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Jo Marshall

Captains Council observer
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Posts posted by Jo Marshall


  1. Starfleet do provide Medical School for their Doctors - usually four years of Starfleet Academy Officer training, then four years of Starfleet Medical School. It's up to you if your character went to a medical school outside of Starfleet Academy - that's fine too. They'd graduate that first, then go in for Starfleet Officer Training. 

    Out of Character: Everyone goes through the same Academy training with us to prep you for life in the 'Fleet! You'll do your simulated practical exam In Character (which is the week-long training) and graduate with your classmates. 

    There's some more in-depth info here on what we use for reference in Starfleet Academy's Medical program. You might find this useful. - https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Academy_Majors_and_Minors/Medicine

    • Like 1

  2. Character death can be so hard to do right but @Emilia Krugol nailed it. Well done!

     

    ((Deck 3, Transporter Room — USS Njörðr))

    ::Flames blazed viciously in the heat of the moment. The transporter room was in ashes, smoke filling the confined space with a noxious cloud of cinders and embers. Raging fires and debris filled the area. Panic shot through her body as frantic voices filled the air. Deiara didn’t need to be an empath to feel the adrenaline rushing through the very room.::

    ::The door had malfunctioned, trapping 5 other ops officers in the room with her. Currently it was a battle against time. Above the ops officers was a forcefield containing possibly tonnes of debris from the upper decks, ready to cave in at any given moment and judging from the violent showers of sparks from the emitters, it wouldn’t be long until it gave out. Deiara’s ash covered fingers worked as best as they could with the amount of burns they’d sustained. Currently the others worked on fighting the fires, but to no avail, each flame continued burning like the rage of a bloodthirsty klingon.::

    ::Billows of smoke constantly plumed the area, barely giving Deiara space to work between coughs and wheezes. The amount of ash getting into the open circuitry was making it incredibly difficult to restore power to the doors.::

    Statton: Petty Officer! Get that door open!

    ::Deiara’s ears rang like a horn blowing over and over again. Ensign Jennifer Statton, the highest ranking officer in that room as of now was barking orders like there was no tomorrow. It was taking every possible ounce of patience not to knock her out. The blonde’s face was feeling very punchable at this time. However, Deiara turned her head and practically screamed over the franticness of the crew.::

    Venn: I’d get it open if you weren’t running your mouth every five seconds! Ensign sit down, or fight the damn fires before we suffocate! Don’t stand there barking orders like your some captain!

    ::She didn’t speak. Stanton was terrified. Fear coursed through her veins to a point where she was frozen in place. Deiara returned to her work, once again attempting to route power to the door. Nothing.::

    ::The effort was becoming more and more desperate with the constant violent hums of the forcefield above. Holding back possibly even an entire deck worth of hardware. Deiara’s fingers stung with every point of contact she made, every wire, every button that was pressed was pure agony to touch. Her body quivered in fear, anxiety reaching it’s peak in her chest. It was hard to breathe, even harder to see what she was doing.::

    ::Finally the doors opened, remaining hardly even ajar with the lack of power supplied. Deiara grabbed a piece of metal and jammed it between the two doors, keeping them open for the time being.::

    Venn: Go! It’s open! MOVE!!! ::Deiara screamed at the height of her lungs. Ushering and almost shoving people through the gap in the door.::

    ::Frantic voices sounded as Deiara moved over to the transporter console. All transport functions were either offline or destroyed. Currently she was attempting to reroute as much power to this decks structural integrity as possible before it comes apart. In her weakened state, her hands glazed over the controls. Uprooting every ounce of possible power in the redundant transporter systems just to keep this deck from coming apart.::

    ::The last officer made it through the doors with a laboured limp, right before the opening snapped shut. Deiara stared at the door defeatedly, continuing to do everything she could to keep this bucket of bolts together.::

    ::Three violent crackles of electricity shot out from the forcefield emitters before letting out several small explosions in it’s wake. The screeches of metal on metal were the last specs of life she heard. Deiara looked up, tears welling in her eyes as she stood on the doorstep of her fate. Everything, she felt everything, it all came at once like a violent rush of pain in her mind. The deafening cries of agony were silently drowned out by the crashing of debris. Like a tree in a forest, nobody heard it..::

    ::The warm crackling of fire silently swayed in the midst of the fallen metal. Softly burning away at the past that was left behind.::

    ___________________________
    Petty Officer 3rd Grade Deiara Venn
    -
    USS Gorkon
    -
    Transporter Operator
    ___________________________

    Simmed By
    _________________________
    Lieutenant (JG) Emilia Krugol
    -
    USS Gorkon
    -
    Security/Tactical officer
    -
    G239409EK0
    __________________________

    • Like 3

  3. This is a general appreciation for Ensign Corliss Fortune, who has recently joined the Gorkon in the middle of what can only be described as a nightmare (quite literally) and has really taken to it like a duck to water. I look forward to reading your posts; they're engaging and descriptive, with a lot of characterization. Keep it up!

    ---

    ((Ready Room, USS Gorkon))

    Reynolds: ::Low,:: Nkai, we're going to need to get you back to sickbay.

    ::Corliss watched them uncertainly, feeling a small chill and shivering a bit.::

    Nkai: But , uh… ::He winced.:: We should think about getting our hands on tricorders first. If we know where they are, we can move around the ship safely.

    Fortune: I agree. If we end up face to face with them all of a sudden, it could end very badly. I don't think we're fit to fight off more than one or two of them, if that.

    Reynolds: There's a supply locker in the corridor by my quarters. ::Quinn glanced between Nkai and Fortune. Corliss smiled reassuringly, or she hoped it came off that way, and not nervously.:: Ensign, would you check if we're clear to head out, and then lead the way?

    ::She nodded her head toward the panel that would take them out into the corridor.::

    Fortune: Yes, Captain, not a problem.

    ::Corliss pressed her ear to the panel first, slowly taking the handle and tugging the panel open. She kept her eye to the slit in the panel as it slowly opened wider. No one she could see, so she peeked out more, her head sliding free of the tube as she looked around. She gave them both a thumbs up behind her, no one was there but it didn't mean they didn't have ears around.

    Corliss shuffled her way through the narrow opening silently, bracing one leg up and vaulting over it, her feet making a creaking noise in her boots as she landed and opening the panel all the way. She nodded.::

    Fortune: ::whispering:: Looks clear, Sir.

    Reynolds: Response

    Fortune: Yes, sir!

    ::Corliss made sure the panel was not going to slam on them, looking over her shoulder a few times just in case as she helped the captain out first, then holding her arm elbow out in a crooked angle for Nkai.::

    Fortune: Here, I've got good leverage, just hold on if you need to, okay?

    Nkai: Thanks.

    ::Corliss held in a grunt as she helped him out, swaying with him for a moment before righting herself, her arm tight to keep him up. She smiled back as he smiled at her, although he still looked tired and worn.::

    Fortune: Not a problem!

    ::She watched as the Captain looked around. One had his mouth half open, as if in mid talk when he fell 'asleep', and she frowned. Their thoughts were completely muffled, or nonexistent, which measured up to being asleep. Jumbled thoughts were fun yet horrible to hear as they made no sense, and some just didn't think, just dreamed. She shook her head. The ones that were meaningful were hers, Nkai's and the Captain's, which she dutifully kept low on listening so as not to seem intrusive. Nothing was too loud so they weren't close...yet.::

    Reynolds: All right, ::she spoke quietly:: let's get ourselves equipped and move on as soon as we can. There's a turbolift just at the end of the corridor, we can use that to get to sickbay once we're ready.

    Fortune: Okay, no problem.

    ::Corliss opened the locker easily, nudging aside a few things as she got out what they needed. She clipped a phaser on as well, clutching a tricorder as she started it up, eyes on the map before she froze a bit, hearing the sudden voices. Her eyes found the Captain as she sucked in a small breath.::

    Gravelled Voice: It's up here. We're to grab her kids and bring them up to the bridge.

    oO Kids? Oh..oh no... Oo

    Rasping Voice: Lladre wants a bargaining chip, huh?

    Gravelled Voice: Something like that. Don't think his— ::there was a momentary pause, as if the owner of the voice was self-correcting,:: —*her* current plan is working out.

    ::Corliss shivered a bit. That was so cold to hear, that someone would use CHILDREN in a plan. She licked her lips nervously, weighing her weight onto one side in case they decided to sprint for it. She nodded at the Captain, looking over at Nkai nervously before ducking into the alcove, grazing over the thoughts of the two ahead of them. There was no alarm or alertness, so they hadn't heard them..yet.::

    Reynolds: ::Low,:: Nkai, get down. Pretend you're asleep.

    ::Corliss tried to give a reassuring smile at Nkai, resting into the alcove while keeping an eye on where the voices where coming from.::

    Fortune: ::Low:: Sir?

    Reynolds: ::Low,:: My quarters are there, ::she gestured to a set of doors behind them,:: so they'll be coming this way. Make sure your phaser's on stun and take your shot when you're ready. They're not expecting us.

    ::Rage was still boiling in her belly, incandescent at the thought of anyone so much as daring to touch her children. Violence was usually something she abhorred, but there was a small piece of her that was looking forward to dropping these particularly people to the deck.::

    Fortune: ::Low:: Yes sir.

    ::She double checked her phaser, sliding the tricorder  onto the floor slowly, careful to only make the softest of noises. They couldn't afford to mess this up. She curled up onto her side, as if relaxing, her phaser pointed towards the hallway, her eyes flicking back to the Captain before focusing again. She was ready and waiting for whoever-or whatever-appeared in front of them.::

     

    Ensign Corliss
    Counselor
    USS Gorkon
    G239510CF0

     

    • Like 1

  4. ((Corridors, The Skarbek))

    ::The whole sickbay scene unravelled itself in chaos, Red herself making an entrance, followed by an entourage of The Kid, aka Groznin. Shortly after the commotion gathered steam, Papa Bear himself arrived on scene, delivering a stern order to for lack of better words, “Get some damn rest”. After criticising the current situation on board of course.::

    ::The situation itself, was a shamble. After passing out for god knows how long, suddenly, there seemed to be an epidemic of sleepwalking, something that seemed to question the very boundaries of reality as the crew knew it. There was more than enough evidence to note that there was some other force pulling the strings here. The only trouble was… how could they possibly find out? How could a ship filled to the brim with skeptics possibly question the norms of their own reality, when they won’t even accept the facts layed out in front of them?::

    ::Emilia was in no state to contemplate the matter of reality, of course, what she needed right now was “some damn rest” as the captain said it. Her boots tapped endlessly down the hallways, her body a sweaty mess and her hair… her hair was the subject of a definite talk with Sticks. Perhaps he required a lesson in hair care, lest he lose his scalp physically, rather than metaphorically.::

    ::Emilia made a sharp left turn on her heel, once again travelling down the all too familiar, manky corridor that she called home. The main form of lighting once again flickering under the worn out wiring, highlighting the unfinished wall panels parallel to the scorch mark covered door. The ever prevalent scars left from the countless electrical fires, once again smiling at Emilia as she entered the cozily small room.::

     

    ((Personal Quarters, The Skarbek))

    ::Emilia took in a deep breath as an audible ‘whoosh’ signaled the closing of the doors. Promptly her eyes drifted over to the vacant bed. The sheets fitted to perfection and the blankets left as if nobody had slept there for months, just as mother taught her. A single book sat in the centre of the bed, it’s glossy cover highlighting under the pale light, a small piece of velvet lining stuck out of the pages, marking a spot for continuation.::

    ::With a small smile, Emilia slipped her boots off with a swift unzipping motion freeing both legs from that cage of worn leather and sweat. Emilia’s feet energetically pounced her body forward, the soft springs of her bed (arguably the most comfortable spot on the ship) cushioning her fall.::

    ::In an instant, her hungry eyes seized the book’s form, Emilia’s nails jamming in between the marked crevices of the novel. Dramatically and slowly, she freed the printed text from darkness that plagued the pages. The relief of escaping to a world of fantasy upon her once more, as she set her famished eyes on the bold, black letters that sunk deeply into the pages.::

    ::It felt rather ironic really, suspecting one of dreaming, but once again indulging in the dreams of another man. Quite odd really? Perhaps it was… but the line between dreams and reality appeared to thicken once again as Emilia occupied her thoughts on the coarse pages. Though, she still couldn’t shake the feelings she had earlier. Each image within her mind, sticking with her like glue. Each recollection, causing a strangely ghostly feeling to reach through the very centre of her chest.::

    ::But what could it all mean?::

     

    _______________________

    Emilia “Princess” Krugol
    --
    Maquis Escort
    --
    Skarbek
    ________________________
    Simmed by
    ________________________

    Ensign Emilia Krugol
    --
    Security/Tactical Officer
    --
    USS Gorkon
    --
    G239409EK0
    ________________________

    • Like 1

  5. ((Midnight - Vessine Glade Camping Site, Trill))
     
    ::The evening had worn on. Some had retired to their tents relatively early, while others seemed determined to party until the point of collapse. Unusually, she couldn't see Nkai leading the charge on that one, and she wondered what drunken mishap had befallen the Rodulan to take him out of the running so early. Perhaps something involving Marshall -- his chief conspirator in arms -- given that there was no sign of her, either. 
     
    ::Her attention was drawn away from the revelries by the approach of a tall, broad blond. Dressed in jeans, a light shirt and sturdy boots, Walter looked perfectly at home in the countryside. He'd been missing for most of the evening, stealing away to the forests for a walk. One hell of a walk, given how long he'd been gone and how dusty his boots were. She didn't resent him the solitude -- she understood his need for it, especially now that he was captain of one of the most cramped ships Starfleet had to offer. Everyone lived in each other's pockets aboard a Defiant, and it was hard for people like them.::
     
    Reynolds: There you are. Good walk?
     
    ::He grunted in the affirmative, and took a seat next to her, surveying the scene in front of him. He smelt of the forest, of sweet tree sap and rich, earthy soil, and it was glorious. Oblivious to her appreciation, Walter watched the crowd, snorting in sardonic amusement at the drunken antics unfolding in front of him.:: 
     
    Brunsig: Tomorrow will be filled with hangovers and regret.
     
    Reynolds: ::She chuckled.:: No doubt.
     
    ::As they sat there, he reached into his pocket, retrieving a small item and pressing it into her hand. The manoeuvre caught her by surprise, and he clearly anticipated her first question, answering her before the words had been formed in her throat.::
     
    Brunsig: It was Oma Else's. 
     
    ::Walter's grandmother. Quinn had only met her a few times, and it was quite clear where he had got his temperament from. The woman was as sharp as monofilament knife, in both intellect and tongue. She was a judge, and a skilled cellist, and Quinn had rarely heard anything so beautiful as the melodies she'd played -- except perhaps the duet grandmother and grandson had performed.::
     
    Brunsig: She wants you to have it. Old family heirloom.
     
    ::Quinn looked down at the item in question. The small, luxurious box indicated that it was it was a piece of jewellery, though the blush-red of the fabric covering was faded with age, threadbare at the edges of the hinged lid.::
     
    Reynolds: Shouldn't it go to your mum, then?
     
    Brunsig: ::He shook her his head, a frown pinching his blond brow together.:: Since she wisely extricated herself from He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, and hitched up someone who actually treats family like human beings instead of punching bags, she's out of the running. 
     
    ::That made sense, though it wasn't something she'd expected. She knew that Else had kept in touch with Walter's mother, and had supported her throughout the separation and divorce. But divorce meant that Annalise was no longer Else's daughter-in-law, and technically no longer in line to inherit. The thinking seemed a bit antiquated for the woman, but then again, so was the item in question -- perhaps Else was leaning on tradition more strongly for an heirloom than she otherwise would.::
     
    Reynolds: I see.
     
    ::She looked down at the box, and began to push the lid open with her thumb when Walter spoke again.::
     
    Brunsig: I asked you a question.
     
    ::For a moment, she was off-guard. Had she got lost in her own thoughts? It did happen, but she was quite sure it hadn't just happened. So what in the world was he talking about?::
     
    Reynolds: ...No you didn't.
     
    ::He sighed and frowned, impatience mixed with something else that was quite unfamiliar. She resisted the temptation to reach out and touch him, and gain that extra, telepathic insight into his thoughts. It was a cheat, and an invasion, and at best it would annoy him.::
     
    Brunsig: And you said you needed some time to answer it.
     
    ::The air got stuck in her lungs as she forgot how to breathe. *That* was what he was talking about? He wasn't wrong, she'd never given him a definitive answer… but then again, the question had been posed years and years ago. It was only when her head began to spin through lack of oxygen that she forced herself to suck in a deep breath, spluttering out her surprise afterwards.:: 
     
    Reynolds: This-- ::She pointed a finger at the offending box in her palm.:: This is an engagement ring?
     
    Brunsig: If you want it to be. It's up to you what finger your wear it on, it's yours either way. I'm under instructions from Oma; "Sie hat dich so lange ertragen, mein Junge. Sie geht nirgendwohin. Sie ist Familie."
     
    ::Quinn's German was just about good enough to piece together the meaning. She couldn't imagine being with anyone else -- she didn't *want* to be with anyone else -- and she knew the feeling was mutual. He was hers, and she was his, and together with Dylan and Amelia, they really were a family. A slightly odd and somewhat complicated family, but nonetheless.
     
    ::Family.
     
    ::Her delay in responding prompted a frown from Walter, and he started to turn away. Impulsive and desperate to avoid causing him any pain, she leaned across, catching his cheek with her hand and pressing her lips against his. Such public displays of affection were usually anathema to them both, but he answered her kiss with the same abandon, caught up in the heat of that unique, curious moment where they were transitioning from devoted lovers to a couple engaged.::
     
    Reynolds: Let's get married.
     
    ::She murmured the words against his mouth, and he responded in kind.::
     
    Brunsig: If we must.
     
    ::She leaned back and laughed, shaking her head, and he grinned back at her. A flush of pink had caught hold on his pale cheeks, and Quinn was quite sure it was echoed on her own. Their shared blush only deepened when he flicked open the box in her palm, plucking the antique ring from its cradle, taking her left hand in his. 
     
    ::The diamond cluster glittered in the firelight, flames reflected in the intricate gold band. It was beautiful -- perhaps a little more extravagant than she'd choose for herself -- but she was proud (perhaps a little terrified) to be the new bearer of a Brunsig family heirloom. To her surprise, it slipped onto her ring finger as though it had been made for her.::
     
    Reynolds: It fits.
     
    Brunsig: I had it resized.
     
    Reynolds: You know my ring size? *I* don't even know my ring size.
     
    ::He huffed, rolling his eyes. Despite the show of annoyance, he was still holding her hand, and that shared connection betrayed the amusement and fondness in his heart. Walter didn't say it often, but he loved her, just deeply as she loved him.:: 
     
    Brunsig: It never ceases to amaze me how someone as capable as you can be so utterly hopeless.
     
    Reynolds: It's part of my charm.
     
    Brunsig: ::Dryly,:: You keep telling yourself that, Cupcake.
     
    ::She grinned at him, and despite his best efforts, he smiled back, sliding his arm around her waist. There was a lot to think about, such as where to hold it, who to invite -- she knew for a fact her father would hunt her down to express his extreme dismay if he didn't get to be there -- and even how they'd marry. But for now she was content to enjoy the moment; the simple pleasure of being close to him and watching the world go by.::
     
    --
    Rear Admiral Quinn Reynolds
    Commanding Officer
    USS Gorkon
    T238401QR0
     
     
     
     
     

    giphy.gif

    • Like 4

  6. (( Science Lab 22, Biochemistry Lab, Deck 8, USS Gorkon))

    ::The lab was silent, ghostly even, the occasional sound of footsteps tapping along the deck plating, or the clanging of glass partially filling the absence of noise::

    ::T’Pann’s slender body slouched over a metallic workbench, her dark, hawk like gaze, watching over a see-through petri dish. Accompanied by several analysis devices and a high powered microscope, cluttering the space around her. One hand, T’Pann used to hold the dish still, and another gently holding a tube full of a brightly coloured, yellow fluorescent liquid. T’Pann’s expression continuing it’s stoic dominance over her features. The steel bench was cluttered with PADDs, tricorders and other scientific equipment.::

    ::T’Pann’s cold stare was broken ever so suddenly, by the dry sound of the doors sliding open, halting her from completing the next stage of her experiment. Irritation draped T’Pann’s features momentarily as several annoyingly energetic footsteps led to the inevitable breathing down her collar, all seeming to come much too soon. The peaceful silence of the labs, broken by a cheerful whisper, that escalated into a blaring shout.::

    Sterling: So! Whatcha doin’?

     ::T’Pann moved away from the workbench, the tube still in her hand and her ringing like a bell. Only for the half vulcan’s eyes to meet with a familiar Tiburon/Terran hybrid, one who seemed to appear in the science labs far too often for than she really should. Ensign Iriin Sterling, a medical officer, primarily assigned to the ship’s morgue, sometimes referred to as ‘Mortisha’ by the crew, mostly due to her oddly cheerful approach to her  profession.::

     T’Pann: Rather delicate work, Ensign, I’d prefer it if you were a little more silent, i’m unable to focus when my ears are ringing. ::T’Pann spoke with a hint of sass in her tone, obviously attempting to express her displeasure of Sterling’s unrequired presence.::

    Sterling: Sorry! I couldn’t help it! Our shifts ended early, mostly to celebrate being accident free for, get this, a whole 25 hours! :Her excitement bubbled like a steaming pot, bubbles of gigling joy practically secreting from her.::

    ::Iriin backed off slowly, her posture easing onto an unoccupied console. T’Pann was oddly surprised at Iriin’s uncharacteristically docile state, much of the time she was described as, to put it lightly “Targ stool crazy.” by the other science staff that worked with her. Often taking to her work much more extreme methods than regulation would allow, often leading expedition teams into her idea of ‘fun’.::

    T’Pann: I’m happy for you ::She replied in a sarcastic tone.:: Perhaps next time, a plasma burn may be more opportune.

    Sterling: Oh please! You love my presence!  

    ::As T’Pann replied, she placed the tube of yellow liquid in a small rack beside the petri dish, before turning back to her salmon tinged crewmate.::

    ::Truth be told, T’Pann found it difficult to maintain her stoic, “vulcanness” over her human side, especially around types such as Sterling, or even the more colourful Gorkon crew. The crew lacked harmony amongst their ranks, T’Pann often found herself concerned about the rowdiness demonstrated by the crew.::

    Sterling: ::Iriin stepped forward:: So… aren’t you gonna introduce me to your… organisms? ::Iriin gestured to the experiment set up.::

    T’Pann: Yes, you may. They’re a newly discovered form of amoeba, our scans detected them while we were in orbit of Sikuna. They replicate in a very odd manner, the amoebas use the remains from their own self combustion to reproduce at the end of their 2-4 minute lifecycle. Which seems to replace a cycle similar to mitosis. We have yet to figure out how this effect is achieved, our scanning equipment is not effective enough to penetrate the membranes of the organisms, let alone, locate the biological factors involved. ::T’Pann picked up a PADD.:: My hypothesis is that the proteins leftover contain the organism’s genetic information, which perhaps may be able to replicate itself, into forming a simplistic life form.

    Sterling: Interesting… though, i don’t understand why you’re not trying to modify a scanner.

    T’Pann: We’ve tried, yet our facilities aren’t advanced enough to attempt such an upgrade, though, we have several engineers on task with a tricroder that can scan the membrane. If we were on an Oberth Class, a Nova Class or even on Vulcan however, we’d be able to find a much simpler, and effective  way through the membrane. However, since we are not on said starships, or planet, we must adapt using what materials we have.

    Sterling: That’s one hell of a membrane. Though, i do see your point. Our facilities aren’t as sciencey, or advanced as some other ships. It’d be a very bad idea if you had an Oberth class on the frontlines of the though, they’re science ships. I’d love to see the day when we get one of those Prometheus Class sickbays. I heard that the EMH program has shipwide access.

    ::T’Pann pouted slightly, turning away from the joyful Tiburon before her, picking up the tube of yellow liquid once again and placing the PADD nearby. T’Pann prepared herself to pour a small amount onto the petri dish, to act as a dye, which would allow her to observe the replicative process more closely. An archaic measure it was, as the countless exo/xenobiologists on board had been unable to scan the organisms more precisely. It appeared the membranes and the proteins were made up of an epidermal material that resisted conventional means, putting this advanced and civilised organisation in a tough space of waiting for an upgrade, or doing what they could in the name of science. T’Pann added several drops of the yellow liquid to the dish, before quickly slotting it onto the stage of the high powered microscope.::

    T’Pann: That would be quite convenient.

    ::T’Pann’s icy, vulcan glare travelled down the eyepiece, observing a whole colony of yellow coloured, shapeless forms, going about their business as usual. Consuming nutrients, and reproducing. T’Pann watched carefully at the process of an organism over indulging, only to ignite itself moments later. In a matter of seconds the burnt remains slowly reconstructed vaguely similar life form, shortly before being interrupted once again by her loudmouthed colleague, but with a somewhat unheard of hushed tone.::

    Sterling: So.. T’Pann, Baidan and I were wondering whether or not you’d be interested in filling in a spot at our jazz recital, which we’ve arranged to perform at the awards ceremony. One of our strings people had to pull out last minute, and we were wondering if you’d fill in with your... vulcan harp thingy

    ::T’Pann turned away from her microscope, turning to the salmon coloured medical officer on the tip of her heel. Her stoic impression, unchanged. The offer mildly peaked her interest, T’Pann had grown quite withdrawn from the instrument she’d been playing for years on end. She wasn’t exactly jumping at the opportunity, but nevertheless, it interested her to see how well a vulcan hard would fit in amongst the band.::

    T’Pann: When will I be required to participate.

    Sterling: Hopefully after your duty shift, we were gonna have a meeting later tonight at 18:00 hours on holodeck 1, and maybe we’ll squeeze in a jam session, so bring your harp!. ::Iriin spoke, finishing her sentence with a ‘jazz hand’::

    T’Pann: I will… consider your offer, I will see if I can accommodate your performance into my schedule

    Sterling: ::Iriin deepened her voice.:: It would be most illogical not to participate. I need another set of strings to go with my fiddle

    ::T’Pann sighed deeply, replying to Iriin’s vulcan impression with a disappointed glare.::

    T’Pann: If you’re attempting to appeal to my human side, it is just as unimpressed as my vulcan side, Ensign Sterling.

    Sterling: ::S[...]ing.:: Well, it was worth a shot. ::Iriin tapped T’Pann’s shoulder, before shortly retreating to the door.:: See you at the meeting. Don’t be late!

    ::T’Pann replied with a solid nod, returning to her work of proving her own hypothesis. An oddly potent hum cut through the silence of the lab as data seemed to pour into her PADD, seeming to offer T’Pann a greater deal of focus in her work.::


    ___________________________         
    Crewman 1st Class T’Pann
    -
    USS Gorkon
    -
    Science Officer
    ___________________________

    Simmed By
    _________________________
    Ensign Emilia Krugol
    -
    USS Gorkon
    -
    Security/Tactical officer
    -
    G239409EK0
    __________________________

     

    • Like 2

  7. ((Yzieme Beach, Trill))
     
    ::The light was fading from the sky about the same time as the sun began to set in the old man's eyes.
     
    ::The blond woman -- who had but this morning been Kudrem Kian -- sat cross-legged on the beach, nestled amongst the pale white sands. She was a stranger to many, barely a footnote on a ship that regarded crew as family. But even those few who knew her, would have been hard-pressed to recognise her. A fire blazed in her eyes, fierce and passionate, transforming her whole body. No more was she the shade stalking the corridors, seeking refuge in oblivion, terrified that everyone would realise that she was a failure. Now she was filled with passion and purpose, straight-backed and determined.
     
    ::Kudrem Kian was gone. Lladre had been reborn.
     
    ::Laid in front of her, head cradled in her lap, holding her hands as they lay upon his chest, was the man who had offered to help her only a few days earlier. He too was different. With the symbiont removed, his hold on life was fading fast. He was no longer Lladre; Perdut had been his name when he had been born, and that was what it would be when he died.
     
    Perdut: You shouldn't have done this. You don't have the time.
     
    ::She looked down at him, a fond and gently amused smile on her lips.::
     
    Lladre: You of all people know that I don't like to be told what to do.
     
    ::Oh, he did. And how he'd loved it; the rebellion, the freedom, the carefree way that Lladre had lived their lives. The symbiont had offered everything he'd ever wanted, and so much more besides. He was dying now, but it was as a man contented and at peace.::
     
    Perdut: How's Kian?
     
    Lladre: In stasis. That's more than it deserves. ::She snorted, and her lip curled in disgust.:: Weak-willed little creature. I would've recycled it with the rest of the garbage, except I think it'll be useful. 
     
    ::Lladre had nothing but contempt for Kudrem's former symbiont. It had been wasting the life of a talented host, letting her wallow in misery and mediocrity when it could have been guiding her to greatness. They had only been joined a few hours, but already the woman was happier than she ever had been with Kian.
     
    ::Perdut smiled in reply, weariness barely lifting the corners of his mouth. He had, after all, heard much worse from the symbiont. They had *done* much worse. And he regretted none of it. Laws and morals were nothing more than the excuses of the weak-willed and passionless.::
     
    Perdut: That's good. You'll need the insurance. Stealing from Starfleet will cause you some trouble.
     
    Lladre: For a little while, no doubt. ::She chuckled, smiling down at him again.:: But I have a plan for that. 
     
    ::He smiled, and it felt like an effort that would move mountains. That didn't escape Lladre's notice, and her expression turned mournful, her hands squeezing his tightly.::
     
    Lladre: I'm going to miss you.
     
    ::It was Perdut's turn to chuckle, a quiet, rasping wheeze of a sound. His time was ending.::
     
    Perdut: I'll always be with you. 
     
    ::He looked away from her, toward the stars glimmering in the sky, breathtaking in their beauty. He'd seen so many of them, experienced wonders that he couldn't even begin to describe. Lladre had taken him from his tiny, miserable life and given him a gift beyond measure. Every memory was a treasure, and he let them flood through his mind, filling his heart and soul with joy.::
     
    Perdut: Thank you.
     
    ::He died with a smile on his lips, a solitary tear on his cheek. It was joined by more, falling from Lladre's eyes, as she leaned over to kiss his forehead. The decision to move on from Perdut had been one of the hardest she'd had to make, and his loss was keenly felt.::
     
    Lladre: Thank *you*.
     
    ::She sat there for some time, the heat fleeing his body as the night cooled. Then, a quiet chime came from the device in her pocket, reminding her that time ever marched on. With a deep sigh, she untangled herself and stood, leaving him there in the sand, resting forever under the stars.::
     
    --
    Rear Admiral Quinn Reynolds
    Commanding Officer
    USS Gorkon
    T238401QR0
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  8.  

    ((USS Gorkon, Deck 5 5OQ23, Tasi’s Quarters))

    ::There was nothing more boring than waiting and after the last mission Tasi needed to talk to a friendly face. On the Gorkon she hadn’t really connected with anyone yet. There were a good number of people she could call on Deep Space 26, but the time difference meant most would be asleep or on the night shift. That’s what she told herself but deep down she knew it was a deflection from the real reason she had chosen to dial up this particular old friend. Finally, the slowly spinning Federation Symbol and ‘connecting’ progress bar were replaced with a familiar face. Tasi’s slack jawed, glazed over expression instantly melted away. She beamed at him with sparkling eyes and a playful smile.::

     

    Tasi: Hello Commander. I hope you’re not too busy for a social call. I thought I’d keep that promise about keeping in touch.

     

    Tasi: oO I hope he wasn’t just being polite about that. Oo

    ::Tasi didn’t usually use rank around her friends - not off duty. She hadn’t seen Shayne since Commander Brell’s promotion to Captain and before that they’d fallen out of touch for some years. His career had prospered while hers had stagnated and she didn’t know how informal she could be with him yet.::

     

    ::The face that appeared on the screen could not have been more welcome. The melancholy that always followed social occasions had weighed down on him since the end of the promotions ceremony. He’d been hoping- vainly, he’d expected- for a pleasant interruption to his musing, and a restoration of the energy that had been drained from his every faculty. Shayne was not a social person, but for a select group, that fact seemed to not apply. Take Tasi, for instance.::

     

    Shayne: ::Feigning irritation.:: Look. If we’re on the bridge, call me commander. If we’re in the presence of an admiral, call me commander. Anything else, please just call me Shayne.

    ::She was one of the few people he preferred to drop rank around- not because he was a career-minded, bureaucratic paper-pusher obsessed with position and title, but because it simplified so many situations that might otherwise veer in an unpredictable, uncomfortable direction. Besides, Tasi had kept her promise to keep in touch with him, and Shayne was hardly going to punish her by insisting on strict military protocol. For the length of this conversation, “proper” bearing could find an airlock to fly out of. He gave a small grin, which she returned. It felt good to know that they could still have good-natured banter like this without having to worry about the rank barrier.::

    Shayne: ::Utterly genuine.:: It’s good to see you.

    ::He realized he’d been holding his breath, and he released it, hopefully escaping the notice of the perceptive Tasi. Fortunately for him, she was too occupied suppressing signs of her own relief to notice his.::

     

    Tasi: Thank you. It’s wonderful to see you. What’s new with you?

     

    ::Before he could stop himself, a putrid wave of resentment and cynicism rolled over him, a mere drop in an ocean of festering negativity. Pond’s disappearance had gnawed at his soul for months now. Though he’d tried to contain it, he suddenly felt utterly exhausted, and the moment he’d spoken, he knew he was making a mistake.::  


    Shayne: I haven’t died yet, so the usual.

     

    ::He bit his lip loathingly, wishing he could take back his words, and the vigorous anger he’d flashed at Tasi. She was so not deserving of his rancor- indeed, she was probably the one that would help him do something about it. Shayne generally despised counselors, and their offices, and their practiced strokes that delved into the psyche. As far as he was concerned, they could keep their intellectual tenderhooks to themselves. But with Tasi, it was different. Deeply different, and he was still at a loss to explain why, exactly. But it didn’t matter. He could not afford to lose her.::

     

    ::Tasi was stunned. She’d had friends and patients lash out in this sudden, unexpected way many times before. Sometimes there were behavioural tells that gave subtle clues that this could be coming. Other times it hit you like a punch in the face. This felt like the latter. She hadn’t seen it coming and didn’t know what had provoked it. This didn’t seem like the Shayne she knew, but then how well could she say she knew someone she’d barely talked to in years. She became aware of her heart pounding harder and faster in her chest and took a slow, deep breath, collecting her thoughts before replying with a measured tone tipped with concern.::

     

    Tasi: It doesn’t take a counsellor to see something’s troubling at you. Would you care to talk about it - friend to friend?
     

    ::Counselors! Why did they have to be so infernally perceptive? Of course, it wasn’t like he’d done a good job of hiding his distress. He glanced at her, and for a moment in time, it seemed like she was strained, worried.::

    ::Afraid.::

     

    ::And it felt wonderful, inexplicably so, disgustingly so. It felt so utterly etherial to be the one causing concern, instead of the one marinating in his own terrors and doubts and worries and miserable musings. For an instant, he was free.::

     

    ::And then it all came crashing back down. How dare he feel anything positive about his friend’s discomfort. How dare he turn her well meaning, loving concern into a stepping stone for his own emotional strength. How dare he use her, the first friend he’d ever had in the fleet, and nearly the first one ever. He couldn’t have felt more soiled if he’d messed his trousers. He took a shaky, self-hating breath, and began to repair the damage.::


    Shayne: I apologize. You, of all people, do not deserve me as you see me.

     

    ::Already exhausted, he let it all go, far more easily than he normally did with privileged information of this sort.::

     

    ::He stared at it, at Tasi, at it, back at Tasi.::

     

    Shayne: Pond has vanished. I don’t know where she is, or even if she’s alive. I haven’t spoken with her in months.

     

    ::As he said this, he began to pace, and absentmindedly fiddle with his full, lush ponytail. At the word “months”, he twisted, and ripped a sizable wad right out of his head.::

     

    ::He stared at it, at Tasi, at it, back at Tasi.::

     

    Shayne: ::Matter of factly.:: Ow.

     

    ::Whoever this Pond was, she clearly meant a lot to him for him to be so worried. It was hard to resist the urge to tell him everything would be okay. It never felt like things would ever be okay again when wrestling with grief  and loss. Life moved on though. It was the harsh truth and to say so would be nothing other than callous. His emotions were completely normal though it would come as small comfort. Time was the only thing that could ease his pain, and having channels to vent his emotions. She wasn’t his counsellor - he had options aboard his ship for that, but that didn’t mean she couldn’’t be there for him as a friend.::

     

    Tasi: I am sorry Randal. There’s nothing anyone can say to ease the pain and worry of someone we care about going MIA. I’m sure it comes as small comfort right now, but it’s normal to feel worry and grief. I just want you to know that I’m here for you. Do you want to talk more about it?

    Shayne: No. Most definitely, assuredly not.

     

    ::There was nothing more to say on the matter- certainly nothing Tasi deserved to receive. Maybe a trip to the holodeck would be in order, before he beat someone into a pulp. Or ripped out any more of his usually well-tended locks.::

     

    Shayne: The Gorkon! How is it? Finding your way there? Is it as crazy as I’ve always heard? You know, I always wanted to transfer there, just to see what it was like.

     

    ::Through the midst of this loud, forced menagerie of preposterous questions and outright falsehoods, he could feel the disciplined part of himself recoil in horror at his explosive exposition.::

     

    Shayne: oO Shut up, you ragged, impotent fool, shut up! Oo

     

    ::His goal had been to cover his despair, but he had failed spectacularly. Tasi knew this was a deflection. He was hurting very badly and didn’t want to talk about it. She wasn’t here to force him to do it. She shifted her weight in her chair and smiled with all the grace of a queen, choosing to pretend Randal wasn’t acting to wildly out of character for him. Instead she chose to focus on the question itself, answering in good humour.::

     

    Tasi: It’s not what I expected, but then is that really a surprise? Things so often seem to go that way where Starfleet is concerned. My first mission has just concluded.. It… could have gone better.

     

    ::He listened as if his life depended on it, using her words and her voice as a life preserver. He knew that, from this point on, he could only speak truths, else he give away even more of his distress to the one person he both cared about and was able to protect in this moment.::

     

    Shayne: ::Sensitively.:: What happened?

    ::She didn’t want to speak ill of the crew, or of the first officer. It wouldn’t be proper to talk of the mission and the diplomatic incidents caused by Commander Sevo, or Doctor Sim. They were good people and it wouldn’t do to spread gossip that might negatively affect their reputation. How many lives had the joined Trill seen? Not enough, clearly. Tasi had thought someone who had lived many lifetimes would be much more diplomatic. Instead, the red-headed woman suffered a short temper. Doctor Sim on the other hand, Tasi wasn’t sure if he was just young and inexperienced or if there was some underlying issue she should be aware of. She would talk to him about what happened in due course, but for now, her friend had her attention and he was awaiting a reply.::

    Tasi: I think the important thing is that we did achieve our goal… We just did it in a more round-about fashion than anticipated. We have some downtime now on Trill.

     

    ::”Roundabout”. Despite their goals and training, that’s how most of their missions seemed to progress.::

     

    Shayne: I’m just glad you’re alright.


    Tasi: Thanks, my friend. You know there’s something I’ve always wondered…

    ::There was a strange shift in the air around him, almost like the calm before the storm. Unconsciously he recognized it, and it frightened him for some reason.::

     

    Shayne: Uh oh.

    ::It was his customary response to, well, anything really.::

    Tasi: Are you made of copper and tellurium?

     

    ::He’d been expecting something… unexpected, but this trounced all that. It was such a seeming non-sequitur that his brain actually stopped, locked up, and refused to process it.::

     

    Shayne: ...what?

    Tasi: Because you're CuTe.

     

    ::It was strange. He hadn’t thought it possible for his face to literally feel as if it was sliding off his skull. And yet, Tasi, as she had done many times before, was proving him wrong. Part of him was desperately confused. Never had Tasi given him any reason to think that they were anything more than close friends. That part of him was spiraling out of control, and Shayne had little hope of ever seeing it again. Bye bye, fragment of sanity. The other dominant emotion at the moment was a piercing… pain? Yes, pain. That pun was… astonishing. He felt his brain give up, and fizzle out his ears in a vaguely diarrhetic release of synapses. Compared to the cute romantic overtones Tasi, he just felt… shattered. ::

     

    ::Tasi watched his reaction coyly, and Shayne desperately hoped that his face was simply blank. It was a monumental effort to incite any sort of functionality, but he managed to smile, clear his throat and lean forward.::

    Shayne: How long?

     

    ::”How long have you felt this way” seemed brusque, cruel almost. He’d have to break the news to her, and then try to smooth over the feathers. God, why did people find him handsome, or desirable? Then he wouldn’t be in this well-intentioned mess.::

     

    Tasi: Does it matter?

     

    ::Her heart sank. While she hadn’t expected much, her heart still sank to see the expression written plain across his face, and to hear his strained voice. It was as she had always thought. What was she thinking? She held her breath in anticipation of the inevitable rejection.::

     

    Shayne: Tasi… um… I… I really don’t know how to break this to you, so I’m just gonna say it. I have a girlfriend. We’re… we’re nearly engaged.

     

    Tasi: oO Nearly? Oo

     

    ::He felt his heart fracture a bit at those words, knowing how crippling they’d be to him if their situations were reversed.::

    Shayne: oO And “have”? No, that’s not entirely true. Right now, all you have is hopes and memories. But you can’t give up now. She’s out there! Oo

     

    ::What could she say? She’d made him feel more awkward. This was supposed to bring a smile to his face how? It all seemed so foolish in hindsight. The corners of her mouth turned down, betraying her true feelings before she forced the most natural smile she could muster. She had learned something more about her enigmatic friend at least. Could things have been different had she been more courageous?::

     

    Tasi: I’m really happy for you Randal. How did you meet?

    ::Her tone was as genuine as her interest. Regret might fill her thoughts later, but right now she still wanted to be the best friend possible. Maybe talking about his girlfriend would cheer Randal up.::

     

    ::Despite the circumstances, he smiled grimly, recounting their first meeting.::

     

    Shayne: A birth in Sickbay brought us together. An overdose brought us… close.

     

    ::He remembered the shifting, waving patterns in his eyes as the pain killer had done its work altogether too well. It had lowered his inhibitions, to the point where the usually silent helmsman had confessed his feelings about Pond’s beauty. One thing lead to another, and they were a couple. It was the fondest memory he’d ever had on a biobed.::

     

    Shayne: And now, she’s gone.

    ::He hadn’t meant to say that, and he certainly hadn’t meant to say it so casually. But the damage was done. Again.::

     

    Shayne: She was transferred, or lost, and I don’t know where. I don’t know why. And I don’t know when. No answer. But I can’t contact her. It’s driving me insane.

     

    ::No wonder he was behaving abnormally. The amount of stress and worry he was under. Tasi’s expression was completely serious and her heart went out to him.::

     

    Tasi: I’m so sorry Randal. That’s truly awful. I can only imagine how difficult that must be for you.

     

    ::Someone would know what had happened to her and she was sure Randal would have chased down every avenue to find out what was happening.::

    Tasi: No one was able to help you locate her?

     

    Shayne: No one wants to. I can’t get a clear answer out of anyone.

     

    ::He seethed, and wondered how long this could continue.::

    Tasi: I hope you’re able to hear from her soon.

     

    Shayne: ::Smiling weakly.:: Thanks.

     

    ::The silence was deafening, and Shayne nearly tapped his fingers.::

     

    Shayne: Well! It was… um… great to, you know, talk to you.

     

    Tasi: Sure. Goodbye Shayne. Take care.

     

    Tasi: oO That was a complete shuttle crash. Oo

     

    Shayne: Take care.

     

    ::And with that, he slammed his finger onto the off button with such vigor he felt his joint crack. He placed his head down on his desk, and didn’t lift it for a good six hours.::

    ::The screen went dark much more suddenly than expected. She got up and flopped onto her bed, letting out a long sigh. That was embarrassing, especially for someone who was supposed to be good at talking to others. In that moment she felt like a fraud.::

    Tasi: oO There’s one person I’ll never hear from again. Oo

     

    ::Exhaling loudly again, Tasi grabbed a pillow and put it over her head. She remained that way until the computer reminded her of a camping trip she was committed to attending. Reluctantly, she got up and started to get ready for it.::

     

    -------------------------------------------------------------

    Lieutenant Commander Randal Shayne

    Ops Officer/Second Officer

    USS Blackwell NCC 58999

    G239202RS0

     

    AND

     

    Lieutenant Tasi, Counselor - USS Gorkon

    Simmed by:

    Rear Admiral Renos

    Executive Council & Captain's Council Member

    A238805EB0

    -------------------------------------------------------------

     

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