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Anath G'Renn

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Anath G'Renn last won the day on September 9 2018

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About Anath G'Renn

  • Rank
    Blueshirts: Least likely to die since 2161!
  • Birthday June 22

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  • Current Vessel
    USS Atlantis
  • Current Post
    Chief Medical Ofc.

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    United States (Central Time)
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  • Interests
    Creative Writing, Philosophy, Science, History, Chess, Poetry, and Sci-fi

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  1. ((USS Blackwell, Deck 4, Captain's Quarters.)) ((Time Index: Some time after Theo's physical examination.)) ::Sat at his desk, which felt strangely alien to him despite greatly resembling the desk in his former office aboard StarBase 118, Theo Whittaker cast his eyes over the letter he had just finished composing. It had been a strange, surreal few hours and putting down his thoughts and feelings had proven beneficial- he felt much more relaxed, even if had yet to feel at home. With a carefully discerning eye, he began to read his words.:: ::To: Captain Madeline Whittaker, Commanding Officer, U.S.S. Orb of Prophecy & Change From: Commander Theo Whittaker, Commanding, U.S.S. Blackwell, Andaris Task Force Hello Mother, No, your eyes do not deceive you- my assignment is correct. I am no longer stationed at StarBase 118, which will come as much as a surprise to you as it did to me. Everything has happened so quickly to the point where I feel like I haven't been able to sit down and take stock until sitting down just now to begin writing to you. Everything began about four days ago when word reached Captain Taybrim that Admiral Renos had requested Columbia's reassignment to the Andaris Task Force- the Federation presence here in the Par'tha Expanse. He had also asked for my presence and before I knew it- we were heading through the Jenatris Corridor. Nobody knew what the Admiral wanted or even whether the ship's reassignment was a temporary arrangement or a permanent one. We rendezvoused with the Blackwell en route to the planet Arndall- and before I knew it, Admiral Renos had placed me in command and he and the vessel's previous CO- Captain Zaekia (do you know him?)- had departed. Quite the adventure and quite the whirlwind as you can probably imagine! I had never aspired to command when joined Starfleet. I didn't think I had it in me- despite what you thought! I was content to spend my career tinkering with engines, upgrading holodecks and modifying deflector dishes (which seemed to happen on Columbia an awful lot!). Even after being asked to serve as Captain Taybrim's XO- I never envisioned myself in the centre seat. There was something so alien about it and I've always felt I've been missing that special... something (?) that makes a truly outstanding CO. Perhaps, I am being too hard on myself (not for the first time) but even now, as a newly minted commanding officer, I keep waiting for somebody to tell me there has been a mistake or for somebody else to tell me that this is an elaborate farce and that I'm actually in a holodeck. The back of my left hand is rather red since I keep pinching myself to make sure I'm not dreaming! How did you respond when Captain Adams made you CO of the Sparrow? Did you feel unprepared? Or maybe you felt as though somebody was about to catch you out, telling you that were not command material? Thinking about it and knowing you as well as I do, you probably took to command like a Betazoid Goose to water! You always seemed so sure of yourself even as XO. I have always envied that in you, mother. Truly. I don't know how you do it. Perhaps, one day I will be more like you. Before I head down the rabbit hole of overthinking and remonstrations, perhaps I should tell you about the Blackwell and her crew. Olympic-class- primarily a medical vessel, but it seems to have been modified to serve as a command ship for the Task Force. It must be the only Olympic in service with a full time Intelligence officer AND Strategic Ops officer! The crew is unusually varied. In the senior staff alone, there are Rekarians, Rodulans, Trill, Vulcans, Gorn and my First Officer is a Pelian! I don't recall such a diverse crew, but what a wonderful example of the spirit of the Federation! Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations, indeed! Even a cursory glance at the personnel files shows me that I am going to enjoy serving alongside everybody. Our Chief Science Officer, for example, who was previously the XO is a Rodulan who was (at least) partially educated on Vulcan and whose physiology has been altered by some form of Borg modification! My XO, the aforementioned Pelian, is an excitable and insatiably curious man who delights and confuses me in equal measure, my CMO is half-Klingon, half-Vulcan... a stoic warrior, perhaps... only time will tell! What can I tell you about the Par'tha Expanse? Not much of yet- I've barely had time to get my feet under the table, so says the saying, let alone delve into the complex socio-political situation. I'm aware of the Valcarian-Caraadian Cold War, which may or may not have heated up in recent weeks- and I'm more than acutely aware of the difficulties of navigating the region- Columbia will be undergoing extensive refits to better adapt it to this unique region. I just hope they don't take too long with her. I miss her already. Tragic, perhaps, but I'm still an engineer inside! In my next letter, I will have something more to report on I am sure- the Par'tha Expanse rarely stays quiet for long and with my nose for trouble, I expect that a situation is just around the corner! With that, I shall leave you be mother. I hope I hear from you soon, All my love, always, your loving son, Theo x.:: ::Satisfied that he had covered all the important information and that his jumbled thoughts were somewhat more orderly, Theo Whittaker smiled to himself and pressed the send button.:: -- Commander Theo Whittaker Commanding Officer USS Blackwell Andaris Task Force C239203TW0
  2. ((Wilmer’s Quarters, Deck 7, Cabin J9, USS Blackwell)) ::Nate and Charlie sat at the dining room table. Each of them had their fair share of dramatic turns and bad delays. The mission had gone on slightly longer than expected. Nate had been injured, and dramatically and permanently scarred over his right eye. He had later been assigned to a very intimate fact-finding mission with his ex-girlfriend, much to Charlie’s chagrin. And as far Charlotte herself...well...she had only managed to vomit in front of most of the engineering team.:: ::Quite a week, indeed.:: ::Charlotte fidgeted with Nate’s scar, making a sad and somewhat concerned face, as she traced the J-hooked line with an outstretched index finger.:: Farnsworth: Does it hurt bad? ::Nate grimaced, hating to be the center of such negative attention.:: Wilmer: No, it only hurts when Voldemort is near…. ::Charlotte’s face was a puzzle.:: Farnsworth: Who? ::Nate dismissed his comment with a passive attempt at comedy.:: Wilmer: Sorry, obscure joke. ::He tenderly grabbed Charlotte’s hand and kissed her fingers.:: I told you Charlie. There’s nothing to worry about. It looks worse than it feels. ::Charlotte was a smart cookie. Nate knew her concern about his face had nothing to do with aesthetic reasons, and more to do with a subconscious guilt about her not having been there to protect him. However, space was a dangerous and infinite expanse. And though they were getting married soon, neither would be fully capable of suspending that danger, even for a nanosecond.:: ::Nate smiled, and rested both his hands, atop hers, and placed them on the cool glass surface of their dining room table.:: Wilmer: Shayne will be here soon. Let’s not focus on the negative… ::Charlotte slumped in as if deflated by concern and possible letdown. Her body was always so expressive, so easy to read. Her emotions were always worn on her sleeve, and her face always told the tale before her mouth could speak it.:: Farnsworth: Do you think he’ll say yes? I was so hoping your friend Sarjak would say yes...but now… ::Nate shrugged. Starfleet was an ever-revolving door of comings and goings. It came with the trade.:: Wilmer: Jak’s got his hands full with diplomatic nonsense. But it was nice to see him again. And as far as Shayne, I’m sure he… ::It was at that moment, the door chime rang. Shayne was early. Nate should have expected as much. Nate’s reading of the man had given hints of a person who excelled at punctuality. Nate liked that. He hoped that behaviour would translate into the same efficiency at his upcoming nuptials.:: Wilmer and Farnsworth: ::simultaneously:: Come in! ::Nate and Charlie shot each other a sidewise glance of serendipitous glee. They were not even married yet, and already their brains were linking up like a pair of old married elderly people.:: ::The doors to their cabin parted to reveal the visage of Lt. Cmdr. Randal Shayne.:: ::It was the one complaint he had with the Starfleet uniform that he almost never took off. It was a smart looking thing, dignified and functional. But it was abysmal at allowing people to breath. Under the best of circumstances, it was irritating. But for someone as uncomfortable as he was regarding social interaction, it was downright miserable. He clawed at his throat, aching for relief. He stepped inside, immediately concerned by the fact that both Charlie and Wilmer were present. He could relate to Wilmer as a good friend, and a fellow pilot. He could relate to Charlie...somehow. Their relationship was still a bit of a mystery to him. But them both together? It was a dynamic he was unaccustomed to, and the image of them seated next to each other sent another painful pang of loneliness through him.:: Wilmer: oO Speak of the devil. Oo ::Nate thought with a smile.:: Shayne: Um...hi. Shayne: oO Shakespearian, that was. Oo ::Charlotte being the consummate gracious hostess, stood and motioned for Shayne to enter their abode. Setting some of her garments and Nate’s discarded old dirty uniforms aside, she made a place for him to sit next to them.:: Farnsworth: Randal, please sit down. Shayne: Hm? Oh, thank you. ::Rather sheepishly, he entered. He’d noticed early on that, to make an error, one had to actually do something. If Shayne refused to do anything without being invited to do so, no trespass could inadvertently be committed. A siege mentality, but it had worked for nearly 20 years of social interaction.:: ::Nate smiled, following Charlie’s lead on hospitality.:: Wilmer: Shayne, can I get you something to drink? Shayne: Uh, no thank you- that’s fine. ::Still unsure of what to expect.:: ::Nate and Charlie sat next to one another, almost like a pair of conjoined siamese twins who were attached at the hip. Nate felt a sudden moment of giddiness, that somehow jumped into his fiancee with a joining of hands and they smiled.:: Farnsworth: I don’t know why I’m so nervous…. Shayne: oO Whoa, hang on. I’m the only person allowed to be nervous here… Oo ::Was was going on? Curiosity blended with mild terror, and a fair bit of joy- a result of the couple’s infectious mood- swamped together, creating a confusion quite unlike anything he was accustomed to. Their giggling excitement was obvious, and it took no genius to deduce that their upcoming event had something to do with the mood. But what? And what could Shayne possibly have been called for? He was more than willing to come, despite the discomfort it caused. Now it had gone from, “why me?!” to “why...me?”:: Wilmer: I know, it's like I’m asking my dad for permission to borrow the hopper… Shayne: ::An inadvertently delighted beginning to grow on his face.:: What is going on here? ::Confound their happy mood! His stony visage was failing!:: ::Nate sometimes had a predilection for not being able to get to the point. He decided to spare Shayne’s frayed nerves by getting right to the point.:: Wilmer: Shayne, I just want to say with our wedding fast approaching, and with my sense of family growing aboard the Blackwell…. ::Nate stopped, realizing he was still not getting to the point.:: ::The joy was beginning to fall away. If Nate was stalling this insistently, he could make a few well-educated, equally disturbing assumptions about the nature of this conversation. Assumption one- it was a big deal. To the couple, at least, though perhaps whatever this was about would have ramifications for others. Assumption two- it was awkward. Shayne hated awkward- but, seeing as this was one of the few times awkwardness had been in play without him being the sole cause, maybe he could appreciate it, in a demented sort of way. Assumption three- Shayne wouldn’t want to be a part of whatever information was about to be revealed. Any way he looked at it, this was beginning to feel a little...frightening.:: ::Naturally, Charlie then spoke, putting the neurotic helmsman slightly more at ease.:: Farnsworth: What he means to say Randal, is that his best man was intending to stand with him...but with Starfleet being Starfleet and all Sarjak was suddenly called away… Shayne: oO Sorry, Charlie- you’re no better at this. Oo ::Nate completed Charlie’s thought, he wanted the request to come from him directly.:: Wilmer: ...well, I just heard about how you handled the situation with Charlie and her embarrassment in space, and...I was just wondering, from one helmsman to another… Shayne: oO I’m going to kill someone if I don’t get an explanation, from one helmsman to another...Oo ::Charlotte grinned as if someone had engaged a gaggle of transporter beams full of happiness inside her brain.:: Wilmer: ...I was just wondering if you’d be willing to stand in as my best man. ::Shayne’s world stopped for a full two seconds. It was as if his mind simply shut down. “Sorry, we’re closed.”:: ::Did that just happen? Had he been asked to be someone’s best man? His eyes widened slowly, in a daze. All the irritation, the uncomfortable sensations...they melted away. In their place, a single, sparkling surge of energy and happiness. The smile that quickly enveloped his face must have made him appear as a madman would.:: Shayne: Fan-tastic! Oh! I would be honored! ::Now it was Shayne’s turn to be giddy- a rarity for someone as restrained as him. His hands clasped together and he gave an odd little cackle. This was astonishing! He couldn’t get his mind quite round what had just occurred.:: Farnsworth: ::slightly giggling:: Wonderful! Wilmer: Absolutely! Top man! Shayne: This is...I mean, I can’t- I’ve never… Best man! Whew! ::Electric excitement enlivened his veins, and in the back of his mind, the slightest shadows of doubts slipped betwixt his hemispheres. It was almost like they were acknowledging his right to be unfettered in this moment. Later...later, they would return with a vengeance. But for now, maybe even the devil’s musings had some scrap of mercy in them after all.:: ::With an accepting praise and warm smile, Nate clapped Shayne on the shoulder, and shook his hand.:: Wilmer: It’ll be great! You won’t regret it. And after all, I’m sure you’ve already got some great ideas for planning the bachelor party! Shayne: Hmm? Yes, of course! I’ve- Shayne: oO -never actually been to...a bachelor party. Oo ::That was his job? Why didn’t he know things like this? Single people probably understood the nature of this role- why did it elude him so? A curious feeling of dread was whisked into the already churned mix of joy and surprise.:: Shayne: oO Add some onions and I’ll be an omlette. Oo Shayne: Bachelor party. ::He repeated it, trying not to display the doubts cropping up.:: ::Charlotte’s smile was infectious.:: Farnsworth: Well yes, as the best man, naturally it will be your job to plan something truly astonishing for Nate’s last day as a single man…. ::Charlotte wasn’t joking and neither was Nate. The commitment to stand had suddenly developed into a social event extraordinaire with Randal Shayne as its newly appointed ringmaster. There was no backing out now. It was do or die time, and Nate had firm confidence that the cracking young helmsman had the chops for the job.:: ::No pressure for him, then. Just the hopes, and the marriage ceremony, of two close friends hanging in the balance.:: Wilmer: Oh, and did I mention you have about 17 hours to make this happen??? ::He felt his head beginning to spin.:: Shayne: oO Don’t tell me! You also want this to take place on an active Borg cube, right? Oo ::He felt utterly inadequate, but he had rarely looked forward to putting on a good show more.:: Shayne: Well, then, I’d best get cracking- Shayne: oO Under the pressure. Oo Shayne: oO Shut up! Oo Shayne: oO You don’t have to shout! Oo ::He stepped out, smiling all the way, and as soon as the doors closed, proceeded to sprint to the nearest computer console. He had some work to do!:: An awkwardly exciting JP as crafted by... Lt. Cmdr. Nate Wilmer Helm Officer USS Blackwell (NCC-58999) E239107NW0 And Lieutenant Commander Randal Shayne Helmsman/Ops Officer/Second Officer USS Blackwell NCC 58999 G239202RS0
  3. Hello, new member here! Just thought I'd introduce myself. I prefer to just go by J, and as any of my friends could tell you, I am a proud nerd. I really enjoy talking about academics, science fiction, computers, philosophy, and pretty much any other subject imaginable. I live in north Texas, and graduated high school early, and decided to jump into college at a community college for a few semesters before applying to a larger university. I currently am and always have dreamed of a career in the sciences, barring space exploration (I'm deathly afraid of heights).
  4. Anath G'Renn sat at a small table at 8x8, a cup of coffee sitting by her right hand. But the primary focus of her attention was the chess board set up on the table in front of her, the only thought in her mind being what her next move should be. The chess clock was running out, and the tellarite across the board was eagerly awaiting his next turn. The rook, that was the key. She picked up the metal piece and slid it into position, blocking off the last path of escape for her opponent's king. The tellarite knew he was beat, and tipped his king, having no way to stop what would no doubt be checkmate the next move. "A thoroughly enjoyable game, a rematch!" he said, already resetting the board. "I'm sorry, but I really should be making my way back to the holodeck. I don't think it would make a good impression if I got there late after boarding three hours early!" Anath replied, slinging her duffel bag over her shoulder and pushing in her chair. The small ring of observers dispersed, and cleared a way for her to leave. "If you wind up getting stationed here full time, let me know whenever you want a rematch!" her opponent called out as she headed for the door. All Anath managed in reply was a short wave as she stepped out onto the streets of the Shi'Kahr district of the commercial level. After briefly consulting a map of the level, she turned away from the shop and set off to catch a turbolift. Visiting the game shop and playing a few rounds of chess was a fun diversion, but it wasn't the reason she was here. After four years and more than a bit of strife, Anath was finally ready for her training cruise. The journey had not been an easy one. Anath had only herself to blame for a lot of her troubles. Most of the problems she had came from her conflicting natures. Her mother was a vulcan scholar. Quiet, thoughtful, and always ready to play a nice game of chess. Her father on the other hand was a klingon field medic. He would often tell Anath stories of how his colleagues never accepted his decision to aid the wounded over face the enemy on the battlefield, a struggle she knew all too well. When some people saw her long, unkempt hair and distinctive forehead ridges, they expected her to act like a Klingon. Whether they realized it or not, they had certain expectations of what to expect just by her appearance. Not high on that list of expectations however, was medical student and chess master. Anath's klingon side didn't really take over unless she was really and truly angry, a state of mind she was in more frequently than she'd like. But the final stretch of training between her and a Starfleet commission was not a time to be angry. She managed to find the right turbolift, and straightened her uniform as the car rushed upward towards her destination. "Cadet cruise, it can't be that hard..." was the only thought that came to mind as the turbolift slowed to a stop.
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