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Randal Shayne

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About Randal Shayne

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  • Birthday February 20

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  1. LtCmdr. Jarred Thoran: The Returned

    ((Many, many feels. Great stuff.)) ((Alien Complex, Navatria, Arndall)) Dairro: Commander, come on, they’re closing on us. Leave him ::Jarred rubbed his eyes, with added pressure and rose to his feet. Green flashes buzzed passed, cracking in the air as they flew passed him. Risking a look back, he could make clearly make out the creatures, four emerald green eyes glowing in the dim light. They let out a screech as Jarred reached for his phaser and fired a few shots towards them when he heard Dairro cry out.:: ::Looking to his side his saw his friend lay on the floor, blood oozing beneath her. He rushed over to her, continuing to fire towards the aliens. He crouched down beside her, ducking his head as he did so. From this distance the wound was obvious, a mess, as if she’d been shot by two different weapons at once. There was a dark red hole, blood pouring from it as if in slow motion, soaking into her uniform. She looked up to him their eyes locking, as he cradled her, each of them bathed in her blood. He could feel his face begin to crack as she smiled briefly, before her breathing became a noisy rattle and she began to cough, flecking Jarred’s face with blood. A split second later and she went limp in his arms. Jarred let out a roar, screaming into the walls. Green flashes continued to whizz past as he rose to his feet. He tapped at the display on his phaser, setting it to overload and flung it towards the creatures.:: ::There was a temporary pause from the creatures as they looked at the device that now lay before them. He grabbed Dairro’s phaser & set it to maximum power and began firing at the creatures, striking one of them square in the chest, causing them to flail backwards into the others.:: ::Jarred heaved the lifeless body of his friend onto his shoulders. With blurred vision he began to run. He had no idea how long he had been running when he felt the cool rush of air hit his face and squinted as the bright light stuck his eyes. Up ahead was a shuttle, the rest of his group stood waiting.:: ((Runabout)) ::He climbed up the ramp, in silence, not even acknowledging his friends and gently placed the body of Dairro on the seats that lined the interior, before collapsing to his knees.:: Mandak: ::Yelling up front.:: Boots up! Let's get outta here! ::She looked to Thoran, and began to check Dairro.:: Is she? G'Renn: Yes. ::He looked with swollen red eyes, his face a picture of grief, of loss, towards the others, & solemnly nodded his head. He felt an emptiness in his heart and a numbness pounding in his head as his gaze fell back to the floor. He was numb, yet somehow in agony. He wanted to scream, to yell, anything to bring her back. She has always been there for him, a smile shining in her bright blue eyes. Now she lay before him, gone forever. Because of him. Slowly he raised himself up, rubbing his eyes as he did so, his voice trembling as he spoke.:: Thoran: Try to raise the Blackwell. Mandak: I'll let them know we're enroute... Commander? Thoran: Update them on our… ::He flinched, his mind still trying to process what had happened. All he wanted to do was to curl up, escape from the reality. But he had a job to do. He couldn’t fall down now, that would be a disservice to his friends memory. For the moment, he had to suck it up. To be strong.:: Thoran: ...situation. Mandak: Aye... ::She moved to the comm station and took a seat.:: =/\= Blackwell, this is the Edith Keeler... Come in... =/\= Blackwell: =/\= ? =/\= Mandak: =/\=Party aboard... good to hear your voice... We've two casualties, a Valcarian and Crewman Dairro... quite a few injuries... But we're on the way to you now... Commander Thoran is still alive, and is still in charge of the element. Runabout Revan is lost. =/\= Blackwell: =/\= ? =/\= Mandak: =/\= Aye... Edith Keeler out. =/\= ::He slowly made his way towards the front of the shuttle, grasping every surface he could for support. Finally he half collapsed into one of the seats in the [...]pit. Resting his face in cupped hands, he closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. The image of Dairro lying there filling his mind, her eyes, helpless and fixated on him, her arm reaching out as she calls out to him.:: Mandak: Home is waiting sir... ::He glanced up for a moment, meeting Mandak’s gaze.:: Thoran: Yes. Yes it is Ms Mandak. ::Home. Mandak was right, the Blackwell had become his home. He felt closer to some of his colleagues than he did his own family. He recalled his recent visit back to his family on Alpha Centauri and the elation he had felt at seeing them all again. But it hadn’t felt the same. He’d missed the hum of the Blackwell. The hustle and bustle of the corridors. He’d felt guilty, when upon his return to the Blackwell, he’d felt happier than when he’d been back with his parents.:: Ferentis: ? ::He heard a faint shuffling beside him and half turning his head, finding the comforting face of G’Renn. It seemed she was always around when he needed her.:: G'Renn: ::She spoke quietly, so no one but Thoran could hear:: I am so sorry, Commander. ::He gave her a half hearted smile, a temporary veneer over his pain.:: Thoran: Thank you Anath. ::The pair fell into silence. Not an awkward, nothing to say silence. A silence between friends. A silence of reflection. Jarred spent the remainder of the trip replaying events through his mind. He could have done more. He could have brought her back with him. They could now be sat around exchanging tales and jokes. Out of the viewport he could see the form of the Blackwell, increasing in size as they got nearer. From charring on the hull, it appeared the Blackwell had been busy in their absence.:: Mandak: ? ((Shuttlebay, USS Blackwell)) ::There was a shudder as the shuttle touched down. Jarred sat for a moment, collecting his thoughts. Finally he took a deep breath and headed out of the shuttle, joining the others. As he stepped onto the flight deck, he was just in time to see the body of his friend being taken away and felt his chest tightened and his legs weaken. It took all his might and will to stop himself from collapsing to the floor.:: G’Renn: We should report in, figure out what we’ve missed. Maybe they know more than we do by now. Thoran: Computer, located Commander Whittaker. Computer: Commander Whittaker is currently located on deck eighteen in the primary sick bay. Thoran: oO Sickbay? Had he been injured when the Blackwell had suffered whatever damage caused the scorching and charring on the hull? Oo Thoran: Off to sickbay it is then. Mr Ferentis, judging by the look of the outer hull, you’re probably needed in engineering. Ms Mandak, i’d like to report to Commander Shayne on the bridge. ::He cast his eyes over the ragtag group.:: Good work everybody. G’Renn/Mandak/Ferentis: ? ::The pair bid farewell to Ferentis and Mandak before heading towards the nearest turbolift. Much like the journey in the shuttle, the turbolift was silent. Thoughts of the captain’s status and of Dairro flooded his mind. Moments later, the turbolift came to a halt, the doors opening with a swish. Jarred gestured for the G’Renn to go first, it was after all her domain they were now entering.:: ((Sickbay, USS Blackwell)) ::Reaching the sickbay, they entered, and Jarred felt relieved to find the captain on his feet and apparently well. Fleet Captain Nicholotti, two unfamiliar officers in teal along with two other people stood nearby. From the looks of the pair, they were the Valcarian and Caraadian delegations. Lying before them on one of the biobeds was, from the looks of the uniform a Valcarian soldier. The image of those Valcarian’s they had left behind flashed across his mind, and he reached into his pocket, clutching the necklace the man had worn.:: Thoran: Commander Whittaker, apologies for intruding. We were able to make it back from the surface. ::He glanced around the room.:: Has Commander Adyr and her team reported in yet? Whittaker: ? G’Renn/Drake/Mika/Nicholotti/Asil: ?
  2. (( Arndall )) (( Kematta Foothills - 17 kilometers from the First City. )) (( Time Index: 13 Hours before Blackwell arrives )) ::First Lieutenant Janra Vross peered in the stygian gloom and made no attempt to hide her discomfort. Ever since her mother had punished her as a small girl for misbehaviour by locking her in a tiny cupboard in her bedroom, she had never enjoyed dark and enclosed spaces. Now memories of those traumatic times came flooding back to her as she looked down the scope of her disruptor rifle. She took several deep breaths and tried to focus on the matter at hand.:: Vross: oOBreathe in… breathe out… remember the mission.Oo ::Two hours ago, Vross and her team had been sent from their small outpost deep in the Kematta Foothills to investigate a communications burst on a low frequency wavelength usually reserved for Valcarian military distress calls. There had been no information aside from a set of coordinates and a rush of static- but the message was obvious: some of her compatriots needed assistance. Without another thought, she and her team had boarded their all-terrain vehicle with the intention of rendering whatever help they could. Vross had been expecting to find a squad of troops under fire from Caraadian military units and her fellow team members had been relishing the chance to start their kill count. They had not expected to find the distress call emanating from a cave at the base of a steep cliff face.:: Vross: oOBreathe in… breathe out… the darkness cannot hurt you.Oo ::Swallowing away her anxiety and ignoring the rapid beating of her hearts, she took a step into the cave using one hand to activate the halogen light attached to the front of the rifle just above its firing chamber. In the distance behind her, a bird-of-prey soaring the early morning light let out a piercing shriek having found it's prey. The cavern in front of her was narrow- no more than two meters across and about the same in height- and comprised of fistrium and kelbonite, both mineral that refracted even the most focused of sensor scans but allowed for communications.:: Vross: oOA sensor dead-zone in a dark, cramped cave.Oo ::the realisation almost threatened to overwhelm her and she breathed in more sharply than she intended.:: oOBreathe in… breathe out...Oo Trying her hardest to suppress the wave of fear once again, she took one hand off the rifle and came to a stop. She reached into the flap of her field jacket and retrieved the pocket communicator that was linked to the comm system aboard the all terrain vehicle. Holding down the button on the finger length device, she spoke into the small microphone.:: =/\=Everything clear so far. Cave is about two meters across. Clear to proceed. =/\= ::For a moment, the communications frequency crackled with static before it faded and was replaced with the gruff voice of her superior, Major Ghamra.:: Ghamra: =/\= Affirmative. Proceed with caution.=/\= ::For a moment she wondered why Ghamra sounded so annoyed and then she remembered that he always sounded annoyed. But what he lacked in social graces he made up for in engendering loyalty. He might have be rude at the best of times but he was a fierce soldier who had led troops in battle on dozens of worlds across the Imperial Republic. Quite why he chosen to accept an assignment on Arndall she would never understand, not when he could have his pick of any posting within the army.:: ::It had been Ghamra who had charged Vross with reconnoitring the cave before the rest of the team joined her. She was small- just a hair’s breadth above five feet, light of step and with the agile reflexes of a Tarmarian Lynx. They were attributes that earned her many platitudes during the three years she had been stationed with the small contingent of Valcarian Imperial Troopers assigned to this backwater world, hundreds of light years from the protective cradle of Valcaria. She had successfully infiltrated half a dozen Caraadian military installations without detection and stolen their secrets. There had even been interest from Imperial Intelligence in acquiring her skills, although nothing had come of those enquiries- yet.:: ::She pressed on for several minutes, the silence only broken by her own soft foot falls. She repeatedly flicked her gaze from the scope of the rifle to the small sensor readout below. It was habit more than anything, given that the sensors were not functional surrounded by so many refractory minerals. She became aware about ten minutes into her reconnaissance that the cave was widening at the same time that it was descending. She was going deeper into the planet. She came to a stop when the rifle’s light fell on what was- unmistakably- rubble. Adjusting the light beam to a wider setting, she moved in an arc, taking in as much information as she could. What struck her was the fact that the rubble was splayed outwards from what was left of what had been rockface. When the realisation hit, she felt her anxiety ratchet up several more notches. Taking more deep breaths and trying with all of her might not to let her hands shake, she lifted the communicator to her face and activated the microphone.:: Vross: =/\=I’m seeing signs of blasted rock face. It’s odd… it seems to have been blasted through from inside the rockface.=/\= Ghamra: =/\=Inside?=/\= ::There was no mistaking the concern in his voice; concern that Vross now shared which was also mingling with a foreboding sensation that told her that nothing good could come from such a discovery. She bit down on the thought of asking to return to the all-terrain vehicle and requesting reinforcements. She did not want to betray her feelings to her superiors:: Vross: =/\=Shall I proceed?=/\= oOPlease say no...Oo ::she pleaded to nobody but herself. ::There was an unbearably long pause that seemed to stretch in to an eternity all of its own.:: Ghamra: =/\=Affirmative. But be very careful, Lieutenant.=/\= Vross: =/\=Aye sir.=/\= ::With a shaking hand, she put the communicator pocket into her jacket pocket and brought her rifle to bear once more, moving through the opened hole into the rockface, noting that something had blasted through at least two dozen meters of rock. With each step, a pall of dread fell upon her and intensified. It became harder and harder to maintain her composure; Her chest felt heavy, her hearts raced with adrenaline and her keen senses picked up on every little sound and every echo of her footsteps.:: ::The passage widened once again to at least twenty feet across and dust clung in the air, as did a fading staleness. Knowing the composition of Arndall’s atmosphere she surmised that the passageway had been blasted through about four or five days previously- certainly no sooner than that. But nothing suggested who was responsible as she descended deeper into planet’s crust.:: ::Minutes bled into each other until Vross realised that she had been exploring this tunnel for almost half of an Arndall hour. By now she was keenly aware that the tunnel was not a natural occuring formation as it had been at the entrance. The rock was too smooth for that. This was man-made. Fighting against the mounting dread, she tried to rationalise that the Caraadians had established a mine here at some point in the past, or perhaps her ancestors had done when they had dominated the planet two centuries before. But no matter how much she told herself that she could not bring herself to believe it.:: Vross: oOYou are being paranoid.Oo ::she chastised herself, but found herself unable to stop herself from adding- oOProbably for a good reason.Oo ::She came to a stop again when realised that she had heard something else besides her steps and the racing of her blood that thundered in her ears. It had been faint, indistinct- but enough to attract her attention. She strained to hear in the darkness.:: ::Then she heard it again- a shrill chattering of sorts. Not words, but of noise. It stirred up odd memories of her childhood. Of folk tales told to children on Valcaria that she had not thought about she since began maturity. Of intelligent creatures- something akin to insects- that came in the night and stole the souls of naughty children. She shuddered, remembering how terrified of those stories she had been. Yes, what she had heard reminded her of stories of the ‘soul stealers’ from Valcaria’s ancient past. It was distant, but something told her that it would not stay that way:: Vross: Hello? ::she said softly, not expecting a response. Her words echoed quietly off of the rock before vanishing into nothing.:: Is anyone there? ::She started forward slowly, keeping her rifle pointed ahead in the hope that the beam of light caught something. She reached into her pocket once again to retrieve her communicator but her nerves caused her to fumble and it dropped to the floor. Letting loose with a quiet string of vulgarities she stooped down to retrieve the device. Scooping it up into her hand, she pointed the rifle ahead- where she saw something standing in front of her.:: ::Vaguely insectile, the creature looked down at her, standing over her by at least two meters with four emerald green eyes and two further eyes above them. Clad in what looked ancient and dull gray armour, she saw something carved into the creature’s helmet- which rose into prongs above it’s head- rows of triangles interlaced on each side of three evenly space ovals. Above the bottom and top ovals were three more triangles that bled into one another. It was elaborately detailed, ceremonial even.:: ::Vross looked down. In one hand or claw- she was not sure what it was- it held the severed head of a Valcarian, the lifeless, glassy eyes staring out into nothing.:: ::Vross screamed at the sight before oblivion called to her as the creature destroyed her form in a flurry of vicious strikes.:: -- 1st Lieutenant Janra Vross Valcarian Military as simmed by: Commander Theo Whittaker Commanding Officer USS Blackwell NCC-58999 Andaris Task Force C239203TW0
  3. (( USS Blackwell, Deck 2, Conference Room 1 )) ::The conference room steadily filled with officers as the scheduled time for the meetings crept closer. So many changes had taken place on Blackwell in the recent past, and the new makeup of her senior staff featured a true mix of familiar and new faces.:: ::Some of them, like Shayne, Rhyn, and R'Ven, Didrik had known for some time. He wondered how Shayne was coping with the recent reassignment of Isabel Pond, with whom he'd had a significant relationship and even shared living space, and thought it might be wise to look in after him when the time was mutually right. The thought of Pond, Logan, and Brell, having relocated for new adventures under the latter's command aboard the USS Atlantis, made Didrik a mix of happy and sad. He was pleased that the Bolian CO was moving forward in his career and having new adventures on a ship of his own, but he was dismayed at how he himself had left things; Didrik had put off a proper apology for too long, and now he missed his chance.:: ::The room reached near capacity, and Didrik presumed the meeting ought to begin any moment now. Once the Captain seemed satisfied that anyone who would be in attendance had arrived, he claim the room's attention and began.:: Zaekia: Alright. Thank you all for attending. I appreciate we’ve all just been through quite the ordeal but we need answers. We need to know this vessel is fit for purpose and won’t let us down again like it has here today. ::Didrik didn't know much about Kalean cultural practices, but if Zaekia were human, Didrik might have ascribed an accusatory tone to the captain's words, as if the real culprit was not the ship, but rather one of them in the room. ‘Who stole the cookies from the cookie jar? Who me? Yes, you. Couldn’t be. Then, who?’ It was equally likely, however, that Didrik was just projecting his own thoughts onto Zaekia's words. He did his best to suspend his own judgment until everyone in the room had had his or her say.:: R’Ven: Yes Captain. To that end I have had each of the department chiefs compile reports of the current state of their department and how it applies to the current state of the ship. Zaekia: Engineering, let’s start with you. How bad is the damage and how long will it take us to complete repairs? ::Didrik was not a skilled engineer; in fact, he had always scored below average in engineering aptitude, but today, he was very interested to hear what Blackwell's engineers had to say about the near-breach of the ship's warp core. A core breach is a death sentence for anyone unlucky enough to be within a few kilometers of one, and the story of how Blackwell had come mere seconds to utter destruction, only to miraculously recover, was a story Didrik was eager to hear.:: Yesna: The damage is not as bad as first thought engines can be back up within the next couple of hours and the deflector will take around five hours to get it back up and running, but when we do return to a space dock I would recommend a full replacement. The power systems will need a few tweaks and bypass as we fix the dish. We could do all this with the help of the Consortium within 12 hours and we can be underway again. Zaekia: I know but we need their help, Admiral. ::Didrik recognized the non-sequitur immediately. It wasn't just the out-of-place bit of conversation, it was the captain's whole demeanor, as if he were having a conversation with someone half verbally, half telepathically, lost the ability to distinguish the two. He saw the same thing happening between Dr. G'Renn and Counselor Sindrana down in Sickbay, and Didrik it seemed Zaekia and Renos were now entangled in a similar thing.:: Zaekia: ::Clearing his throat and turning slightly deeper blue about the cheeks:: Sorry. Alright, let’s move on. I think we have a pretty good sense of where the ship is at right now and what sort of repairs timeline we’re looking at. Thank you Ensign Yesna. How are things going with regards to the investigation into what happened? Shayne: Sirs, so far, the results of the investigation regarding the difficulties at the helm are...less than conclusive. We’ve looked at mechanical fault of all kinds. We’ve even... We’ve even considered pilot error. So far, nothing has turned up. But I’ve got a team on it- they’re going to look until they find the problem. ::As an ex-helm officer himself, Didrik knew that there existed a special bond among those Starfleet officers lucky enough to pilot its vessels across the galaxy. To outsiders, it may seem that starship pilots were cliquish, or uninterested with the workings of the rest of the vessel, but Didrik knew this wasn't true. It's just that most Starfleet pilots considered themselves so unbelievably lucky in a way that non pilots just couldn't understand. It wasn't just flying the ship, it was the privilege of sitting at the head of the bridge and the honor of knowing that no matter where in the universe a ship might go, it is you, the pilot, who gets to take her there. Because of this, Didrik knew that even Shayne's mention of investigating 'pilot error' was delivered reluctantly, and with all the seriousness of a heart attack.:: Thoran: My finding so far concur with Commander Shayne. We have run security sweeps over the main systems and have yet to find anything. R’Ven: Captain, I would like to ask a few question to make the situation a little more clear? Zaekia: Of course, by all means. R’Ven: Thank You. ::Turning his attention to those assembled he posed his first questions:: Commander Shayne, Lieutenant Thoran and Ensign Yesna, your accounts are thorough. Thank you. ::without pause Merrick turned to Yesna:: However to add one additional point. Ensign, I had also asked you to look into any sort of unauthorized access to our systems. Were you able to find anything? Yesna: Yes Sir, There was a strange command-line subroutine in the navigational array, that seemed to be trying to take control of the helm. That was till the dish exploded. R’Ven: And were you able to determine the source? Yesna: Not yet but it was transferred to our systems within the last month. R’Ven: Thank you Ensign I appreciate your efforts in this regard. ::Didrik had only met a handful of Ash'lie in his lifetime, and he found each one as puzzling as the last. When humans were only just beginning to discover agriculture as an alternative to hunting and gathering, the Ash’lie were experiencing a Golden Age of artistic achievement. Millennia beyond humans in nearly every measurable way, it begged the question, why would an Ash’lie choose to spend his time with such ‘primitive’ alien species?:: R’Ven: Commander Shayne, Lietenant Thoran. There was an event that happened on the Atlantis. Is it possible that these events could have been connected? Shayne: ::Murmuring in horror:: Oh, my god. ::A few at the conference table overheard Shayne’s hushed interjection, but no one called attention to it.:: Shayne: When you were chasing that robot on the Atlantis, it was on Deck 6- auxiliary control, correct? Thoran: Correct. Shayne: You said something about it perhaps trying to transmit its data to whoever had designed it. What if you were half right? What if it was transmitting something, but not to its creator? Do you get what I’m saying? ::For his own part, Didrik didn’t get what Shayne was saying. He had never even stepped foot aboard Atlantis, and wasn’t familiar with the events that transpired during the time she and Blackwell had been assigned to work together. Piecing his questions together, however, had Didrik just as worried as others around the table looked. Rogue transmissions from out-of-control robots didn’t sound like something that would just resolve itself.:: Thoran: Rather than transmit the stolen data to its creator, it had instead released some form of signal? ::His brows furrowed in puzzlement.:: Would we or the Atlantis not have detected that? Zaekia: Good question. Tu'Peq: Captain, Commander, if I may? Zaekia: Go ahead Mr Tu’Peq, what’s on your mind? Tu'Peq: The Blackwell and Atlantis has always been in relatively close proximity to each other, on galactic scales. All space-faring vessels vent waste energy into space, in accordance with the laws of thermodynamics. In addition to waste energy from propulsion, waste energy from the power grid is also vented through the same system. If the robot had access to auxiliary control it could have masked its transmissions in the Atlantis's waste energy. It wouldn't be able to travel far but, knowing Starfleet transmission protocols, the Blackwell's power grid would have acted as a magnet for this robot's...virus. ::Phrases like galactic scale, thermodynamics, and waste energy didn’t exactly fill Didrik with a comfort that nothing was wrong. The science officer’s explanation was reasoned, logical, and if it was true, scary. It was the equivalent of the classic human sneeze-handshake method of disease transmission, and if computer viruses were now communicable through space via a starship’s energy field, it wasn’t just Blackwell, or Starfleet, or even the Alpha Quadrant, that would pay the price.:: Rhyn: Response Zaekia: That’s something we’ll examine moving forward. Thank you for your insight. I think this has been a very productive discussion. I’d like to move on now and get an update from medical. ::If medical was going now, Didrik was certain he’d be next. He finished his glass of water and activated his PADD, using a stylus from his pocket to take notes. He listened carefully to Dr. G’Renn as she informed the rest of the senior crew.:: G’Renn: We have already treated a majority of the injuries caused by the damage to the main deflector. At least two dozen injuries of varying degrees of severity. There were a few serious injuries requiring surgical intervention, while most of the injured have already been cleared to return to duty. Thankfully, there were no fatalities. Stennes: oO Thankfully. It could have been so much worse. Oo G’Renn: There is, also a situation that appears to be developing in regards to the telepaths aboard the ship. I believe that Counselor Stennes has assembled a report on the matter. ::Didrik didn’t expect to be given the floor so quickly, and there were a few seconds of awkward silence as he finished scrawling a note on his PADD.:: Stennes: A worrying number of telepathic crewmembers have reported abnormal experiences related to their telepathy. Episodes vary in duration and intensity, and are somewhat eldritch in nature and highly distracting. ::referencing his PADD:: Some have reported hearing voices, re-living memories, and hallucinating. Somewhat more troubling is what appears to be a breakdown in the ability to control one’s telepathic abilities. We’ve had reports of crewmembers ‘overhearing’ each other telepathically and... having difficulty distinguishing between verbal and telepathic communication. ::Didrik spoke the last words gingerly, because it appeared their captain had just had such an episode only moments before. He didn’t want Zaekia thinking he was singling him out.:: Ilsam: Response(s) Zaekia: I have to say that does explain a few things and before you ask, yes I’ll be visiting sickbay directly after this meeting. For now, I’d like to hear a bit more about the details - how do the symptoms develop? How is it transmitted? What is your plan for dealing with it and how can we help? G’Renn: So far the vector of transmission is unknown, and I have so far been less than successful in locating a physiological cause. I wouldn’t want to rule anything out before we study the affliction in greater detail. Ilsam: Response(s) Stennes: There is also anecdotal evidence to suggest that the breakdown in telepathic control, which I spoke about a moment ago, can be exacerbated in moments of extreme stress. During the ship-wide emergency, several of those afflicted experienced significant difficulty in focus while carrying out their duties. ::Didrik didn’t want to ‘rat out’ G’Renn and Sindrana for their telepathic tête-à-têtes in Sickbay and in the convalescent ward, and hoped Zaekia wouldn’t ask to whom in particular Didrik was referring. However, where G’Renn came from a place of wanting to withhold judgment until more could be learned about this mystery, Didrik felt his gut was telling him what he needed to know.:: Zaekia: We’ll ensure you have the resources you need. Here’s the plan - R’Ven, I want you to join Dr G’Renn and Mr Stennes and help them study and understand this virus. We need to eradicate this before anyone has a complete mental breakdown or suffers permanent brain damage. I’ll help in whatever way I can to that end as well. R’Ven: Agreed sir. I will do everything in my power. ::Outwardly, Didrik maintained a professionally neutral expression. Inside, he was worried. Could any of them be trusted to fulfill their duties if push came to shove? Didrik was unaware of the progress R’Ven had made in recovering from his partial assimilation, G’Renn was having telepathic troubles, and Didrik was--:: Stennes: oO Nope, we’re not thinking about that now, Didrik. ::He pushed the thought out of his mind and resolved to find a solution to the crisis with the help of his colleagues’ expertise and professionalism.:: Zaekia: Mr Shayne, head down to engineering with Ms Yesna and Mr Thoran - I want this ship up to spec asap but more than that I want you to investigate this lead we’ve uncovered. If there’s a virus or something infecting our systems I want it purged asap. I understand there was a civilian aboard who pitched in during the crisis as well? Yesna: Yes Sir, A Ms Farnsworth I would like her to help if possible sir? Zaekia: Well we need all hands on this so get her support as well. Shayne: Response Renos: I’ll be heading down to the Burellion capital city of Chloretta to meet with Negrid, an individual we identified at the Consortium HQ as wanting our attention. He has something he’s desperate to tell us, and I believe it related to the Consortium. This could be the big break we’ve been looking for. I’ll be taking Pandorn, Sarjak and Aquilina with me. I don’t want to spook him by approaching with unfamiliar faces. Pandorn: Yes, Admiral. We should be as low profile as we can be though. Sarjak: Response Renos: We’re going to be stuck here for a number of hours while Starfleet and Consortium engineering teams work their magic. We might as well make the best of a bad situation and turn this to our advantage in any way possible. We still have an opportunity to explore, get to know the people of House Larokon, the people of Burellion and how they see themselves. What we learn here today might shape the way we approach diplomatic situations and build a better relationship with the people here in the future. That’s why I would like Mr Wilmer, Rhyn, Illsam and Tu’Peq to head to Chloretta. The cultural museum is said to be the finest in the region. ::Didrik admitted silently that the other team’s assignment sounded a lot more fun his own. Sure, isolating the cause of, subsequently curing, a heretofore unknown malady that affects an ability his people didn’t even possess was fine work if one could get it, but a day trip to a museum sounded... well, cooler.:: Wilmer: Aye Admiral. I’m sure the team and I can dig up all kinds of interesting facts. Zaekia: Please be aware that teams travelling to Burellion outside of HQ property must go by shuttle. Burellion has strict transport regulations and are not in possession or transporter technology. They don’t trust it so you could say it has been effectively banned. ::Didrik pondered Zaekia’s admonition against transporter use within Burellion territory. He wondered if their distrust of the technology, which was based upon converting matter into energy and reconstituting it elsewhere, might have something in common with Tu’Peq’s theory about robotic viruses traveling in waste energy. Didrik scribbled the idea down in his PADD and would bring it up later.:: Zaekia: I really want to personally thank you all for your hard work. These are incredibly high pressure situations and as much as we train and we drill for it, nothing can truly, fully prepare you for the reality of it. Renos: You’ve all performed exceptionally and when you get right down to it, it's because of you and the work of the collective crew that we’re here at all. Zaekia: I’d like to recognise Ensigns Tu’Peq and Yesna in particular, for their exceptional work and dedication. You are both hereby promoted to the rank of Ensign and granted the relevant rights and privileges that go with it. Congratulations. Yesna: Thank you Sir Tu’Peq: Response Pandorn: ::smiling:: Congratulations, you two. Good job. Thoran: Congratulations to you both. Very much deserved. R’Ven: Congratulations Lieutenants Tu’Peq and Yesna. I have had the distinction of working with you both and this is definitely well deserved. Shayne/Anyone: Responses Zaekia: With Commander Rhyn arriving to take up the post of Chief Tactical Officer, Mr Thoran will be able to concentrate specifically on security as the department’s permanent chief. Rhyn: Response Thoran: Thank you Mr Pandorn. Perhaps you would care to give me a heads up? Pandorn: I'll be glad to tell you after this is over. ::grins:: R’Ven/Shayne/Anyone: Responses Zaekia: Thank you everyone. Dismissed. Renos: Thank you captain. Those in my team - grab your away kits and meet me in the shuttlebay. ::Didrik liked Zaekia’s style; it was clever to save the mirth of promotions and crew reassignments to the end, when everyone was already pumped up and ready to take on their respective assignments. It seemed to raise the excitement in the room as the officers filed out of the room; everyone strode into the corridor with as if purpose personified.:: (( USS Blackwell, Deck 2, Corridor outside conference rooms )) ::Didrik timed his movement down the corridor, passing some and allowing others right of way, until he, G’Renn and R’Ven had convened.:: G’Renn: Commander R’Ven, Commander Stennes. While it is practical for temporarily housing those affected, I am afraid that the Convalescent Wards are not very practical as a research area. We could use the Duty Doctor’s Lab in Sickbay, bringing a few patients expressing symptoms at different levels with us as we investigate. R’Ven: That does seem reasonable. ::Craning his head, Merrick turned to stare at Stennes:: What do you think commander? ::Didrik battled with what he was thinking versus what he ought to be saying, and at first, it was a toss-up to see which would arrive on his lips first. By a hair, the more reasonable of the two emerged victorious, and Didrik answered calmly.:: Stennes: I was thinking of the Medical Labs on Deck 23, but your suggestion is better, Doctor. It makes more sense to work out of Sickbay directly. ::Didrik tried to make his sigh of relief as small and unnoticeable as possible. He wondered why was being polite and congenial suddenly so difficult. Actually, he pretended to wonder; he knew the answer, but denial was kindly keeping it from him until he was ready for it.:: G’Renn: Commander ::Turning to look at R’Ven:: It would also be neglectful on my part if I did not mention that the symptoms have begun to affect me as well. R’Ven: I have been told that different individuals have been presenting the illness in different ways. How is your presenting. G’Renn: Response R’Ven: I understand. I thank you for sharing. We will do everything we can to help you. Have you found that it is impacting your ability to work? G’Renn: Response Stennes: My observation of Dr. G’Renn indicated that despite a momentary disorientation during her... episode... she maintained control over her judgment and her faculties throughout. In my opinion, she is fit for duty. ::Didrik was even more flummoxed. Why did that come so easily to him, when just a moment ago, he was in knots about which room on the ship to use? Maybe the irritability and erratic behavior were just momentary blips on his emotional radar and nothing more. He certainly hoped so.:: R’Ven: ::turning to face Zaekia:: Greetings Captain. I have been discussing with Doctor G’Renn and Counselor Zaekia the effect that this virus has had on Doctor’s G’Renn. ::slight tilt of the head:: You are telepathic. Have you noticed any adverse effects? Stennes: oO Well, that’s one way to bring it up. Oo Zaekia: Response ::If the captain were having problems with controlling his telepathy, the entire ship could be in jeopardy. It gave him an idea.:: Stennes: We have collected a great deal of data from our current patients. It may take some time to isolate the cause, but I wonder if we could identify some chemical or biological or physiological changes that accompany one of these telepathic episodes. Zaekia/R’Ven/G’Renn: responses Stennes: If we knew what happens in the body when an episode begins, we might be able to predict when one is coming. Then–with all due respect, of course, Captain–the medical computer could monitor whoever is in command, and should that person suffer an episode, it could transfer command codes automatically to the highest ranking officer who is not afflicted. It’s not a cure, but at least it is a backup plan to keep the ship safe. Zaekia/R’Ven/G’Renn: responses Lt Cmdr Didrik Stennes Counselor USS Blackwell NCC-58999 Andaris Task Force Justin D238804DS0
  4. New Academy Graduate

    Good to have you with us in the fleet!
  5. ((USS Darwin, Deck 1, Captain’s Ready Room)) ::The door chimed bringing in the second interviewee. Ne was lucky to have so many capable officers serving aboard the Darwin and after one candidate had taken a career break unexpectedly to deal with an emerging family problem, it had thrust Emery Rhyn into the spotlight. So where ne’d previously thought ne would only be interviewing one candidate face-to-face, now ne had the pleasure of interviewing two. Renos was lucky to have worked with both candidates personally and know more about their capabilities but ne also had to be mindful not to give them preferential treatment too. Like with Icavoc, ne didn’t know Emery Rhyn particularly well, though she was a somewhat newer addition to the crew culture and psychology ne felt Commander Rhyn had a lot to bring to a command role as a joined Trill officer. She had lifetimes of experience to draw upon. The only question was how useful some of it would be. If one of her past hosts was a famous sculptor then Emery’s quarters might well be a work of art but ne wasn’t sure how that would help her deal with building relations with species that felt Starfleet being the (relatively) new kids on the block, weren’t to be trusted. Ne let the officer in and they started off with all the usual rote questions such interviews necessitated.:: Renos: While you have excelled in every task we’ve asked of you to date, you’ve not had a lot of opportunities to lead from the front. How would you describe your command style and how do you think people would react to you as commanding officer? ::Emery hated this question. It had come up numerous times in interviews with supervising officers, Academy instructors, and other commanding officers she’d had that were trying to help her along the path to command. The short and easy answer was - she didn’t have one. Not one she was conscious of, anyway. She’d never really been in a position of command long enough to try out different approaches to see which she was comfortable with and which would work for her. Obviously, she couldn’t tell Renos this. She was in an interview for a command position. She couldn’t come out and say that she couldn’t command.:: ::She relaxed and thought about her symbiont’s previous hosts. Ellaan had been a politician, and was used to dealing with people. But her strengths lied more in the diplomatic arena - diffusing problems, negotiating and such, and not in the command area. Yaren had been the captain of a merchant vessel. But he mostly had a crew of one - himself. He did what he wanted and never had to worry about ordering others around. Kilanda had been a university professor and was in charge of a large body of individuals daily. But teaching and command were two different beasts. The other hosts had nothing to offer either. Emery was on her own here. What kind of a commanding presence was she?::Rhyn: One thing they’ve taught us in Tactical, ner, is to always assess your situation. Know what and who you can count on, and where your greatest assets and weaknesses are. My greatest assets as a CO would be my crew. Knowing their strengths and weaknesses, I would be able to pull from their knowledge base, and not place personnel in situations that would set them up for failure. ::Emery wasn’t sure this answered Renos’ question, but it was the best she had on the spur of the moment. She waited nervously for nir reply. The captain nodded just a little. Having been at this now for a few years ne had learned a lot through trial and error. There were a lot of things ne had little to no knowledge of. No one could be expected to know it all, or handle everything alone. It was imperative a commanding officer know their crew, trust in them and know how to get the best from them and that was about tasking them appropriately. This was a good start.:: Renos: Do you see yourself as being someone who prefers to maintain a more professional distance, or would you be more open and approachable to your crew? ::There was no right or wrong answer here. It was a matter of style and each person had their own preference. Ne had served under captains who were more distant and unapproachable. One in particular ne had only ever seen in passing. Ne hadn’t worked on the bridge and since ne hadn’t been their physician they’d had no reason to talk. That had been strange to nem at first. Ne on the other hand was happy to talk to the crew. There was no question that you couldn’t be completely chummy with the crew. If everyone was your best friend it was going to be hard to separate the personal from the professional at times. That could lead to trouble.::Rhyn: By definition, a CO needs to have a certain level of professionalism. But being approachable by your crew allows for a bond of loyalty and trust to be developed. There’s a fine line between them, but I think I’d like to lean a little more to the approachable side. ::Emery hadn’t needed to think about that question much. She was a people person. She liked to get to know who people were, to invest herself in their lives, their hopes and dreams. Her parents had thought that she would maybe become a psychologist, or even a social worker. Took them by surprise when she applied to the Tactical track at Starfleet Academy.:: Renos: Sounds like you have a similar philosophy to me then. How would you deal with a situation in which one of your crew is not responding to your orders? It might be that they think because you are friends they have greater authority to shape a situation than is the case. ::Emery thought of those crew she was closest to. She had started a friendship with Isabel, and by association Shayne. She liked Logan, and knew what kind of a soul he really was, even if he didn’t show it openly. And she liked Brell and his family...suddenly she realized that all four of those people had been assigned to the Atlantis with her. A situation like the captain’s question suddenly had a lot of merit. She could very well be surrounded by people she considered friends, and have to order them to do something they didn’t agree with. How would they react? How would she react to their reaction?:: ::Alternately, what if it was a sticky situation? Would she send another crew member she wasn’t as fond of into a potentially dangerous situation just because they weren’t as close? Would she protect her friends, and sacrifice others? Emery liked to think that she was a bit more professional than that. That her training as a Starfleet Officer would override any personal feelings in matters like that. But when it really came down to it, how would she respond?:: Rhyn: Anyone under my command would have had the same training I did. Starfleet personnel understand that anyone can be called upon at any time to do anything. If we’re not prepared to answer the call, then we shouldn’t be in this business. They may not like my orders, they may even disagree with my orders. And I’d never order anyone to do anything I wasn’t personally prepared to do myself. But I’d remind them of who they are, what this uniform stands for, and count on their professionalism to see that they get the job done. ::Again, Emery wasn’t sure that was the answer Renos was looking for. She was being as honest as she could...she just didn’t know if she was understanding the meaning behind the questions. Was she too vague? Should she be more specific? It was hard to know what Renos was after without being able to read nir mind. Sometimes she wished she was telepathic.:: Renos: You’re right that everyone will have had the same training but how would you react when people choose to abandon it, to betray that uniform and all it stands for?::This was not something that should ever come up but unfortunately ne had been betrayed not once, but twice. As much as Recruit Iy’s betrayal had hurt nem, Lieutenant Logan’s was arguably worse because he had Starfleet’s training and lifelong exposure to Federation culture and ideals. To Iy, ne was entering a whole new world vastly different to what he was used to, where betrayal was expected by a lot of people. The reason ne had asked however was completely unrelated to nir own misfortunes. It was all very well saying ‘I’ll remind the crew of their uniform and the ideals they swore to uphold’, but what if that is not enough? Renos had made tough decisions, even unpopular ones that made nem feel isolated from the crew, especially from the more openly disapproving ones. It took a very strong personality and complete confidence in one's decision making to stand strong in the face of criticism and in the face of betrayal.:: ::”Betray the uniform.” The question screamed of Renos’ personal history. Emery could say she empathized, but it would really just be words. She had no idea how the J’naii had emotionally dealt with those situations. How would she deal with a situation like that? She’d be hurt, certainly. Would she keep it in? Would she explode? Emery supposed it would depend on the situation and the person, or people, involved. Renos was probably remembering the incident with Logan. He was assigned to the Atlantis. Was ne worried that something like that might happen again with her command?:: ::Emery had spoken with Logan, both before and after his meeting with the captain and Varaan. She had given her support to Logan’s genuine concern for Renos’ well-being, but had made it clear that she had to side with command when it came to the plan’s execution. If only Kurt had said something before hand. She would have even gone with him to present the idea. She’d also talked to Kurt during shore leave on Trill. She felt that the two of them were in a good place. She was fairly certain that she didn’t need to worry about him going off and doing his own thing again.:: ::But the question remained. And it wasn’t Logan-specific. Anyone could be anti-Rhyn, either personally or professionally. How would she deal with it?:: Rhyn: I guess it would really come down to how far they’ve gone. Is it just words? Or have they taken some kind of action already? If it’s only words so far, I think we’d have to have a little chat, just one-on-one, and try to iron out the difficulties. ::That was Ellaan, trying to the political track:: However, if something had happened...if action was taken...then ::Logan’s face unfortunately flashed through her mind:: appropriate consequences in relation to the action would have to be taken. That could be something as simple as a reprimand on their record, or incarceration in the brig. We’re not military, per se, but there are rules and regulations in place, and for a reason. Rules need to be followed and enforced, or there’s chaos. ::Renos had absolutely no concerns about Rhyn’s respect for the rules and regs or her ability to manage a crew and ensure they also had the same respect for it. While Emery had less experience than the other candidates ne was considering, they couldn’t discount the experience and knowledge that she had as a joined Trill. Her professionalism spoke for itself. There were some follow up questions - there were always more questions to be asked but like with the previous interviews it was from nir point of view a success. The J’naii had learned what ne’d hoped to learn and it was increasingly clear to nem that this was going to be another of those agonising choices.:: Fleet Captain Renos - Commanding Officer, Andaris Task Force * Executive Council & Captain's Council Member * Academy Commandant A238805EB0 & Cmdr Emery Rhyn - Chief Tactical Officer - USS Darwin-A, NCC-99312-A V237810V10
  6. Promotions for December

    Well done!
  7. round 3 PNPC Norva Rennyn - Mama's Family

    ((Tro'Arn Farm, Arnmere, Trill)) ::It was spring in Arnmere, and Norva Rennyn had a lot on her mind.:: ::Her oldest son, Norvil, was the proud father of his third child, a bouncing baby boy of such typically large Rennyn size that he had put out his father's back, leaving them all short a hand for the season. She remembered very well that famous Rennyn baby mass. She'd had nine of them herself, only three of them under ten pounds at birth, and two of those were the twins. Then there were the nine grandkids, now ranging from twelve years down to one, all of whom had been dropped off at grandma's house on a regular repeating loop since birth. She loved those sweet babies with all her soul, but it sure would be nice if someone would call first once in a while.:: ::There was Norvil and his wife and three kids, and her oldest daughter Thara and her husband Maren and their three kids. And old Aunt Metzi to worry about, though she was fairly self-sufficient. And her husband Elan, of course. That was just here on the main farm. Down the road, Norva's son Dirin and his wife ran their own farm with their two little ones, getting bigger every day. Fess moved into the city for work, but he was back like clockwork every weekend, and Vye dropping in and out as her business allowed, and of course Ren and Alin were both off in the stars, but Nila, the other twin, was a new mom, and they just lived over in town in Lenna Golfarn's old place. Then there was Tor, her youngest, twenty now and away at school. Tor was on her mind most of all these days, and the worry that he might not come back here. Some days she wanted a little space to herself, but she sure didn't want any of her kids to move away.:: ::Today, Norva was in her shop, her own little work place out the back of the oldest barn. Elan carved out the space for her years ago, and she had all her woodworking tools and her metalworking tools, her trusty big hammer and her welding torch and her soldering iron. Needlework was for other grandmas. Since she was little more than a young girl, Norva loved working with her hands, and had by now nearly furnished the whole town with her chairs, tables and other creations made out of repurposed building materials.:: ::Right then, she was hammering a few things good and hard. There was so much to think about on this farm, and it got to be so she was sick of it some days.:: ::The planting was ongoing at this time of year, and Norvil and Thara had ostensibly taken over operations at Tro'Arn. It still seemed that Norva and her husband Elan had to take charge of everything. From ordering to equipment to shipments and service schedules, there seemed nothing that couldn't get a detail past her grown up kids, who had absolutely insisted they could handle it. So in addition to being babysitter to their kids, she had to hold her own adult childrens' hands and guide them step by step through all the management tasks and processes they already should have known by now. The busier the farm's season, the more time mama needed with her big hammer.:: ::Anyway, it was spring, at least. The farm was beautiful this time of year, with breezes that alternately warmed or cooled just right, the smell of rich dirt tilled up wherever you went, and the fresh scents of green plants growing from every direction, just about to ripen and blossom. It did make you feel good to be able to walk around the fields in a light jacket, taking in the farm for its scenery as much as its technical aspects. The barn animals were out and about, making their various calls in the yard. And vast fields of grains stretched in every direction, as far as the eye could see.:: ::Norva paused in her work to look out the open barn door, to smell the fresh air that came just this way every year this time. This was the time of year, almost exactly to the day, that her Ren loved most, so it was fitting that this was the day he was coming home.:: ::Norva's heart almost stopped, and she tore the goggles from off her head, casting it and her project aside as she rushed to close up the shop at the sudden realization.:: Norva: Oh for the love of-- This is the day Ren's coming home! ::In a panic, she closed the barn door and ran up the yard towards the main house. She'd barely done a thing to prepare. No one had made up any of the beds, no one had planned any meals, she didn't even know if anyone had called the other kids to tell them he was coming. They were supposed to be famous for their Arnmere hospitality around here, but as it stood, she hoped Ren's friends liked planting crops, because no one had even thought about entertaining them.:: ::She rushed into the house, the big old sprawling complex with its generations of add-on wings they only jokingly called a farmhouse, and found Elan, her wiry, silver-haired husband, napping in a chair. She dumped him out of it.:: Norva: Ren's coming! Starfleet's coming! ::She barely formed a sentence as she ran past and into the house. She was covered in saw dust and grease. She didn't have a clue how she was supposed to entertain whatever crew of space-traveling friends her son brought home with him.:: Elan: 'S 'at TODAY? Shoot! ::With no complaint about being dumped from a comfortable nap, Elan scrambled to his feet and ran in the other direction. Norva hoped he was going to call the others back from their work planting fields in those giant hovermachines. It was Ren who insisted they get those, and then he'd left them. And now all this fuss over him coming home. He should have stayed here in the first place and then they wouldn't always be short a man.:: ::At least the grandkids were at school today. Except the baby, but his mother had him in town just then. And Aunt Metzi was tucked in her chair, a relic as old as she was, wrapped in blankets of psychedelic patterns, looking fine with an elaborate updo and heavy eye makeup like they used to wear way back in her day. Of course no one else was around. The took and they took, and then as soon as she needed them, there was no one around to help.:: ::At least, now that she rushed to inspect it, the house was in its typical modern-day order. By the time Ren or any of his friends beamed onto the wide, welcoming front porch, their rooms would be ready, rooms enough for as many as cared to stay. She was always a little bit frustrated with her son and his decision to leave them for Starfleet, but any friends of his were very welcome on the farm, and she hoped they were going to enjoy themselves, and if any of them wanted to help with planting, well, she wouldn't turn them away.:: ::It was spring, and as usual, life at Tro'Arn was busy, and Norva had a lot on her mind. Foremost now was the thought of real Starfleet officers visiting her home. What was she supposed to say to a Starfleet captain? How was she going to keep the neighbors from nosing in all day each day and pestering them?:: ::What was she going to say to Ren when she saw him?:: ::Still, his friends were welcome here. They would have the run of the house, the fields, the village.:: ::Then she heard the whine of the transporter outside, and remembered she hadn't thought to clean herself up. It didn't matter. She put on a smile and bravely went out the door. Unprepared as she was, Norva had no idea what to say to a Starfleet officer, but "Welcome" came to mind.:: LtCmdr Rendal Rennyn Chief Ops & Helm Officer USS Darwin NCC-99312-A A239102RR0
  8. ((Hololab, Deck 10, USS Darwin-A)) ::For quite some time he had been there, isolated at the fortress of solitude, speechless, incommunicable, forced by himself to deal with the consequences of his actions. He deliberately avoided all senior officers for quite some time and accepted all the assignments that could keep him busy all day long without having to interact with them. He needed time to mentally and emotionally purge his sins.:: ::The official excuse for his enraged behavior during the last mission was some kind of radiation within the Nebula that tampered with his endocrine system. But that was the ease way out, put the burden of his actions over someone’s shoulders or something.:: ::For Christopher, the problem was bigger than that. He had spent the last weeks confined and assigned to the hololab, reevaluating his priorities, his life and assimilating the changes that came from the last mission. Some of them he could not even discuss openly with his superior and others were a question of wounded pride. He had apologized with Shayne, and kept distance from Isabel, but would it be enough?:: ::But working alone did not mean that he was sad or depressed about what he had done. It was a time that he chose to dig deeper into his holographic research.:: ::Darwin was undergoing another mission right now and Christopher was sat next to the primary workstation, resting his eyes for a moment, when a big white cat came from nowhere and started to purr.:: Lambert: ::stroking his long silky hair:: Ohhhh mon petit!! ::opening his eyes and pulling his legs down to the ground:: Has the simulation ended? ::Christopher seemed to expect that the cat would answer that question and he indeed delivered three short meows in return. He then stood up and stretched his legs and arms. He had worked almost his entire shift without getting out of that chair.:: Lambert: I guess I will analyze the results tomorrow with my mind refreshed. Hocuss: ::meowing and trilling:: The Darwin is rebooting the system. ::A cat speaking came as no surprise for Lambert since he was the one that gave him that ability at the first place. In fact, he only spoke when there was no one else around or when he expressly say Hocuss to do so.:: Lambert: Why are they doing so? ::Another white cat appeared from thin air and gently joined the first. He was a little bit small but almost identical. The science officer thought it would be a good idea to give the operation system of the hololab a more concrete form of expression, but he did not want to pursue the traditional humanoid approach for an artificial intelligence. So he chose the twin white cats. They were much more cute.:: Pocuss: ::hissing:: The ship was under an attack. ::growling: Some kind of virus infected the computer core and they decided to reboot. ::One of the main specifications for that kind of hololab was to have a dedicated computer core to avoid any leakage of the holo-automata-cells. Fortunately, enough the safeguards worked as expected and the virus did not spread into the hololab.:: Lambert: Oh! That’s weird! But they probably have the situation under control. ::he turned around and grabbed a PADD:: Hocuss, Pocuss lock down everything for me. We continue tomorrow. Hocuss: ::meowing: Rest well… ::he started:: Pocuss: Lambert! ::he finished:: ::The twin cats disappeared into the air while the lights of the hololab were slowly dimmed into darkness in the proper sequence. The tired science officer stepped into the corridor and make his way toward the quarters 8808. But before he could take the next turbolift his commbadge chirped.:: Renos: =/\= Renos to Lambert. I wonder if you might be able to head down to sickbay. We’ve managed to rescue the first of the Talaxians. They won’t all have major injuries that need tending and because they’re not a priority medically speaking, it may be some time before anyone can tend to them. They’ll be scared and need food, water and morale support. =/\= Lambert: =/\= Lambert here. =/\= ::he stroked his chin while contemplating the possibility to meet Isabel again:: ::It was quite a while since he and Darwin’s Captain talked to each other. The last one was probably when he went out to the bridge to ask authorization for the hololab project. It was a few months ago.:: Renos: =/\= Maybe you can even find out what happened to them while you are there. Don’t worry if you can’t, they might be too confused and traumatized to make sense of their situation. We’ll find out one way or another. =/\= Lambert: =/\= I´m glad to be of service, Captain. =/\= Renos: Response Lambert: =/\= I will report to sickbay immediately. Lambert out. =/\= Well, socialize a little and play detective. This can be fun! ::he smiled almost forgetting his tiredness. :: TBC ____________________________ Ensign Christopher Lambert Science Officer ~ Physicist USS Darwin ~ NCC 99312-A D239306CL0 “When you have eliminated all that is impossible, whatever remains must be the truth, no matter how improbable.” – / Sherlock Holmes
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