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Sal Taybrim

Executive Council member
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Everything posted by Sal Taybrim

  1. [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
  2. ((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.
  3. ((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.))
  4. I really enjoy the banter between these two!!
  5. ((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
  6. (( 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 --
  7. Oh man, I remember that game! I've been playing Trek e-mail games since '97 too! Welcome to SB118, Matthew!
  8. ((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: ?
  9. ((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
  10. ((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.::
  11. Perhaps @Saveron knows someone who would chat with him about this curiously logical new assistant.
  12. 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!
  13. ((Aitas’ Home - Shi’Kahr District - Starbase 118)) ((OOC - Takes place during shore leave just prior to current mission.)) ::Sakon had been absorbed in his reading on a particular Bajoran predator, nearly extinct in these times, when he heard the doorbell ring. It seemed that Aurelio and Antero Flynn were back from their excursion just a few minutes early. Better that way. Antero had more than enough to make up for already. Sakon opened the door before the bell rang again, and looked down to his grandson with a warm smile.:: Sakon: He looks like he enjoyed the excursion. ::Antero smiled up at the Vulcan and gave Aurelio a gentle graze of the forehead, the child strapped comfortably to his chest in the finest baby carrier he could find. Only the finest Risian material for his son, the older shopkeep had told him it had a silk like quality that was both flexible and durable. Perfect for a warm day at the beach.:: Flynn: I hope so. He really seemed at peace. ::He began to unstrap Aurelio.:: We had a nice time sitting on the beach and letting the waves wash over us, feeling the vitality of the water. Sakon: Do come in, it will be easier for Aurelio if you stay a little while. ::He took his grandson from Antero, gently running a hand across Aurelio’s chin. The Risian smiled, pleased at the somewhat unexpected invitation. Antero always felt like he had formed a bond of sorts with Sakon considering what they had been through together when they met, but as one might expect, it was hard to tell if the sentiment was shared. It turned out Vulcans were hard to read..:: Flynn: Oh, thanks. I would like that. Sakon: I will admit that I’m curious to hear about how you met Aitas. There’s so much of her life I’ve missed out on. ::He adopted a sympathetic smile and set down his bag full of equal parts beach and baby supplies before plopping himself into a chair..:: Flynn: Ah yes, Ensign Aitas. ::He smirked:: She really threw herself at me you know. ::Sakon carefully raised one eyebrow at that.:: Sakon: While my information is somewhat out of date, such behavior does not sound like my daughter. Flynn: ::He laughed softly.:: Your intuition is accurate. Aitas isn’t so easily impressed. ::He sat back, gazing up at the ceiling lazily as he thought back with nostalgia.:: We met upon her assignment to the Starbase, but the spark came during a mission when she was jolted from her seat during a nasty firefight, landing on yours truly. Sakon: That must have been some firefight indeed, unless Starfleet’s standards have degraded much from before. Flynn: ::Nodding:: Her straps failed and she was tossed around on an already busted up rib cage. When the warp core blew and the inertial dampeners failed I had no choice but to..well...take matters into my own hands. Sakon: At which point she became aware of your interest, I presume. Flynn: It wasn’t long after that. ::His head bobbed agreement.:: I found myself compelled to be at her side as she recovered, and our relationship blossomed quickly from there. The mutual interest was made clear early on. Sakon: Ah, so she does take after her mother. Jissela was never shy about asking for what she wanted. ::He smiled slightly, shaking his head.:: Or about disagreeing with her parents. Flynn: She definitely has a knack for getting to the point. Efficiency even in communication. ::He perked up a bit and smiled at Sakon with a touch of mischief in his eyes.:: How about some young Aitas stories? Flynn: Hey little guy. ::He picked him up and gave him a wide smile.:: You want your dad? ::Sakon smiled, the expression brief and fleeting.:: Sakon: Don’t forget that you’ve much to teach him as well. He needs people to talk to him as much as though who understand his feelings, and I’m hardly an expert on Risa. ::Antero found himself somewhat intrigued at the mans openness in regards to teaching Aurelio about Risian culture. He supposed it was all those Vulcan academy teachers he had never meshed well with. The young pilot had a few Risian ways that were NOT well received by his logic and sophistication based superiors. The receptive nature of Sakon was certainly appreciated.:: Flynn: What do you think Aurelio, should I teach you some things about being a Risian? ::He took on a brief look of contemplation toward his son before a thought struck him like a lightning bolt. He looked to the Vulcan with only a hint of mischief in his eyes:: Ooohhh, I could teach him fire dancing! ::That made Sakon lean forward, raising an eyebrow as he looked between Antero and Aurelio.:: Sakon: I will presume that such statements are a form of Risian humor, rather than a threat. ::Okay, so perhaps the Risian was starting off a little strong.:: Flynn: ::Laughing softly.:: Not to worry, he is much too young for fire dancing. ::He looked to Aurelio and placed a finger in his tiny hand.:: We won’t start that until you’re at least five or six years old. Sakon: That sounds like something you should discuss with Aitas. Among...well, I think she had a list. She mentioned surfing lessons? Flynn: Of course. ::Smirking:: Surfing lessons will be another delayed adventure. Better to start with general water acclimation and then swimming. ::He gently tickled Aurelio’s belly with his fingers.:: We can get you some lil’ swimmy trunks, huh? Now just need to decide where to take you. ::That earned another brief smile.:: Sakon: I’m sure you’ll manage to figure it out. I’ve already put together a few recommendations for logic classes. Flynn: Logic classes, of course. ::He looked up with a humored smile that faded as soon as he met a completely serious expression and realized the man wasn’t joking. Right. Vulcan. He supposed an open mind went both ways.:: Where does one go for those sorts of lessons? Sakon: There’s a few schools in this district that would suffice. But, ::He paused, glancing about the room.:: I believe Aitas should be home soon. Perhaps you could stay for dinner? It’d give the both of you more time to discuss matters. Flynn: I would like that, thank you. ::A warm genuine smile:: You know Sakon, if you’re not careful I’m going to start thinking you like having me around. ::That earned noncommittal shrug from Sakon.:: Sakon: Aurelio enjoys your presence. I would not deprive him of that. ::He paused, turning toward the door.:: Ah, it seems that Aitas has returned. We can continue this discussion later. ~Fin~ ---------------------------------------------- Antero Flynn Civilian Pilot Starbase 118 Ops C239205AF0 & Sakon Xenobiologist ~Written by~ Lt. Commander Aitas Chief Intelligence Officer Second Officer Starbase 118 Ops O239307A10
  14. ((StarBase 118 – Deck 1040, section 3, Adler’s Quarters)) :: Adler’s quarters were not far from the Dungeon he was just in, only a few decks up really. He had programmed the computer to play music upon his arrival, so when the doors opened, he was greeted by a waltz, “An Der Schonen, Blauen Donau” by Johan Strauss II. :: :: After his first whiskey down at the Playhouse, Conrad had switched to hot coffees instead, and now he was just about ready to hit the sack. He leered at the mirror on the wall near the door and decided his hair didn’t need refitting before bed. He opened his jacket and unzipped the gold tunic about halfway on his way to the bed chamber. When he got there, he did an about face toward the exit and let himself fall backwards onto the oh-so-comfortable mattress. :: oO Nice quarters they have here. Not at all like on a starship. Unless I was an admiral. That’ll be the day. Oo Adler: Computer, decrease playback volume 50 %. :: The computer obeyed, and the music quieted a little. Conrad let the mixed excitement and frustration of the day escape his lips as he closed his eyes and let the computer waltz him to sleep. :: Computer: Incoming transmission from cargo freighter Tilma. :: Adler’s eyelids slowly reopened themselves. Adler: :: Quietly, to himself. :: What? Computer: Incoming transmission from the cargo freighter ... Adler: Yes, yes, I heard the first time. :: Conrad sat up in bed, sighing. :: Let’s hear it, Computer. Computer: Text only. oO Of course. Oo :: Conrad rubbed his eyes, smacked the back of his head a couple times, lightly, and got up and went to sit down at the computer terminal on the coffee table in the middle of the main room. When he activated the monitor, there were all sorts of promotional messages about station amenities he decided to deal with later. He opened the message from his family’s cargo ship. Essentially it told him that everyone was doing well, except that their space cat, Munkwitz, had passed on. :: oO Oh, that’s a shame. Oo :: It also told him he had a new baby niece and expressed hope he would be able to see her before she graduated college. :: oO We’ll see. Oo :: The letter concluded with well wishes and some kind of allusion to his mother’s most recent success in the freighter’s tiny kitchen, something about making a blood pie that didn’t sicken the crew. :: oO Oh, that’s a plus. Nice work, Mom. Oo :: Adler rose from the couch he’d sat on and stood looking out the window at the stars. An unbeatable view, always similar and dissimilar to other views from space, always home. In the morning, he would report for duty, but for this moment was his to take in as another waltz finished off in the background. :: ((Time Passes, undetermined)) ((Adler’s Quarters)) :: Aboard the freighter Tilma, things were getting hot. Conrad’s parents had been unable to afford the upkeep of their fine vessel’s gold toilet fixtures, so they’d been smuggling various contraband to keep up. Conrad had warned them time and again that Starfleet would eventually take notice and send him out to catch them. So, that must be why he was aboard right the Tilma now. Yes, that must have been it. Now they were under heavy fire from an unidentified pirate ship and had taken damage. His father was yelling something about never giving up. He said He’d blow up his own ship first. Amid Conrad’s pleas that he take no such extreme steps, the com system rang him awake and out of his dream. :: Silveira/or other Senior Officer: =/\=???=/\ oO What? I just went to bed. Oo Adler: What do you want! Crazy! :: Adler opened his eyes. :: Oh, I mean ... =/\= Adler. What can I do for you, sir? =/\= Silveira/or other Senior Officer: =/\=???=/\= :: Adler sighed and looked up at the ceiling. :: Adler: Computer, cancel playback. :: The music stopped. :: =/\= I’m sorry about that, sir. I had just gone to bed. What are your orders, sir? =/\= Silveira/or other Senior Officer: =/\=???=/\= Adler: =/\= Thank you for your concern, sir, but I assure you I am ready for duty. =/\= :: As an afterthought, Conrad double checked the uniform he was still wearing. It seemed okay. :: Silveira/or other Senior Officer: =/\=???=/\= :: As the Chief of Operations filled him in, Conrad got up and walked to the replicator. :: Adler: =/\= I’ll get right on that, Commander. :: Barking at the replicator :: Double espresso, one sugar, hot! =/\= Silveira/or other Senior Officer: =/\=???=/\= Adler: =/\= Sorry, Commander. I was just getting coffee. I’ll get right to work, Sir. =/\= :: Conrad took a sip before the channel closed, then set the cup on the nearby table. :: Silveira/or other Senior Officer: =/\=???=/\= :: Conrad went to the toilet, straightened up, zipped up the tunic and jacket, and rechecked his appearance in the mirror there. Running his fingers through his longish hair and running a hand across his neckline, he decided he could use a trim under the beard but let it pass for now. He had bigger fish to fry. Hopefully no one would put him on report this first time. He went to retrieve his personal tool case from under his bed, left the bed chamber, picked up his coffee, and left his quarters. Ensign Conrad R. Adler Com/Ops Officer StarBase 118 Ops O2395O7CA0
  15. (( USS Nerandra, Sickbay)) ::No plan survives contact with the enemy. At least not in its original form, because there is always that imponderal that reality shoves up on your face. But Vitor was never much fan from Moltke the Elder. In fact he always considered the Prussians generals a little over rated, mostly because he was never a fan of Clausewitz and always thought his book was not the broader military manual most considered. However now was not the time to bring in war theory considerations, it was time to adapt the plan to the detail the Devil has put in front of him. And there were at least 4 or 5 details, in the form of the Romulans that beamed in to Sickbay. In the second he realized it, he went for his phaser and shouted again.:: Silveira: SEAL THE MORGUE. INCOMING… ::Not waiting for the replies from the rest of the team, as the Romulans materialized he fired his phaser up in their general direction and shut the door to the morgue. He jumped for cover. Raising his phaser from behind the biobed he was now kneeling behind he fired again, as disruptor fire blasted around him. He was pinned down and he only hoped the others reacted quickly. In a second he made a decision. In the next he almost changed his mind, when he realized he would never consider this. He was always the first to step in and ready to sacrifice himself. Always ready to make the last stand. Not this time.:: Silveira: I surrender... ::It was time to change the plan. His mind returned to military strategists, and the one, and Vitor didn’t cared about the discussions surrounding the real authorship of the book, he considered the real master of war. The one that put on the principles that were truly “The Art of War”, over 3000 Earth years ago. And as Sun Tzu wrote, “To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill”.:: Vrerik: Yes, I’m sure you do… ::Vitor threw his phaser over the biobed, before slowly raising behind the biobed with his hands above his head. He avoided looking to the Morgue door and firmly kept his eyes on who appeared to be the leader of the team.:: Silveira: Lieutenant Commander Vitor Stone Silveira, Starfleet number O238907VS0. Vrerik: Well, Lieutenant-Commander Silveira. ::Motioning with his pistol.:: Why don’t you have a seat? ::He walked slowly to the bench the Romulan pointed to him. With relief he saw him motioned for three of the guards to leave and secure the hallway outside. Besides the leader there was just another gard. He hoped the others on the morgue could listen to them and were taking what little time he was buying them.:: Vrerik: I have some questions for you, Commander. ::Stepping closer, the Romulan promptly back-handed Vitor with his pistol.:: How many others have you brought aboard? ::Vitor managed to remain seated as he was struck. It was a good blow and he felt the blood inside his mouth. It hurt, but he had taken worse blows. Vitor raised his head and smirked at his captor, with his best teasing expression, in spite the sore cheek.:: Silveira: Just a few. We don’t need much to take back what is ours. ::Then the alarms sounded around them. Quarantine fields were raised and Vitor smiled realizing the plan was in motion and the others managed to beam out the canisters..:: Vrerik: I asked you ::Another backhand:: how many!? ::Vitor nearly fell off this time and now it really hurt. His left side felt warm and he lost sight for a moment. He felt something else on his brow, but now he couldn’t tell if it was the bruise or a cut. Knowing it was a matter of time he kept the defying expression, forcing himself to a wide smile, and hopping Max could hear him.:: Silveira: Shirley. You can’t expect me to tell you. ::That looked like it worked. He wondered if the Romulan knew that classic humor gag. He pressed his pistol into Vitor’s forehead, with a cruel smile on his face. It wasn’t the first time he was on a hot spot like this one. But there is always something about having a gun in you head, and an enemy ready to use it. Vitor kept his posture, but he couldn’t help it as the thoughts of the two most important persons in his life rose from the back of his head. Jonathan and Fai. And again time, but not really about the form, or the fact it had been just a few seconds that feel like hours. But of future and present. Because that was what Jonathan and Fai meant to him right now, and for them he would risk it all.:: Silveira: Like the klingons say, today is a good day to die. Vrerik: As you wish it, Starfleet. ::The Romulan pressed harder the pistol and Vitor closed his eyes. Perhaps he overplayed his bluff. Could it be that the final moment really come? After all the years on the edge, sometimes ready to leap, was it now? Even closed, his eyes began to burn, as he felt tears forming in them. He was losing the future, Jonathan. Seeing his son grow, proud of his heritage, half Human half Andorian, in a Federation that although it wasn’t perfect it would allow him to live free, and work with others, boldly going where ever he wanted. And the present, with Fai. More than anything else he feared for how she would suffer from his loss. In that second, that relative second that felt like an hour, his thoughts were to them. He barely realized the pressure from the pistol eased, until it was gone, and he only opened his eyes when the Romulan spoke.:: Vrerik: What…. ::A growl.:: Starfleet tricke- tric- ery…. ::His enemy began to collapse, losing his pistol and fighting to keep himself straight. The tears in his eyes fell as he smiled. He felt them burn when they pass by the side of his face that was hurt, but he kept smiling. Forcing himself up he spoke, uncertain if the Romulan could hear him.:: Silveira: We learn it from the Romulans. ::He pushed himself forward and walked to the nearest console, tapping it to open a line to the morgue. To his surprise it was already open, and his smile widen as he spoke.:: Silveira: Sorry about that, Shirley here wanted to spoil our party. Zel,Elspeth,McLaren,EMH,Maxwell: ? ::Vitor nodded even if they couldn’t see him.:: Silveira: It worked, thankfully it worked… Zel,Elspeth,McLaren,EMH,Maxwell: ? ::Vitor’s head began to hurt and he had to lean down.:: Silveira: So… Who is going to give me a hand here? Shirley gave me a couple of slaps with his pop gun and it’s hurting like hell. Zel,Elspeth,McLaren,EMH,Maxwell: ? ::Vitor tried to answer them, but his legs gave in and he stumbled to the ground. He felt dizzy, hurt and couldn’t think straight.:: Silveira: oO Dammit… Don’t let me die on the beach… Oo TAG/TBC Lt. Cmd. Vitor S. Silveira Chief of Operations Starbase 118 Ops O238907VS0 --
  16. ((USS Narendra - Sickbay)) ::She wasn't pleased. That much was evident by the tapping foot and disgruntled expression. But all these were characteristic of the model doctor she was based off of. Protocol and following orders from Starfleet officers were subroutines that were still there. The EMH sighed. No actual air entered her lungs or exited. Just the appearance of it, an aesthetic feature to make patients more comfortable.:: EMH: Then I shall begin immediately. Silveira: Good. Look discreetly through the ships systems, nothing thorough so you won't activate security failsafes the Romulans set up. Just have a general look around for now. ::She tried not to look to annoyed. Instead nodding and moving to one of the consoles. She stood a little further off, mumbling to herself about how foolish this all sounded. But what did she know? In all honesty, she had only been active for a total of 10 hours since the ship was made operational. And it was just to check her systems and now. Which meant she was … 10 hours old! So… what did she know?:: Maxwell: Sickbay is clear. ::To Elspeth.:: Made a wee friend as well, commander. Might be helpful. Silveira: Thank you Doctor ::She nodded from her station. A hand reaching up to push back the red locks that tickled her ear. Well, that would have tickled her ear if she actually felt it. Then turned back to begin looking through the ships computers. She wasn't sure what to look for though. After all, they were vague at best instructions. But she opted to put everything back into her memory bank, ready to retrieve it on command.:: Elspeth/McLaren/: ? Zel: Well, unfortunately I see your good news and raise you the fact that I think our main team was captured by the Romulans… Maxwell: Aye, well it’s a work in progress. ::To Sil.:: Right pal? Silveira: Are you certain. ::It sounded like there was trouble elsewhere on the ship. Not that a ship full of Romulan's wasn't enough. But that doctor in her became concerned, what if there were injured? Would they be brought to Sickbay? Not likely…:: Elspeth/McLaren: ? Maxwell: The Narendra’s emergency doctor. ::He paused, turning.:: Um, what should we call you? Besides doctor….? EMH: ::she eyed the man.:: Doctor is fine. ::no sense in giving them one more thing to remember. Doctor was easy to remember. Plus she didn't have a name per say. Not like they did. Just a title for her particular program associated with this ship.:: Elspeth/McLaren: ? Silveira: Do you have a lock on the Captain’s team? Are you certain Zel? Zel: Again! Home team, captured by Romulans and.. ::He looked back at the console:: Oh shit, they’re on the move. Halvsies – half towards the bridge turbolift and half towards… I dunno, looks like deck 21 which is the… ::A sigh:: The brig. Zel/Elspeth/McLaren/Maxwell: ? Silveira: I am sorry but I don’t buy it. ::Oooo…. there was suddenly tensions rising in the immediate vicinity. The Cardassian/Bajoran hybrid met the one known as Vitor, gaze. The red headed hologram raised an eyebrow in junction with her thoughts.:: Zel: ? Silveira: I am not questioning your interpretation. To all effects they could be captured, but I know the Captain better than any of you here. Zel/Elspeth/McLaren/Maxwell: ? Silveira: I know the Captain the longest. I served with him for years. They are working on their end of the plan. It’s the diplomatic part. ::She canted her head, fingered still sifting through data. Her eyes absorbed every iota of information. While her ears soaked up the itty bitty bit of drama being drawn out in her Sickbay. But of course… she couldn't leave well enough alone. Something that seemed common for computer programs designed to interact with the public.:: Zel/Elspeth/McLaren/Maxwell: ? EMH: A great deal of confidence from someone not presence. ::she now looked over, pausing the computer.:: You know this all, it is fact? Silveira: No, I am not sure about. It’s a hunch. But I don’t think we should steer away from our focus because of their arrival. Specially now we got extra help. ::He smiled at the Doctor and shrugged.:: Our concern is with our end of the mission. At least for now. ::She wondered if there was more then just, ‘I know this person forever’ here. A deeper set emotion and feeling. The defensiveness and assurance could be taken as more for oneself, in order to convince oneself that a loved one was safe. Or a dear one. And this was the crew she was assigned too? Well, it certainly could be a lot, lot worse. Like stuck with Romulans. A group that didn't uphold Starfleet beliefs and protocols and rules and regulations…:: EMH: I fail to see the relevance of speculating one way or another. ::she spoke up. A glance between the two men.:: You should search for facts before jumping to action. Zel/Elspeth/McLaren/Maxwell/Silveira: ? EMH: Perhaps you can tell me what it is you want me to find? ::she looked around.:: I can access a great deal of the ship’s systems unnoticed. But without something more specific it's a pointless exercise. Zel/Elspeth/McLaren/Maxwell/Silveira: ? ::She looked at them, a raised eyebrow and the most obnoxious foot tapping. Then pinched the bridge of her nose. Not in annoyance, but thought. She was thinking. Thinking of what would be more useful, more effective. Everyone had an idea, a task she could easily do. Just not all at once. So…:: EMH: Sickbay can of course be secluded from the standard ventilation systems. There are manual shutoffs that wouldn't be detected by the computers. Zel/Elspeth/McLaren/Maxwell/Silveira: ? EMH: So long as what you distribute is done outside of Sickbay’s vents, it'll distribute throughout quickly and not in here. Zel/Elspeth/McLaren/Maxwell/Silveira: ? ::She nodded in agreeance. They could easily slip up into the vents from Sickbay, and crawl about till the reached the close off valve. Just beyond that and the rest of the ship will be breathing in whatever gas is put into the air. Only drawback, is any kind of detonation in the vents would trigger warnings on the bridge. So they would have to put it in a time release container or send someone one in to manually release. Which meant it was likely they would be affected. Unless you were a hologram…:: EMH: Unfortunately, anywhere else - unless also done manually - would alert the computer. ::deadpan.:: You will have to take the risk of your fellow officer being effected. Zel/Elspeth/McLaren/Maxwell/Silveira: ? EMH: I believe you have a saying, “time is limited’. Zel/Elspeth/McLaren/Maxwell/Silveira: ? TBC/TAGs __________________ EMH USS Nerandra
  17. Also remember that not all species mature at the same rate - and that with medical science being much farther progressed in the future, joining as a student who is older than early twenties could still mean your character is quite youthful in their late 20's or 30s! And some species might not be mature until much older
  18. (( Intensive Care Unit - Hospital Complex )) (( StarBase 118 )) :: Commander Theo Whittaker was not a man who did things by half. He discharged his duties with careful precision, honed from a childhood filled with study and an aristocratic upbringing. In his personal life, he was much the same- a staunch friend who would gladly go to hell and back for those closest to him. He had fought the Starfleet JAG officer for Lieutenant Maxwell after his assault on the traitorous scientist, Martantathru, he had stood by Lieutenant Aitas when she had revealed his pregnancy, and at some point or another he had put himself in harm's way for most- if not all- of his friends. However, when it came to matters of the heart, he was completely hopeless. :: :: Baylen Anders had swept Theo off of his feet and into a whirlwind romance that had been as intense as it had been loving. Through it, the young XO- so innocent in affairs of the heart- had learned to drop his carefully built walls that kept people at bay and he had begun to mellow, stripping away layers of the aristocratic and academic aloofness that his father had so rigidly insisted upon. From their first meeting aboard the late U.S.S. Albion- in the heat of battle- there had been a spark between the two of them, a frisson of chemistry that was undeniable. Even though Baylen had a tendency to be impulsive by virtue of his Risian nature, Theo had been charmed almost from the first moment. :: :: Which was why Theo was so completely devastated by the relationship’s sudden and unannounced end. He had been discharged from medical care to find a message from Baylen informing him that he had resigned his commision from Starfleet and was returning to Risa, along with his ward- a young Tilanni boy, Mace. There had been no warning, no problems in their relationship. It was a bolt out of the blue and one which had shaken Theo to his core. It had taken months to fully recover and even longer to open himself up to the possibility of another romantic relationship- this time with the now Lieutenant Commander Taelon. He had been drawn to the El-Aurian’s quiet and contemplative nature, a world away from what he had been used to. Part of it, Theo suspected, had been born out of their shared experiences with the resurgent Orion Syndicate. Taelon was a sensitive soul and that appealed to Theo. Their relationship was less intense and more gentle, as each enjoyed the others companionship and outlook on life. It was a simple, uncomplicated romance. :: :: Baylen Anders’ unannounced return to StarBase 118 had opened old wounds that Theo had believed had healed. Perhaps, because of this, it was the reason that he walked unsteadily down the corridor towards the room where the Risian had been recuperating from his extensive injuries. It was also the reason why he had put off visiting him for several days. He had considered turning back more than once, hoping that by ignoring the fact that Anders was here he would prevent those old wounds from tearing even more. But instead, he walked onwards, towards the unassuming grey door at the end of the unassuming hospital corridor. He had no idea what he was going to say to Baylen- no, Lieutenant Commander Anders- but he was unable to deny the fact that his emotional walls were raised once again. :: :: Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Theo reached the unassuming door and hesitated for a moment- one last delaying tactic, as he contemplated walking away yet again. Then with a deep breath and stiffening of his back, he tapped the panel by the doorframe. The doors swished open with a low, hydraulic hiss and Theo stood there, looking at Anders with a carefully, neutral expression. :: Whittaker: :: deliberate, controlled, almost emotionless. Almost. :: Hello. Anders: ::barely able to speak, from both his wounds and his feelings at seeing Theo. A part of him thought that he would never see him again. He gave up hope of ever seeing anyone he cared about again a long time ago. But other than Mace, the thing that got Baylen through the long endless nights was the face of his loving partner Theo. It was one of the few memories he held on to in that cruel and unjust place. :: Hello old friend. ::trying to force a smile through the pain and finally gave up.:: I think there is a chair in the corner. ::Pointing over to the other side of the door.:: :: Theo took a step into the room- he did not even glance at the chair- hovering just beyond the doorway, but not so far that the doors closed. Instead, they remained parted. The symbolism was not lost on him- just as Anders had left unannounced, so to could Theo. :: :: Baylen… no, Lieutenant Commander Anders, he chided himself (feeling the need to remain professional so as to keep a clear head), looked a great deal different to the last time the two had seen each other. There was a gaunt quality to the man, likely from the months he spent malnourished and from the biological weapon that he had been struck with prior to his collapse in The Hub. Gone was the larger-than-life, magnetic man that he had known, replaced instead with a poor approximation. His eyes no longer sparkled, his lips looked thin and his jaw had been hidden by a large, matted beard that resembled one could find adorning a Klingon drunked. :: Whittaker: I’d… prefer to stand, thank you. :: he almost referred to Anders by his given name, stopping himself only at the last second. He felt supremely uncomfortable and he suspected that it showed. His father, had been present, would have no doubt approved at Theo’s restrained and almost emotionless inflections.:: oO It would be the first time. Oo :: he thought with no small amount of bitterness. :: Anders: ::eyes lowering a bit:: Ah yes, of course. I understand. I must be the last person you expected to see? ::He had meant in general but his ability to say anything was hard a mixture of the drugs, pain and emotions that ran through him. He wanted nothing more than to jump from bed and run to Theo and hug him and hold him tight and be embraced by him in return. Of course he knew that Theo had his own emotions to deal with. He knew of the communication that was sent to him and how shocking it must have been for Theo. That pain made Baylen feel all the worst.:: :: A rebuttal sprang into Theo’s mind. He had known precisely where to find Anders- he would have been more shocked had somebody else occupied the room. It was a sarcastic retort, one that would have stung with any luck. He held his tongue through sheer force of will, however, knowing that a low blow would only make things a great deal worse. Instead Theo replied blandly. :: Whittaker: I would ask how you are doing, but Doctor Nijil has already briefed me on your circumstances. I’m not a physician- but I got the gist of it. :: he knew he was grasping at straws, not knowing what to say. On some level, he was aware of the emotional battle being fought within his psyche- but he ignored it, pushed it deeper into its recesses. Just as he had been taught as a child. oO Show them no trace of emotion. It is a weakness. You do not show weakness to others, Theo. Oo:: Anders: That is more than I know to be honest. I still have not been briefed on what they did in surgery. ::It was true, the doctors had been rather tight lipped about it, but he knew that he was not doing well with physical therapy at all, he was down right failing it, or at least in his mind. He still could not walk yet. But in his mind he should be able to, it was just simple will. Yet the will was not enough it seemed.:: Whittaker: :: he nodded, his lips pursed. :: Well I am sure that you will be informed in due course. I expect Nijil would rather you focus on your recovery. Which is… understandable. :: he hesitated anew, wondering what else there was to possibly say to a man who he had not seen for eighteen months. Finally, he decided to observe formalities. In situations such as the one Anders now found himself, there were protocols that the Commanding and First Officers had to follow. :: I have some questions for you, if you feel up to them. :: a short pause. :: Lieutenant Commander. :: It was the first time that Theo had referred to Anders by his rank and not his given name in so long that he couldn't remember a time that he had done so before. As soon as he had said it, he knew that it had come off more hurtful than he had intended. But what was done was done. An apology would be a sign of weakness. oO How strange that I am so keen to follow my father’s example after years of doing everything I can not to do so. Oo. :: Anders: I have no other place to be ::seeing the third pip was now gold:: Commander sir. ::adjusting in his bed and pulling his blanket up suddenly feeling more exposed and more uncomfortable with the ice that hung in the air like a pal. :: ask away. ::trying to stay as friendly and upbeat as possible. By no means were Risians as skilled in reading emotions as that of a Betazoid, but you really had no need of a Betazoid in this room. Baylen was able to get a general feeling of emotions as were most all Risians but the feelings he got now were so confused and jumbled. They were all over the spectrum.:: Whittaker: Very well. :: he retrieved the ever present PADD from the back pocket of his trousers and opened a blank document on it, replacing the location of Anders’ room and the latest medical update he had had access to. :: This will be preliminary and I will not go into too much detail. Our Chief of Intelligence, Commander Aitas, will no doubt be visiting you with questions of her own. As will a representative of Starfleet Security, I imagine:: he cleared his throat and looked down at the PADD, grateful for the opportunity to look away from the man who he still blamed for the dissolution of their relationship, even if- deep down- he knew he had had no say in the matter. :: I understand you were captured by the Relexians along with your son? :: Theo did not refer to Mace by his name. He had been one of Anders’ more impulsive decision- extreme, even for him, rescuing him from a life of poverty and abuse on the formerly neutral world of Tilanna V. He had not consulted with the relevant authorities before deciding to raise the boy as his own. Nevertheless, he had been granted custody of the boy shortly before their departure from StarBase 118. Theo had agreed to help Anders raise him, but his name was never added to the guardianship. :: :: As cold-hearted as some might of viewed it, Theo clung to that detail in that particular moment. oO One less thing to worry about. Oo. :: Anders: Yes, Mace! ::adding an emphasis to the name. :: Right after my birthday party I decided I should try and take him camping as my dad did for me and my brother as boys. I had a few days off and I thought we could go to a nearby moon and camp under the stars. That night we were beamed onto a transport ship. ::Baylen hid the pain of recalling that night, but he knew he was going to have to tell this story many times. He better get use to it.:: We never got through the first night. ::Baylen made a fake cough sound just so he could move his hand to his face and discreetly wipe away a tear that was forming in the corner of the eye. :: We were transported up to some kind of transport and cargo ship. Locked into cells and scanned and tattooed. I tried to resist and they have very effective shock sticks and I found one thrust up into my side and felt the full effects. :: Theo nodded, not immediately responding. He knew Anders well enough to know that the man was becoming emotional which was perfectly understandable. In fact he could not deny that the facts were also causing himself emotional distress- a lump had begun to form in his throat. He swallowed once, not wishing to focus on it. :: :: He did not look at Anders when he spoke again. :: Whittaker: I see. And you were taken to Relexis VI in the Archanis sector? Anders: I don't know where it was. It was a planet with four suns. I guess that would be right, was the data from the flight recorder recovered? :: He thought about the run through the fields and over the flight way. Being hit in the leg with the energy beam and climbing up into the short Range Shuttle. He then wondered if there was anything left of the shuttle at all after the ways he had to fly to escape the interceptors. He did not think much could be left of the small ship.:: Whittaker: :: he nodded again. :: Yes, we recovered your shuttle and the flight recorder confirmed that. You were also pursued by Relexian interceptors. The Starfleet Intelligence section for that sector are investigating how you went unnoticed for so long. :: beat :: Do you know why the Orion Syndicate wanted you and your son? :: A part of Theo wanted to take the Columbia and close the labour camp down with extreme prejudice. He had come to despise the Orion Syndicate over the past two years for all that they had wrought against the Federation- and the crew of StarBase 118 in particular. Of course, Relexis VI was more than fifty light years distant and under the purview of another sector command. For now, all StarBase 118 could do was question Anders and pass the information along while the U.S.S. Avalon-A investigated further. :: Anders: ::He thought of the many days spent in those volcanic pockets with old tools beating rocks drilling into the ground. Carrying Ore to processing chambers and so much more, so much worse stuff.. :: they wanted free labor for their fuel mines and they found extra benefits with a Starfleet officer. They would beat you for days at time to get cargo transportation protocols from you. ::Baylen looked at the scarred hands from holding tools that Theo once bandaged after being burned while escaping a rather large plasma fire. Another emotion hit his gut, at least what was left of it.:: They wanted so much to hijack high-value cargo transports. :: For the first time since he stepped into the room, Theo displayed an overt sign of emotion- a frown. He abhorred slave labour in any form and there was absolutely no excuse for it. He also glanced up from his PADD, memory guiding his hands across the keyboard on the screen. :: Whittaker: I don’t need to ask you whether you gave them any information. :: he already knew that the man would never do so. :: Anders: ::frowning as he thought of all those beating and days with no food and all those times in the sun pits lying in the heat or in a hot box praying for death. :: No I never gave any information, but there were days, more than a few I regret, that I came close to it. :: now his eyes, cheeks and face were full of tears and his voice was cracking and there was no hiding it:: They made poor Mace work as well. Of course he was too small for any hardcore manual labor but he was required to shuttle tools back and forth or push the ore carts. The day before I escaped with him I was told that if I did not start cooperating they were going to kill him slowly and painfully ::His voice had a full break in it and the words were hard to get out.:: In front of me. ::Baylen turned to wipe his eyes. :: Whittaker: They put Mace to work in the labour camp? :: he had said the boy’s name before he could stop himself and he was also unable to keep the revulsion he felt creeping into his voice. Child labour was the worst kind of enforced work he could imagine- and threatening the life of a defenceless young boy- one who had already endured a lifetime of horror- was even worse. He could feel the bile rising from his stomach. Once again, the urge to glass the surface of Relexis VI blossomed in his mind. :: :: He could feel the first crack in his emotional walls. He took a deep breath, imagining plastering over it- but still, he knew that it was there. oO Perhaps it is time to leave. I should never have come. Oo. He could not deny how disgusted he was at himself for being cold with Anders. oO I can’t even bring myself to say his given name. Oo. :: Anders: As I said ::still wiping away tears. :: it was a truly unbearable hell. One I could never wish on the worst person, EVER… It was like an endless nightmare that one woke up to find he was still in the nightmare. Whittaker: :: a sad nod. :: I should leave you be. This has clearly been a traumatic experience for you. I’m sorry to have disturbed you, Lieutenant Commander. :: He turned to leave, a sense of relief taking hold. However, Anders’ voice caused to stop mid turn. He looked back around. :: Anders: Theo ::The hell with it, I may now be Lt. Commander, but he was still Theo. Someone he cared deeply about.:: it was good to see you, I only wish this could have been under better circumstances. And you have never been a bother nor will you ever be. I know this is hard on you I've been gone for 18 months and you received a faked communication from me I can imagine how that felt. All I can say is I'm sorry. As soon as I'm recovered and back on my feet I can ask for a transfer if you would like me to? I don’t want to keep disrupting your life. :: Theo’s first instinct was to accept the offer and he almost did so, reigning in the impulse when he realised how unprofessional it would have been- and he prided himself on his professionalism. He chewed out Anders’ words for several seconds in his head, biting his lower lip as he did so. There was no need for the Commander to apologise, Theo knew that he was not responsible for his or the boy’s capture. The anger that he was feeling was irrational and completely unnecessary- yet he could not stop himself. oO Oh to be a Vulcan. Oo he mused, sorrowfully. :: :: He turned around, facing Anders and shook his head. :: Whittaker: You need time to heal, physically and psychologically. Being in familiar surroundings such as 118 will help with your recovery. :: he hesitated, unsure of whether to proceed. :: If Captain Taybrim wishes you to stay on then I will not challenge him. However, I think it would be best if you and I kept our relationship strictly professional for the time being. :: beat :: There has been a lot of anguish, on both sides. It is for the best if we do complicate your recovery. :: He wondered whether he should tell Anders’ about his relationship with Taelon, but decided against doing so. The Risian was already anguished, having to relive whatever horrors the Orion Syndicate inflicted upon him on Relexis VI, and Theo saw no sense in adding to it. He would simply have to wait for a more opportune time. :: Anders: ::He understood exactly what Theo was saying to be logical, but those words cut deeper into Baylen than any whip of his cruel captors had used. He waited a moment for his nerves to calm. The unclinching of his gut so he could speak, the time it would take to talk without his voice breaking into a thousand little shards of emothions :: I understand completely. ::forcing a half smile.:: You know best. Whittaker: Very well then. :: he lingered in the still open doorway, wondering whether to wish the man well. :: I shall be in contact if I have any further questions, Lieutenant Commander. Take care of yourself. :: And with that he turned and left the room. As the door finally swished shut behind him, Theo let out a long, deep sigh. He knew that their reunion could have been a lot worse, had he indulged in his emotions and lashed out at Anders. He had kept things professional and at a remove from his personal feelings. :: :: Yet he could not escape the fact that he felt like the worst person in the quadrant at that moment in time. By the time he had left the hospital, he had already checked to see when the next available counselling appointment with Counsellor Lyndsay was. :: -- Commander Theo Whittaker Executive Officer StarBase 118 Ops/USS Columbia C239203TW0 & Lieutenant Commander Baylen M. Anders Mission Specialist Fleet Operations 118th Fleet StarBase 118 Ops/USS Columbia R238606GH0 --
  19. (( Starbase 118 - Chief of Security’s Office) ((Timeframe - right after Ishani ends her meeting with Sakon)) :: Having just finished her first meeting with former Orion Syndicate Slave Sakon, Ishani had knew she needed to talk to Aitas before she made her decision regarding Sakon’s treatment, specifically where his treatment would take place. She wasn’t super close to Aitas, but they were colleagues and certainly friendly if not actual friends and so Ishani felt that she owed Aitas a chance to hear her out regarding her desires about her father’s treatment. Ishani had told him that she wouldn’t harm his treatment based on its effect on Aitas, and she fully intended to keep her word on that matter, but that didn’t mean she would allow his treatment to harm Aitas’ recovery either. Which is why she was now in the privacy of her own office typing up a carefully worded message to Aitas requesting a fairly urgent meeting. Hopefully Aitas would have time to meet with her soon. :: (( Timeskip - 1600 hours)) :: Ishani still wasn’t quite settled into her new office by the time their meeting took place. Knick knacks and personal touches remained in boxes stacked up next to her desk and the furniture was a hodgepodge mix between the ultra spartan remnants of her predecessor and her own far homey and personable pieces moved over from her former office. It probably wasn’t the best place to have a potentially emotional meeting, but given that this was a meeting between colleagues, rather than one between patient and therapist, meeting in one of Crisis’ treatment rooms seemed even worse. :: ::Aitas couldn’t say she had been utterly surprised by the message; she was her father’s only family left, and thus the only one who might hold any other weight when it came to his treatment. At least for now.:: Kasun: :: At Aitas’ entrance Ishani smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way. :: Thank you for making time for this so quickly. Aitas: He’s my father, I couldn’t do anything less. Kasun: :: Nodding:: Has your father mentioned anything about his plans or what he would like to do? Aitas: We discussed it briefly, I know he wishes to refresh his credentials at the Vulcan Science Academy. Kasun: :: Well at least Ishani wouldn’t be breaking the news to her. :: That’s what he told me as well. He expressed a preference to receive his treatment on Vulcan in order to re up his credentials while also receiving his treatment Aitas: Ah. ::she paused a moment too long.:: Did he tell you when he wishes to return? Kasun: oO He didn’t tell her. Oo :: Ishani sighed. :: He wished to return by the end of the calendar year and finish up his treatment on SB 118. :: Not the complete truth. Sakon had been under the impression that his treatment would be done by then; Ishani knew better. :: Aitas: ::she managed an uncertain smile.:: I don’t wish to hamper his treatment, but I also can’t fault his desire to be around for the birth of his grandson. Kasun: Grandson!? :: Ishani couldn’t hide the shock in her voice. :: You’re pregnant!? Aitas: Yes. It was...a bit of a surprise. Kasun: :: She gave Aitas an irritated look; this was no doubt what her father had been referring to during their meeting. :: That would have been good to know when you volunteered to go down into the mine earlier. oO No wonder Theo looked uncomfortable with the idea. Oo Aitas: Doctor Ezo and Commander Whittaker already knew, if they’d felt it was too dangerous they’d have prevented me from going. ::She managed a weak smile. Mirra’s protectiveness was not something to be dismissed.:: But as I was the only expert on the Syndicate there, it was...complicated. Kasun: :: Ishani raised an eyebrow. :: I think that would be understating things a bit. Aitas: I’ve no desire to go any such missions in the future, trust me. Kasun: oO Good. Oo :: Ishani took a deep breath and pushed aside her irritation. :: Do you have any issues with your father returning to Vulcan for his treatment? Aitas: ::she smiled weakly:: Yes, but nothing that should actually affect his decision. Kasun: I am inclined to grant his request, but obviously as he does not exist in a vacuum, whether he stays or goes affects more than just himself. :: Any irritation from before was gone from Ishani’s expression; she gave Aitas a kind and understanding smile. :: I do have to take any impacts on you into account. It would be irresponsible for me to not do so. Aitas: I’ll miss him, but...I don’t think either of us is in a position to make up for twenty years lost right now. And it’s not as if he’ll be gone forever. ::She clenched one of her hands at that thought, nails digging into her flesh.:: :: Ishani stayed silent, her expression one of comfort and kindness. :: Aitas: I’ll be glad once he’s back, though. I- ::she paused, uncertainty creeping into her expression.:: Just hope he isn’t disappointed with my life here. Kasun: :: Ishani took a breath. She could certainly understand the desire for parental approval, and, although she was long past the age where she was driven by it, the want for parental approval had been the source of probably three fourths of her psychiatric practice. :: Given the circumstances, whatever disappointment he allows himself to feel is directed at the situation rather than you. Aitas: ::smiling weakly:: He used to hope that I’d grow up to be a scientist. He always cared so much for his work. Not that he’d admit to it. Illogical emotions and all of that. ::She could still remember how his face lit up whenever he found some new tidbit of insight.:: Kasun: Every good parent wants what they feel is the best for their child, and frequently what is actually best is both something different and usually picked by the child. Parents usually have years if not decades to come to terms with this, but your father never got that chance. He is on top of having been a slave and forcefully removed from your life for nearly two decades dealing with the choices you have made regarding what you want to do with your life after the fact. Aitas: ::she nodded, and gave Kasun a grateful smile.:: You make a good point. I just hope we can figure all of it out. It’s a lot to work through. Kasun: ::Ishani smiled kindly back. :: Mourning for the what ifs and what was lost is normal given you and your father’s circumstances, but we can’t change what has happened and I believe your father understands that. Aitas: I’m sure he intends to be completely logical about it... Kasun: :: A slight smirk graced her lips. :: Him being a Vulcan both helps and hinders in these kinds of circumstances, yes. Aitas: Indeed. But I shouldn’t take too much of your time. Was there anything else you wished to ask me about? Kasun: No that was it. I’m assuming that you have already made arrangements for your own mental care? :: Aitas was far better about that then several others she could name on the station. :: Aitas: I’ve my counseling appointments arranged already. I can at least admit that I need them. Kasun: Good. :: She gave Aitas a playful smile. :: Some people never get that far. Aitas: And thank you, Doctor. I’m glad to know my father has someone so skilled looking out for him. Kasun: :: kindly :: You’re welcome. ---------------------------- Lt. Commander Aitas Chief Intelligence Officer Starbase 118 Ops O239307A10 & Lieutenant Ishani Kasun MD, PhD Chief of Security Starbase 118 Ops O239306IK0
  20. Welcome to the fleet, hope to see you around the stars!
  21. Congrats and welcome to the fleet, Lukas! I look forward to seeing you on board the Conny!
  22. Welcome - and welcome back to the fleet! We're glad to have you guys!
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