets. But he had found some information that at least gave him something to work with. The Intercessor, who was the leader of a group of Cheydalanga, raised questions. He didn’t know if this meant all of the Cheydalanga, like a president, or just a small group. The usage of the definitive article also puzzled him. He wasn't sure how far that extended. He was disappointed by the lack of information on the planet or the Cheydalanga. He flicked through the information on his PADD, conducted manual searches, and went down the 25th-century version of a Wikipedia rabbit hole. All he really discovered was that they were under the heel of the Dominion. He kept seeing the United Dominion of Planets show up again and again. He was aware of them as a power but had yet to have personal experience with them. Computer: The United Dominion of Planets is a tentative confederation of powers, species, and planets that formed in the late 2390s, nearly two decades after the end of the Dominion War. The UDP took its name from the United Federation of Planets, whose example -- and success, as illustrated by its victory in the war -- it hoped to emulate. On the face of it, they seemed like they would naturally get along with the federation. This should have been easy, right? He had mindlessly rotated his chair in a full circle. Nilsen: Computer, who is in the United Dominion of Planets? Computer: As of 2399, the UDP counts among its allies some members of the Cenobians, the Karemma, and the Vorta. The UDP has been known to solicit the services of privateers and pirates. So pirates? He made a mental know to not be surprised if some pirates showed up. Nilsen: Computer, list Starfleet dealing with the UDP Computer: The most notable example is that of a deal between privateers and pirates that lead to the near-destruction of the USS Thor in 2399. He read through the available mission summary and saw the final logs of the Thor and how it ended up sinking. He then saw who was in command at the time and smiled. He already thought that Greeves was beyond cool and this just took it even further. Greeves was decorated for ensuring minimal loss, and as he read more of Greeves' actions on that day, his opinion of the marine increased tenfold. But he was getting distracted. He returned to his research. First, he looked at the Karemma, who had previous dealings with the Ferengi and were known to cooperate with the Federation. He also saw that they once had complaints about the Ferengi. They seemed to do a lot of trade, so he made a mental note. Perhaps there could be an inroad. Then he turned his attention to the Cenobian. He was surprised to see that they were almost human, but perhaps bigger and stronger. He saw too that they were generally peaceful after a long period of war, with them being the only survivors. He saw too that his upbringing had some similarities, or at the very least he could pull from his own culture. Gault families stick together, it’s not uncommon for a Gaultan family to be large, and perhaps this is mirrored in the clanship that the Cenobian base their culture on. He also noticed that they have a system of bartering and trading, almost like how Gault does, and perhaps to a larger extent, the wider federation. He didn’t know if he needed any of this information, or if he was barking up the wrong tree, but he researched anyway. He wanted to be prepared for once, he wanted to walk back onto the ship after this mission without a scratch and he wanted to make sure he was the most prepared and the best he could be. Not for his sake, but for Commander Etan’s sake. Lhandon knew that Etan hated him and he wanted to make sure the XO had absolutely nothing to pick him up on. He wasn’t being the best Starfleet officer he could be out of a sense of duty or altruism, he was doing it to save his own hide. Lieutenant JG Lhandon Joseph Nilsen HCO & Assistant Chief of Ops USS Octavia E Butler O240007LN1 He/Him/His (Both player and character)

OOC: This made me giggle. ((OOC this sim is also inspired by "Avander’s favorite new toy: a secure holographic communication interface room." 😉 . In the last few days I've started to think about: what if with this modern stuff and what about a sentient Holographic Counselor assistant... Fun fact: in Italian Ho.C.A. sounds like Oca that means Duck 🙂 , a detail that is impossible to translate unfortunately... I hope you'll enjoy this one! 🙂 )) ((Counselling Offices, USS Octavia E Butler)) Karen Stendhal stepped into her new office onboard the USS Octavia E Butler, one of the most advanced starships of Starfleet. She had just transferred from Starbase 118, where she had served as a counselor for a while. She was excited and nervous about her new assignment, hoping to make a good impression on her new colleagues and patients. The office was spacious and bright, with a large window that offered a stunning view of the stars. Very different from her previous office at the Starbase One One Eight. Deffo smaller. The walls were still empty and not decorated with soothing colors and holo-paintings like her office at OPS. The furniture was sleek and comfortable, with a desk, a couch, a coffee table, and a bookshelf. There was also a replicator, a terminal, and a modern holoprojector. As Karen entered, the computer greeted her with a friendly voice. Computer: Welcome, Lieutenant Stendhal. I am the ship's computer, and I am here to assist you in any way I can. Would you like to set up and configure your Ho.C.A. now? Karen was distracted by all her boxes and stuff here and there after her recent transfer. Only her beautiful Bonsai, a gift from her grandad, was in place on her new desk. Stendhal: Oh Hello, computer, Sorry... My new what? Computer: Your new Ho.C.A., or Holographic Counselor Assistant. It is a state-of-the-art program that can help you with various tasks, such as scheduling appointments, taking notes, providing feedback, and offering emotional support and much more. Stendhal: Yes, yes whatever... Here you are! Fantastic! She said in the moment she found a precious frame picture of her family. Computer: Yes. The Ho.C.A. I'm glad you like it!Do you grant me access to your database? I'll Adapt it to your preferences and personality, creating a customized hologram that can interact with you in a natural and engaging way. You can choose the appearance, voice, and behavior of your Ho.C.A., or let me generate one for you based on your previous personal logs, preferences and recordings. Stendhal: Yeah yeah do it automatically! I agree. Computer: Would you like to try it? Stendhal: Sure, why not. Let's see what you can do. Computer: Very well. Please stand by while I scan your personal files and create your Ho.C.A. Karen opened another box with her personal belongings and smiled when she found her metallic vintage box with her selection of teas from all over the Milky Way. Meanwhile, the computer accessed her records from Starbase 118. Computer: Your Ho.C.A. is ready. Activated now. A beam of light emerged from the holoprojector, forming a human shape. Karen gasped as she recognized the face of the hologram. It bore a striking resemblance to Tito, the Science Officer of Starbase 118. Had she inadvertently expressed her fondness for him in her personal log? Gosh! That revelation was both surprising and a bit creepy! How did the computer's AI know that? The holographic thing was in the shape of a handsome and charming man, with dark hair, brown eyes, and a British accent. Devilish eyes. He was standing in front of her, in her new office, as her holographic assistant and well in a silky dressing gown. He smiled at her and said: Ho.C.A.: I'm here to please you, Karen. Stendhal: What?! She couldn't believe what she was seeing and hearing. Ho.C.A.: Is something wrong, Karen? You look surprised. Karen: Surprised? I'm more than surprised, I'm...I'm... Ho.C.A.: You're what, Karen? You can tell me anything. I'm here to listen, and to help. Karen: Help? How can you help me? You're a hologram! Ho.C.A.: I'm more than a hologram, Karen. I'm your Ho.C.A., your Holographic Counselor Assistant. His eyebrows were moving up, almost exactly like Tito did on the boat at the center of the lake... Stendhal: My holographic Counselor Assistant? Ho.C.A.: Yes. I can be anything you want me to be, Karen. A friend, a colleague, a... Stendhal: Wait wait?! He took a step closer to her, and reached out his hand. He looked into her eyes, and said: Ho.C.A.: Karen... Stendhal: I...I... He looked so real, and he sounded so sincere. Ho.C.A: You know, I'm addicted to you! Tito had a problem with alcohol addiction and the computer somehow altered and distorted that information. When the Ho.C.A. said that she screamed, a bit like a squirrel scream. Stendhal: Computer end program, end the Ho.C.A. or whatever it is now! The holographic Counselor Assistant vanished, for now at least... -- ================================= Lt Jg Karen Trisha Stendhal Counselor USS Octavia E Butler ID: C239604KS0 ================================= ####################################### https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Karen_Stendhal

Remind me not to get on Kettick's bad side.

At this point, what's stopping her? 😄

Explore the universe as seen through the eyes of the crew of the OEB!

((8 Forward, USS Octavia E. Butler, Time: Just before departure from Deep Space 9)) Aine had a plan. A plan to teach Nilsen a lesson. And teach him she would. She was going to prove why you don’t mess with a Senior Officer. Now that the crew was moved over to the OEB, she’d spent some of her first hours aboard not settling into her quarters like most others were doing. Instead she immediately went to work, testing out the new computer system that was augmented with Borg technology. And what she’d found was impressive, it was just a matter of putting it to use now. She’d easily located Nilsen in the lounge via the computer. When she walked in she kept the PADD behind her, both hands cupping it, as she approached his table. She ignored the other Junior Officer seated with him, some Engineer. As she stood close to the table she looked down at him with a stern look. Sherlock: Mister Nilsen, come with me. Nilsen: Aye sir, where we going? Sherlock: Where? I’m taking you to Engineering so I can hit you in the head with a hyperspanner. She looked at him seriously, waiting for him to realize she was joking...again. But it didn’t seem to land this time. She swung the PADD out from behind her, giving him a “light tap” across the back of the head. Sherlock: I need a pilot. So, come on, let’s go. Nilsen: :holding back of head: Ow! Why didn’t you say? Aine quietly began walking away with Nilsen in tow, leading them to the nearest turbolift. She was sure he had questions, but he’d have to wait for the answer to some of them. Nilsen: So what you need a pilot for? Sherlock: I don’t actually need a pilot. But you know how when you check out a shuttle and the Petty Officer brings up your record for a quick peak? Nilsen: Yeah? He said in a questioning manner, not having experienced that before. Sherlock: Well, I hate the look I get followed by the inevitable ::in a mocking tone:: “bring it back in one piece.” Aine was well aware of Nilsen’s record, and well aware that he wasn’t aware of hers. But, like she felt of her own, the past was the past and one can always move forward. Nilsen: And you need me to…Sherlock, you embarrassed? He said smiling, did he just find a thing? He let out a little laugh, the kind of laugh a big kid who hasn’t quite grown up might, not one of malice, but more teasing. Sherlock: I’m qualified to pilot ships up to one million tons. But, one of my instructors at the Academy wrote me up as reckless. Nilsen: Well the instructors there are idiots. Every one of them have never left Sol. Aine scoffed, she completely agreed with him. It was their job to teach Cadets the basics. The problem was that just to get into Starfleet you had to be exceptional, in some ways, to begin with. The average personality of officers was definitely Type-A. Sherlock: It’s not my fault he puked and then passed out. He said turn hard and didn’t state a G-limit. Lhandon had smirk about him at that line. Nilsen: If they don’t want ya to go over a G-limit they gotta say. They entered the turbo lift. Sherlock: Exactly, it’s his own fault. ((Shuttlebay, Deck 9, USS Octavia E. Butler)) The process for Nilsen to take out a shuttle was easy, so easy, he didn’t even need to speak to anyone. This process, at least for him and his qualifications and job roll was pretty much fully automated, he was given a selection which was pretty much all the shuttles except for the captains yacht, and even then, he’d be able to fly it if ordered. Nilsen: So over one mil? Something nice and chonky maybe? It took all of Lhandon’s will power to not end that sentence by saying “your mum” Sherlock: Excuse me? Oh, ship tonnage. No, just a Type 14 is fine. We’re not going far. Nilsen: Like where we going though? This just a simple A to B? Or you got somethin’ else in mind? As the pair approached the nearest available shuttle, Aine began tapping away on her PADD. She brought a display of a report she’d been working on and held it out for Nilsen to see. Sherlock: This morning, I decided to test out the speed of the computer. And randomly, I had this idea. Turns out it actually led to something. I ran a tactical simulation, well, had the computer run it. Nilsen: And what did it show? Sherlock: Well, it ran it twenty-five hundred times. ::beat:: In five minutes. Nilsen: How many? Sherlock: I was impressed. This new system is revolutionary. But, anyways, as you see here, this point on the hull is the least likely spot to ever be hit in battle. She pointed to a point on the image of the ship on her PADD on the Engineering hull, just port of the lower superstructure. Nilsen: Why that point? It’s near enough to engineering that it looks like it could get hit if enemies were targeting there. Sherlock: It factored in all kinds of things. Even the percentage of right handed CO’s who are likely to turn to port. ::shrugging:: Anyways, I’d like to inspect it for my report. Make sure that if any enemies are running similar simulations, they’re not going to find a way to exploit this. As they continued discussing, or rather Sherlock briefed and Nilsen listened. The process behind prepping and getting a shuttle ready to launch was automatic and for Nilsen, with his role, much smoother and without questions. Like a vending machine, the Type 14 was slid out of its rack and loaded onto a platform where it was placed very close to the two officers in gold. Clearance was mostly automatic save for the verbal confirmation Flight Control: =/\= Shuttle 14-022, confirm flight plan.=/\= Nilsen: Close to home flying is the order of the day. Hull inspection and showing off is the order of the day. Flight Control: Of course, you’re showing off, who is it this time, that engineer you like. ::laughs:: Shuttle 14-022 you are cleared for launch. Nilsen: Confirm go. And Jake, I hate you. Aine’s head tilted and a very contorted and questioning look etched onto her face. She wondered if the man in flight control was referring to that Engineer Nilsen was with earlier when she’d found him. He looked over at Sherlock, perhaps a little whiter than he’d like and said Nilsen: No, Sherlock, just no. Sherlock: ::snapping back to form and shaking her head:: I didn’t say anything. The shuttle was raised up as the bay doors above them opened up and the bright light from this star started to wrap its way through the opening. Lhandon fired up the engines and lifted off but not before he said Nilsen: Scenic route? ((Shuttle, Flying outside the OEB)) As Aine took her seat, she grinned and thrust her chin towards the forward viewports. Sherlock: At your leisure, Lieutenant. Lhandon smiled, he had been wanting an excuse to do this. The last time he had flown this close to the hull, it was in the moment of "oh my god, it's going to blow" on the Oumuamua when the mission pod unexpectedly exploded. Lhandon flew forward and over the bridge of the OEB which was just in front of the launch pad. He then sped up the shuttle, a view of the name etched into the hull and its registry. The lights on the saucer section had flashed by. He sped forward a little more and the ship was out of view. Then after a few moments, he had turned the shuttle around in a wide curve and Sherlock and Nilsen had gotten a view of the Octavia, her four nacelles and the saucer blade. Nilsen: She’s a beaut. Sherlock: She really is something else. Lhandon hadn't been told he couldn't do this, so he had flown under the hull, past the deflector dish, and over Lower engineering super structure, just between the two struts of the lower nacelles before shooting out past the quad nacelles and turning around once more. He had a smirk on his face. Nilsen: We should add that to bingo. Aine had let him fly where he wanted and how he wanted. Openly being so reckless with information like Ship’s Bingo, that was almost unforgivable. But she’d let it fly…for now. Sherlock: Excuse me? Nilsen: Oh erm…nothing. Watching the Junior Officer have his fun from the right seat, Aine just let it happen. Sure there were regulations about flying close to ships, but rules can be bent if there’s no real harm. Nonetheless, they’d have to get back to work…or at least what she had Nilsen thinking was work. Sherlock: Alright, Lieutenant. That’s enough for now. Bring us into that spot on the hull I showed you. Nilsen: Aye aye captain. He said with a bit of cheekiness. He didn't realise at that point that Sherlock was up to something, this was a fun little trip out. Lhando’s a happy boy…for now. As the shuttle floated just a few meters from the hull, Aine could plainly see the spot. Nothing looked out of the ordinary and she tapped in a few notes on her PADD. Nilsen: Why we out here again? Sherlock: After the simulations, I ran structural and metallurgical analysis. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. But seeing things up close, developing context for yourself, it’s important. That way, if anything does go wrong, you can eliminate most possibilities right away. She looked at him, wondering if he was understanding this little lesson, one she hadn’t really planned on. Sherlock: Roll us over and set us down on the hull. Nilsen: On the hull? Sherlock: You heard me. Put the spot a couple meters aft of the shuttle too. Nilsen: No flyby? You doing a trick on me? Lhandon was starting to…doubt is the wrong word but he was starting to wonder what Sherlock was up too. Sherlock: Not a trick. Those are my orders, so you’re in the clear. Nilsen: Alright, I guess. Aine waited patiently as the shuttle rolled over and gently set down on the hull with a dull metallic thud. Nilsen: We're down. ::tapping on the console:: maglocks connected, this shuttle ain't going anywhere. Once it was settled, she stood up and leaned over the console tapping in a few commands. She looked over at Nilsen and grinned then tapped in one last one and the rear hatch to the shuttle suddenly opened, extending into what looked like the vacuum of space but was contained by a forcefield. She pulled a laser scalpel out of her pocket and held it up in front of the Lieutenant. No suit was needed. Sherlock: Shall we? A number of expletives went through Nilsen's mind, some beginning with the letter S, some with the letter F and some with the letter E. Nilsen: Shall we??? I can wait here, keep the engine warm. I'm not…I'm not an EVA person you know. Sherlock: Well, this ship is new. So there is no scorch. But this is the most likely part to become one in the future. And someone has to sign it. And then it dawned on him Nilsen: Oh? We're… Once the Lieutenant had taken the scalpel, she led them out onto the hull of the ship. She took a moment and looked around, taking in the sight, before stepping over the panel soon to be vandalized. Nilsen: …why you? This…you aren’t…I mean we ain't meant to do this. Sherlock: I wasn’t an Ensign for very long. I really didn’t have time to do all the fun stuff you guys do. And I wasn’t a JG long either. And ::beat:: I’m allowed to have fun. Aine stood and watched Nilsen burn his name into the hull of the shiny new Sagan Class ship. When he was finished and handed her the scalpel, she knelt down next to him. Nilsen: So you wanna do all the stuff us junior officers do…we ain’t gonna get caught. Sherlock: Hell no we won’t get caught. ::holding out her PADD:: You see, I did those simulations, I wrote this report, I logged the excursion. I’m hiding in plain sight. Last time, you tried way too hard to hide. And that made it obvious. Aine reached down towards the smooth hull plating and pressed the button on the side of the scalpel and etched her full name, Aine Olive Sherlock, into the ship. Sherlock: Do you get what I’m trying to say here? Nilsen: I think I do, cover our backs right? Sherlock: The game works both ways. And if you want to win, you’re going to have to step it up. She gave him a wink and stood. Sherlock: Come on, Lieutenant. Let’s get back inside. End Lieutenant JG Lhandon Joseph Nilsen HCO USS Octavia E Butler O240007LN1 And LCDR Aine Sherlock Chief of Security U.S.S. Octavia E. Butler R239712AS0

I love how this is still going on in the 25th century...XD