Sal Taybrim

((Bridge, Deck 1, USS Astraeus)) Some of the crew had left already going on different assignments. Others were waiting to be transported. German wasn't due to leave for another few hours as he stepped into the bridge of the galaxy class starship one last time, placing his hand along the edge of the brightly painted wooden half oval panel. He walked down the ramp brushing the soft wood and for a moment he didn't want to let go. Finally after a few moments, he took his hand away and then headed over to his station. Delri’ise: You alright, sir? Galven: Just saying goodbye. ::turns to glance around:: She was a fine ship. Delri’ise: Indeed she was. There’ll never be another like her, she was one of a kind. The events unfolding around him was definitely going to be a memorable one. German had never served on a ship that was due to be decommissioned. He sat down and then downloaded the last bit of information of data on his work PADD that laid beside the console. Galven. My next assignment is going to be Starbase 118 Operations. I've been there a few times training cadets, but it'll be a whole new experience. Where are you going? Delri’ise: ::recalling her orders.:: I believe I’m on the Thor over Duronis II. It’s a long way from here, over in the Beta Quadrant. Galven: ::nods:: That's a fine ship with a great crew. I doubt this'll be the last time we see each other. Melody hadn’t said anything to that which made German glance over her way. It appeared that she was about to cry. He stood up from his seat and approached her extending his hand to give her an encouraging pat on the shoulder. Galven: It was a great experience being here and it was definitely worthwhile. Starfleet has our best interests at heart. Whatever is next, just remember who you are. Delri’ise: It ain’t gonna be easy. The Thor is a fine ship… but she’s no Astraeus. It’s been a fun ride, commander. Galven: ::nods and turns his head to look out the viewscreen:: It’s always going to be one hell of a ride, lieutenant. ::turns his attention back to Melody:: Wherever you are. Delri’ise: You better stay in touch, don’t hide away in that space mushroom. He chuckled and then turned with a determined expression. Galven: Don’t worry about that, Melody. I’m a “leap into the action” kind of senior officer. ::wry grin:: The Kerelian hybrid let out a slight chuckle which German was hoping for. It was a somber event, but he wanted to make it a happy memory. This had been his first decommission, but heard far too many stories of officers resigning from Starfleet. Delri’ise: I think the one thing I’ll miss most… is bein’ up here on the bridge. I’m gonna miss my little tactical console ::She gave her console an adoring rub.:: A lot of that was true for German as well as he glanced over at his own science console. He already studied the Starbase and the layout of the thing was massive. There was an entire massive city just hanging out in the dome with lots of transportation hubs. He was looking forward to getting lost in there. There were a few other things that he wanted to tell Melody as he turned himself back around facing her. Galven: ::clears his throat and furrows his brow:: One last thing before we separate, lieutenant? Delri’ise: Of course, sir ::She nodded.:: I think we all need a few words of wisdom out there. Galven: As Admiral Kathryn Janeway once said, “I trust fear. Fear only exists for one purpose… to be conquered.” Go and be fearful, Melody Delri’ise and show Admiral Turner what I’ve seen in you. ::extends his hand for her to shake:: A future commanding officer. Melody gave a crooked smile which German returned with a grin, but then some tears and heavy emotion came from her again which he could feel for the woman. Lael was the same way and she was taking the news the heaviest when she sent out a message to everyone that she was resigning as first officer to get more involved at the academy on Earth. Which was just as admirable as her XO assignment. He was taken aback when Melody shook his hand, but then gave him an enormous hug which threw him momentarily, but he then wrapped his arms around her, giving a soft encouraging pat on her back. After a few seconds, they let go with German’s gaze still on hers. Delri’ise: Thank you… Commander, for everything. As we say down in Brooklyn, go, kick some a#% out there. Galven: ::laughs and arches an eyebrow:: You the same, Lieutenant. Delri’ise: I’ll see you out there, Spaceman, may our paths cross once more. I’m sure Cap’n Taybrim will appreciate your hard work. Galven: There’s plenty of opportunity for it. Just remember to hold onto these special moments and live for them. She turned and nodded, heading out of the bridge. German glanced around one last time and then sat down at his console, pulling out his PADD. He started a new entry, the last entry on the Astraeus. //Chief Science Officer’s Log, Stardate 239611.25 It was of great duty, service and honor serving aboard the USS Astraeus. Whoever listens to this when the new crew arrives and ventures out to the Eagle Nebula. I wish you all the good fortune. There’s great history on this ship. Continue on her legacy. ---- Lt. Commander German Galven Chief Science Officer USS Astraeus V239507GG0

Trophy Hunter ((Trezire, Ceata, Northern Exclusion Zone)) In the glades of the north, far beyond the Acasa Region, snow fell out of colorful, cloudy skies. Next to an icy stream that led through a snow-clad forest, a Dokarran Elder named Yidian stood looking out towards a tall mountain of stone and ice. Through the gentle snow-fall, a red hot glow emerged in the distance, announcing the approach of a dragon. Yidian stood with arms spread out wide, waiting. A hurricane of wind swept over the icy stream, throwing snow into the sky and knocking Yidian onto her back. A smile spread over her face. A tremendous thud knocked snow off tree branches and this turned into the whooshing sound of the snow cover falling down to the valley floor like a tide washing over a beach. A series of thudding, ice crunching sounds approached. The ground shook. Standing up, Yidian looked out at a dragon with beautiful feathered wings, which had come to drink at the stream. She carefully approached the ancient beast, crunching through the snow, until it turned to look at her. Yidian knelt down and bowed her head. Reaching out with her mind, she touched The Lady, a giant Vizinyan Tree thousands of kilometers to the south. A pleasant murmuring was there, content, but still slumbering, immature and innocent. The dragon huffed out a puff of frozen air and lowered its head. Yidian climbed up onto the creature’s neck and found a secure place near the head of the dragon. A flurry of feathered wings threw ice and snow into the air. With a leap, the dragon flew into the colorful skies. Yidian watched the world down below grow smaller and smaller. The dragon flew higher and higher into the clouds, until after a time, they broke through the mist to emerge into the brightness that lived beyond the view of her kind. Yidian closed her eyes in ecstasy as warm sunshine tingled over her pale white skin. She spread out her arms and looked up at the white star that illuminated the tops of the multi-colored clouds below. A tiny dot appeared high up in the atmosphere. It grew larger and larger until it had formed into the silhouette of a starship. Yidian’s soul filled with wonder at the notion of traveling amongst the stars. It would be like living in glory and ecstasy inside the darkness of the void, far beyond her world and The Lady. It would bring the Veiling too. A vast separation from the communal minds of the Dokarrans. With the Veiling came freedom. The freedom to gather new experiences which might prove beneficial to The Lady and to the rest of her people. The silhouette grew larger. The beautiful feathered dragon called out to the winds and blew a huff of fire. The little starship answered the dragon with a beam of blue-white light. When the light touched the dragon, it screamed in pain. Yidian could feel the dragon’s heart fail as it was burned up by the light. Down, down, down through the multi-colored clouds fell the dragon. It smote the side of a frozen mountain, covered with snowy trees. The dragon slid through the forest, turning the side of the majestic mountain into a desolation of broken rocks and trees. Yidian emerged from beneath the gigantic corpse. Who had done such a thing? The hum and roar of the little starship flew overhead. Yidian did not look up but heard it land on the frozen ground among the trees. Some time after, she could hear the approach of a man, a human, crunching through the snow. Yidian had knelt down next to the dead dragon, placed a hand on its neck and let her sadness spill onto the feathered beast. The man approached, stopped and smiled. Among the vibrational sound complexes that came from his mouth, one word stood out in her mind: Trophy. Yidian watched as the man went up to the dead dragon while a hovering device recorded images and sounds of the disharmony which he’d brought down around the frozen forest. Rather than experiencing anger, Yidian considered what he had done. It was remarkable how a single action could cause such a tearing wound in a world full of harmony. Of course, animals had always killed each other, mostly for sustenance but humans had also hunted their own kind, like many of the “enlightened” beings that lived out among the stars. Cold curiosity turned into hunger, a need for greater understanding. Might there be value in the exploration of disharmonious concepts? Yidian had always sought to gather experiences that might prove useful. There was one experience which had never been fully explored by the Dokkarans: Evil. The man who slew the dragon ignored her. Perhaps he regarded her as any other plant, as if she were a bush or tree to be discounted. After some time, he departed in his little starship, flying high up above the multi-colored clouds. Yidian watched the silhouette shrink down to a tiny thing, which punched through the clouds on a journey back to the stars. Yidian chose to use vibrational sound complexes similar to what the human had used. For the first time in over two hundred cycles, she spoke. Yidian: I think I shall go to earth. ~*~ Yidian Light Bringer Starbase 118 Ops O239609AD0

[Insert ‘Pink Panther’ theme here] ((Apartment Block, Deck 801, Habitat Zone, Starbase 118)) The three Officers had mostly avoided contact with each other since arriving back at the base, apart from Lt. Cmdr. Hael’s party - which it would have been odd for them to not attend, or to be seen to be avoiding each other all evening. Now though, after finding out the location of Londonderry’s apartment, Gogi had called Malko and Dante and arranged to meet with them outside the block. It was, of course, an unassuming apartment block, one of the many apartment blocks that had been constructed to house Starbase 118’s many, many residents, in the uniform style that they had all been built in. A smooth white building, with nondescript, square windows on each of its several floors. Gogi’s access code had gotten them into the building and up to the 7th floor in the elevator, but as they stepped out onto the landing, their eyes were immediately drawn to the Starfleet Security Officer standing to attention outside apartment number 66. The stocky Bardeezan FO did not recognize the young, light-brown-haired, fresh-faced, Terran-looking man guarding Londonderry’s apartment and nor did he know of any order that had come from Captain Taybrim that the apartment should be guarded. Okay, he didn’t know absolutely everything that the Fleet Captain did, but he guessed he would have heard of something like this. Dante and Malko exchanged a meaningful glance of worry before Gogi frowned deeply as he cracked his knuckles and began to stride up to the guard. Malko and Dante followed, all three of them dressed in their duty uniforms. Fairhug: ::approaching the young man:: Good day to you…::making a show of looking at his pips::...Ensign…? The Ensign’s eyes widened as he took note of three senior officers suddenly standing in front of him. One dressed in a Medical uniform, one a Diplomat and this third, relatively short Officer with the long ginger hair was dressed in a Command uniform with Lt. Cmdr. Pips. Matterface: ::stuttering slightly:: M..Matterface, Sir. Ensign Matterface. Fairhug: Good day, Ensign Matterface. My colleagues and I require access to this apartment. Malko: Thank you for standing watch, who knows what ne'er-do-wells could have been coming around to stick their nose in. Termine: We’ll make sure to inform your superior of your exemplary conduct. :: Dante flipped through a PADD. In reality it just had economic data of the sector, but he knew that seeming like you knew more that you did was often an effective bargaining tool :: Matterface: I...I’m sorry, Sirs, the access has been limited to priority Alpha One. The lines on Gogi’s weather-beaten brow grew even deeper, if that was at all possible, like the grooves of long-dried river beds in a dessert. Fairhug: By whom? Matterface: I...I can’t say, Sir. Malko shared a knowing look with the others - Alpha One? That seems like overkill for an engineer’s quarters. Something wasn’t sitting right with the counsellor. Dante stepped forward, if there was one thing he DID know, it was starfleet code and regulation. Termine: I admire your diligence Ensign, but Priority Alpha One security protocol can only be exercised in starfleet internal security matters. Although it will barr most non-briefed personnel... Without missing a beat Malko stepped in. Malko: Surely that doesn’t apply to the investigating officers... The young Ensign’s eyes were darting between the Officers as beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. He was rattled. Matterface: I’m s...sorry, Sirs. I’ve been given orders. Gogi stepped closer to the man, reaching up to put a calming hand on his shoulder. Dante looked down at his Padd again, presenting a face of irritation. If Malko was going to play the good cop, Dante was going to play bad. Fairhug: Okay, Ensign. It’s okay. The young man tried to calm his breathing. Fairhug: How long have you been on Starbase 118, Mister Matterface? Matterface: This is my third week, Sir. Fairhug: ::nodding knowingly:: Alright. Listen. I am Lieutenant Commander Fairhug, former Chief of Security of the Embassy of Duronis II, former Commanding Officer of the Iron Jaegers and current First Officer of this Starbase. Gogi was never one to pull rank or blow his own trumpet, usually, but occasionally, the situation called for it - and this was one of those situations. Malko held the elevator so no one could enter the floor as Gogi launched into his monologue. Fairhug: Now, I understand that you have been given orders and that you want to be seen to be obeying those orders. That’s a good thing. But let me ask you this; as First Officer of this very Starbase, do you think I would report you for allowing me to do my job? The Ensign’s expression changed to one of confusion, his eyebrows almost knitting together. Matterface: N...No, Sir…? Fairhug: Of course I wouldn’t! Gogi let out a hearty laugh, turning to Dante and Malko, to indicate for them to follow suit. Then he turned back to Ensign Matterface, his expression much more serious again, one of almost parental concern. Fairhug: But...might I report you for obstructing me from doing my job? Malko: It would be your obligation, I’d say. Your hands would be tied. :: to the Ensign :: He’s even reported me before. Termine: :: Dante tapped on his pad a few times before leaning into Gogi’s ear but speaking just loud enough for all to hear:: Need I remind you sir about your upcoming appointment? The ambassador would be insulted if we were late. Once again, Matterface’s eyes began to dart between the Officers. The boy looked like his mind had imploded with the difficulty of making this decision. Fairhug: Okay, let me make this easy for you, Ensign. Stand aside and let me and my colleagues here do what we have to do and nothing more will come of this...little incident. Gogi’s hand had been rested on Matterface’s shoulder this whole time, now he patted the man’s uniform, brushing some dust off of it. Fairhug: How does that sound? The young Officer, who had been standing at attention this entire time, let out a sigh and relaxed his posture. Matterface: Yes, Sir. I understand. Fairhug: ::patting the Ensign’s shoulder again:: You’re doing the right thing, Ensign. He turned to Malko and Dante and indicated with his head. Matterface stepped aside and they made their way into the apartment. Gogi poked his head round the doorframe one last time as he entered. Fairhug: Mister Matterface, inform us immediately if anybody else approaches. Matterface: ::snapping to attention again:: Aye, aye, Commander. ((PO3 Rickard Londonderry’s Apartment, Deck 801, Starbase 118)) Termine: Nicely handled, but how could security be here already, and with such a high clearance level! I’m starting to think we’re not the only ones on the same trail. Gogi huffed through his nose. The Starfleet cover-up was already in full motion. Fairhug: Probably just some Admiral at Command making sure Londonderry’s myth is preserved. Malko: Myth of being loyal? Termine: We can look into who might have placed that order later, Malko and I can give face-of-the-matter back there a debriefing if it comes to it, but let's stay focused and search this room while we can. We might not have much time. Fairhug: Agreed. The three officers started to pace around the room. The quarters were small and sparse with only minimal personalization. This wasn’t uncommon amongst junior officers but something about it felt… off. Gogi looked around, immediately dismayed by the lack of potential evidence, but then, if someone had gotten there first, it was hardly surprising that the apartment had been “sterilised”. Malko: No garbage, no laundry, no spoiled food. After a good long while of searching Malko checked amongst every fold in the closet and Gogi opened every drawer Dante stood staring up at the ceiling. Malko: There’s almost no evidence that Londonderry even lived here anymore. It’s all been passed over. The Bardeezan looked up, unsure of what Dante was so transfixed by. Fairhug: Something caught your eye, Dante? Termine: ...Wha? Oh... No it’s just that… Do you see those bolts holding that ventilation cover on? Malko: With enough force you can open those with a letter opener if you really need to… Just saying… Fairhug: Okay... Termine: They’re wrong. Fairhug: Wrong? Malko: ::quietly:: Not that I’ve had to... Termine: I mean, they’re wrong. It’s only something a refurb crew would notice but those bolts up there… They should be self-sealing stem bolts but they’re not. They’re regular bolts that seem to have been made up to look sealed. Malko: Prophets - you’re right. They’re smaller. Fairhug: What do you think that means? Termine: well, it either means that there were supply issues during this room’s construction or… Somebody has used a blast torch to cut through the original bolts and put their own in so that they could open that cover without any trouble. Malko: Actually that sounds much easier than bending your good letter opener. Gogi stroked his beard in thought as he looked around. The only furniture in the room was bolted down and of course, none of it was near the ventilation cover. Fairhug: Okay, ::he looked at Dante, who stood a foot taller than him:: Dante, you’re the tallest, Malko… He made a gesture with his arm for the Counsellor to follow his lead as he crouched down to get on all fours. Malko: Careful now, Termine. Dante wobbled as he slowly rose into the air, supported on the backs of Malko and Gogi - the human pyramid swayed and lurched. Slowly, Dante brought his hand up to the vent covering having to stretch considerably to reach and began to pry at the bolts holding the panel on. Much to his surprise the panel, bolts and all, came crashing down on him just as he came crashing down on his friends. Rolling away from the heap onto his back, Gogi almost wanted to laugh. Maybe he would have under different circumstances. They must have looked quite the sight. Fairhug: ::standing up, brushing off his uniform:: Well, I hope that was worth it. Malko: And I hope nobody heard the raucous. Termine: Not elegant - but it worked and… what do we have here! Clipped into the back of the vent cover was a small silver tube, less than the length of a PADD stylus, with a blinking red light on it’s end and a single indent on it’s length. Fairhug: Some kind of tracking device...or… Malko: ...beacon. The Counsellor had taken the words out of his mouth. If it was a transponder, evidently whoever had been here before them had not been aware of its presence, as surely they would have removed it. Fairhug: There’s one way to find out, can we activate it? Malko: It looks to me like it’s already been activated... TBC As simmed by Lieutenant Commander Gogigobo Fairhug First Officer Starbase 118 Ops. E239411GF0 And LTJG Malko Counsellor Starbase 118 Ops A239508M10 And Lt. JG Dante Termine Diplomatic Corps, Starbase 118 A239503DT0

((Student Dorms, Starfleet Academy Campus - Starbase 118.)) It was early morning. Very early morning and Mareta really didn't want to get up. She had no classes today, and in theory her schedule was devoid of absolutely any activities – both social and study – save one. One that she couldn't have dreamed of in her studies last year. She lay there for a few moments, and then her alarm went off. A long sigh escaped as she hit the snooze button. It was on old 20th Century-style alarm clock that had been a gift from her cousin Arturo. A bit of an in-joke between the two of them when she had been getting ready to start her first year of study. Mareta was easily the least morning-orientated person in the galaxy and she sighed again as she rolled over and away from the alarm clock. Liva was still asleep, and Mareta snuggled in behind her as she tried to make the most of the ten minutes snooze time she'd given herself. Liva was her dorm-mate, best friend and “secret” partner. The two girls found the student are-they-aren't-they gossip quite amusing, and they ignored it as the free drinks and attention from some of the boys on campus was rather flattering. They had almost everything in common, even down to having relatives on the station. For Mareta, it was Arturo, and for Liva, it was Beatrice, her human half-sister. What felt like barely a heartbeat later, that infernal alarm clock was making its teeth-grinding Bzzt Bzzt Bzzt noise again and Mareta reluctantly rolled over to switch it off. This time, Liva woke up as well, and she sat up. Shuffling backwards, Liva leaned against the headboard and rubbed at her eyes. Liva: What time is it, Bee? Liva's voice carried a strong accent of her home in Kendra Province on Bajor, and Mareta's own voice gave statement to her own birthplace in Italy. It made for a strange yet gentle contrast of tones when they spoke together, although it didn't help whenever the two girls tried to practice the others native language. As a result, there had been many laughter and wine-filled nights in their room as the pair each butchered the pronunciations of a new language. Mareta: Seven thirty. A massive, cheerful smile spread across Mareta's face as she clambered out of bed and disappeared into the small refresher. Liva picked up her PADD from her bedside table and began to scroll aimlessly through the student news pages as she heard the shower start up. You never knew when you'd stumble across an unadvertised – but very useful – seminar by one of the Academy Professors, or even one of the stations senior officers. When she heard the shower cut out, and the sound of damp feet moving about, she put down the PADD and flopped forwards on the bed, chin resting on her hands, feet up and crossed. Liva: So what's got you so smiley this morning? Clad in a wrapped towel, Mareta reappeared, scrubbing away at her teeth and Liva waggled her feet slightly. Mareta: Nrp evry d'capn! Liva: What? Mareta: Mrtern d'capn tdy! Liva began to laugh, and waved Mareta back towards the refresher. A few minutes later she reappeared and sat down beside Liva, who sat up and crossed her legs. Mareta bumped her playfully with her shoulder, her broad smile appearing once more along with an excited sparkle to her eyes. Mareta: It's not every day you get to meet the Captain! Liva: Really!? Your placement was granted? ::She shuffled a touch closer and put her arms around Mareta.:: That's wonderful! Mareta: It's only one full duty shift every other week. Liva: But still, it's a full shift with the captain! Think about all the things you'll get to learn directly from an officer who's really done it all! Mareta smiled, giving Liva a hug in return before standing and heading for the far wall. She replicated a fresh uniform and pulled it on before moving to her bedside table and picking up the four elongated pips that marked her out as a final year Cadet. Liva hopped up and took her hand, before putting the pips on for her. A long hug later, and Mareta was off out of the door and on her way up to deck seven of the command tower, and specifically the office of Fleet Captain Sal Taybrim. As the door closed, Liva sat down on the bed again. What was she going to do with herself today? Her PADD pinged at an incoming message and she reached over for it. Thumbing it to life she raised a curious eyebrow at the screen. Message Received. Text Only. Sender; USS Narendra. Lt-Commander Gogigobo Fairhug. ~*~ Cadet 1st Class Mareta Bianchi. & Cadet 1st Class Liva Jardel. Starfleet Command School. Starbase 118 Academy Campus. Simmed by; Lt-Commander Arturo Maxwell. Chief Tactical Officer. Starbase 118 Operations. O239311AM0.

((OCC: This is the start of a mystery. The first 8 posts will set it up. After that, anyone who wants to join in can do so. This is Part 1 of 8 Flashback Scenes)) Alone ((Epsilon Argyros, Scylanthia, Alastriona’s Office – 239606.10 – Four Months Ago)) ::And she finally stopped playing their song when she realized that she was dancing alone. – Anonymous:: ::Like a dying firestorm, the red star Epsilon Argyros began to set below the horizon, bathing the room with fading passion. Alastriona looked up at her long bare legs, which were perched up on top of the glass table of her office, high above her homeworld, Scylanthia. It was summer outside, and she had chosen a pair of jean shorts, a red t-shirt and sandals to wear. Her pale skin warmed up nicely, even though the large glass windows were tinted.:: ::The building hovered over two thousand feet in the air above the city Cleeia. Outside, hundreds of multicolored balloon-like people – Scylanthian’s – drifted about. She could see the beaches far below, near her house. The ocean, tinted with a rainbow of colors cast down from the exotic atmosphere of the planet, turned cherry red as the sun fell into the sea. A scattering of stars came out: Theta Tauri, Gamma Tauri and Delta Tauri were first, followed by Epsilon Tauri and Aldebaran.:: ::Alatriona leaned back in her chair, stretched out her arms, and yawned.:: ::The computer was undeterred by her behavior.:: Computer: The mass segregation of the star cluster is consistent with the observed distribution of stellar types – DeTroyes: Ordinateur, arrêt. :: Another yawn filled her face. ::I’ve studied long enough today, ::she grumbled.:: ::The computer’s refusal was simple.:: Computer: Negative. ::The machine continued to drone on.:: Stellar evaporation occurs in the cluster halo as matter. . . ::Irritated, she dropped into English.:: DeTroyes: Computer, halt! ::In a condescending tone, the computer argued,:: Computer: The study schedule, programmed by YOU, continues for another two hours. DeTroyes: What’s with the attitude? Ten hours is enough for today! ::she complained:: If I can’t pass the science exams when I get to earth, maybe I’ll quit Starfleet altogether! :: She was grumbling, but knew the computer was right, or rather, she was right to have programmed the computer to try to force her to continue on. She was a hundred and twenty years out of date. It had been nearly a year since she’d asked for a leave of absence from Starfleet, so that she could study the current scientific theories. It was so embarrassing to ask people such simple things as how to use a modern tricorder.:: Computer: Starfleet re-certification exams begin in 56 Earth days. Since you’re scheduled to leave on the transport La Fayette in thirty six hours, and it takes 53 days at warp 8 to reach Sol, it is advisable to . . . DeTroyes: I know! ::Exasperated, she reached over to shut the thing off, but she hit the wrong button and it triggered a very old message buried inside the computer. Whispers came out of time, bringing back old memories. It was the voice of her sister, Genevieve.:: Genevieve: Alastriona, I don’t know if you’ll ever hear this message – Starfleet tells us that you’re science station at the edge of the milky way was destroyed, but I had a dream about you. . . . and I know that you’re still alive. . . . ::There was a pause where Alastriona thought she heard her sister crying. Then Genevieve continued,:: Genevieve: I have some terrible news to tell you. Everyone in our family is dead. Both of our parents, our cousins – everyone – are gone. They say that a curse killed them. I’m leaving Scylanthia and moving to a planet called Bijou Bleu, which is in the Gliese 777A star system. Hopefully, I’ll be okay there. I wanted you to know so that you’ll be careful if . . . I mean, *when* you get back. I hope this message really does reach you. I love you. ::Her sister’s words hit her like a thunderbolt. Alastriona felt a cold tingling sensation dribbling over her body. Her parents, Telfour and Chantel were both dead. All the rest of her family were gone too. She knew that they were dead of course, since they lived a hundred years ago, but to hear the news that they had died prematurely, that they had never had a full life, was too terrible to bear. The shock of it filled her with silence.:: ::Occasionally, she had entertained the thought of trying to contact the descendants of her family, but never did so, feeling uncomfortable at the idea of getting to know her great-great-great-grandchildren. But they had never been born. Or had they?:: DeTroyes: Computer, locate the DeTroyes family on Scylanthia. Computer: There is no one with that surname on Scylanthia. ::Alastriona put her feet on the floor and whirled to face the computer monitor, as if it was another person, listening to her shock and grief. She shook her head. :: DeTroyes: Let’s make it simple. Computer, take my Starfleet file and extrapolate all data for my relations and descendants. Locate any of my living relatives in the Federation. Computer: Working. . . :: Alastriona leaned back in her chair, and looked down on the coastline near the city of Cleeia. She had walked those beaches with her sister, so long ago. . . :: Computer: There are no matches to be found anywhere within the worlds of the Federation. :: It felt like someone had punched her hard in the stomach. Alastriona felt dizziness whirling around and around. Getting up, she grabbed the computer and threw it at the window. :: DeTroyes: NO! ::The monitor bounced off the glass, which had been reinforced against the storms of Scylanthia, to keep out the sometimes poisonous gasses that drifted down from the more dangerous bio-zones above.:: DeTroyes: What happened to them? :: But the computer was silent. It lay in ruin on the floor of her office. :: ::Genevieve’s message had been like a death knell. Was it some kind of disease or was it really some kind of curse, laid onto their family by some angry mystic? Alastriona walked over to a white couch and dropped onto it.:: DeTroyes: Superstition and nonsense. ::If it was some kind of familial plague, was she infected? Could she become infected? How long did she have? Shaking her head, Alastriona didn’t really care if she died. She began to cry. All that her family was, all that her family could have been today, all that they might have been, were gone.:: ::Truly, Alastriona was alone.:: ~*~ Ensign Alastriona De Troyes Science Officer Starbase 118 Ops O239609AD0 ((Disclaimer: All wicked, evil, dastardly comments by Alastriona are purely IC.))

I really enjoy the banter between these two!!

((Secondary Sickbay – USS Narendra)) Malko: First thing's first, we need to find out how much Fairhug knows - and what the situation is on the bridge. For all we know they could be locked in combat with them now. Termine: Malko, Are you thinking what I'm thinking? ((Deck 2, Jefferies tube – USS Narendra)) Termine: Oh quit your whining, neither of us are equipped for a battle and we seem to have good luck in small tubes. Malko: I hope you know where you're going, the last time I followed you into a Jeffries I landed in hazardous material disposal. Prophets - I sound like B character in a fantasy movie. Also, do we need to crawl? Termine: That's true, it does make me feel a bit like a hamster… But it's our best shot at seeing if Fairhug is on the bridge and keeping safe — Ah! Here it is, the ladder to deck one. come on, keep it up doc, Malko: Why don't you let me peek first, you're still wearing a diplomat uniform - they'd take you hostage on sight. Termine: That's not a bad idea - But hold up one second I think we're nearing the bridge! They were thankfully only a few feet from the bottom of the ladder when the explosion pitched the ship sideways and the two slid off the slick aluminum alloy and into the catwalk below. Geysers of steam puffed intermittently as pressurized energy sources were damaged and diverted. Termine: Holy hell!! they're shooting at us. We need to get out of here! Malko: Stay down - and look for an access panel. Almost galloping on all fours, the counsellor scrambled behind Dante as he combed the well of the tube for some blades of light peeking in from the exterior. Dante swivelled and plunged his boots into the screws of a panel - it's bent form gave way and the officer slid out the hatch. Termine: *cough cough* Err…. Lietuenant JG Dante Termine reporting for duty. sir. Malko could hear Dante speaking to someone, but couldn't make out who it was. Fairhug: ? Termine: Well, just trying to play catch up sir - it looks as if you've got everything sorted out here. Sliding face first out of the hatch onto the bridge carpet, Malko did his best to hold his medical gown shut with one hand and salute with the other. If he only had a third to keep a grasp on his composure... Malko: Ha ha! Yes, sir - we came to make sure you're OK. And now that we see all is fine... Termine: Ah! Sorry, Malko is here too. Not exactly the entrance I wanted to make but, I guess the team's all back together again huh? Fairhug: ? Malko: Yes, it had dawned us we had been infiltrated, too. We had some theories about isolating the breach and getting to the bottom of how this all happened. Termine/Fairhug: ? Malko: With some cross-referencing of ship registry timelines pre and post intervention on the cult attack of Gorn, as we as some more detailed information about the status of the Narendra's Sickbay and its patients at the time of the... incident... we believe we can move to a better understanding of todays' events. Termine/Fairhug: ? Malko nodded at Dante, maybe their shore leave wasn't going to be a break from work after all... Malko: Understandable, we are eager to help anytime. Termine/Fairhug: ? Malko: Thank you, sir. We will leave you be... Termine, we can use my office - I need a change of clothes, anyway. Malko half bowed and gestured to the turbolift, backing out of the controlled chaos that was the bridge. Even in the midst of a crisis, the bridge crew volleyed tasks like a professional sports team - beginning to rebuild Malko's sense of safety he hadn't felt since the crash. ((OOC: wrapping up for shore leave, but we can continue this subject later!) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ LTJG Malko Counsellor Starbase 118 Ops A239508M10

(( Sol's quarters - U.S.S. Narendra )) :: Sol closed the message, spinning around in her chair. It looked like she needed to replicate something nice enough for the upcoming party. What she wouldnt give for Georgio to be aboard the Narendra. The hologram was a bit eccentric, but had great fashion sense. She chuckled to herself and stood, walking over to the replicator. She scrolled through the menus, just browsing the list of semi-formal attire she could replicate, finally settling on a nice off the shoulder dress with a corsetted bodice and a pair of heels. She picked up the garment and the shoes and set them on the bed, undoing the jacket of her uniform. :: McLaren: Computer... what is the time in Belfast, Ireland? :: The computer beeped. :: Computer: 17:34 hours. :: Sol grinned, walking over to her terminal tapping in a few commands. The screen changed to a standard subspace communications splash screen as her call was put through. She set her combadge on the desk, and started pulling her pips off, setting them next to it. The screen soon changed to show a quaint Irish cottage, though no one was currently on the screen. Sol's brow furrowed in confusion. :: McLaren: Hello? :: The was a slight crash off screen. :: Vivian McLaren: In ainm Dé! Rose... hang on! :: The face of a woman soon slid into view, a bit dusty, presumably from cleaning the house. Sol laughed. :: McLaren: Hey, Mum. How are you? Vivian: Im fine! Rose... when did you get back? Last we heard you were going away for a while... then nothing. McLaren: I just got to my new posting yesterday. Im back on Starbase 118. Vivian: Is everything ok? :: Sol nodded smiling. :: McLaren: Yea, everything is fine, Mum. I just wanted to call and let you know I was still alive... :: She chuckled. :: By the time I got aboard yesterday it was too late to call. Vivian: Oh you could ahve called... we would have been thrilled. :: Sol nodded. :: McLaren: Yea, perfectly thrilled until the next morning rolled around. :: Vivian laughed. :: Vivian: Maybe so, love... maybe so. What has Starfleet got you doing now? McLaren: Same thing as always Mum. Lots of paperwork... some exploration. oO And going undercover for months at a time... but I cant tell you about that... Oo What about you? Hows the shop? Vivian: A bit slow recently... but it'll pick up. Always does. McLaren: And what about Dad? Wheres he right now? Vivian: Oh he's at the pub, getting ready to open. You just missed him. :: Sol frowned. :: McLaren: Let him know I called? Vivian: :: nodding :: Of course, I'll-- :: There was a bark and the face of a Siberian Husky popped into the frame bringing a wide smile to Sol's face. :: McLaren: Hi Luna! Have you been a good dog? :: Luna licked the screen, barking. Vivian laughed. :: McLaren: Im sure you have Luna... I miss you. :: Sol placed her hand on the screen and Luna licked it again. :: Vvivan: We all miss you too, Rose... :: Sol glacned at the chronometer, sighing. :: McLaren: I have to go Mum, gotta finish getting ready... theres a ceremony soon. Everyone has to be there. :: Vivian nodded. Luna whined, getting a pet from Vivian. :: Vivian: Alright Rose, have a good time. Be safe. McLaren: I will. Is breá liom tú. Vivian: I love you too. :: Sol smiled, waving. Luna barked again, before dropping out of the frame as her mother ended the transmission. Sol sat back and sighed, happy to have gotten a chance to finally call home. She couldnt sit idle for too long , soon getting up to finish getting ready for the award ceremony. :: (( OOC: Just a little bit of Sol with her mother. And her dog. Because I felt like writing. )) ~~~ Lieutenant Solaris McLaren Intelligence Officer Starbase 118 Ops C239210SM0 --

We;come Esimed! Hope you enjoy training!

Oh man, I remember that game! I've been playing Trek e-mail games since '97 too! Welcome to SB118, Matthew!

((Ishnag Education Center – Main Hall)) Maxwell: =/\= Maxwell tae Malko. We've got incoming. You are tae hold your position around the shuttle and remain undetected for now. Tell MacMahon that's an order! =/\= :: The hail from Lieutenant Commander Maxwell was not news to Malko. Only seconds before a Starfleet officer was being carried into the triage area and the whole camp around the shuttle had gone into high alert. The medical team led by Nurse Gau was lining up tables and electron scanners in a fury of medical feng shui. Malko was about to reply when he noticed the injured officer had dropped his tricorder coming through the path behind the landing zone... :: Poq: ? Jesseth: We have 14,678 gornlings on this planet in two areas – this one is the larger with 8000, and then eighteen quadrosecs away there is another building with the remaining younglings. We have put in emergency measures and all our younglings and staff are in shelters, with the majority being in this building. Maxwell: What defensive systems do you have? ::Turning.:: Is there anything you need, Dr? Poq: ? Jesseth: Yes, there is a medical facility on the second level. We also have meteor shields if all evacuated staff and younglings are below ground level. Maxwell: Then I would respectfully suggest you do so, Administrator. Poq: ? Jesseth: Yes I will - ::He cut off as the shield that protected the building sizzled:: A hit on our reflective shields. They have come. Maxwell: Are there any weapons on site? Anything at all? Poq/Jesseth: ? Maxwell: I appreciate that, Administrator, but you must have something? Poq/Jesseth: ? Maxwell: Bows, aye? Poq/Jesseth: ? :: Behind Malko, the Marines were creating a perimeter around the shuttle, weapons raised, ready to protect the injured at any cost. Following Maxwell's orders, they were keeping the landed unit as clandestine as possible. Malko stepped over the thick roots in the swampy brush. If the Klingons heard this pinging Starfleet tricorder that was dropped out here, they would be on their trail. :: Malko: =/\= Malko to Maxwell, MacMahon is behaving. I will keep you updated on our situation. Have you and the Doctor found a... :: Just then Malko realized why the tricorder was pinging... - Lifeform detected - Malko drew his phaser just as a well-worn disruptor poked its way through the foliage. A female Klingon in pastel coloured vestments tilted her head to the side. Both were surprised to see each other. The Klingon stared at Malko down the ironsights of the disruptor as he held the phaser at his hip and stood slowly. He gritted his teeth and hoped she could not see the tremble of his hand. :: Maxwell: ? Poq/Jesseth: ? :: He did not think it would be smart to respond. The Klingon overheard the radio chatter, and knew where they were keeping the Ambassador. Malko was painfully aware he could not let this Klingon leave his sights and share that with the rest of the cult. He was also aware he could not call for the marines and give away the position of the shuttle hidden behind him with all their injured were being treated. A stalemate had been reached. They had a Terran stand-off on their hands. If either of them were going to shoot, they would have done it by now. That meant this Klingon was at least somewhat interested in self-preservation. Good - he could work with that. Malko remembered he had never actually touched his commbadge to close the channel... :: =/\= Malko: ::slowly:: ... My name is Malko... I belong to Starfleet... I am a medical and diplomatic officer, not a soldier. As, I'm sure, you can tell. You are with Molor? What is your name? Klingon: *low grumble* ::looking around:: Malko: I won't call for backup if you don't. It's just me and you. What is your name? Klingon: *lower grumble*... Askade. Malko: Askade. =/\= Maxwell: ? Poq/Jesseth: ? =/\= Malko: Askade, why do you fight for Molor? Askade: Ha. For the pride of our people. For a glorious life. ::she smiled and bared her serrated teeth :: Why do you fight for the Gorn? Malko: Starfleet believes all races are their people. Our houses are not defined by bloodline but by creed. When my people are threatened, I fight to protect my people. Just as I would fight to protect you, Askade, if a threat came to your home and darkened your doorstep. Askade: ...LIES. :: stepping forward into the clearing to close the distance, flexing her vascular musculature. :: Malko: ::sternly:: You are not my enemy, Askade. If we were here to wage war, we would have opened fire without care for either race's casualties. We... No - I am here to protect. I have sworn this as my life's duty, and as a Klingon I'm damn sure you can respect that. ::his eyes watered:: =/\= Maxwell: ? Poq/Jesseth: ?

((Athens, Greece - 2000 B.C. [Main Engineering])) ::Ah, Athens! Greek's people lucky enough to not be stuck in the middle of nowhere or stranded on an island or in a labyrinth were, for the most part, gathered here in Athena's neck of the woods. Hermes didn't necessarily like Athena, but he didn't hate her either. Though she was technically his sister by patronage, he didn't call on her often. Then again, almost every God in Olympus was related, in some fashion or another. Today he had reason, however. So along the clouds he dashed, gracefully riding the mist of the morning toward the place named for Athena. He grunted irritably as he thought of her. No one ever named a city after him. But he shook his annoyance with Greece off of him like the feather of a bird, and found himself atop Athens’ temple to the namesake Goddess. Unseen by the people milling below, he wandered around the roof, watching the masses.:: Athena: Why are you here? ::A sky grin came across Hermes’ face as the voice sounded from behind him. He knew it wouldn't take long for her to show up.:: Hermes: ‘Thena, how's tricks? Athena: I did not invite you into my city. State your business or I will skin your insides. Hermes: You'd have to catch me first. ::He yawned lazily, and then turned to face her with a half grin hitched on his lips.:: We have a problem. ::Athena was elegant as always in a snow white gown that flowed to the ground, not showing much skin at all, which by Hermes’ standards was blasphemy. He himself wore a subligaria he'd ripped off from the Romans that covered his family jewels, and not much else. Giving Hermes a scowl of loathing, Athena didn't say anything. Instead, she waited for Hermes to explain. He sighed, wishing she'd at least play along, but gave in.:: Hermes: Things have been happening in Olympus. Indeed, all around Greece. I'm sure you've noticed by now. Athena: I've noted odd happenings. I assumed it was you, or Aries, causing mayhem for the amusement. Hermes: I wish I could say that was true, ‘Thena. But ::he sighed:: they are not of Olympian origin. ::Athena studied him with pursed lips and a doubtful gaze.:: Athena: If not from a God, then from where are these machinations appearing? I recently witnessed no less than twelve dragons fighting in my skies. What else but a God has the power to create such things? Hermes: Only one thing Zeus can think of. Athena: ::Her eyes widened, and then her scowl returned with ferocity.:: No. Its secure. Cronus himself knows not its location. Hermes: Well, it's been moved, for our own safety. With so many strange sightings, Zeus has determined that we are under attack by beings from another realm. None can have access to...it. Athena: If it is secure, why do you come here? ::Hermes gave another sly grin.:: Hermes: Well, I need a favor. I have been appointed as the master of defense in this trying time, and I need some...minions...to assist me. Athena: I do not keep monsters in my city. Go find them elsewhere. Hermes: Come on ‘Thena, I know you don't have anything here….but you do know where I can find what I seek. ::Athena gave Hermes a gaze of scrutiny, thinking on his words.:: Athena: Fine. I'll give you the information you seek. ::Hermes grinned broadly. Together, they vanished, in order to prepare the defenses of Olympus.:: ((Timeskip - A Few Hours Later)) ::Everything was in place. Well, at least he thought so. Hermes had finally convinced his new beastie friend to play along, and now it was in place, he needed to search for the source of the intruders. Greece was a large place, and so knowing just where to look was quite difficult. He started in Athens, and then, leaving the city scoured the countryside of Attika, and found nothing. Through Kephallonia and Thermopylai he searched, and found nothing. It wasn't until he decided to search a bit closer to home, and maybe bring Artemis’ lazy ass into the hunt, that something strange finally happened. Three people talking in hushed words caught his eye. This wasn't anything so odd, three people talking was as common as Zeus’ extra-marital escapades. What was really odd was their appearance. One was normal enough. The second was mostly normal, except for a few subtle spots on her head and neck. The last one was monstrous. His skin was ugly and gray, he had weird ridges on his face and the odd look of someone who just fell out of bed.:: Maxwell/Poq/Rohan: ? ::He listened from his hiding spot, not understanding at all what they were talking about. This was annoying. As a God of Olympus, he felt insulted that he couldn't decipher the strange words they used. It wasn't a language barrier, it was their vocabulary. They talked about...holo-somethings, and main enginwhoosits. Gah! Annoying! Deciding it was time to do something, Hermes revealed himself. His barely clothed form sparkled in the marvelous sun, his skin carved from marbles his hair the color of a sea of wheat. His excellence would surely astound these newcomers.:: Hermes: Welcome, friends from afar! Maxwell/Poq/Rohan: ? Hermes: I am Hermes, Messenger of the Gods, God of trade, thieves, travelers, sports, athletes, border crossings, and guide to the Underworld! Who might you be? Maxwell/Poq/Rohan: ? Hermes: Smartass, I see. Well I don't know what you seek. But perhaps I can help you find it. ::He kept his voice benevolent, as if he only wanted to help them. Of course, he'd soon enough get what information he needed, and lead them to his beastie friend...:: Maxwell/Poq/Rohan: ? ~*~ Hermes Messenger of the Gods & Athena Goddess of Wisdom As simmed by ~*~ Ensign Evelyn Rós Science Officer StarBase 118 Ops O239512ER0

((Hidden Temple of Molor)) ::K’Nubis sat over a dusty tome, running his fingers lightly through the flame of a candle - slowly enough that he could feel the fire bite at him. It flickered weakly in the ancient hall, but held bright illumination against the void of darkness encompassing the room. The words and lore were a constant reminder of his path, his purpose, his calling. He took in the words of Molor and savored them, for they were his truth and he was their voice. The true path of the Klingons had been lost with the traitor Kahless, and had plunged the Klingon Empire into weakness and complacency. He stood slowly, his expression almost vacant as he walked the length of the hall, his robes dragging through the dust of the ruin behind him. Exiting the sacred place, two acolytes took up position behind him as he walked. Not a whisper was spoken. Their armor was accented with a dark maroon cape and was adorned with the symbol of Molor, a ceremonial Mek’Leth strapped to their waists. He entered a similarly dark chapel and walked the central path between a gathering of his followers who dared not speak in his presence. The edges of the room were lined with candelabrum and a small stone alter stained with blood stood at its head. He took his place before it and silently regarded those before him as the two acolytes that had followed him took up positions at opposite sides of the room. K’Nubis: Children of Molor, I stand before you as the humble servant of our great father. ::His voice was calm and soft but almost hollow as though void of any emotion.:: I come to you this day with grave news, for one of our own dear brothers has failed in his duty to our cause. ::He looked out over the assembled. A rag tag group of Klingons and a number of other species - all brought together in search of something greater than themselves. His eyes stopped on a fellow Klingon - one who’s stoicism was betrayed by the sweat upon his brow and the trembling of his hand.:: K’Nubis: I call forward Trok son of Kurod. Present yourself to the judgement of Molor and state your transgression. ::The man stepped forward with a brave face and set his ceremonial Mek’Leth upon the small alter.:: Trok: I present myself to the mercy of Molor that he may allow atonement for my weakness. ::He held his head high, but the faint tremble in his voice betrayed his confidence.:: I sent an encrypted transmission to my sister in the hope of alleviating her concerns for my safety. ::A deafening silence stifled the air as he paused before continuing.:: This was foolish, and forbidden. I seek correction and alignment. K’Nubis: I hear this plea and grant reformation. ::His voice hollow and unwavering.:: May your purification through pain be an enlightenment to us all. ::The man took a knee and braced himself for what may come. Two acolytes approached from the back of the room carrying an urn and placed it on the altar before Trok.:: K’Nubis: We can all count ourselves blessed for this reminder. That those that follow Molor are the only true family worth value. Through our true brothers and sisters we find strength, and in all others we are compelled to actions of selfish compassion and weakness. This is not the true way. ::K’Nubis took the urn and knelt calmly before Trok, offering it out to him. Its contents a swarm of small creatures known far and wide for the ability to cause excruciating agony in all that came in contact with them. Roughly translated from their Lethean homeworld - Hornet Eels. Trok looked to the dark opening - his breathing becoming more rapid until he pulled in all the breath he had and held it, plunging his hand into the urn and all of the anguish that awaited him. There was the slightest moment when all was quiet, but any hope of an aversion to punishment was quickly dismissed when his teeth barred and his body tensed with a heavy groan as he grit his teeth. His pride kept his mouth shut as his warrior spirit compelled him to remain strong - but only for so long. He howled in agony and attempted to pull his hand back but K’Nubis was ready. He grabbed the tortured man's arm firmly and forced it down. His calm expression breaking only with a small curl of his lip - enough to hint at a quiet rage as he asserted his dominance and authority. Finally - Trok collapsed to the ground, his body no longer able to endure the punishment. K’Nubis extracted the damaged hand and set the url calmly back upon the altar and composed himself.:: K’Nubis: Let us all celebrate the blessing that has enlightened us through our brother. Today he has been made stronger, and his faith and duty bolstered. Never again will he commit such a misguided blunder, for he has been purified by pain. It will forever be a reminder of his mistake, and will help guide him on the true path. The path to a stronger Klingon Empire - One that is not weakened by the frailty of personal agendas and the follies of ambition. Unity is the only path to dominance, and self interest is the enemy of unity. ::His sermon was short - his lesson over. The display had sent the intended message. Dismissed, the assembled dispersed. Trok still lay passed out before the altar, sweat pouring down his face and his hand covered in painful welts and discolorations. K’nubis stepped over him as two acolytes once again took their place at his side as he departed the room. It was time to get back to business - there was much to be done, and there was no more room for mistakes.::

Perhaps @Saveron knows someone who would chat with him about this curiously logical new assistant.

As Commander Oddas says, the end of the posts with tags/tbs/NT/end is a ship to ship convention. Why do you not see this in the academy? We try to clean up the formatting of the academy to the most basic formatting possible. This means that cadets can concentrate on narration, tags and getting used to script style. Once you get to a ship, you may find that ships use additional formatting for specific reasons or for tradition or player comfort. Why do some ships use this? Partially it's habit for some players, a good way to end off sims. But some ships put some more meaning behind the endplate. For me, I use the following definitions: tags = there are tags for someone in this sim tbc = There may not be tags for someone in this sim, but there is the invitation to continue the scene if the other player wishes nt = no tags, for whatever reason fao = "for the attention of" - there are no tags for a character in this sim, but I'm calling attention to the fact that action in this sim affects other characters end (I use 'fin' because I'm a dork) = this scene is finished. =========================== IMHO, the difference between tbc and end: If you are writing a scene, there are basically two possibilities for what happens as the scene comes to a close: 1. It could seamlessly move to another scene (this happens frequently in missions. We just fixed the antimatter converter, now we're going to move to main engineering and make sure the warp drive in online in time to make a dramatic escape!) - I, personally, love the tbc end for this to let people know "hey, we're moving onwards!" 2. The scene could end there. It's a wrap. Time to start a completely different scene. - this could use tbc or end. tbc means "well I'm not sure if this scene is done, does anyone have anything else to add?" and end means "Ok, this scene has gone on long enough, time to end." Yes, most frequently 'end' will be used by command characters, or team leaders, but it can be used by players, too. Say you start up a conversation duringt shore leave with another character for a specific reason. Say that reason is "hey will you play the piano at my party?" You might choose to continue the scene after the answer to that question is figured out or you might end the scene because you have that answer. The endplate just tells the other player 'hey, let's continue" or "hey let's end, I'll see you at the party" =========================== That said check with your CO, because he or she might view things differently - your best contact for specific ship formatting questions is your mentor, you CO and your FO Good luck, happy writing and may there be many tbcs in your future!