Sal Taybrim

I'm a bit late with my hellos, but welcome! Having an absolutely fabulous time reading your stuff!

((Mines - Level 3 - Dominicus VI)) ::Of all of the places Mirra excepted they would find their missing crew...barreling down a rickety track in a glorified metal coffin was not one of them. But, beggars couldn't necessarily be choosers, so they were running after them, albeit a bit foolishly. Zel and Max had physics and a cart, while they had...increasingly fatigued muscles and a dangerous lack of patience. It was going to be a long day.:: Ezo: ::shouting while running:: Where do these tracks lead?! And who's brilliant idea was it to skip adding brakes?!? Kasun: :: Also shouting while :: Do you really think a criminal operation that relies on slave labor cares about that? It’s not like the follow OSHA or anything. Janul: I would recommend our efforts are focused on your friends. Ezo: ::grimacing:: Right. Rescue them, then yell about the poor planning... Kasun: ::amused:: I’m sure the Orion’s will want to hear all about it. Ezo: ::smirking:: Horribly unsafe working conditions, would not be enslaved here again. Zero out of ten. Janul: Light hearted comments are not helping the situation. Kasun: It’s called bonding. Ezo: ::scoffing:: Would you prefer we stay quiet? oO You clearly don't know me very well...Oo Janul: ::Grunts:: A poor imitation of R’usstai. Kasun: Well that’s Klingon bonding. Starbase 118 bonding is different. Ezo: ::grinning:: It usually involves copious amounts of drinking. Or nearly dying. Or more accurately, surviving and then the heavy drinking. ::And if they all made it out of here alive, she bet she could get Janul to get drunk enough to be her partner in Klingon cage match wrestling. Tatash was apparently disqualified because of "unnatural enhancement". That prosthetic arm was already striking fear into the hearts of his would-be challengers. Her thoughts left the realm of the absolutely ridiculous, and slid back firmly into the task at hand when they all halted in front of a veritable maze of tunnels. None of which seemed to contain an errant mine cart. She began chewing her bottom lip worriedly.:: Kasun: Any ideas? Janul: Three of us. And I count eleven other routes. ::He growled in frustration, slamming the butt of weapon into the ground.:: ::Pacing while she thought, Mirra ended up wandering along the nearest track, straining to see any sign of...well...something other than the inky black of the tunnel ahead. She couldn't see anything. They could be dead ends and they just didn't have time to circumvent them all. Wait, that sound...it was familiar, the high pitched squeal of metal grinding, but where was it coming from? Leaning closer towards the center of the track, the beginning Whoosh of air was the only forewarning she had to prevent becoming a gruesome hood ornament on the out of control cart. She threw herself away from the track, landing with a sound thud on the uneven ground beside the tracks. She stayed down, frozen in a half crouch/half heap, hair blown about her face and bits of the broken gravel digging into her palms.:: Kasun: Are you okay? Janul: You are intact, Doctor? ::Grumbling angrily, she managed to get to her feet, brushing the stray bits of rock off her knees and hands.:: Ezo: ::moving he hair from her face, she answered on a growl:: Oh those two better live through this, because I'm going to kill them for that! Kasun: :: Ishani smiled, a sassy Mirra meant she couldn’t be hurt too badly. :: They went off into that other tunnel. :: She pointed in the direction the cart had gone. :: Janul: Then we must follow. And quickly. Ezo: ::muttering:: Hopefully they don't loop back around for another attempt on taking me down... Kasun: If they recognize us then hopefully they’ll make another pass and slow down next time. Ezo: Providing they have any control over the cart. Remember that whole lack of brakes thing? ::Once again, the screeching sound of metal filled the air as a second cart, loaded with angry looking guards came rushing past. Near plastered against the wall, once again avoiding "Death by mine cart" appearing as a final entry in her medical records, Mirra stared wide eyed, blinking a few times in confusion...:: Kasun: You know when we tell this story later no one’s going to believe us, right? Ezo: I...am not quite sure I believe it and I just saw it happen.... Janul: Were I to report such things myself, I would be declared to have the mind of a simpleton. ::He wasn't wrong. This was shaping up to be a "You...had to be there" type of stories. They had run into some rather unexplained things before, like weaponized tribbles, but even this seemed less plausible.:: Kasun: :: Once again running in the direction of their companions and their mine cart. :: It does feel almost out of a holoprogram Dad would write. Ezo: ::snorting, beginning to run again:: If we make it out of here alive, ask for writing credit when you give him the idea... ::Once again, in far too short of a time, the three were running after a mine cart full of escaped crewmates, but this time they had the added fun of a cartfull of angry Orions with more weapons then they currently had. There was no way this day was getting any weirder. At least this time, they had a direct route.:: Whittaker: =/\= Whittaker to Ezo. =/\= ::Well, Theo and Aitas were still safe. She hit the hidden comm while frantically trying to keep pace with the two others. Once again, she was reminded how she really needed to build up some better endurance. Who knew being a doctor required such a surprising amount of running?:: Ezo: ::slightly winded:: =/\= Ezo here, go ahead sir =/\= Whittaker: =/\= I don't suppose you've seen Ensign Zel have you travelling at high speed? =/\= ::Now that was unexpected. How did he know where Zel was? And his unconventional mode of transport...? oO Oooh right. Aitas. Oo She must have worked her intel magic:: Ezo: ::grimacing:: =/\= You mean the lunatic pilot and his equally crazy co-pilot that we've been chasing after like blind rats through a death trap maze?? Yeah. Got a great look at him and Max. Zel somehow commandeered a mine cart...that he's attempting to steer...=/\= Whittaker: :: with a sigh. :: =/\= Of course he is. Keep me informed. Whittaker out. =/\= ::The commline cut out, and the running didn't seem to be slowing. Except, once again, because this place truly was a death maze from hell, they were faced with a crossroads.:: Ezo: ::skidding to a stop:: Which way?? Kasun/Janul: Response? Ezo: I didn't see, I fell behind when the Comm call came in. ::pointing:: That one looks like it goes up, but up to where? Kasun/Janul: Response? ::It was intensely hot, and each breath in made her winded lungs protest as if she were inhaling cotton. Staying clear of the tracks this time, she ran ahead and squinted through the dim haze. A Flash. An extremely far off one, but was there, if only for a moment. Ezo: ::raising an eyebrow:: Was that...phaser fire...? ::eye widening:: The guard cart!! Kasun/Janul: Response? Ezo: ::nodding quickly:: Right, this way! Damarkus: =/\=Starfleet, I know you're here. In anticipation of this I have gathered every slave at gunpoint. For every minute you remain in my mines I will slaughter one slave. For every step you advance towards me, I will slaughter one slave. Get out now, or you will die with the blood of countless "innocents" on your hands.=/\= ::Once again, she skidded to a halt, but this time it was to hear the last bits of the faint, clearly hostile threat. Her jaw clenched so tight her molars ground together in protest.:: Ezo: ::through clenched teeth:: They know we're here. Our timeline just shortened significantly. What weapons do we have? We'll hit the guards before we find Zel and Max...

Hello and welcome! It's great to see new faces! It's always fun to see how games with dice vs games without dice play out for me - good thing is there's interesting stories to be told either way! Hope you have a great time in training, and once again, welcome on board!

Welcome to the fleet, hope to see you around the stars!

Hello and welcome! Good to have you with us! I hope you have a great time in training!

((Starfleet Command, San Francisco.)) ((Thirty-one Years Ago.)) ::The gentle ripple of applause died down as the new flagship of Starfleet slipped her moorings and eased out into space. The room where he stood was finely decorated as there was also a ball taking place tonight to celebrate the promotion of Commodore Hansen to Rear Admiral. Several officers still stood in groups staring up at the screen as the Enterprise-D majestically cruised away from the shipyards, whilst others took seats at tables, stood gossiping or went in search of new drinks and old friends. Two years aboard the USS Peter had earned him promotion to full Lieutenant, a couple of medals and a host of minor science awards. Now, he was the brand new Chief Science Officer aboard an old friend’s ship. And that old friend was an old friend of the now Rear-Admiral Hansen. He didn’t really like formal occasions, and hated wearing his dress uniform because it meant showing off ribbons. And that usually drew attention considering his age.:: Captain Bell: Bloody hell, Will, crack a smile will you? ::Lieutenant William T. Maxwell turned to face the old friend he’d been thinking about barely a heartbeat earlier. Captain Ronald Bell was a year older than William and had earned a rapid captaincy due to both his abilities and unfortunate losses amongst the senior crew of his previous ship. Having been only a Lieutenant himself, Ronnie had been the only bridge officer left alive during a battle with a pirate cruiser. He’d taken command of the ship despite being wounded and escaped, earning him a rather grand promotion to Captain, and command of the USS Reiver, an Ambassador-class vessel. He was also wearing the freshly awarded Purple Heart from that painful experience. Stood beside him was his first officer, Arturo Bianchi-Rossi. The Reiver’s former chief tactical officer had been promoted to Commander and appointed as Captain Bell’s right hand as he knew the Reiver better than any other crew member. William had been school friends with Ronald, and had gone through the Academy with Arturo, and so despite being a new command team together, it was a reunion of old friends and a happy occasion.:: William: Ach, leave off, Ronnie. You know I cannae stand all ::pause, a vague wave of his hand:: this stuff. ::That earned a bark of laugher from the Italian First Officer.:: Arturo: Why, Ronald, I believe young Max is scared of all the braid floating around the room. ::William mouthed a good-natured obscenity over his glass of scotch as Ronald looked up at the screen. The Captain smoothed his beard absently as he watched the Galaxy-class vessel getting further away.:: Captain Bell: Be us in the morning lads. Off, out and away. ::A glance at William.:: Sure a young boy like you can handle a five year stint out there? ::A smirk.:: William: Handle it better than you, ye overweight pencil pusher. ::A grin:: ::Ronald held a hand to his chest in mock distress. He raised his voice theatrically, gaining a mixture of looks from the nearest officers and their partners.:: Captain Bell: I get you a cushy posting, and you insult me! Insult me! My god who need enemies with friends like you! ::A couple of nearby officers gave William a look of disgust, and right on cue William, Ronald and Arturo burst out laughing like a gang of schoolboys caught in the girls changing rooms. At a wave of Ronald’s glass, the trio made for the bar. William painfully conscious of the clink of his medals and the senior officers staring at them and himself as he passed by.:: Captain Bell: Stop being so stiff lad. Be proud of those shinies, swagger like you own the place and they’ll soon stop staring. ::Easier said than done as far as William was concerned. He ordered himself another glass of scotch and stood with one arm resting on the bar, Arturo opposite and Ronnie in the middle. They chatted this way and that for a little while until Williams words died in his throat. Ronnie smirked over his glass as Arturo followed Williams gaze. Williams eyes had fallen upon quite possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was stood talking to a group of officers, laughing politely yet subtly looking for an escape. She was wearing a long red gown with a plunging neckline, and her dark brown hair spilled in countless gentle waves all the way to the small of her back. The rest of the room vanished into nothing as they locked gazes for a split second, William feeling his heart miss what felt like about twenty beats. He responded absently as he realised Arturo had spoken to him.:: William: Sorry…? Arturo: She is beautiful, yes? ::A smile at his friend.:: ::William simply gave a dumb nod, unable to take his eyes from her.:: Arturo: You should go and talk to her. ::That got his attention and he choked on his mouthful of scotch.:: William: Don’t be bloody daft, man. She’s, she’s, well look at her. ::Wiping his chin with a napkin:: And I’m, well… ::He pointed up and down himself as if to say ‘The state of me’.:: Arturo: Then I shall talk to her for you. William: Oi, don’t yo- ::But it was too late. Arturo was already gone, and William fidgeted nervously with his cufflinks as he saw Arturo talking to the woman that had captivated him. He turned to Ronnie, who was trying not to laugh and make himself invisible at the same time.:: William: Cannae believe you didnae stop him, Ronnie. Captain Bell: My god. ::Laughing:: Look at you, Will. Twenty-four, a department chief with two silver stars, a captain’s commendation and three purple hearts to your name, and you’re scared of talking to a girl at a party? ::William raised hand to point at his friend:: William: F- Arturo: Gentlemen. ::William turned, about to blast his friend for probably embarrassing him, and froze. The beautiful dark-haired woman was stood beside Arturo, arms linked together, and smiling right at him. The smile was friendly, amused, questioning and playful all at once and William bit his tongue in surprise at her being stood with them.:: William: Ah, bo- Arturo: Ronnie you already know. And this ::A pause as he gently patted her hand:: is Lieutenant Maxwell. William and I were at the Academy together. William: Good evening miss, a pleasure tae meet you. ::A quick glance to Arturo that said ‘I’ll kill you later’.:: I didnae catch your name? ::Arturo smiled again, his eyes sparkling with mischief as William looked at him.:: Arturo: How rude of me. William, I would like you to meet my sister, Abrielle….. --- Lieutenant William T. Maxwell. Chief Science Officer. USS Reiver. Simmed by; Lieutenant (JG) Arturo Maxwell. Tactical Officer. Starbase 118 Operations. O239311AM0.

(( Starbase 104 - Yirath Jorg Memorial Gym, Parrises Squares Court 3 )) oO Never make a bet with a Tellarite. Oo ::This was the decision Ji-hu came to when he was sweating through a tight, spandex suit, gasping for breath with a two-hundred pound Klingon security officer barreling down at him from the top of a red and black pyramid.:: ::It had all started earlier in the week when the ESPO crew was divvying repair and diagnostic tasks for the day. Ji-hu had made an off-handed comment about Berenez and Frag needing to complete fourteen repairs by the end of the week to keep up with their workload, which had been slow going. Frag had puffed out her chest indignantly.:: Frag: I bet you we can finish TWENTY, and if we do you have to come to my weekly cardio exercise in a yellow spandex suit. ::Tor had snickered, and Berenez’d given Ji-hu a challenging look. He’d waved his hand dismissively and uttered a single, ill-fated word: “Fine.”:: ::Berenez and Frag completed 22 tasks that week. That’s how Ji-hu had ended up outfitted, to his utter horror, in a tight, yellow spandex suit that left little to the imagination for Frag’s “weekly cardio exercise,” his first ever game of Parrises Squares.:: Frag: EYE ON THE BALL, JITTERS! ::Frag, outfitted in a matching, yellow spandex suit, was the team’s keeper at the far end of the court, in the defence zone, brandishing her mallet like a warrior. His fellow teammates were two other Constitution Tellarites, an older Tellarite woman from HCO he’d briefly served on the bridge with, and a younger Tellarite security officer. They were playing against a recreational Starbase 104 team… if one considered bloodlust and bone fractures recreational.:: ::Attempting to remember his dojo training days with Colleen back at the Academy, he tried to lower his centre of gravity and plant himself as the Klingon charged at him, but the hulking security officer easily knocked him out of the way, down into the pit on that side of the court. The Klingon received the ball from the top of the pyramid, where an opposing Bolian was grappling with their Tellarite HCO officer. The Klingon made a running leap up their goal ramp as Frag swung the large mallet to knock him off course, but he spun through the air, dodging her and slamming the ball through the hoop, earning the opposing team ten points.:: Klingon: ::arms raised:: tlhIngan maH! ::Ji-hu gasped for breath, having had it knocked out of him for the fourth time that day, not to mention the simple fact that he wasn’t the most physically fit person in the quadrant. Frag walked over to the side and grinned down at him.:: Frag: Almost had him there, Jitters! You’ll get him next time! ::When he found out exactly what her version of “cardio” was, Frag was disgusted that Ji-hu had never been in a Parrises Squares court. She would not accept his begging and pleas. She threatened to give Ix and Te permission to dismantle the entire ESPO, that she would ensure no one in the office would never listen to a word he said ever again until they rectified the oversight. When he saw the hungry look in the Bynars eyes, and Tor and Berenez’s sly glances he decided to play along as a substitute player.:: ::Their usual fourth player had, conveniently, been unavailable on game day, so Ji-hu was brought in from the first quarter on.:: ::They were well into the fourth and final quarter now, and Ji-hu had been knocked down the pyramid three times, thrown into the pit seven. He’d been body-checked, tackled, tripped, and beamed in the head with the ball twice for reasons he thought were entirely against the rules. But nothing was against the rules in Parrises Squares except for common decency. The entire court was padded, but that didn’t make the hits and falls any less painful, and he had the feeling he’d be one sentient bruise tomorrow.:: ::The buzzer rang and his two fellow offensive teammates scrambled up the pyramid as the opposing Bolian made the top and grabbed the ball. The Tellarite security officer took a running jumpkick off the top of the pyramid and caught him off guard, tumbling them both down the pyramid and sending the ball rolling down Ji-hu’s side. In a moment of stupidity, Ji-hu grabbed it just as the Klingon and an opposing human made for him. He tossed it to his fellow HCO officer and, miraculously, it connected. He was body checked off the side once again, but as he climbed up the side ramp there was a struggle at the top before his teammates broke through over the pyramid and into the opposing team’s side.:: ::Panting, feeling on the edge of collapse, he climbed the side of the pyramid and saw the HCO officer wrestling with the Bolian as the opposing human advanced on her. She managed to throw it to the Tellarite security officer on the opposite side of the court, but then the Klingon and the opposing Keeper gunned for her. She glanced around desperately, then saw slight, young, much-abused Ji-hu just at the top of pyramid, and the ball came sailing for him.:: ::He caught it, somehow, and half-fell, half-ran down the side of the pyramid straight for the opposing goal ramp.:: ::The opposing human Keeper had broke off from the Klingon-Tellarite grapple and made for Ji-hu as his feet hit the defensive zone. He saw a delighted spark in her eye as she spun her mallet expertly. He had already recognized her at the start of the game, but this was the first time he had come face-to-face with Ensign Jenny Jordan.:: Jordan: Oh no you don’t, darlin’. ::He tried to go around her as he neared the goal ramp, since she was a few paces away from him, his feet hit the springy, padded ramp and with every ounce of strength in his body he launched himself diagonally through the air, sailing towards the goal post, until…:: ::THWACK.:: ::The end game buzzer went off as the world started to come into focus again. Ji-hu felt a warm liquid dripping over his mouth, and he blinked a few times, though his left eye felt weird. Frag and his other teammates stood over Ji-hu from above, and they were grinning down at him.:: Frag: What’d I tell you, Jitters?! You did it! You scored! Choi: ::blinking:: I did?! Did we win? Frag: Not even close! They were fifty-five points ahead, but what an end! And look! ::she reached down and touched his nose with her hair paw, which came away bloody:: YOU POPPED YOUR SQUARE-Y CHERRY! ::His teammates helped him up and he started running diagnostics on his face. His nose was tender and bleeding, but Frag assured him it was just a simple bloody nose. His left eye was swelling up, and Frag gave him the thumbs up as the team grabbed some water and collapsed off the court.:: Frag: No going whining to Sickbay for anything less than a broken bone! You wear your Parrises shiners as a badge of honour! ::Ji-hu was just starting to get his breath back, a towel clutched to his bleeding nose, when he felt a clap on his back. He looked up to see Ensign Jordan smirking down at him as she passed, heading towards the showers.:: Jordan: ::calling back over her shoulder:: That’s for startin' a riot on our starbase! ::Ji-hu was half-tempted to file some sort of report against her, but Frag beat him to the punch by simply launching a dozen colourful Tellarite terms that the translator matrix didn’t pick up after Jordan, who laughed. Frag helped him up to clear the court for an oncoming competitive league.:: Frag: That was a great first game, Jitters! You didn’t get a concussion or nothin’! Next week we’ll have to work on your defensive plays! We’ll see you back here next week, right? ::The others looked to him and after a moment’s thought Ji-hu surprised them, but himself most of all.:: Choi: Yeah… I g-guess you will. END PNPC Ensign Frag, USS Constitution Engineering Officer as simmed by: Lieutenant (JG) Choi Ji-hu Engineering Officer USS Constitution-B C239402CJ0

Congrats and welcome to the fleet, Lukas! I look forward to seeing you on board the Conny!

Hello and welcome! Glad to have you with us! DS9 was always my favorite - so many good stories to pull from.

((Starbase 118 – Twenty-seven hours after the Columbia’s return.)) ::Crewman Julien Paradi had been in uniform just over a year, having joined Starfleet as soon as he turned eighteen. He’d completed his training and been shipped out to Starbase 118 as a “Transport & Storage Operative”. It was a glorious sounding title for what was essentially a Starfleet order picker. He ran lift loaders and other equipment, shunted palletised freight and equipment from storage locations to transporter bays or aboard shuttles and larger cargo haulers. Some days he was in one of the transit offices, generating or reviewing manifests for anything and everything that went in or out of the storage areas. He found it pretty dull, so when he was asked near the end of his days rotation if he would take a couple of items up to an officers apartment in the next “block” from his own, he’d been halfway up the corridor before realising he’d left the items behind. Still, he was here now. Deck 830 North, Apartment 49C. He entered the common lobby, and proceeded to the apartment in question, chiming the door as he came to a halt. The tiny speaker set flush into the chime sounded. “Hello?”:: Paradi: Crewman Paradi, I have your items from the cargo bay sir. ::“Enter” came the voice, and a moment later the door hissed open. He stepped over the threshold and into an apartment that was identical in layout – but mirrored – to his own. To his left were a trio of doors that led to bedrooms and a dedicated washroom, he was stood in what was the open plan entry/lounge area, and to his right was the rest of the apartment that was the remainder of the lounge area and an open plan family/dining/kitchen layout. There were framed posters of musicians and bands adorning the walls, along with framed examples of what looked like….:: Paradi: oO Surely they can’t be vinyl records, can they? Oo ::There was a pair of two seat sofas and three comfy looking chairs in the lounge area, and there was a fair sized coffee table in the middle of them. There were a couple of old style printed music magazines on the table, sat beside a trio of empty beer bottles, and one half-full. There were several display stands and bookcases dotted about the room, with all manner of militaria and music memorabilia on show. He even spotted a storage rack with a decent collection of records in it. No record player though…. A padded stool was sat by one of the three windows – Paradi knew the ‘outer’ bedroom would have it’s own window too – beside a Cello on a stand and also a stand for sheet music. Behind the stool was what looked like a violin case as well. His gaze flicked back to the left, noting a short bookcase against the wall between the inner bedroom and washroom. Sat upon it in a glass case was a highly detailed and intricate model of an old Ambassador-class Starship, and beside the case was a framed photograph of a Science Officer and his blushing bride. His attention had been drawn that way by the hissing of the door to the outer bedroom. Out of which strode a shirtless man who looked to be about twenty-two. Paradi took in the slim but toned physique at a glance and felt a mild flush of excitement. One side of his face and neck was reddened and looked to be mildly irritated; the other side of his neck had a square dressing on it, low down. His torso was peppered with purple-green bruising and not a few nasty looking scratches and gouges. He had short hair and a short beard, and his eyes were different colours. He also didn’t have any trousers on. Instead, he was wearing a pair of heavy-duty black boots. And a kilt.:: Paradi: oO Kinda hot really… Oo Maxwell: Awright pal? Those ma things? ::He nodded at the bag strap on Paradi’s shoulder, but also meaning the case of Turners Lager couched under the other arm. Paradi nodded, relieved. He put the duffel bag and beer case down, smiled and made to leave. His eyes flicking briefly over to the stool by the window. Maxwell turned, following the gaze, his own eyes falling on the Cello:: Maxwell: Aye, she’s a beauty ain’t she? D’you play by chance? ::Paradi’s heart skipped a beat. He did indeed play the Cello! He nodded enthusiastically:: Maxwell: Aye, great. Tell ye what lad. Why don’t ye come doon at some point? We can sit oot on the veranda and play a while. By the “veranda”, Paradi took him to mean the communal area outside the apartments. He nodded again, excused himself, and left. Maxwell: oO Who’d have thought? Another Cello player! Oo ::He glanced up at his wall-mounted clock, noting the time before grabbing a t-shirt from over the back of a chair and pulling it on. There were still boxes of his collectibles and clothes dotted about, and stray piles of clothes strewn about everywhere. Brushing a pile of socks of a chair, he sat down in front of his viewer, declaring the recipient of the call. About a minute later, the screen came to life and an olive-skinned woman with dark hair and sparkling green eyes appeared before him. An enormous smile broke across her face and a hand went to her mouth. Maxwell: Hello mam ::He couldn’t help but grin, and he realised how much he was missing her. She tutted. Abrielle Maxwell: Italiano! ::she scolded, but there was a playful edge to it:: ::He shook his head, laughing.:: Maxwell: Ciao Mamma. ::She smiled. She always wanted to talk to him – to all of the kids – in Italian, a fact that mildly irritated his father. They talked this was and that for a while, at one point the screen splitting as his father had joined in. Maxwell’s mother calling out to him, and Maxwell had heard his father in the background calling back that he couldn’t understand a bloody word she was saying. The rest of the family knew full well that William could speak Italian almost as well as his wife. To any outside observers, it would have sounded like the brewing of an argument, but it was just a playful little routine his parents had gotten into during their thirty years of marriage. He’d spoken briefly with his brother Henry and got a relatively polite ‘hello’ from his sister as she had passed Amelia into her “Granmamma’s” lap. He’d never once stopped smiling as he sat there listening to her chatter away about everything and nothing that was world-spinningly important to a four year old.:: Maxwell: Okay, Milly. You go with your auntie Rosetta. Be good, night night. Daddy loves you! ::She’d waved at him, then held her arms out to be picked up. Maxwell’s mother smiled, giving her a kiss goodnight and watching as she was taken from the room. Then her expression changed to one of sadness:: William Maxwell: Awright, son. I’ll leave you be to chat wi’ your mother. I’m proud of you son. Speak soon, aye? ::And with that, the split screen went back to a full screen of his mother’s face. He knew that look. Something had happened. It was a month or so since his Grandad had passed away, so it couldn’t be that. He lapsed back into English as he spoke:: Maxwell: Sup, Ma? What’s happened? ::His beloved Mamma began to weep:: Ensign Arturo Maxwell. Tactical Officer. Starbase 118 Operations. O239311AM0.

(( The Pulse Light Racing Platform - Main Stage )) ::The platform had come alive with the hustle and bustle of a busy city square. The sounds of engines, crowds, and celebration echoing through the various makeshift buildings and vessels. At the center of it all, the primary administrative tower stood sentry over the large empty stage and its army of speakers that had stood silently so far. A large crowd had already gathered at its edges with the anticipation of what was soon to come. Their wish was granted. It started out as just a slow thumping beat, but the crowd went wild. Those farther out stopped in their tracks and turned toward the sound as the beat became louder and escalated in volume. In a sudden shift, the bass began to slam though the group of jumping, dancing, partying fans. The floor of the platform itself began to vibrate with the weight of the music as a platform began to rise from center stage. On it, MC Crescendo stood with his arms raised, a golden microphone in his hand. His crew of makeup artists and designer fashionistas had graced his form with a whirlwind of artful elegance that was certain to hold up to the expectation his reputation demanded. His custom silk tunic cut just low enough to showcase his perfectly manicured chest hair, his masculine display offset perfectly by the deep purple scarf draped loosely over his shoulders. The energy from the stage soon erupted over the entire platform, demanding the attention of everyone in attendance. Giant view screens were splayed in every direction for the convenience of all, each blasting the fast paced kind of beat that made you want to move, and certainly the kind that made you have to shout to talk. Soon the face of the popular MC Crescendo was visible to all, jumping to the front of the stage to the roar of the party animals before him as fireworks began to erupt in every direction. The party of the year had begun.:: Crescendo: Welcome party people to the 2394 Pulse Light Grand Prix! ::The crowd responded with a roar of cheering. The Denobulan took it all in with his arms raised as he paced the stage, absorbing the thrill and energy that he had grown so addicted to.:: Crescendo: Ladies! Gentlemen! Everything in between and beyond! Strap yourselves in for the biggest, hottest, wildest, sexiest race in the Universe! ::He pulled the mic closer, barely able to hear himself over the all too familiar noise level, absorbing the blinding heat of the lights illuminating every inch of the stage.:: I am MC Crescendo and I will be your host, narrator, announcer, DJ and not-so-secret crush for the duration of not only the race, but the biggest party you will never tell your grand-kids about! ::He looked to the large security guards at the edges of the stage. They were certainly deterrents, but Pulse Light justice was much more effective than any muscle. It was time to explain the rules.:: Crescendo: Until the fun begins all racers are grounded until they are called to the starting line. While were all here, lets try to get along shall we? No sabotage, no murder, and for the love of Bolian bikini parties, control your fluids! If you break the rules, we all know what happens! ::He held the mic out to the crowd before him for their echoing reply and shouted it out with them as a single spotlight focused on him, darkening the rest of the stage.:: Crescendo: Crowd Justiiiice!! ::He pulled the mic back:: That's right you savages, if you break the rules the man on high. ::He pointed up to the tower behind him.:: Will mark you for crowd justice. That means you had better be really fast or really tough, because your vessel, your possessions and yes even your lives are at the mercy of your peers. So if your going to break the rules, don't get caught! ::He had seen it at least once at every race since they had implemented it. It was always gruesome, but it was equally effective. The best part? It saved them a ton on security, and that made the man upstairs very happy. That was a win for everyone. With the main security force now able to focus on the stage and the tower exclusively, MC Crescendo and his crew felt nice and safe. The Denobulan looked to an assistant at the side of the stage for a nod of confirmation and satisfied, moved with the beat to the other side of the stage as forms scurried in the darkness behind him.:: Crescendo: Our racers have arrived and their vessels are primed for one hell of a show! We are gathering them in our media hub now and will be giving you all a first look at the faces behind the races. Were blasting on all frequencies so if your not on the ground, get to a terminal, because you don't want to miss this! In the meantime, get down with one of the foremost bands of their genre, the dirtiest punks in the galaxy, The Prime Resistance! :: The stage was re-illuminated in a flash just as the now present band slammed into their instruments. Crescendo made a swift and subtle exit as the young and energetic musicians screamed into their microphones, their drummer in a flurry of motion behind them. While it was not his preferred style of music, he could not deny that the group had spirit. With phase one complete, it was time for one of his favorite parts. Meeting the competitors.:: MC Crescendo Master of Ceremonies The Pulse Light Grand Prix C239205AF0 as simmed by... Lt. Cmdr. Antero Flynn Chief Helm Officer Starbase 118 Ops C239205AF0

Welcome - and welcome back to the fleet! We're glad to have you guys!

::From her perch on top of the world, Iris could see everything. Her entire Queendom sat below, and it was good. Everything belonged to her, from the cold ground to the raised soft-floors. Mother was down there, playing with her prey. The small creature squeaked as it pelt rapidly flashed and changed colour. Mother didn’t seem to be eating it though, just playing. She liked to do that, it was odd really, but Iris didn’t question it. Mother must have lost her appetite when she’d lost her wings. It was sad really, but it was okay. Iris was here now, she could rule these lands and look after mother.:: ::The guardians of her world stood aside with their customary call. A new subject passed between them. Hmm, interesting. The new arrival looked exactly like her favourite food, blue and hard, with lots of little wriggly bits at the front. But this one was huge! That could feed mother and Iris forever… It would be hard to bring down though, this would take patience. Iris fixed the creature with a long glare as it slowly walked towards where mother was sitting. Then, the unexpected happened. The newcomer put down a smaller creature in front of mother, it squealed a threatening squeal as it’s eyes literally flashed with murderous intent. It was barely a branch-length away from Mother! Iris had to do something! Mother had to be protected!:: ::Iris spread her wings proudly and cawed, her regal voice echoing throughout her territory, an unmistakeable show of power. Then, she pounced, diving from her perch with all the speed she could muster, her eyes fixed on Mother’s assailant:: Iris: SCRAAW!!! ::She was coming in hot, wings spread, talons extended, target directly in her sights. oOMINE! Wait, what?Oo Iris scrabbled against the raised ground as she slid across it with a loud scraping. She suddenly found herself once again in the air, only this time, falling uncontrollably to the lowest point of her queendom. She hit the ground with a thud, rolled and stood up, chest puffed out. Determined to make the fumble look intentional. All sign of the attacking creature had vanished, obviously she’d frightened it off. It was more than it deserved, attacking mother carried a hefty sentence under Iris’s rule. The avian cawed once more, glared at the giant wriggly food with a glare that said “Don’t do it again”, then fluttered back to her perch on top of the world.:: ((30 seconds earlier – Phrik’s office, Starbase 118 medical bay)) ::Phrik sighed at the call of his newest pet, he knew what was coming. His hand shot out, suddenly grabbing the bleeping PADD on the table in a blur of motion. Seconds later, a green and purple scaled bird hit his desk with a thump, slid along it in a cacophony of caws, flapping and scraping, then shot off the end, landing in a heap on the floor. She slowly stood up, shook herself off and returned to her perch atop one of the life support monitors. Phrik shook his head with the expression of a man who’d seen this happen far too many times. He tapped the PADD once, muting it, and then looked at the quaking Nasat that stood terrified in front of his desk.:: Phrik: I’m sorry, you were saying? ::Hattie stared at him, wide eyed, not entirely sure if what she had just witnessed had been real.:: Hattie: Um-well, uh, d-did tha… Phrik: You don’t mind birds do you? ::Hattie blinked.:: Hattie: ::Tentatively:: Uh, uh, n-not usually… Phrik: Good. Now, you were saying? ::He spoke again with a slight edge to his voice, as if daring her to bring up the bird.:: ::Hattie threw a somewhat fearful glance towards the strange lizard-bird as it pruned it’s wings, then looked back to Phrik, deciding it best to pretend that the past 30 seconds had never happened.:: Hattie: W-well, it’s just, well, I’m H-8 Blue, the new nurse. B-but, you can call me Hattie, if you like. Phrik: :: impatiently.:: Yes, I know, it says that here. ::He tapped the PADD she’d given him with a pointed finger.:: Now, is there something I can help you with? ::Taken aback slightly by his tone Hattie shut her eyes for a second to collect herself. Obviously not everyone was as nice as Doctor Ezo.:: Hattie: N-n-not per-say. I-I, just wanted to in-introduce myself… W-we’ll be working together, s-so, I w-wanted to say hello Phrik: Hmmm. I see… ::Phrik turned his gaze back towards the PADD, and it was at this point that Hattie realised it probably hadn’t been the best idea to give him the report of the ‘incident’. He didn’t seem like he’d be anywhere near as understanding as Doctor Ezo had been.:: Phrik: So you’re the one behind the destruction of Storeroom three? ::Hattie jumped back, resisting the urge to bolt from the room:: Hattie: W-w-well, n-no, there was a, was a pi… Phrik: ::Skeptically:: Pink targ. Yes, so I’ve read. ::If it weren’t for the mountains of corroborating evidence Phrik would have called the entire escapade a product of a young nurses’ overactive imagination as she tried to cover up a titanic blunder. But apparently there really was a pink targ on the station, and it really had been causing mayhem.:: Phrik: ::Musingly:: Cruel really. ::He snapped his gaze back to her.:: Well, I think that concludes the required introduction. I’m sure you have work that needs doing. ::She let out a short sigh of relief, thankful he’d dropped the matter.:: Hattie: Um, I was, actually, hoping you’d have something for me to do? M-maybe. That’s what Doctor Ezo said, at least. Phrik: Ahh, well, in that case, here. ::He pushed a small stack of muted PADDs towards her.:: I trust you are capable of performing mindless beuracracy? Hattie: Well, uh, I guess? B-but… Phrik: ::Cutting her off:: Excellent. These need to be back by Friday. ::She slumped, disheartened. After all she’d gone through they still weren’t giving her any real practical jobs! It wasn’t fair!:: Hatte: Uh, oh, o-okay. B-but, can I not help with something practical, a surgery, maybe? ::A hopeful tinge in her voice.:: Phrik: When you have more experience, we’ll see, until then you have PADDs to fill out. ::To Phrik’s eye it was only fair. She was still a child, barely old enough to drink let alone perform surgery. They seemed to keep getting younger and younger…:: Hattie: oh… ::Her antennae drooped and her face fell. She slowly dragged the stack of PADDs towards her and haphazardly lifted them, holding tightly with four arms. Then she turned and began to walk away from Phrik’s desk, thoroughly disheartened. Her tail swayed sadly:: ::Phrik sighed heavily. There was something about her that almost reminded him of himself. He clutched the bridge of his nose and called out to her.:: Phrik: Fine. I have 4 more physicals for today. Two Humans, a Denobulan and a Klingon. Against my better judgement, I’ll let you take them. Can you handle that? ::Hattie almost squealed in response, antennae shooting up almost instantly:: Hattie: Yes! Um, I mean, I can do that! You can count on me! ::Phrik sighed a sigh of ‘I’m going to regret this aren’t I?’ and stood up.:: Phrik: I won’t be gone long. Patient files are on the top PADD. ::He looked up at Iris, sat watching on the monitor:: Iris, here. ::She immediately took flight, swooped down and landed on his shoulder. Her tail wrapping itself around the back of his neck. It was about time something be done about Iris’s lodgings. There was a new Engineer on the station, perhaps he could help.:: Phrik: ::Glancing back at Hattie as he walked towards the exit:: Try not to make a fool of yourself. Ensign Phrik, MD Medical Officer Starbase 118 Ops O239308P10

((Starbase 118, commercial sector)) ::She was finally on an adventure, her second day in Starfleet and already an adventure. Just like she’d always imagined it would be. Nothing could stop her now, nothing but a certain pink hued targ. As she made her way through the ordered streets of Starbase 118, she idly considered if she’d get a medal for her efforts. At the very least a commendation. As images of a giant awards ceremony flashed through her mind, the excitable nurse rounded a corner slightly too quickly and she upended herself. The tricorder flew out of her hand and Hattie found herself spinning along the sidewalk on the back of her shell, only to come to a very sudden stop as she slammed into a firm pair of legs. Her legs flailed slightly, like an upside-down tortoise as she looked up in horror at the very large marine she’d collided with.:: oO Oh no. Oo Kro: ::Holding a hand up toward Gazkra:: It's alright. Hattie: I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Oh god, I’m such an idiot! ::She rolled herself over onto her belly before pushing herself back up to her hind legs, her antennae curled almost entirely around her head in shame. :: Kro: I'm pretty sure I'll recover. Gazkra: You'd better. Or I'm telling Doctor Ezo what you put me up to. ::The Betazoid could be a bit of a terror; Gaz could respect that.:: Hattie: I-I just needed to be fast, in case it got away. I’m really sorry. ::She slowly picked up the battered tricorder from the ground, tears began to well up in her eyes when she realised the already battered device had given its final bleep. She’d really made a mess of things now. Did this count as dereliction of duty? She’d lost all the data! And charged head first into a pair of marines! They could court martial her for that, couldn’t they?:: Kro: ::Putting a comforting hand to her shoulder.:: There there, nothing that cant be repaired. ::Hattie stared up at them, even on her hind legs she was completely dwarfed by most humanoids, these two even more so. It was taking almost all of her concentration not to curl up into a ball and roll away. Then, another thought came to her. Maybe they could help.:: Hattie: ::In a tiny voice:: Are-are you Klingon? Gazkra: ::curtly:: Half. Hattie: ::She swallowed, not sure if what she was about to say could be considered xenophobic:: Does that, ::She coughed and raised her voice to a slightly more audible squeak:: does that mean you know how to catch targs? Kro: ::Eyes widening:: Did you say targs?! ::She visibly shrank backwards, antennae curling and exoskeletal plates bunching up in fear. Her and her big mouth:: Hattie: ::In a panicked yelp:: Sorry! I-I… I didn’t m-mean it in a bad way, just… Kro: No no, you misunderstand. You see we're looking for a targ as well. I don't suppose the one you are hunting is...::An awkward question every time.:: Pink? ::Her antennae perked up and her eyes glittered in the freshly renewed excitement.:: Hattie: It is! ::Her already fast speaking pace seemed to accelerate with each word:: I was meant to be doing the inventory on one of the medical store-room, and then I found something had destroyed all the supplies, so I tried to figure out what happened, and then I noticed a tuft of pink fur, so I put it under the tricorder and found out it was targ, and because I really need to make a good impression for when Doctor Ezo comes back, I thought I’d… ::She stopped to take a long overdue breath, then her face fell.:: Sorry… I-I tend to babble when excited… Kro: ::Looking to Gazkra:: What are the chances? Gazkra: ::shrugs:: It's a big station Kro: Alright, well our trail has ended. Did you see it near here? Or have some idea where it is going? You were in an awful hurry.... Hattie: I do! I worked out how to track it on my tricorder! Let me show you… ::Suddenly remembering the black, cracked screen her face fell.:: Oh… ::Hattie gave it one more hopeful prod with her claw, eliciting a long and static-ridden warble which slowly faded into silence. The death throes of a tricorder had never sounded so sad before.:: Hattie: ::Staring at the floor:: Sorry… Kro/Gazkra: ? Rozera: =/\= Rozera to Kro! Target in sight, sector 52-D. I’m in pursuit. Can you cut her off at the intersection to sector 53? =/\= ::The combadges’ chirp was accompanied by a sharp, excited intake of breath from Hattie. Maybe this would work out after all.:: Kro: =/\= Your sure?! =/\= Rozera: =/\= Affirmative, bacon is on the grill. =/\= ::The sound of her knuckles popping made it over the communicator.::=/\= And the grill is hot. =/\= Kro: oO I like her Oo =/\= Understood. Keep the tongs ready!. =/\= Gazkra: Sir, after this you owe me bacon. ::she rubbed at her sore arm again.:: At least. Kro: ::A wry smile:: You might be right about that. ::Hattie looked between the pair of them, her confusion evident.:: Hattie: Bacon? ::Other than it was apparently grilled, Hattie had no idea what bacon was meant to be, or symbolised.:: Gazkra: Targ first, stories later. ::And alcohol, if she had anything to say about it.:: Kro: Right, lets move! Gazkra: ? ::Hattie dropped to the ground and began to scuttle quickly along behind them, she could have gone faster, but the new nurse still had no idea where they were actually going:: Kro: Stand aside! Marine business! Gazkra: ? ::The group of cadets had only just began to reform as Hattie scuttled past, trying not to upend any of them, they didn’t look nearly as sturdy as the large marine had been.:: Hattie: Sorry! ::She called out as she emerged from the crowd:: Kro: Which way is 53-D?! Gazkra: ? ::She turned suddenly to follow in the new direction, her claws skidding across the floor for purchase, though this time she managed to remain on all 8 limbs, and then she spotted it. That had to be it, bright pink, small, and apparently being attacked by someone wielding a, what did they call them? Tennis rackets? Hattie put on a burst of speed, attempting to make up for the lost ground when she’d turned the corner.:: Hattie: There it is! Gazkra/Pran/Rozera: ? ::She watched in part terror, part fascination as the large marine fumbled, sending the targ soaring into the air. She knew exactly what to do, without thinking Hattie surged forwards, putting on even more speed and readying her limbs to jump. This is exactly what they’d do in her adventure stories, it’d be perfect.:: Kro: Catch that Targ!! Hattie: I’ve got it! ::Unfortunately for Kro, he was in the excitable crustaceans path. She sped along the ground, then onto Kro, and then jumped off him and into the air. Any potential social problems this might cause had long been forgotten.:: ::Hattie’s tail and cyan tassles that constituted a uniform billowed out in cape-like fashion as she sailed through the air, all limbs extended, towards the tumbling targ. Her form about as majestic as an un-shapely brick in freefall.:: oOJust a little bit closer, closer, there!Oo Gazkra/Pran/Rozera: ? ::Hattie grabbed the targs tail with one pincer, pulled it closer to her body and then curled into a ball, the audacious animal safely tucked inside the Nasat’s defensive shell as they hit the ground and rolled for several metres before coming to an abrupt stop on a street lamp.:: ::It was at this point that Hattie realised what a bad idea it was to restrain a struggling targ mere centimetres away from her face. It’s claws were sharp. Hattie let out a loud yelp and unfurled from her ball-state, ending up on her back holding the unhappy creature aloft and trying to turn her head away from its claws.:: Hattie: Help! Someone! Please! ::She called, and then felt a very welcome sensation as the beast was lifted out of her grasp by someone. She let out a long sigh and a quiet:: Thank you. ::as a small trickle of purple blood dripped down her face from the unprotected flesh around her eye.:: ::It was then that Hattie realised she’d just used a superior officer, a marine no less, as a springboard, after already coming close to bowling him over. Mortified, she did the only thing that made sense, curled back up into a ball and hoped nobody would notice her. She was going to be court martialed for sure.:: Gazkra/Pran/Rozera: ? Crewman H8 Blue Nurse Starbase 118 Operations As simmed by: Ensign Phrik, MD Medical Officer Starbase 118 Ops O239308P10

((Cabin #12 - Raskor I - Evening of Kinney's Resignation)) ::It had been one hell of a...Day? Week? Month? She was losing count. After the painfully awkward encounter with Tyler, Mirra's hasty patch job and near sprint of a retreat had been less than ideal. But, once in the Raskor Embassy Medbay, she had plenty to keep her distracted. Ishani had thankfully regained her sight, as expected, and the majority of those who had been in direct path of the flash bomb or phaser fire had been cleared. Dr. Phrik had yet to regain consciousness, and Mirra was lingering to keep an eye on him. While she waited, the news came from Sal, now aboard the Columbia, that with Ambassador Nicholotti's oO As in...Captain Nicholotti? I can't believe it...Oo, witness, Allen Kinney had resigned his commission, effective immediately. It was over. They finally had a win. And it only cost a near assassination. She had no clue the fate of the Angosian Augment, nor did she truly care. As long as it meant she was in the hands of those who knew how to deal with her, and far away from windows, and Mirra. With the hours ticking on, Dr. Phrik regained consciousness. But the vision in his left eye hadn't returned yet. Along with the resident physician, she had ordered a variety of tests. His vitals were steady...but she herself, wasn't. She was exhausted. Weary down to the marrow of her bones. Despite all her protests, she actually began to wobble a bit on her feet and was promptly kicked out of Medbay. Someone had come with a key and a map for her to find her way to the circle of cabins surrounding the Executive Beach house Commodore Kinney had installed several years ago. She shambled her way towards a small, beautiful cabin near the left corner of the outcropping. Raskor I was beautiful. The cabin was whimsically decorated in swirls of light blues and greens, matching the clear sky and gorgeous shore line. She assumed. She was far too tired to appreciate it. She stumbled over the threshold, stripping the ruined dress whites as she went, before collapsing on the over-sized bed at the end of the hallway. Before she passed out, she giggled to herself wondering just when exactly the other eight or so people who would make use of the excessive amount of pillows would show, but ended up crafting a rudimentary pillow cave around herself instead.:: ((((Brief Timeskip - A few Hours later)))) ::Mirra had woken with a start, she was deeply disoriented. Had she fallen asleep in a vat of marshmallow..? Oh, that was the pillows. Sitting up, she looked around at the darkend room. She had been so tired, she must have slept through to the next evening. No, it was just before dawn. What had woken her? She couldn't remember if she had been dreaming, but after attempting to reconstruct the pillow cave, it had clearly lost it's magic. Crawling out, she stumbled into the attached bathroom and caught her reflection in the mirror. It stopped her cold. Her neck was a patchwork of blueish purple from the healing bruises, the bags under here eyes nearly matched the shade. Taking the regenerative bandage off her wrist, the deep bruising extended from her hand to halfway up her forearm. Apparently she had swung harder than she thought. A smirk ghosted the corner of her mouth. oO I punched Allen Kinney. Hard. Oo Glancing back up at her reflection, she gave a satisfied little head nod. Much to her absolute delight, the cabin was equipped with a real, water shower. She had cranked the heat, and stayed in to the point where the complexion of her skin nearly matched the vibrant red of her hair. Finding a large, fluffy robe, Mirra had wondered out to the semi enclosed porch directly through a set of French doors off the bedroom. She settled into a large, almost complicated looking deck chair that had been fashioned to look as if it was made of driftwood and an overly large leaf. It enveloped her like a warm, comfortable cocoon. She was certain whatever the fabric of this chair was, it had to be bewitched. She had never been this comfortable in her life. She was going to stay here, in this chair, until she withered away. She sat, eyes transfixed on the ocean before her, with the twinkling stars above. She had transcended sleep altogether, and transitioned into some sort of dormant state. Completely oblivious to the passage of time, the fading of the stars and the first soft rays of the sun. There she sat, her hair long since dried by the soft, salty sea breeze. Unfazed by the morning opening up around her. She had become one with that deck chair. That was...until she heard footsteps approaching. Lethargically, she moved her head towards the new arrival.:: Ezo: ::tiredly:: Is someone dying or bleeding...? Tatash: Not yet, but the booze has just been opened so it's just a matter of time. ::Slowly, she turned her head back towards the sea.:: Ezo: Oh thank the Gods. I was worried it would require my moving. ::barely gesturing:: This chair and I have come to an understanding. We're one and the same, this chair and I. Tatash: But I made breakfast. ::he nudged his snout towards the dining area:: ::She let out a very disgruntled sound:: Ezo: ::slightly whimpering:: But...the chair, it's accepted me as one of it's own. If I leave now, that's...hours of diplomatic negotiations, wasted. It'll never trust me again. Can you live with that knowledge...? Tatash: Then I officially declare war on the Republic of Chair. Get up and come and have some bacon. Ezo: ::crestfallen:: Well...does it require pants...? ::looking pathetic:: I've become one with the bathrobe too... Tatash: Theo will shade you for eons if you mope about in a robe all day. ::Mirra let out a lamented wail. With exaggerated struggle, she finally freed herself from the confines of her throne of comfort. Her eyes narrowed into near slits:: Ezo: Stay here, and make amends with my chair while I change... -------------------------------------------- Lieutenant Mirra Ezo, MDChief Medical Officer Starbase 118 OpsC239205ME0