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Theo Whittaker

Captains Council member
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Everything posted by Theo Whittaker

  1. A huge congratulations to all of the winners! Every single one of you deserves the award! Proud of you all!
  2. Part I ((Main Engineering - USS Gorkon)) Whittaker: You’re joined? The Human seemed a bit surprised by the statement, but Mikeja wasn’t offended. There were no outside indications on a Trill whether they were joined or not. For a long time, many people outside of Trill society had no knowledge of the symbiotic nature between the symbiont and host. Mikeja simply nodded at the question. Lan: Correct. I am the second host of the Lan symbiont. Mikeja allowed himself to inject some pride into the statement. Joining had been both a boon to his life, but was incredibly painful at the same time; especially considering the close relationship he had with Vessa. It had been over five years since the incident and he was still coming to grips with the integration of his two lives. Whittaker: Then you must be quite the Officer. ::he said, deliberately turning his attention back to the engineer.:: And it certainly goes a long way to explaining your assignment to Gorkon. The Ensign thought about that before responding. He would certainly consider himself competent when it came to his knowledge as an Engineer. But to think the fleet placed him on a ship of the line because he was joined seemed unwarranted. He was, after all, only the second host of Lan and his traumatic background felt like more of a hindrance than helpful. Lan: ::smiling, but shaking his head:: I appreciate that Captain, but it wasn’t really an option at the time. Joining with Lan was… unorthodox, shall we say. The Trill Engineer took another sip of the coffee, wondering if he would open up further to Captain Whittaker. He supposed it would depend on what the next question was. Whittaker: Why was that? There was a slight pause. The Captain seemed to realize the potential [...] pas and moved to correct it immediately. Whittaker: Not that I mean to pry, Ensign. You don’t have to divulge the details if you don’t wish to. Lan: ::putting up a hand:: That’s quite alright Captain. I’ve probably talked to over a dozen counselors about it over the years. I suppose you have the right to know, especially if we’re going to be working together in some capacity. Whittaker made a “carry on” gesture. In turn, Mikeja motioned to the seats surrounding the MSD and the two men sat. He didn’t think of the [...] pas he had also made at that moment as the two men seemed to be having a more casual conversation. Mikeja wasn’t even technically on duty for a little while longer. Lan: It was… an accident. About five years ago. We, that is Doctor Lan and I, were on our way to Earth. There was an explosion and Doctor Lan was injured… quite badly. A recollection of extreme pain came careening through Mikeja when he mentioned the incident. He’d learned to keep his composure when discussing it, but that had taken some time and effort. Lan: I was the only unjoined Trill on the ship we were on, and the symbiont wouldn’t have survived long enough to make it home. So… it was the only logical choice… Like Whittaker had done before, Mikeja let the thought linger, figuring the outcome would be obvious to the Human. The Captain responded first with a slow nod, apparently coming to an understanding. Whittaker: … was for you to undergo joining. ::he said, completing the man’s sentence.:: I understand that it can be a difficult experience for both host and symbiont when a joining is unplanned? Mikeja lingered on the thought… knowing that what the Captain had said was quite the understatement. (( Flashback: Medical Bay - SS Camtalla )) A bright light burned through Mikeja’s still closed eyes as he came back into consciousness. Things felt fuzzy and disjointed at first. He then began to hear voices and the beeping of computer consoles. One of the beeping noises sounded like a heart rate monitor. Voice 1: He’s coming around. Things started to make more sense and the young Trill slowly tried to open his eyes. The light was still there; it was someone flashing a pen light into Mikeja’s eyes. He heard himself let out a groan and then felt some soreness on his arms. His head began to throb in pain as the pen light was moved to his other eye. He couldn’t quite make out the faces of those around him. Voice 2: Vitals? Voice 1: Stable. Pupils aren’t dilated. Mikeja didn’t recognize the voices, but they were both feminine. As the pen light was moved, his eyes began to adjust to the environment. With a slight look around, Mikeja realized he was in a medical center. It looked used and fairly spartan, which meant he was probably still on the Camtalla. oO Wha… why am I…? Oo It all started coming back to him. The explosion. He tried to sit up, but the flash of pain in his head made him think twice. He then looked around again and saw two women hovering above him. Mikeja figured these were the Camtalla’s medical personnel. Woman 2: Whoa now, try not to move too fast Mr. Norven. Regarding the woman, Mikeja saw she was apparently human. Dark hair in a bob style cut and piercing green eyes were the two things he noticed immediately. The other woman was Andorian, with longer white hair and her antennae pointed upwards. Mikeja winced again as he made a move to a seated position, this time far more slowly. He felt the support of both women as he finally was upright. Mikeja Norven: What… what happened? Woman 2: An EPS relay exploded in Main Engineering. You were brought to the medbay. The Trill remembered what happened, and it dawned on him that Doctor Lan had also been there. He looked to the human medical officer with a worried expression. Norven: Doctor Lan? Is she alright? The Human looked over to the Andorian, unable to hide her own worry. She looked back to Mikeja with the same expression. The Trill’s heart began to sink, fearing the worst. Woman 2: She’s alive, but I’m afraid her injuries are very severe. The Captain has set course back to Trill, but… She hesitated. Mikeja immediately figured the explosion had damaged the warp drive and they were going far slower than they could be. He then had another realization. Norven: The symbiont? Part II (( Flashback: Medical Bay - SS Camtalla )) Norven: The symbiont? Woman 1: Please sir, you need to rest. Mikeja brushed away the hand the Andorian woman was trying to put on his shoulder to calm him down. He felt sadness, anger and fear all at once. He needed answers, not reassurances. Norven: ::raising his voice:: Tell me! The two women glanced at each other again. The human woman looked back to the Trill again, even more sad this time. Woman 2: Her isoboramine levels are dropping fast. Unless we can make it back to Trill in a few hours… Mikeja held up a hand. He’d heard enough and mustered the strength to swing his legs over the biobed and fully sit up. Norven: I need to speak with Doctor Lan. Is she conscious? Woman 2: I don’t believe that’s the best idea… Norven: ::once again holding up his hand:: Spare me that ma'am, but right now the well being of the symbiont is most important. The Doctor would agree with me. ::more angrily:: Where is she? I must speak to her before it’s too late. With a sigh and look of defeat, she gestured for the Trill to follow her. Mikeja got to his feet, ignoring the pain and dizziness. He followed the woman a few feet to a biobed across the room. Then he saw her. Lan was covered in a silver blanket, with only her head and bare shoulders exposed. As he walked closer, he saw the plasma burns on her face. Her gray hair was tattered and burned away at places. Cortical monitors had been placed on her temples and her breathing was very shallow. Mikeja felt a pang of fear rush down his spine and settle in his stomach before turning to the medical officer. Norven: How long does she have? Before the Human medical officer could respond, Mikeja heard a change in his mentor’s breathing, almost like a whisper. Looking back down, he saw her eyes were half-open. She looked right at the younger Trill and her lips began to move. Lan: ::whispering:: Mister Norven… Mikeja leaned in closer to the woman he’d known for over four years. He tried to put on a reassuring grin, but the look in his eyes betrayed him. Norven: Doctor. I’m here. It took a moment for the older Trill to compose herself. She finally was able to speak. Lan: Am I…? A single tear ran down Mikeja’a face. She looked so helpless and Mikeja knew there was nothing he could do to save her. Another tear fell as Lan tried to smile her own reassurance. Lan: It’s alright. :pause:: We must save the symbiont. He’d rarely lied to Vessa before, and he knew now wasn’t the time. Like all Trill who had been joined or even trained to be joined, Mikeja knew the symbiont’s well being was paramount. But that would be difficult considering the circumstances. Norven: I’m sorry Doctor, but we won’t make it home in time... Vessa shook her head with all of the strength she could muster, but it was still the slightest of movements. Her eyes never left the gaze of her young assistant. Lan: Then it must be you, Mikeja. It is the only way. Mikeja felt his mouth open slightly. He was taken aback at the thought. He then shook his own head, far more forcefully. Incredulousness replaced the sadness, but only slightly. Norven: That’s… I mean… I can’t. I wasn’t chosen. Vessa was able to move her arm from under the blanket and found one of Mikeja’s hands. She held it and squeezed with determination. Lan: I trust you, young man. Tears began welling in both of their eyes now. Lan: We will meet again. I’m… so… Her eyes closed and the grip from her hand softened. Mikeja looked up at the biomonitor. Vessa’s isoboramine levels were at fifty percent. Panic and determination took over and the Trill released his hand from Vessa’s and turned back to the medical officer with pursed lips before speaking. Norven: Can you transplant the symbiont? The woman hesitated before speaking. Woman 2: I… I mean I think so… but I’ve never... Once again, Mikeja held up a hand to stop her. Norven: Then do it. ::pointing to the biomonitor without looking:: If her isobormaine levels drop below forty percent then we won’t be able to save anything. Woman: But, Mister Norven… Norven: ::angrier:: We don’t have time for a discussion, Miss…? Even in the heat of desperation, Mikeja needed to know the name of the person he was dealing with. Able: Doctor… Doctor Tessa Able. A grin showed across his face, cutting through the anger and sadness. He let his breath out from his nose; some of the anger he'd felt melting away in the moment. Norven: Well, it seems fate has a sense of humor today Doctor Able. ::gesturing past her into the room:: Shall we? A sigh came pouring out of the woman and she turned to the Andorian. Able: Assema, get him prepped for surgery. Local anesthetic. He needs to be conscious for the procedure. (( Ten Minutes Later )) Now dressed in surgical outfits, the two medical personnel hovered over Mikeja. The hum of the sterilization field surrounded them all. He looked over to his left and saw Vessa. Her eyes were open and she smiled at him, something that he’d rarely had the privilege to see from his teacher and friend. Mikeja smiled back. The Andorian nurse was handed the teardrop-shaped symbiont while Able used a laser scalpel to cut into Mikeja’s abdomen, exposing the pouch all Trill had. Mikeja saw Vessa’s eyes go lifeless. Able: Ok, let’s go. Give it to me. The nurse wordlessly handed the worm-like creature to the Doctor and she gently maneuvered it into the male Trill’s pouch. At about halfway in, the symbiont moved on its own, settling into place. In an instant, Mikeja felt a rush of emotions. He took a deep breath as if he had just come to the surface from being held underwater for hours. With tightly closed eyes now, tears fell down his face. Mikeja Lan: ::aloud:: I’m… so… proud... (( Present Day: Main Engineering - USS Gorkon)) Whittaker: I understand that it can be a difficult experience for both host and symbiont when a joining is unplanned? Mikeja just smiled and nodded once again. Lan: Yes Captain. Quite a bit. Whittaker: And how have you fared since being joined? The Trill took another sip of the raktajino and contemplated how to answer the question. Lan: Oh… I just take it one day at a time I suppose. A flurry of activity began happening around Main Engineering. More officers and crewmen were entering and some were beginning to leave. Mikeja queried the computer for the current time and saw the morning shift was set to begin in a few minutes. He looked back to goateed man sitting next to him. Lan: Looks like we’re about to get busy, Captain. Maybe next time I won’t hog the conversation so much. Whittaker: Response The Trill smiled and followed the Captain’s lead as they both stood. Mikeja looked around and spied the replicator. He downed the remains of the bittersweet beverage and then once again regarded the superior officer. Lan: I’m going to get rid of this ::holding up the mug:: before things get too busy. Would you care for something while I’m over at the replicator Captain? Whittaker: Response ------ Ensign Mikeja Lan Engineering Officer USS Gorkon G239702ML0
  3. I would have put "The Brightest Star" in between the end of Enterprise and TOS: The Cage since it clearly takes place a couple of decades before the latter. In my head canon, "Runaway" takes place during the events of Disco's Season 1 finale- after Michael's record is expunged BUT before they depart for Vulcan to pick up whoever it was that was going to assume command. The Escape Artist is a little difficult to place because there is no indication of when it takes place but "Calypso" should clearly be the LAST thing to watch if you're watching the franchise in chronological order since it takes place about 1000 years after Disco's Second Season.
  4. Congratulations to everyone who won an award in this category! I’m humbled and proud to be amongst such talented and incredible human beings. Thank you for helping to make this glorious community a beacon of creativity and talent! xxx
  5. Congratulations to all my fellow award winners. You are all amazing and beautiful people inside and out and everybody deserves their awards! I’m especially proud of @Luna Walker who has been here a staggering 15 years and who never fails to find a way to give Theo a headache (in the best possible way, obviously). Words can’t quite describe how proud I am of the ever wonderful, ever brilliant @Jarred Thoran for his tireless devotion to not just Columbia, but to the entire fleet. You’re an example and an inspiration to just about everywhere and you are going to be an incredible Captain one day. Thank you for facilitating this year’s award ceremony. You are utterly, utterly marvellous and a fabulous human being! Also- I’m so proud of @Groznin Smith, who is quite simply one of the loveliest people I’ve met through this fleet and whose enthusiasm for our game brings people to us from far and wide. @Sal Taybrim- you make this fleet so much brighter by being everyone’s champion. I was fortunately to write for you for two years and I can attest to how bright you shine, how supportive you are and how much of a true friend you are to us all. You’re one in a billion! @Kali Nicholotti- I never knew you were the brains behind the Image Collective but thank you for giving the members of the team another opportunity to showcase their amazing talents and for being an icon to many in this fleet x I’d also like to say thank you humbly for the Xalor Clan Xifilis Award. Autism can be debilitating for me at time but this fleet gives me a reason to keep going when times are tough. I’m infinitely grateful to be here with you all. 😻 PS: @Roshanara Rahman, DM about franchising that coffee shop to someone on Columbia...... or getting me a transfer to Veritas!
  6. Congratulations to everybody who won a General Award this year!!!!
  7. Discovery's second season was by far and away a massive improvement over Season 1 for me (which in retrospect is nigh-unwatchable). By now I think that it is clear that Season 1 was a rush job and hastily slapped together after Bryan Fuller was fired by CBS. It's my opinion that he had a game plan for the start of the season but NOT the end of the season, which is why plot lines like Ash Tyler went absolutely nowhere and why the war took a backseat for the second half of the series before petering out with a whimper. Add in to that the alleged abuse that the two show runners directed at the writer's room. The cast simply had to make the best out of a very bad situation. Unfortunately- it was a poor effort. So like I said, I found Season 2 extremely engaging. The producers and writers clearly listened to the fan feedback and it must have taken guts for them to admit even to themselves that they had faltered. I appreciate them trying to rectify their mistakes. We got to know the primary and secondary characters, the Klingons looked more like Klingons, the plot felt more like Star Trek than say Battlestar Galactica, they did away with the dystopian mood and they ended the series by giving us what we wanted: a new time period. I think my highlights of the season were Michelle Yeoh clearly having a blast as Emperor Georgiou (she was so much fun this time around), Captain Pike, Number One unleashing all the sass in the finale, Michael and Saru's bond being brought the fore (Episode 4 made me cry like a baby), Sonequa Martin-Green really stepping up and delivering one heck of a performance all season long and the finale... whew the finale was an absolute tour de force. I was on the edge of the seat the entire time. The last time I enjoyed Star Trek so much was DS9's The Way Of The Warrior. It was incredible, to me. Of course there were niggles: after such a strong start to the series Tilly faded in to the background and eventually became a comic relief character. I've always loved Tilly (I relate to her so much) but she became actively annoying as soon as her mycelial plot wrapped up. On top of that, Ash's story went.... absolutely nowhere. Why they had to bring him back I have no idea and the baby plot line was.... yeah no. They strung out the search for Spock (no pun intended) for far too long and the Paul and Hugh melodrama was a drag (JUST GET BACK TOGETHER SO I CAN SHIP!). I'm excited for Season 3 (and for Picard!) and I pray that the ship is steadied now that the backroom drama has been sorted out.
  8. Theo has had a shave and picked out his most fabulous suit for this incredible occasion.
  9. This was such a great read and it brought a huge to smile to my face. Kudos to you, Ensign Bollore!
  10. ((Hong Kong subdistrict, SB118, some time between Final Examination and reporting to the Columbia) When Gervan's friends steered him toward SB118's Hong Kong District, he began looking forward to the evening. Before going to the Academy, Gervan could count the number of times he had been to Earth on one hand (perhaps that was an exaggeration. But not by much). All his pre-Academy technical training had been off Earth, and even when he had been at the Starfleet Technical Services Academy, the only time he left Mars for Earth was on a two day visit to Rennes, mainly because his family back on Lemnos would have never forgiven him if he had failed to visit Bro Gozh ma Zadoù. The Academy had given Gervan a chance to see more of Earth, but even if Gervan had not had his academic obligations to the Academy, four years would not have been enough time to see all that was Earth. The place was huge, both in size and diversity. So when Gervan's friends told him they were going to SB118's Hong Kong District to celebrate the collective passing of their final examinations, Gervan was thinking they were going to the The Fragrant Lotus Tea House., the one place in that district he had heard of. Gervan had only a passing knowledge of Cantonese culture and cuisine, though there was a restaurant type called a cha chaan teng he had been told about that sounded interesting. Maybe this Tea House was one of those type of restaurants. Gervan didn't know, but he was looking forward to finding out. Instead, Gervan's friends took him to something called a malt shop and sock hop, which was supposed to be a duplication and/or reminiscent of mid-twentieth century North American culture. Gervan sighed when his friends excitedly showed him where they were going to be spending at least part of their evening, not only to celebrate their first assignments but also the successful publication of "Redeye Love," the holonovel the four of them had collaborated on. Gervan had first met Nilevaar, Ishilaon and Targigg in Application of Creative Design in Holodecks. The four had been assigned as a work group at the beginning of the term, to complete a holodeck novel that would incorporate everything that they would learn in the class. Gervan had internally groaned at the prospect, for several reasons. First, he had no imagination. Well, he had no imagination except when it came to solving technical problems. But when it came to artistic creativity? His limericks were appreciatively bawdy, but that was about it. Second, he was assigned to a team with an Orion, an Andorian and a Tellarite. If the four of them walked into a bar, it would be a classic joke. What could four such disparate beings have in common? As it turned out, all three of his teammates were aficionados of some aspect of mid-century North American culture. Nilevaar was a fan of something called the noir detective, or the detective nor, or something like that. Ishilaon enjoyed the dramatic presentation of the popular culture, Targigg the food of the era, and both had a disturbingly intimated knowledge of the transportation phenomena known as "muscular cars." And all three knew the music of the period. There is nothing quite like hearing an Andorian and a Tellarite singing "Greased Lightning." Gervan, on the other hand, had grown up on a colony that had been "lost" to the rest of humanity for two centuries, and even though Lemnos had "rejoined" the Federation before his birth, Earth culture was just as exotic to the humans of Lemnos as the culture of any other Federation member. The only ancient pop culture icon that Gervan knew was the protagonist of a late twentieth-century entertainment series who modified available items into unique configuration to solve dilemmas in a nonviolent manner. And he only knew that individual cause his Vulcan mentor had introduced him to it. Apparently, that particular ancient Earth entertainment series had a "cult" following on Vulcan. So the rest of the team had wanted to do a holonovel set in their favorite Earth era. Except none could agree on exactly what should be in it. And they expected Gervan to be the "tiebreaker," even though he knew absolutely nothing about that time period. And thus Redeye Love was born. The holodeck novel starts with the playable protagonist driving a muscle car across a seemingly endless desert highway with music blaring from the speakers(there were two modes of driving, one realistic, the other not). The sun has just set, and the protagonist was required to retrieve someone at the airport, who was arriving at dawn. But before the protagonist could do so, they must recover a stolen statuette highly valued by the arriving passenger. This required the protagonist to solve a minor mystery, and create a minor device, in each chapter, that culminated in building a major device and then using it to solve a major mystery in the final chapter. Redeye Love barely had consistent internal logic, with one chapter being in Los Angeles, then Malibu Beach the next. But Gervan did manage to incorporate all the diverse facets his new found friends loved about the era, which made them more enthusiastic about working on the project, which in turned made sure the technical aspects of their holonovel was beyond reproach. And since that was what the group was being primarily graded on, that was good enough for Gervan. Who knew that people would actually like the thing? Or that one of their fellow cadets had an uncle who was a publicist? So with a little minor tweaking, Redeye Love was becoming a popular sensation just about the time the four cadets had gotten their first pip and their first assignment. So the other three Ensigns had decided to start the evening in a restaurant that celebrated their favorite era. One that didn't even serve beer, Gervan sadly noted. Thankfully, they would only be starting the night there. ---- Ensign Gervan Bollore Engineering Officer USS Colombia C239605GB0
  11. ((The Look Outt - Deck 10 - USS Columbia)) :: Rune sat in her usual seat in the Look Outt, close to the window facing the door so she could see who came and went. Krystyan sat in a booster seat beside her shoveling cereal into his mouth by the handful. She wasn’t sure where Na’Toth had gotten off to and she really didn’t care. The Verillian was good with her son but still managed to get on her nerves rather quickly and she wasn’t in the mood for him. :: :: She took a sip of her Masala Chai tea and continued to read the reports on her PADD. She had been flabbergasted when she got the notification that T’Lea was being transferred to Columbia. She had mixed emotions about serving with the crazy Romu-Vulc again. According to the reports, much had changed since the last time they had spoken. :: :: Rune leaned forward with one hand cradling her forehead. She took a deep breath and released it. T’Lea’s mother had been murdered. Her throat tightened slightly as she read the details. Ravius wasn’t what she would consider a good person but she wasn’t entirely bad either. She had helped Rune find out information of a personal nature and for that, she had agreed to do certain things in return, mainly not kill T’Lea… as if she would. :: :: There was also mention that T’Sara was gone, though she couldn’t find any information about where she had gone or the circumstances. :: Krystyan: Toth! Toth! :: The sudden outburst caused Rune to drop the PADD and sit up straighter. She rolled her eyes the moment she saw the Verillian ‘waddling’ toward their table. Krystyan was kicking his feet, one of which was kicking Rune in the shin. After the third time, she grabbed his foot beneath the table and held it in place. :: :: N’Toth scruffed Krystyan’s curly blond hair as he sat down. At the same time, he pushed a PADD toward Rune. She glanced down at the PADD and then back up at the blue faced annoyance. :: Jolara: What is that? N’Toth: ::grinning around the horns protruding from his face:: It’s what’s called a PADD. You know, Personal Access Display Device. Jolara: ::sucking in a breath:: I know that. What is it you want me to look at? N’Toth: It’s your itinerary for shore leave planetside. I took the liberty of planning your R&R since you were obviously not going to do it. :: She pushed the PADD back across the table without looking at the contents. :: Jolara: Not interested. N’Toth: You have to. All work and no play is making you… ::waving his hand:: meh. :: Rune [...]ed her head to the side as her brows grew together. :: Jolara: Meh? What is meh? N’Toth: Dull, grumpy… among other things… Worse than usual. ::He picked up the PADD and activated it. Turning it around so she could see the screen, he scrolled through photos and local information.:: There’s skiing… or rather the Losarian form of skiing, ice skating, sledding. ::He grinned and looked at Krystyan who was leaning as far over as possible to see the pictures.:: He would love sledding I bet. Krystyan: YA! Wan go swedding. Jolara: No. It is too cold. Krystyan: Wan go swedding! Wan go swedding! N’Toth: Come on. It’ll be fun and good for both of you to get some fresh air. ::Pointing at the PADD.:: Or you could go hiking. I know you like hiking. Jolara: I like hiking… ::leaning over:: when it is WARM. I do not like cold. It hurts. :: Her jaw clenched. She had been looking forward to going planetside for some sun and fresh air. But that was before she knew the entire planet was freezing. Not all Al-Leyans were adverse to cooler temperatures but the majority were and for once Rune was among the majority. :: Krystyan: ::louder and slapping his hands down on the table:: Wan go swedding! :: Rune grabbed Krystyan’s hands. :: Jolara: By the branch! Do not do that! :: The moment the words were out and her son’s expression changed from happy to crying, she regretted it. She took a breath and let it out, releasing his hands at the same time. :: Jolara: ::softer, wiping away his tears:: I am sorry. Do not cry. Please. ::to N’Toth:: This is your fault. :: N’Toth shook his thick blue skull. :: N’Toth: You did this all on your own. Further proof you need to go down there. Maybe freezing your a… ::Rune raised an eyebrow.:: butt off will do you some good. Krystyan: ::his little lower lip quivering, tears flooding his deep blue eyes:: Pwease mommy? :: Rune sucked in a breath. She still couldn’t handle when Krystyan cried. Even less so when she had caused it. :: Jolara: Fine. We will go sledding. oOBesides, it will give me an excuse not to see T’Lea just yet.Oo :: Krystyan’s expression immediately brightened, all thoughts of crying forgotten. He let out a squeal. She gave N’Toth a look that said she would kill him if she froze to death. ::
  12. This a stunning piece of writing by @Jona ch'Ranni who gives us a glimpse at his life before joining Starfleet. Phenomenal work, Jona!
  13. ((Bridge, Deck A, Dilithium Freighter Verlaxi of the Andorian Merchant Marine)) ((Time Index: 5.5 years ago, Stardate 239008.14)) ::The palest blue color flashed on the viewscreen. It was a thing of beauty. The sensor overlay alarm indicated they had found their quarry.:: th'Ryken: Bring us about nice and slow, crewman. ch'Ranni: Aye, Captain. ::Jona tapped the thrusters that would align the freighter with the asteroid.:: ch'Ranni: Adjusting pitch positive two degrees, yaw negative five degrees. ::beat:: Ready, sir. ::Captain Tov th'Ryken flashed a smile at the new helmsman, impressed with his abilities. Jona prided himself on how quickly he had familiarized himself with the ship's controls.:: th'Ryken: Good. Bring us within 100 meters of the surface. We'll use the cutting lasers to carve out the section on grid pattern G-4. ::Once Jona had the vessel at the right distance, the young woman, Jhetu sh'Qaarah, sitting to his right activated the cutting laser as bits of dust and ice spewed away from the hole created by the super-heated ionizing beam. Within seconds a quarter ton chunk of rock floated free from the main asteroid and the ship's tractor beam caught it and lifted it away.:: sh'Qaarah: Analyzing. ::pause:: Confirmed, sir. Dilithium ore is present. ch'Ranni: Yes! ::composing himself:: Sorry, sir. We could send crews down immediately to set up extraction charges. th'Ryken: All in good time, crewman. Just take in the sights for a moment. There's nothing quite like it, is there? Look at that asteroid belt out there. :: The immediate field of vision was obscured by the crowding of the closely-spaced bits of rock. Jona knew that if the ship was at a higher plane he would see they really stretched outward for a few thousand kilometers. That made for millions of asteroids and a few of them contained prizes like this one. He smiled back at his captain.:: ch'Ranni: Aye, sir. Quite amazing. th'Ryken: You don't know the half of it, boy. I've been mining dilithium for forty-two years now. Each discovery still brings chills to the back of my neck. These resources will be used to power the greatest ships the Federation can produce. And its our job to mine them and get them home safely. Keep your eyes peeled, you know the Nausicaan pirates have been on the rise in this area. ch'Ranni: Aye, aye, Captain! ::Jona definitely felt excitement when he signed on to the crew. His charan, Vorka, had been ecstatic when they young Andorian expressed interest in getting some experience piloting a freighter. No doubt his father had visions of Jona one day piloting an Andorian Guard cruiser just like him. Jona had conveniently left out the secret hope which he maintained - that this experience could be a stepping stone to his entry to Starfleet.:: th'Ryken: Watch the drift, Jona. ch'Ranni: Yes, sir. Compensating. ::He mentally chided himself for his wandering thoughts. He needed to pay closer attention. "Be in the moment", as his thaven, Spel, always berated him. He loved both his fathers but they could be a little demanding in both their expectations and criticisms.:: sh'Qaarah: ::whispering with a small smile:: Yes, crewman. Watch your drift. ::Jona chuckled lightly and shot back a retort at the Operations Specialist.:: ch'Ranni: I'll watch the drift, if you watch the stabilizers on the tractor beam. Your waveform is out of sync by five kiloveds, Jhetu. sh'Qaarah: Yeah, and you're sitting there with your hand on the targeting lock. Its more efficient to let the lock float unless you're actively targeting something. ::Her antennae writhed in agitation at the young man.:: ch'Ranni: Well, you obviously ... th'Ryken: Children ... ::the Captain slowly drew the word out in an almost sing-song voice so as to stop the quarrel but also take the bite out of the chastisement. He paused for several seconds until both crew members turned to look at him.:: That's better. Now, shall we go collect some galactic jewels? ch'Ranni: Yes, sir. ::For the moment, Jona was happy to comply. He valued his life aboard the Verlaxi and was grateful for the experience it gave him in piloting.:: ::But his heart belonged farther out among the countless pin[...]s of light scattered across the blackness of space.::
  14. When summoned to the bridge at the start of the episode by Saru, Pike and Burnham clearly arrive there via the turbo lift. I’d wager that the ready room/conference room is on Deck 2 or 3.
  15. I like they’ve taken the feedback on board. Judging from the brief shots of what we have seen from Season 2, Klingons with hair look so much better. Given how averse I was in Season 1 to the new Klingon look, I have to say that I was very intrigued by L’Rell. Mary Chieffo was wonderful. I look forward to seeing more of her in Season 2. Ditto Tyler. Shazam Latif was great, but the storyline for him in Season 1 ended rather abruptly.
  16. I liked Discovery Season 1 but I didn’t love it outside of Michael and Tilly. After the first two episodes it meandered until the mid season finale but the back half was very, very well done. I look at the Klingon redesign and the more advanced sets as a visual reboot of the franchise- although I hated the new Klingon ships apart from the Birds Of Prey. It is what it is, I guess.
  17. ((Shuttlecraft Verne - open space)) ((Time-index: Two and a half hours before the ceremony.)) :: It was a strange feeling. Sitting alone in a shuttle with a view of a million stars just outside a window. Nelis was sitting in the right pilot seat pressing a few buttons to cure his boredom. He thought to himself of the freedom he had with a shuttle and a pilot's control panel. On a big ship he went where the captain wanted him to go, but with a small shuttle like this, he was really flying. Of course, the computer was doing all the work; Nelis himself hadn't ever flown such a thing. Nelis had been sitting in this shuttle for over twelve hours now and he would be for just about six more. Six more hours before he could see that old fellow. :: :: He hadn't exactly told that old fellow, his husband, that he would be coming to the Columbia. Sure, he had mentioned that he'd been writing a formal letter to request a transfer, but he said that could take months. Then suddenly, he was called to the chief's office that his request had been approved by the XO; only two days after talking to Pholin. He wanted to say it to him so badly, he wanted to deny every regulation there was to share the most exciting news in ten years. But the transfer approval of the XO came with one condition, he was to share it with no-one. :: :: Now, he understood the secrecy of the mission they had been on for the last two years; they were dealing with information and enemies that would cause chaos and destruction throughout the Federation. He had been on those kinds of missions before, and although they were challenging mentally, the whole army of counselors helped to deal with that. What really bugged him is how he couldn't even share with one person that he had been transferred. Like that would cause any harm! :: :: So, that meant: sitting alone in a shuttle for 18 hours. Normally he would just grab a book or two and enjoy life, but he was excited. He was going to see his husband without a stupid screen in between them for the first time in twenty-one months. He was going to a new ship, with new people, in a new region. Not that he'd been seeing much of it, he would be repairing conduits in different jefferies. He had once enlisted in Starfleet just because he wanted to fix things, and he still loved doing that. It was just... :: Nelis D.: oO Ben ik jaloers? Oo (Am I jealous?) :: The Dutchman had encouraged his husband to join Starfleet; it was his dream! But now he actually saw what Pholin was doing, and what Nelis could've been doing for the past twenty-or-so years. It bugged him. Pholin was just in the fleet for a week before he went down to a planet to save his captain. Nelis had never been on an away-mission in his entire career. Now that was exactly the reason he enlisted, so he wouldn't have to throw away four years of his life to become a "Starfleet officer". He would have responsibilities, he would have to be on the bridge, he would have to go down to planets. Twenty years he was satisfied by that, but his officer Pholin had maybe changed that. :: Nelis D.: oO Soon I will see him, only six more hours... Oo ((Pholin's Quarters - Deck 9, USS Columbia)) ((Time-index: Two hours after the ceremony)) :: It was a strange feeling. Sitting alone in fresh new quarters with a view of a million stars just outside the window. Pholin was lying on his bed glancing through the one window in his new room. The Operations department had arranged Lieutenant's quarters within the hour. Pholin had packed his few belongings and left for Deck 9. He was closer to the science labs now... hurray. He sighed, he had been trying not to think about it for the entire hour he had been laying there. Exactly 53 minutes ago he received a call from the Denobulan National Waters Organisation, more simply known in the family as "work". :: :: Both his parents and his single brother were in the Navy, all on the submarine Pak'cha, and had been for way too long. Pholin hated any large bodies of water, which in his childhood quickly determined he was not fit for the Navy. Of course, his parents had been devastated. Family tradition, and all that. Luckily, his smaller brother was happy to join and so the tradition lived on. Three happy Denobulans were under the water 27 hours a day for 6 months at a time. His father was the captain, so he stayed on the entire year. Now, since it was winter all three of them were happily sailing the seas currently. :: :: Emphasis on were, past tense. The DNWO wasn't just here to chat: the Family Spokesperson had informed him that the Pak'cha had gone missing in the line of duty. Assumed lost. No sign of the ship on any sensors. The moment the woman on the screen said that, his head started spinning, he was disoriented, he was confused. Pholin listened to the woman but didn't respond. His brain had turned itself off. Pholin didn't speak, Pholin didn't cry, Pholin was just there. The woman said she would be calling back and ended the call, leaving Pholin alone. :: :: So, that meant: lying alone on a bed for 53 minutes. His night shift had actually already started, but he had called in sick. He was told to report to sickbay but didn't want to. They'd see him being in this state, he would have to talk to a counselor. He would have to think about his family. He would have to realize that they were not there. They were gone. No way to contact them. No sign that they were anywhere near Denobula. They could've been eaten by ka-cheeys. They could have drowned. A tear streamed down his face. Two more followed, then it didn't stop. His entire life had he been with his family, and now it could all be gone. :: Duyzer: oO Ti kalem ra-gundai ah? Oo (Am I alone?) :: The Denobulan had begun to realize what had been told fifty... four minutes ago. He did not like it, he wanted to change it. Pholin looked in every corner through his window hoping that - somehow - Nelis would be there. He didn't want to be alone. He had been missing Nelis for ... about two years. The ship he was posted on was highly-classified, so much so that Pholin didn't even know what ship or class of ship he was posted on. The poor fellow hadn't gotten any shore-leave until last month. He wanted to hug him and cry in his arms. :: Duyzer: oO Soon I will see him, only a couple of months... Oo
  18. I want to take a moment to wish @Renos and the crew of the Apollo-A all the best as they launch!
  19. I may have just gotten the very ship that my character would like to command........ 😋
  20. Another submission from myself! @Tatash manages to make even the simplest of tasks an engaging and thoughtful read! This is some fantastic writing! Bravo!
  21. ((USS Columbia - Main Shuttlebay)) ::Was it possible to be stalked by an inanimate object? Did it's complex computer circuits feel some sort of wanton affection for the Gorn that couldn't keep it away? No matter how far he seemed to run, he always ended up back inside the giant squashed bug that is the Columbia. Any soreness he felt about it was more in jest then truth, he just hated to admit that he loved this ship in return. It wasn't the fastest, nor the prettiest. It wasn't as smart as some of the new dedicated science ships, and it wasn't as powerful as a the massive star cruisers being pumped out by the shipyards. It was old, it was clunky, and even the new carpet couldn't hide the aged architecture and nearly retro design behind them. Old fashioned would be the term, just like the Gorn that once more patrolled it's halls. Even now he could feel his legs ready to stride back down those corridors without so much of a second thought for navigation, muscle memory that had not been lost despite his time on the starbase, and the Avandar before that.:: Whittaker: To Captain Theo Michelangelo Whittaker, Stardate 239509.10. You are hereby requested and required to take command of the U.S.S. Columbia N.C.C.-85279 as of this stardate. Signed, Admiral Vivian Hauke, Starfleet Command. ::beat:: Computer, transfer all command authorisation codes to myself. Voice authorisation: Whittaker Delta Five. ::Tatash watched, and waited, as the ship sucked in this new information, mulling it over in those processing engines:: Computer: Transfer complete. U.S.S. Columbia N.C.C.-85279 now under the command of Captain Theo Michelangelo Whittaker. Pandorn: Captain on deck!!! ::smiles at his CO:: ::Without thought he snapped to attention. Some habits are impossible to break, clanking his heels on the deckplate:: Any: ? Whittaker:Well, there you have it people. Our new ship. We have an exciting opportunity ahead of us. This is a storied vessel with a lot of history behind her. Let make sure that we do her all proud and that the history books never forget our names. G’Renn: Time to add another chapter to this ship’s history. Any: ? Whittaker: ::with a smile, he brought the ceremony to its logical conclusion.:: Dismissed. Tatash: Walk and talk, people.::he growled:: Last thing you want is a cargo shuttle landing on your head. ::He delivered it with a light, good humored tone. Already he could see more running lights hovering outside the large force-field protecting them from vacuum, there was apparently still a lot of supplies and crew to get on board, more then just using the transporters would allow. People broke into their own teams, each of them looking genuinely excited to be on board the illustrious vessel, although he held himself back a little making sure the landing pads were clear of personnel before moving to the side of the door, his yellow eyes watching the next couple of vehicles touch down safely before heading out of the main door himself. The corridors smelt new at least, the carpet freshly laid and plush enough that his massive boots sunk into its surface. The new paneling giving what used to be brightly lit beige a more naval tone yet still capturing some essence of regalia. It was a facelift and a half, but still he knew the layout despite it's visually pleasing upgrade. That was reassuring, the thought that they would have rearranged any of the key area's was practically heresy. He nodded to people as he slowly walked past, the same inspection route he'd taken hundreds of time, the same predictable set of events that a security chief undertook before each voyage. First he would make sure they had their teeth, then he'd make sure the ship had hers. His first stop was towards the deep heart of the ship, located near the brig for obvious reasons (which, without any prisoners in, was a pointless trip).:: Computer: Authorization Required. Tatash: Tatash, Alpha One Nine Eight Three. ::The door opened with an obedient hiss, the weapons locker of the Columbia laying itself bare. Racks of weapons, not as many as the massive QM on Starbase 118 and certainly none of the heavy weapons the corps used. The key difference here was everything here was so very new. Compression rifles, standard phase rifles, armor, grenades, everything pristine almost in it's packaging. The room smelt of lubricant and polish, the tang of energy cells fully charged, the faint hum of the security fields keeping the weapons in check unless authorized to fall. But most importantly, there wasn't an empty space. He threw a brief glance down to the PADD he'd been clutching since arrival, then looked back up at the numbers above each rack. All present and correct. Good. His next stop was a few further decks up, after leaving the armory locked behind him. The doorway here was larger, a lot more solid. More designed to keep anything inside from exploding outwards.:: Computer: Authorization Required. ::He wished silently the damned thing would just remember him:: Tatash: Tatash, Alpha One Nine Eight Three. ::This door clunked open with a loud whine, revealing the racks upon racks of ominous looking black oblongs. Again, no gaps in the housing and every mount seemed to have one of the large torpedo's nestled snugly inside it. Again, the entire room was new. Gone was the old fashioned slip n slide style of loading that needed several people to operate. This was newer, faster and deadlier. He tapped a claw on the small console at the end of the mechanical spool, the entire housing shifting with a steady clunk as each shelf was rotated to bear its deadly charge if required.:: Tatash: Computer, how many torpedo's are on board? Computer: One hundred and eighty. ::The perfect number, If anything this was starting to get a little boring.:: Tatash: =/\= Tatash to Pandorn Pandorn: =/\= ? Tatash: =/\= You have a full magazine down here. Loading system functional. Pandorn: =/\= ? Tatash: =/\= You're welcome. Out. ::It would be up to Tactical to make sure the phasers were operational, there was so many arrays dotted all round the ship that a visual inspection of each would take hours, if not days of work. Torpedo's he could count, complex engineering work, not so much his forte Again he strode out, his routine swinging him back towards the brig, this time into his own security office. Small, compact. Barely room for a desk and a couple of chairs on the other side along with the usual readouts of the ship. Already someone had put the box containing his handful of desk ornaments considerately down for him on the [...] wood surface. For a brief second he felt himself almost pulled back in time, had he been standing in this same place sometime, wondering how he would cope with the duty suddenly thrust on him as a head of department? When did that anxiety become replaced with the quiet confidence of slipping on a comfortable old glove? Still, his mistake back then had been spending too much time in this room. It had been that which had stunted him developing friendships, leaving him moping around for the first few missions. A mistake that he had no intention of repeating as he moved back to the turbolift:: Tatash: Bridge. ::The machine whirred upwards at a breakneck pace, he was almost convinced he'd left his stomach down where he'd embarked by the time he'd been practically vomited out onto the bridge. He blinked a few times, now -this- was a new set up. Gone was the sweeping arcs, the aged design of Starfleets optimistic classic design replaced with the more genuinely navyesque modern decor. But still everything hummed with machinery, beeping and whirring like a tinkerers toybox. It was, if anything, overwhelmingly complicated.:: Tatash: This is a bit much. Any: ? ::He hadn't really been aware he'd said it out loud, gesturing with his hand to the controls so polished that the overhead lights gleamed off them:: Tatash: I mean, look at it. It's all so -new-! Any: ? --- Lt. Commander Tatash Acting Chief of Security USS Columbia C239108T10
  22. Oh my goodness! What kind words, Im ever so touched by them. Thank you ever so much @Valin Dermont 😊
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