Trellis Vondaryan

((Counselors Office, USS Gorkon)) ::Tasha took a deep breath and looked at her mother. She gave a nervous smile and glanced back at the door before her.:: T. MacFarlane: Are...are yeh sure about this ma? N. MacFarlane: Aye, it will be good f’ both o’ us...righ’? ::Tasha took her mother’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, then took another deep breath and pressed the door chime.:: Fortune: Come in! ::Corliss grabbed up an additional PADD, smiling as the door opened.:: Fortune: Hello again, it’s good to see you again, Lieutenant. ::Stepping into the room Tasha flashed a small smile at the pink haired Ensign.:: T. MacFarlane: Aye, I’m a bit more awake this time. This is m’ mother, Natalie. Ma, this is Ensign Fortune, th’ ships counselor. N. MacFarlane: Pleasure t’ meet yeh. Fortune: Pleased to meet you as well, ma’am. Although, I take it this is less of a social visit then? ::She chuckled, waving at the seats.:: Fortune: Sit, sit. Would you like something to drink? T. MacFarlane: Tea please, f’ both o’ us. Jus’ ask th’ replicator f’ MacFarlane blend three. ::The two women sat and Tasha nervously tugged at her sleeves. Natalie placed a reassuring hand on her daughters thigh.:: N. MacFarlane: Its alrigh’ Tasha. ::Corliss chuckled, flicking on the replicator as it made up the two teas. She brought them over, setting them on the small table.:: Fortune: here we are. ::Tasha gave a small smile and looked to the pink haired Betazoid.:: T. MacFarlane: Shall we cut t’ th’ chase counselor? ‘ow much o’ m’ counselin’ record ‘ave yeh seen? ::Corliss sat with her own tea, earl grey with a massive amount of sugar, so much it was probably just sugar with a dab of tea. She sipped it slowly, humming.:: Fortune: I did read over what happened with your arm...and I know, certainly, that this whole dream incident has probably had a horrendous lasting effect. Is...that what this is about? Or something that happened in the dream? T. MacFarlane: Well, it actually ‘appened when I was…’ow old? N. MacFarlane: Four. T. MacFarlane: Four, but I didnae remember until th’ dream brought it up. ::she took a deep breath.:: Counselor, I ‘ad a twin sister. She died when we were four. I...I didnae remember she existed until th’ dream, an’ even then I wasn’t sure if it was true. ::Corliss tilted her head, holding the cup lightly.:: Fortune: As children, what we remember and what happened sometimes melds together, so I can understand why you felt uneasy about that... N. MacFarlane: It...it was my fault. Evelyn slipped and fell down th’ hill. ::tears were starting to roll down her face.:: I...I...there was nothin’ I could do t’ save ‘er! M’ baby girl! Gone! ::Natalie began to sob, and Tasha gently wrapped an arm protectively around her mother.:: T. MacFarlane: Hush ma. Its alrigh’. Its good t’ let it out. ::Corliss handed over the tissues easily, nodding.:: Fortune: Yes, it’s never good to hold it in. I can see you’ve been holding it in for years, ma’am. N. MacFarlane: ::Dabbing at her eyes:: Y-yes. It w-was more than t-twenty years a-a-ago. ::Corliss leaned back, tapping the cup lightly.:: Fortune: It sounds like it was a horrible freak accident, and I’m sorry this has happened...however, Miss Natalie, have you ever talked about her? N. MacFarlane: O-only at th’ t-time. M’ husband was th-there too. Who else could I m-mention it t-too tha’ m-might underst-stand? Fortune: To...anyone, I suppose. Talking things out...helps, in their own way. It hurts, it reopens old wounds, but for them to heal they have to be reopened, sometimes. I think Tasha has her own grief on this, although separate and different. T. MacFarlane: Aye. ::Corliss put her empty cup down, sitting up.:: Fortune: Tasha, you didn’t recall her until the dream. Twins, even siblings, that find out they once had a sibling that died years back still feel grief. It’s a grief, a sadness, of missing someone you don’t know. Miss Natalie, you knew your child, and that’s a greater sadness that could possibly be told in words. However, I think if we...talked about her, perhaps what she was like, what she loved to do, how alike or different she was from her sister...perhaps that can lighten the load a tad, as it were. N. MacFarlane: Evelyn was...happy. Always. Both o’ yeh were. ::She looked at Tasha, struggling to hold back the flow of tears.:: Yeh were inseparable, always laughin’ and smilin’ with each other. Yeh were sad an’ quiet f’ months after th’ accident. Tha’ ‘urt almost as much as losin’ ‘er. Eventually yeh returned t’ yeh usual ‘appy self. I think tha’ must o’ been when yeh started t’ forget about ‘er, tha’ was also when yer father joined Starfleet. ::She reached into a pocket and with drew the holophoto of the twins. She gently traced Evelyn’s features with the tip of a finger and gave a sad smile.:: Not quite identical. Evelyn was more like yer father, yeh ‘ave his eyes, but my hair. She was all ‘im. ::Corliss smiled softly.:: Fortune: They look happy together. T. MacFarlane: Ma...th’ photo. Where was it taken? N.MacFarlane: In our garden. Only a few weeks before...before...I can’t! ::The photo slipped from Natalie’s fingers as she buried her face in her hands, sobbing. Tasha’s arm snapped out and caught the photo before it hit the floor. Carefully she turned it around and looked at it with intense scrutiny, committing the details of her sister’s face to memory.:: Fortune: ::nods:: I understand. These things take time. We can’t fully wrap everything up in one session-not that I would force you, anyway-but, I think this was a good thing… ::She hummed, watching Natalie a moment.:: Fortune: I...would suggest counseling, privately, for yourself, ma’am, perhaps to slowly shift through the grief itself. It certainly wouldn’t hurt...we can pause here, for now, if you prefer, or we can go over something else besides Evelyn, if you feel up to it? N. MacFarlane: I...I think...I…::She rubbed her palms across her eyes, wiping away the tears.::...I...twenty years an’ it still feels as fresh as th’ day it’ ‘appened. Why Miss Fortune, why does it still ‘urt so much? Fortune: Grief, whether over a death of a family member or the end of a relationship, is varied and...odd. It’s not like a scratch you’ve made with a fingernail that heals but burns for a while, nor is it like hurt feelings after an argument. ::pauses:: There’s an old saying about wounds healing, but a death is much more like a scar. A scar is made from a deep wound. Sometimes when the wound heals over with a scab, we think the underneath is healed, but it isn’t. If you, say, pull back the scab...you get all the pain and heartache as if it just happened. N. MacFarlane: So...you think that my coverin’ it up is th’ problem? I should o’ let it out earlier? ::Corliss gave a soft smile.:: Fortune: However, there’s something to be said about...letting a wound ‘air out’. If you dig into it, continuously obsess over it, that’s not good either. But slowly retelling what happened, remembering her in small instances, can gently let that heal into a scar. The scar won’t fade, you won’t forget your daughter, but eventually, you’ll be able to recall her without having it ache so badly. N. MacFarlane: I...I think I understand...thank yeh counselor. ::She went quiet for a moment as she gathered her thoughts.:: So...how do yeh think I should start doin’ tha’? Fortune: Small steps, of course. Perhaps, rather than speaking about what happened that day, why not talk about say, her first word or something they both did that was silly as children? Or, you could write it all down in a journal of a sort, and if you don’t remember something, that’s okay. It’s...been a while and memories are fickle things, but any little bit helps. N. MacFarlane: A journal...I like tha’ idea. Make it permanent. Keep her memories with me. T. MacFarlane: D’ yeh think I could read th’ journal...once its done o’ course. ::A solitary tear traced its path down, Natalie’s cheek and she gently took Tasha’s hand. She squeezed it and nodded.:: T. MacFarlane: Counselor, d’ yeh know any way tha’ I might be able t’ remember more o’ Evelyn? I...I remember nothin’, ‘cept ‘er accident. Fortune: ::Smiles:: I think a journal is a perfect starting point. You can write down memories, hopes you had for her, so on. For you, Tasha...hmm… ::She thought for a moment, jiggling her foot lightly.:: Fortune: You said you were four, yes? T. MacFarlane: Aye, four. Fortune: Mmhmm. At that age, significant events do leave an impression, whether they end up being traumatic or something as simple as moving rooms. ::hesitantly:: There are several ways of...forcing memories to the forefront. One such is hypnotism, however, there’s also the threat of implanted memories. There is also the...interesting therapy in which one is brought back to their younger years. ::Both MacFarlane’s sat back and listened. Hypnotism seemed like a plausible option, and this therapy where one was brought back to their younger years seemed like an odd, yet sound idea.:: Fortune: There’s also support groups, which I would greatly suggest to you both. Natalie, there are quite a few for the parents of children lost at a young age. Tasha, you may find groups that focus on talking through their own memories of siblings or close friends that they lost at a young age to be a great help. N. MacFarlane: Thank yeh, you’ve given us much t’ think about. ::There was a determined fire in Natalie’s eyes, as though finally speaking about her lost child had brought something to life within her.:: T. MacFarlane: Aye...d’...d’ yeh think we could perhaps try one o’ those therapies yeh mentioned? Th’...th’ hypnotism or younger years thing? Not today o’ course, but perhaps next time? Fortune: Perhaps, yes. How about in a few days time, you come back around and we’ll discuss it further and see what we can do? ::Hypnotism wasn’t so hard to figure out, plus it seemed to help assure Tasha...and well, it had a good track record with buried memories, even with the small amount of false ones.:: T. MacFarlane: I would apreciate tha’, thank yeh. Fortune: Wonderful! Alright then, is there anything else I can help with? If not, perhaps we’ll break for lunch then, and I assume the rest of your visit, Natalie? T. MacFarlane: Aye, lunch sounds like a good idea. Thank yeh f’ yeh time Counselor. N. MacFarlane: Aye, Thank yeh Miss Fortune. ::The two MacFarlane’s stood and headed for the door. The session had pulled many things to the fore, and it would take quite some time for them to work through all of these new, and reawakened feelings.:: ----- Natalie MacFarlane Civilian Holonovelist & Lieutenant Tasha MacFarlane Chief Engineer USS Gorkon G239311TM0 & Ensign Corliss Fortune Counselor USS Gorkon G239510CF0

The stuff what dreams are made of, Doc!

What's a bit odd is I wanted to play Trellis very ruthless and yet had to abide by Walter's old pesky Starfleet ethics... 😉

((Observation Lounge, USS Gorkon)) ::She didn't know why she was sat here, staring out of the window. Any console where she could access the ship's sensors would be far more helpful in her current endeavour. The many sensor pallets of the Gorkon were vastly superior to her own eyes, and yet she desperately wanted to see the arrival of the Triumphant in person, rather than through a console screen. ::So there she sat, and there she squinted, waiting for the tiny, familiar dot of white to get close enough for her eyes to find it. ::It took a while, but there it was. A smile like the breaking dawn caught her lips, and she watched as the punchy, powerful little ship took a slow, graceful arc toward the planet. The orbit insertion was a complicated, fancy manoeuvre -- Walter was clearly letting his helmsman show off, and it made her chuckle. She watched the little ship circle the planet for a while, indulging in a little nostalgia about her time aboard it.:: Brunsig: =/\= Brunsig to Reynolds. I'll be in the transporter room in five. =/\= Reynolds: =/\= Aren't you supposed to ask permission to come aboard? =/\= ::She grinned at the impatient sigh that echoed through the channel.:: Brunsig: =/\= I assumed that the Ktarian chocolate puff I've brought with me would do the talking. =/\= ::She was out of her chair like a torpedo from its tube, heading straight for the closest transporter room.::: ((Personal Quarters, USS Gorkon)) ::The next morning, the first sensations she had on waking was perfect comfort and warmth. Warm, in no small part, due to the other body in the bed that was laid against her, the comforting weight of an arm draped over her waist, legs entangled with hers. Her small movements prompted a breath of air against her neck, a kiss just underneath her ear.:: Brunsig: Morning, Sunshine. Would you like bacon and eggs, or toast? ::She replied with a sleepy laugh, recognising the words. He'd first said them to her back on the Triumphant when she, as a newly promoted JayGee, had dozed off in the torpedo control room after working through the night on the targeting systems. When he sat down next to her to check her work, she had inadvertently curled up to him in her sleep, as though he were her favourite teddy bear. Back then, those words had been said with the express intent of embarrassing her; Walter couldn't be accused of being good with tactile contact, either giving or receiving it. ::Since then, it had become an odd little ritual of theirs, a greeting shared whenever they woke up together after some time apart. She usually got the offered breakfast, too. Today, she thought, she'd go with the bacon and eggs. ::Her train of thought was broken by another kiss on her neck and a murmured question in her ear.:: Brunsig: Gone back to sleep? Reynolds: Just thinking. Brunsig: I've a cure for that. ::She laughed and he grinned, pulling her close and into a kiss that made it explicit exactly what his intentions were.:: ((Hiking Trail, Taidel Woods, Trill)) Reynolds: So… I haven't told Dylan about you and I. Brunsig: I'm surprised, Cupcake. Look at me. This is my surprised face. ::He scowled at her. Of course he did.:: Reynolds: Oh, don't be like that. I just… I wanted to give it, to give *us* a little time. To get used to being us again. ::He didn't answer for a little while, and she didn't push. There was no need and she had no inclination to do so. They had miles to go, and she knew him well enough to know that prodding for an answer would only earn her sarcasm and snark in return. ::Instead, she let herself soak in the surroundings. It was a pleasant day; the sun was peeking through the canopy, casting dappled light across the trees and bushes of the forest floor. The trail underfoot was soft, cushioning their booted feet, and easy enough to follow. And it was quiet, with only the breeze rustling through the leaves and the spirited calls of birds to listen to. It was heavenly, the kind of place she usually only got to visit in a holodeck.:: Brunsig: I'm assuming this means you want to tell him now. Reynolds: I'd like to. But only if you're happy with it. Brunsig: It makes no odds to me. ::She hadn't expected a ringing endorsement -- this was Walter Brunsig she was talking to, after all -- and yet she found that response somehow disappointing.:: Reynolds: Okay. ::His eyes, the colour of the clear sky above the trees, swung away from the path ahead to look at her. Brunsig: Look, Quinn. We're… ::he hesitated, a discomforted frown on his face,:: ...family. A screwed up family, but nevertheless. So I'm fine. It's good. You should tell him. ::She smiled at him, and she was granted one of his rare, fleeting smiles in return. It changed his face, and she felt her heart skip a beat. Funny, the way things went; when they first met, she couldn't stand him. And now here she was, loving him so much that sometimes it hurt.:: Reynolds: I love you. Brunsig: And yet you're usually so smart. ::He smirked at her, and she rolled her eyes, laughing. His fingers intertwined with hers as they continued their walk, hand in hand.:: ((Shuttlebay, USS Gorkon)) ::The next day, he was here. The shuttle door opened, pivoting on its hinge, and Dylan stepped out. She swore he was taller than the last time she'd seen him -- but then, she always did. He'd had a hair cut, which suited him, and he was more tanned than when she'd left. Which, instead of concealing his freckles, had only seemed to birth even more. It was funny how similar mother and son looked -- the both of them with brown hair, slim builds and naturally pale, freckled skin -- given that there was no shared DNA there at all. ::With his bag swinging over his shoulder, he smiled at her and she smiled right back, her heart leaping at the sight of him. He sauntered over, straight into a hug, and didn't even complain when she kissed him hello on the cheek.:: Dylan: Hi Mum. Reynolds: Hey, Pickle. ::He pulled away and frowned at her, evidently finding his childhood nickname entirely inappropriate now that he had reached the grand old age of ten. Then he turned and wrapped his arms around Walter's waist, and an awkward grimace took root on the blond captain's face. But to Quinn's surprise, he returned the hug, scowling at her when she dared to smile about it.:: Dylan: Dad. Brunsig: Offspring. Dylan: Hi. Brunsig: Yes. ::Quinn rolled her eyes, while Dylan grinned as he stepped back; unlike her he was entirely content -- happy, even -- with the monosyllabic exchange. His gaze swung between the two people he considered his parents, and then with the with offhand manner that only children could pull off, he stuck a pin the balloon of apprehension she'd spent the past few days inflating.:: Dylan: So you two are back together, huh? ::She stared at him, her carefully prepared and rehearsed speech out of the window with one throwaway question. Quinn wasn't sure if she was annoyed or relieved.:: Reynolds: Uh… Yes. We are. ::There was a pause as she hesitated, debating whether to ask him how he felt about that, when her eldest child preempted her again, this time with a casual shrug and a nod of approval.:: Dylan: Neat. I'm hungry. Can we eat? ::She stared, wordless, while Walter snorted in undisguised amusement. Jabbing his thumb toward the large shuttlebay doors, he answered the youth's question.:: Brunsig: Come on, Pickle. Let's hit the lounge. ::Eyes twinkling with mirth, Walter shot her a look before starting off, Dylan trotting along beside him. All she could do was shake her head, and follow.::

* I especially loved the description of cats. 🐈 ((Trill, Conservationist Camp, Venar Mountain)) ::Beset upon by a creature with all the fury of a ticked off gopher, Lanta lay on his back being snuffled into a panic attack as the "Graamig" delighted in tasting his rapidly proliferating sweat glands. Attempting to placate, from a safe distance, Jo felt her heart rise up in her throat at the awful connotation that the thing wanted more than just a good investigation of the Trill's jugular.:: Lanta: Pleeeease get it off before it either bites me open or makes love to my face ::screaming loudly until his mouth was filled with the sticky fur of the animal making further sounds incomprehensible:: mummf flummf hmmf ::Neither of which did Jo want to see with her pure and innocent eyes.:: zh’Aella: Could we? ::Jo shot a look to Sera who was in the midst of gripping her axe, making a chopping motion toward the creature. That didn't strike Jo as a particularly good idea, considering the thing was a little more sprightly than any of them, and Lanta had some decent working organs in his upper chest cavity.:: Vahir: Well, you could, but I don’t think Graamig would like it, and if you missed Graamig or she moved, I don’t think Mister Lanta would like it. Marshall: We're working on it, Lanta! Just hold still! Don't secrete any... pheromones if you can help it! zh’Aella: Could one of us distract it, while the others grab it? Maybe pin it to the ground or grab it by the scruff of the neck, like a cat? Vahir: What’s a cat? ::How would one explain a cat to a none-Human without the accompanying billions of archived pictures from twenty-first century Earth?:: Marshall: Small animal with sharp pointy claws. Supreme Overlords of Earth and single people. Managed to domesticate Humans millennia ago. Still worshipped as a deity given corporeal form. ::A long snuffle emanated from the creature, attempting to find out just how much sweat a Trill could produce under pressure.:: Marshall: How about cooing to it? Give it biscuits? Throw a stick, maybe? zh’Aella: Nice Graamig. ::She said it softly, it was meet by a louder snarl.:: Are you a good Graamig? ::She tried in a sing-song voice.:: Vahir: Oh yes, Graamig is very nice, she keeps her pelt nice and sticky. Marshall: With Trill blood? ::That was apparently the wrong thing to say as the loud snarling quietened, a sandpaper tongue darting out from Graamig's snout and taking a decidedly elongated lick up the side of the Trill's neck. ::However, one among them had the gut and experience to deal with the situation. Their Trill Mountain strode past Sera, his palm extending like an opening umbrella and clamped around Graamig's snout, sealing it shut. She squealed as he hauled her off Lanta's chest by the scruff. ::Lanta scrambled back up onto his shaken feet and leaned against the trunk of a nearby tree, gulping down air, eyes darting around, a new lease of life in his system, or so it looked. Jo hid a small chuckle behind her hand. Of course, if that had been her pinned to the floor with a drooling creature trying to make lots of little creatures with her ear, her feelings would have been very different.:: Marshall: You were very nearly papa to some Grammig babies. zh’Aella: Response Lanta: Well ::Panting:: That … was… fun Vahir: Graamig is harmless. Now, had her husband turned up, that would have been a different story. Vardam makes her...well, let's just say it would have been messy, but you would certainly have survived Mister Lanta. Lanta: Not from where i was laying... ::Some of his [...]sure attitude was drawing back.:: Nothing like a brush with death to make you feel alive ::No truer words were spoken. Jo chuckled at the statement, resting her axe on her shoulder.:: Marshall: Is that not your life motto by now? Or a tattoo? zh’Aella: Response Vahir: No, you were never in any danger Mister Lanta! ::He gave a roar of laughter:: Graamig eats the bark off trees, not the necks out of Trills! ::He pinned Graamig under his armpit and held up her front leg, showing off her two inch claws.:: You can tell that Graamig is female as her claws are shorter and fatter. Males claws are much longer, five to six inches, and much more slender. Graamig is local, she has been giving the science lads some trouble. They think they may have accidentally disturbed her nest, and caused Vardam to break up with her, or their equivalent of that. ::He released her leg and exposed the side of her neck, and a long scar.:: He gave her that about a week ago, that was when we found her. ::A frown descended on Jo's brow, and while the creature had given them a total fright in varying magnitudes, that was just a little heartbreaking. She considered petting Graamig but one flash of the sharp pointy teeth made her think otherwise. She appreciated having fingers.:: Lanta: All that over a lovers quarrel? Marshall: Oh dear. You poor thing. Are there no other mates in range? Do they compete? Vahir: Graamig and Vardam are Melg’oona, a species quite common in this region, but highly territorial, so they are the only pair in this area. zh'Aella: Response Lanta: Hope they manage to pair up again after we have moved on ::Vahir lowered the sticky mess of fur and snarls to the forest floor. She gave them a quick growling grumble of derision and scampered back off into the line of trees in a flash.:: Vahir: Now, where were we? Ah yes, the tree! ::Hojen glanced up at the swaying behemoth.:: Mister Lanta, if you have recovered from Graamig’s advances perhaps you would like to strike the final blow as they say. ::Hojen collected a large triangular wedge and a large sledgehammer off the stump of an old tree and passed it to Lanta:: Place that in the uphill cut, then use this hammer to force it in, that will push the tree and cause it to fall away from us. Just be sure you stand off to the side of the tree, in the off chance if kicks out as it goes down. Lanta: Ok who get to shout timber like they used to shout on Earth Marshall: You do; you're finishing it off. Big, loud, puffy chest! zh’Aella: Response ::Lanta nodded and mentally prepared himself to place in the wedge and then deliver the death blow to the huge tree. Placing the wedge into where the huge Trill had indicated he gathered his strength and hit the wedge following through the blow and then quickly stepped to the side.:: Lanta: Timber! ::The shout was loud and clear, echoing into the distance, bouncing off every tree in their vicinity and then some. With a creaking crack of breaking bark, the gigantic tree fell over, taking several smaller trees down with it, smacking into the ground with a dull thud that vibrated through the ground. Birds fled from nearby treetops to the sky to escape.:: Lanta: So can I have some of that tree to start my new hobby of wood carving? ::The Trill's question was hopeful. The tree would be logged up, probably by them, with some going for analysis and other slices going to Trill carpenters. Jo felt a small puff of pride in her chest at the accomplishment, it was a grand sight to see.:: zh’Aella/Vahir: Response ::Some branches were still descending, dropping to the floor with a rustle, but other than the infrequent sound, everything else was silent. The singing birds chirping away had ceased, lending an eerie quality to the forest that it hadn't held before. Jo looked at their team, ready to get on with the rest.:: Marshall: So, what's - ::She didn't get chance to finish the sentence, as a communication device somewhere on Hojen's massive person dinged.:: Bahx: =()= Bahx to Vahir. =()= Vahir: =()= Response? =()= Bahx: =()= Oh, by the body! How-How-How is the team? =()= Vahir: =()= Response? =()= Bahx: =()= Good! Good, good. ::He seemed out of breath.:: Our archaeology team have made it back to camp, sustained some injuries, nothing to worry about, but we are quite concer- =()= ::Again, he was interrupted, only this time the noise doing so wasn't coming down the communication line. It was coming from the forest. A deep, low, guttural grumble that rumbled through the air and vibrated at Jo's stomach lining with vigour. Jo glanced behind her into the green and purple coloured tree lining, trying to discern the nature of the noise, watching some of their felled branches move and it definitely wasn't natural. ::Down the other end of the comm line, Bahx cleared his throat, having heard the same thing they did.:: Bahx: =()= We're concerned the permitter line has failed, so if you could just... make your way back... nice and slowly... Don't try to eat anything! =()= Vahir/zh'Aella/Marshall: Response?

Welcome! Glad you found us. It's a great place.

Lieutenant Commander Ayiana Sevo Chief Science Officer’s Log Stardate 239411.02 Regarding the U.S.S. Gorkon’s entrapment within the dangerous Roman Expanse and its encounter with its denizens. Roman Expanse The Gorkon was en route to our port-of-call in the Tyrellian System within slipstream. Suddenly, without warning, the slipstream cut out, sending the Gorkon into an uncontrolled maneuver. Many power conduits and subsystems were taken out with this initial failure. It was a miracle the ship didn’t explode when the waveform collapsed altogether. As we got our bearings, we determined that the Gorkon had been pulled off-course. Instead of staying clear of the well-known and dangerous Roman Nebula, we had somehow been pulled into its boundaries. Throughout our stay within the nebula, the Gorkon’s astrometrics team assembled as much information as they could of the environment, spearheaded by Ensign Sienelis. The Roman Nebula is approximately 20 LY in diameter. The heart of the nebula is the pulsar PSR 2130, a 4 billion year-old supernova remnant which no doubt created the nebula. What is unique about this star is what it did to the surrounding spacetime. I believe the supernova explosion created a rupture into a subspace domain, as well as weakening the barrier between n-space and subspace within several light-years. This caused a sort of “overlap” of subspace onto n-space. Consequently, the environment within the nebula is extremely unstable. Numerous electrokinetic storms and plasma eddies make it extremely difficult to map; the environment is saturated with tetryons; and tachyon eddies and gravitational slipstreams continually alter the shape, making charting the nebula nearly impossible. Preliminary analysis suggests that the pulsar regularly emits gravimetric pulses that ripple through subspace beyond the borders of the nebula. It was one of these that destabilized the quantum slipstream. After the ship lost the slipstream, we essentially “fell” towards the nebula at superluminal speeds. I believe this phenomena, along with the constantly-shifting boundaries of the Expanse, contributed to the collection of derelict ships from across the quadrant. With further analysis, I believe it may be possible to “seal” the barrier between n-space and subspace, returning the environment to normal. However, I don’t think it is ethically viable. See below for details. [Attached files: U.S.S. Gorkon Sensor Analysis - Roman Expanse Environmental Data] I have forwarded to Admiral Reynolds recommendations of commendations for the entire astrographic department, as well as Ensign Sienelis for their exceptional work on mapping the area. “Seraphim” The nebula is inhabited by two heretofore unknown life forms. The first are what has been dubbed “Seraphim” by Ensign Elias Burke, one of three crewmembers who had direct telepathic connection with the creatures. I don’t know how he came up with the name, but my research indicates “Seraphim” are mythological beings from one of Earth’s ancient religions. The Seraphim are shapeshifters. However, unlike familiar shapeshifters like the Dominion Founders, the Seraphim have more limited abilities. They seem to only be able to shapeshift within a limited range of mass, roughly no more than 100kg. At one point, the Seraphim were being seen attempting to mimic a Pahkwa-Thanh but only ended up mimicking portions of the crewman’s body. They attempt to mimic the appearance of a person, right down to their clothing, however they don’t seem to be able to mimic details such as facial features, instead appearing as faceless beings, quickly earning the name the “Faceless Intruders” during the incursion. At one point, a Seraphim was contained and I was able to get brief but detailed sensor readings of its’ anatomy. I have no doubt the creatures evolved and originated in a subspace domain. They are solanogen-based lifeforms, not the first subspace beings Starfleet has discovered with this chemical makeup, which can only exist in a subspace environment. Their bodies emanate tetryon particles as a byproduct of their metabolism, similar to thermal emissions in normal humanoids. Preliminary analysis suggests their cognitive processes are based on tetryons rather than electrons, giving them the potential to have superluminal cognitive functions. This may also lend to their telepathic abilities, able to maintain connection across vast distances. [Attached files: Seraphim Anatomical Study] “Subspace Starfish” The second lifeform encountered in the Expanse was not immediately detected. There was no formal name communicated to us by the Seraphim, and numerous colorful nicknames quickly sprouted among the crew, including “Subspace Devilfish,” and “Subspace Starfish.” After the incident, Xenobiology quickly got ahold of our sensor data and categorized it as “Romanus Spatium Satanum.” I personally prefer the term “Starfish” due to its similarity to an aquatic lifeform common to the oceans of many planets. The Starfish was massive; over 30 km in diameter! It’s main body took the shape of a five-armed starfish. Uncommonly, however, were the massive kilometer-long tentacles, several of which sprouted from the ends of each arm. I believe it uses these tentacles to latch onto its food sources. The Starfish is a dark matter solanogen-based lifeform. The “dark matter” is what made it initially impossible to detect without some engineering miracle I can’t explain. Please refer to Ensign Elias’ Burke’s and Chief Engineer Stoyer’s logs for details. More interestingly, it is able to selectively phase parts of its body through solid matter in normal space. Once we were able to “light” the creature, we were able to see its feeding tentacles phase through the hull of the ship. They latched themselves onto the power conduits and voraciously fed on every watt of power in the ship. It was only through the telepathic bond the Seraphim created with Admiral Reynolds that we were able to devise a way to “detach” the Starfish using the ship’s phasers. The pulsar normally emits more than enough tetryons to satisfy the lifeforms, and solanogen has been “leaking” into n-space for millions of years. A starship passing through is simply like a dessert for the Starfish - a lot of power in a compact form. [Attached files: Romanus Spatium Satanum Anatomical Study] Environmental Symbiosis Subsequent analysis of sensor data leads me to conclude that both the Seraphim and Starfish live in a sort of symbiotic relationship. Further reports from Admiral Reynolds, Ensign Nohx and Ensign Burk, who engaged in telepathic connection with the Seraphim, suggest a more complex relationship. I believe that the Seraphim act as “zookeepers” to the Starfish. They keep the Starfish from leaving the Expanse. Neither the Seraphim or Starfish could exist in a wholly n-space environment. The unique “layering” of subspace and n-space in the Expanse is what keeps the beings alive. The Seraphim try to keep outside ships from getting caught or consumed by the Starfish; a job not always successful according to the remains of numerous starships littering the Expanse. In return, the Starfish emanates an extreme amount of tetryons as waste, providing nutrition which the Seraphim’s biology uses as fuel. Ethics of Cosmoforming As I stated earlier in my report, I believe it may be possible to reverse the overlapping of subspace and n-space in the Expanse, and return the region to a normal class 3 nebula. However, I don’t think it would be ethical to do so. Senor analysis suggests the Seraphim and Starfish have been living in the Expanse for millions of years. As stated above, they can only exist in a subspace environment rich in solanogen and tetryons, neither of which can exist in normal space. Though they did not originate in our universe, they have adapted to the unique conditions of the Expanse and have thrived for millions of years. They are as part of the ecology as mitochondria are to humanoid cells. To cosmoform the Expanse and return it to a purely n-space state could have unforeseen consequences on the Starfish and Seraphim, the latter of which are clearly intelligent beings. I therefore recommend to Starfleet Command to set up a permanent quarantine zone around the Expanse, with a 2 LY buffer between the edge of the zone and the Expanse, to account for its’ regular shifting and navigational hazard. Further scientific analysis should only be conducted via long-range probes. End Log ---------------------------- Lt. Commander Ayiana Sevo Chief Science Officer U.S.S. Gorkon Image Collective Co-Facilitator Wiki Ops Training Team V239109AS0

It sure is scary out there today, so be sure to put on your masks and costumes to keep all the ghoulies out. The News team has been busy all month writing scary and intriguing stories (okay, I'll stop the Halloween stuff now), and it's time to give them treats (okay, no I won't!) for all the hard work: The Federation News Service posted six monthly vessel reports; LtCmdr. Shayne performed three new Polls of the Week topics, keeping the community engaged with insightful topics; Capt. Rahman posted the monthly post totals per ship; Cmdr. Blair continued to write about the Academy applications/graduates; LtCmdr. Vondaryan generated a Duty Post spotlight article; Lt. Thoran provided two articles, a Writer's Workshop and a post digging into the archives; Cmdr. Jorey wrote the final Bio Contest Winner article; Capt. Taybrim introduced a new segment, Dear Kr'Abby, keeping readers entertained with 24th century Klingon advice; and Admrl. Wolf remains the skeleton holding the, well, skeleton, together, making the Halloween avatar announcements (congratulations to the winners!), interviews, donations, and academy graduates. Thanks to everyone for spilling your guts here. We'll of course give some more thanks in November.

The weather is turning, pumpkin spice is in -- well -- everything and the end of the month is here once again. September was a hard month for much of the world with far too many natural disasters, but the News team was still plugging away trying to raise awareness for our fine community. So thanks for pushing through the rough times everybody, here's what people in the team accomplished: The Federation News Service posted the seven monthly vessel reports; Between them, LtCmdr. Shayne & LtCmdr. Valdivia generated four new Polls of the Week, keeping the community engaged with insightful topics; Capt. Rahman posted the monthly post totals per ship; Cmdr. Blair continued to write about the Academy applications/graduates; Lt. Rosek wrote about contributing to the Podcast; Lt. Thoran provided two articles, a Writer's Workshop and a post digging into the archives of the old Writing Challenges; LtJG. Ji-hu contributed an interview about Odd Jobs; and Admrl. Wolf stayed the backbone of the team, writing interviews, chat reminders, about promotions and wiki know-hows, among others. Thanks to everyone who contributed something. Hopefully October doesn't scare us too badly.

@Alucard Vess giving an evocative description: ::Plasma stream. Otherwise known as superheated nebula gasses. Otherwise known as star farts.::

The very first post by a newly assigned ensign! Great work. ((Deck 6 Cargo Bay 2)) ::Emilia had begun her day bright and early, her morning routine consisted mainly of making sure her appearance was at her standard of "acceptable". Which lead to her re doing her hair half a dozen times until she came across the style that was correct for her. Emilia left her quarters that morning with her hair done up in a neat bun that rested just above the centre of the back of her head with her fringe hanging just above her eyebrows, similar to what she did for her final exam. As of now, she was holding a PADD in her hand and was given the assignment to do a full inventory of cargo bay 2. It wasn't exactly the assignment she first had in mind, but that didn't mean Emilia wasn't going to try her best, she wants to do everything she can to make a good first impression on her superior officers after all. Emilia had made her way through almost the entire cargo bay, but she'd lost track of time. For all she knows, she could've been at this for more than four hours. As she lifted the lid off the second last container she noticed that it was almost empty. She brought her PADD close to her body once again and began mumbling as she typed up the list of items in the storage container.:: Krugol: Condensed helium gas... EPS coil... medical tricorder... ::Emilia spoke as she examined the items carefully with some level of uncertainty in her voice.:: Krugol: I hope I've done this right... ::Emilia placed her PADD on a nearby closed container and used her free hands to close the crate she had just finished inventorying, she picked up her PADD and walked over to a console that was located near the entry of the cargo bay.:: Krugol: Computer, display internal chronometer. ::Emilia yawned as she access the ship's internal chronometer.:: 13:47... that sure kept me busy. ::With a nervous sigh Emilia left the cargo bay. As she walked she straightened her uniform and fixed up her hair almost constantly doing her best to look as presentable as possible. She passed by multiple crew members but tensed up and didn't say anything lest she make a fool out of herself. As she finally approached the turbolift through the seemingly endless corridors, she nodded to a human passerby who was no doubt in some sort of rush, well, either that or he just had a naturally quick walking pace. She tapped on the panel to the turbolift and the doors swung open. She stepped into the turbolift and spoke.:: Krugol: Deck one ((Deck One, Corridor)) ::with that command she had liftoff, in no time the doors swung open once again, unsure of which way she needed to go to get to the bridge she brought up a display of the internal schematics of deck 1 on a nearby panel outside the turbolift:: Krugol: Okay... so left. :: Emilia passed by several people on the way to the bridge and held tightly to her PADD. But suddenly a noise rang through Emilia's mind. She stopped to think for a second and realised the ship went to red alert.:: Krugol: oO Crap! I have to get to the bridge! Oo ::Her pace increased drastically and after less than a second after this increase in pace, her ears began to ring, all she could hear other than the ringing was a small explosion from one of the nearby bulkheads, followed by a small shower of sparks as Emilia was thrown into a wall to her left, she had lost grip of her PADD as her back hit a neighbouring bulk head. A mild pain shot through her body as she landed face first onto the floor. She stayed there for a few seconds but eventually sat up as dizziness overtook her and she lost her train of thought of what happened. Reprocessing everything she noticed the blaring red lights flooding her vision. Her hand moved to her left arm where she noticed a somewhat severe burn, as if trying to stop the pain and discomfort currently pulsating throughout her body. Emilia stood up and regained her bearings, with her vision still a little fuzzy, Emilia looked around the corridor to assess the damages in her area, thankfully it was nothing major, just a few singed inner platings and burnt carpet. Something had caught her attention, there had been a cry in pain from someone just down the corridor. Emilia winced as she stood up and began slowly moving further down the corridor, only to find that a crewman was lying on the floor with his head bleeding. His lack of movement made Emilia assume the worst of the situation. As she made her way to his side, she started to panic and checked his pulse, quickly forgetting about her PADD, thankfully he was still alive, but he was badly hurt.:: Krugol: what do I do! ::she spoke with obvious panic in her voice.:: he's injured, injured people got to... sickbay! ::With this she tapped her comm badge.:: Krugol: =/\= Ensign Krugol to sickbay, ::she tried to speak with confidence:: we have several casualties and a possible fatality on deck one! =/\= Anyone in Sickbay: response ::she moved her head to the man's chest, he was breathing for now, but she had no idea if he'd stay that way. If anything went wrong she could try to resuscitate the man, she learned basic CPR as apart of her field medic training, but for now, all she could do was wait for the medics to get to deck one.:: _____________ Ensign Emilia Krugol USS Gorkon Security/Tactical officer G239409EK0

The days are growing shorter. School is in, or just about to be, in session once again. Which means summer is almost over. But the News team has been as busy as ever! Here's a recap of what they've been up to this month. Thanks for the continuing support. The Federation News Service posted seven monthly vessel reports; Between them, LtCmdr. Shayne & LtCmdr. Valdivia generated four new Polls of the Week; LtCmdr. Traenor wrote one Top Sims Contest post, unfortunately the last for the contest; LtCmdr. Jorey also had the last post for his contest, about the Featured Bio Contest; Capt. Rahman posted twice, the article about monthly post totals and recruiting for the FNS; Cmdr. Blair contributed the article about the Academy applications/graduates; Cpt. Taybrim wrote a Chat Reminder and another article in the Writing Workshop series; Capt. Nugra contributed an article on Publicity; Lt. Rosek directed us to listen to the new Podcast; LtJG. Ji-hu wrote two, once a Species Spotlight and another Writer's Workshop; and Admrl. Wolf wrote numerous articles, including interviews, chat reminders, the promotions article, and the article about reorganizing OOC activities. Thanks to everyone for varied articles! Let's fall into September (pardon the pun) and make it even better.

((USS Gorkon – Deck 7 – Sickbay)) :: Mek'Tuk swaggered into sickbay with a wide grin. The swagger was nothing new and the grin was often common but it had been a permanent feature since he'd received his orders to join the Gorkon. This was the third ship that he'd served on since leaving the Empire and joining Starfleet and it was by far the most powerful and, perhaps more importantly, it had an excellent name.:: ::His previous assignments were on the USS Salem and USS Des Moines. He'd joined the Salem as a member of its SAR - Search & Rescue – team before transferring to the Des Moines as a Ranger medic. Initially, Mek'Tuk had been dismayed when he joined his first ship and discovered that it was an Ambassador class. Mek'Tuk was a warrior and wanted nothing to do with Ambassador's or their private vessels, so it had come as a pleasant surprise when he was informed that the class was actually a Heavy Cruiser. It was certainly old but it was still strong and powerful, befitting his presence. He'd seen far older birds-of-prey service the Klingon Houses to deadly effect.:: ::He'd enjoyed his time on the Salem so much that when it came time for a new assignment he had requested a transfer to her sister ship, the USS Des Moines. It just so happened that the Des Moines held a platoon of Starfleet Rangers who here short a medic, and as Mek'Tul was trained as both healer and warrior he was a perfect fit. He considered himself truly favored by the ancestors.:: ::Now he had again been assigned as a Ranger as its Medic, but this time on the USS Gorkon. Mek'Tuk's It was this news that had given birth to his wide grin.:: :: Often Starfleet had a strange fascination with giving its ships weak names. Why would anyone name a ship, for example, Stargazer? Who wanted to spend there entire time aboard ship gazing at stars? Even for Starfleet, there must be a limit to such fruitless endeavors. Then there was the Enterprise and while every Klingon respected the name, even those who had fought the vessel, the respect was due to the reputation. They respected the fighting spirit of Kirk, the sacrifice of Garratt and the honor Picard. They did not respect the meaning of the name. As far as Mek'Tul could figure out the name's meaning had something to do with a monopoly of business, like it should be crewed by Ferengi.:: ::But with the Gorkon, Starfleet had gotten it right. It was a magnificent name, taken from the Klingon battle fleet commander and later Chancellor who had brokered alliance between the Federation and Empire, only fitting that Mek'Tul serve on her. When Mek'tul had gotten an opportunity to see the ship class his grin had widened to the point that his face barely contained it. It was a Sovereign-class battle cruiser… officially Starfleet called it an Explorer, but Mek'Tul was no fool and in a Klingon fleet it would have been listed as a Battle Cruiser. It was the prestige of his new assignment that caused Mek'Tul to be in such high spirits when he entered the sickbay. However, he did not get far before he was confronted by a member of the medical team.:: EMH: Please state the nature of the medical emergency? :: The doctor looked at Mek'Tul and not seeing any injury, suggested.:: EMH: Are you here for a physical? :: Mek'Tul chuckled.:: Mek'Tul: Indeed Doctor, I'm ready for my physical! :: He announced loudly.:: Shall I disrobe here or in your private quarters? :: Mek'Tul tugged at his belt for effect and the human blanched.:: EMH: Private quarters? I am a doctor, not a cheap date! :: Mek'Tul Roared in laughter.:: Mek'Tul: Of course not! There will be blood wine first! :: The Human took a step back.:: EMH: First, No alcohol is permitted aboard the USS Gorkon. Secondly, I am the ship's Emergency Medical Hologram and I do not have personal quarters. :: Another step back.:: If you are not injured I must insist that you leave. Mek'Tul: Hologram? No alcohol? What kind of Klingon ship is this? EMH: The USS Gorkon NCC-82293, is a Federation Starship under the command of Fleet Captain Quinn Reynolds. The nearest Klingon vessel is two light years in that direction. :: The EMH pointed his finger in the direction of the sickbay exit. Mek'Tul shook his head in resignation, Starfleet continued to be a very strange place.:: Mek'Tul: It would not be called a battle if it was easy.:: Mek'Tul said philosophically with a shrug to the confusion for the hologram.:: I am not here for a physical, phantom of the lower deck. I am due to report to the Chief Medical Officer. :: He reached for a Padd and handed it to the hologram.:: Mek'Tul: I am Petty Officer 3rd class Mek'Tul, Son of Kortok, House of Tenalor. I am a Ranger Medic and when not on duty with the 451st, sickbay nurse. EMH: Sickbay Nurse? :: The hologram looked at the Padd with a look of shock.:: Mek'Tul: Indeed, Siren of the Sickbay. Now, where is the Chief Medical Officer? EMH: The position of Chief Medical Officer is currently vacant. :: Mek'Tul frowned. He withdrew his Mek'leth blade from its holster and scratched his ridges with it.:: Mek'Tul: Who activated you? EMH: You can't have a sword in the sickbay! :: Mek'Tul stopped scratching his ridges and looked at the hologram in confusion.:: Mek'Tul: Sword? Do you mean my Mek'leth? It's fine, consider it my scalpel. I am Nurse but, I am a Ranger Medic first. EMH: Scalpel? You can NOT perform surgery with THAT. Mek'Tul: What is the alternative? A Bet'leth? :: Mek'Tul scoffed.:: Don't be ridiculous, the balance would be all wrong. :: Mek'Tul place the blade back in its holster.:: Now, who activated you, Poltergeist of Deck Seven? EMH: Ensign Yiggtissi activated me. Mek'Tul: I assume Ensign Yiggtissi is a member of the medical team? :: The EMH nodded.:: Mek'Tul: And where would the brave Ensign be now? EMH: I am a Doctor, not a secretary. :: Mek'Tul squinted his eye's, showing anger for the first time.:: Mek'Tul: Have you considered a career change to intelligence. :: The EMH huffed at that.:: EMH: I believe he is on the Bridge with Ensign Wakefield, another member of the ship's medical team. :: Mek'Tul hummed and looked around the empty sickbay. Clearly, most of the staff were on leave or off duty.:: Mek'Tul: Very well. I shall return at a more convenient time. :: Mek'Tul turned to leave.:: EMH: Wait. :: Mek'Tul turned back with a raised eyebrow.:: EMH: Could you deactivate me? :: Mek'Tul nodded firmly.:: Mek'Tul: I could. :: With that, Mek'Tul turned and exited the Sickbay. Leaving the sulking Hologram behind him.:: =/\= PNCP Petty Officer 3rd Class Mek'Tul 451st Ranger Medic USS Gorkon Simmed by Ensign Sera zh' Aella Engineering Officer USS Gorkon V239107TZ0

Summer is in full swing in the northern hemisphere. America celebrated a birthday, cyclists toured France and a 36-year old Swiss man won a record 8th Wimbledon title. What a great month. Oh, yeah, our great writers continued to contribute to the News team. Thanks to everyone. Thanks to the Federation News Service for their continued contribution of the eight monthly vessel reports; Between them, LtCmdr. Shayne & LtCmdr. Valdivia generated four new Polls of the Week; LtCmdr. Traenor wrote two Top Sims Contest posts; LtCmdr. Jorey had two Featured Bio Contest articles; Capt. Rahman once again posted the article about monthly post totals; Cmdr. Blair contributed an article about the Academy applications/graduates; Cpt. Taybrim gave another article in the Writing Workshop series; Capt. Nugra gave an explanation of Trekobabble and its uses; and Admrl. Wolf wrote numerous interviews, the chat reminders -- and the trivia chat winner, the promotions article, and, quite importantly, the plea to support Net Neutrality (go sign the petition if you haven't already). Thanks to everyone for your excellent articles! Let's see what August has in store.

Amazingly, the community has just celebrated its 23rd birthday! That's a testament not only to FltAdmrl Wolf's initial vision but to all of our dedication, hard work, community and fun! Let's keep working hard so we can be here for another 23 (or more) years: To that end, congratulations to Admrl. Renos on not only winning numerous awards (especially the Great Bird Award) but also for coordinating the annual Awards Ceremony and writing the amazing four days of the Awards Ceremony; Thanks to the Federation News Service for their continued contribution of the eight monthly vessel reports; LtCmdr. Shayne & LtCmdr. Valdivia create engaging content with their five Poll of the Week articles; Lt JG. Choi Ji-hu contributed an article to the Journal of Starfleet Corps of Engineers; LtCmdr. Traenor got in two Top Sims Contest articles; LtCmdr. Jorey had a Featured Bio Contest article; Capt. Rahman submitted the article about monthly post totals; Cmdr. Blair contributed an article about the Academy applications/graduates; Cpt. Taybrim wrote two Chat Reminder articles; and Admrl. Wolf as always is the backbone with his eight articles, including the announcement of Commander Whittaker's promotion (congratulations!), the latest thanks to our donors, an interview, the Anniversary post and others to create excitement for the Awards Ceremony. Thanks to everyone for your excellent articles!