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Jarred Thoran

Captains Council observer
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Jarred Thoran last won the day on September 15

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About Jarred Thoran

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    Roleplaying Groupie
  • Birthday August 3

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    USS Columbia
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    First Officer
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    Training Team Member
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    Germany
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    Cycling, reading, console & PC gaming, Tae Kwon Do, dancing, history, spending time with my daughter

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  1. Jarred Thoran

    LtCmdr. Shayne: The Rippling Tide

    Another outstanding sim from @Randal Shayne. I also love the exposition you add to your sims! ((Corridors of the Recreation Deck, DS26)) Shayne: It is… improving. Slowly. I… turned down the first officer position a few days ago. I think… I think that may have been a mistake. ::The wind left him with that admission, and he hung, frozen in space, waiting for the smallest breeze to push him one way or the other. He was vulnerable, judged, but he didn’t mind. It came easy. The surrender of control, though brief and frightening, was blissful. Which way would he descend, he wondered? This was a crossroads- an important one. A vital one. Clear of head, dopey of countenance, he waited for path to be chosen.:: ::When it finally arrived, the breeze was not an indistinct, lilting gust as he’d been expecting. It shocked him, and the realm his sleep-deprived mind had created, like an earthquake, gently but firmly reintroducing him to reality. The lightning bolt stunned him from within, and he returned to the present.:: ::He smiled slightly as he felt MacKenna’s urgent yet soft grasp. So here was Zeus.:: MacKenna: I… ::But why was this the result of his revelation? She seemed struck, much as he had been, and not in a way he’d witnessed before. It was not understanding, or surprise. It was a sympathetic vibration that Shayne, for the life of him, could not grasp. He wondered what he’d done, what had triggered this latest surge of feeling that he could not help but feel as well.:: MacKenna: Let’s go somewhere. ::The wistfulness was gone, the fear tran[...]ed into purpose. Shayne could only watch with enraptured fascination as this timid, quiet woman remained quintessentially herself, but now marched, infused with a purpose he was as yet unable to fathom. They were so similar- how could this elude him? What would make him do precisely those actions, feel precisely those things?:: Shayne: Lead on. ::And she did. Winding through corridors, not terribly fast, but with burning need. He could sense it, knew it utterly. And he knew also that however far they walked, their quest had just begun, and would be completed on a different plane then the one they padded down now. The corridors were livid, projected upon by her drive and his adoration, so that the soft green metal glowed with glee in Shayne’s ravenous eyes. Throughout their inspired traipse, not once- not ever- did he worry about where he was going, or where they’d end up. He trusted her, and knew her. Wherever she was… was right.:: MacKenna: I understand how you feel. I’ve been there once. But it gets better. ::How could she not? This level of awkwardness, of fear… its consequences were not unique to him. How many opportunities had MacKenna passed by, just like him? Now he understood the urgency, the need to get him to understand that she’d exhibited. But… the intensity… there was something more. Something Shayne was not gathering.:: Shayne: I trust you. But… does it? They’ll not ask me again- not if they’re in their right minds. ::Where was the vitriol? The pounding, overwhelming self-loathing that had carved itself into his mind over the past few days? Still there, he realized, hidden away, and completely overshadowed by the realization that something good- someone good- was before him. A voice in the wilderness.:: ::How young this science officer was, youthful beauty and aged, tortured reservation wrapped into one astonishing individual. Her eyes were timeless, but the more he looked, the more he desired to know. A lieutenant commander already? Astounding. Even if he did not connect with her on a spiritual level, Shayne realized he was in the presence of someone uncommonly gifted.:: MacKenna: ? ::He stared at her, before quickly diverting his gaze through sheer will. Even in his shock and amazement, her safety and comfort were foremost on his mind. He wasn’t alone. He mulled the foreign concept in his swirling brain, trying to attach it to some semblance of reality. No, not foreign. More like a friend of old, waving from the distant sand dunes that granules of time had blasted smooth.:: ::He wanted to hold her, hug her, be with her. She was perfect. It wasn’t even a product of his masculine handicap- yes, she was a stunning person in every way, but this was a purer calling. A genuine, unconditional love- the sort of love that allows you to realize there’s something worth sticking around in the world for.:: ::Gently- for he still tread carefully upon the glassy lake of her consent- he took her hand in both of his, and raised it to his chest, slowly and smoothly.:: Shayne: From the bottom of my heart, thank you. :: “For helping me. For opening yourself up to me. For sharing. For caring. For daring. For… pairing”. He thought better of voicing these silly things. She’d understand better this way, he hoped. Whatever happened now, she had a friend. And anything else she could possibly desire that was within his power to grant.:: Shayne: oO You need only give a sign. I am here for you. Oo MacKenna: ? Tag/TBC… Lieutenant Commander Randal Shayne Ops Officer/ Second Officer USS Blackwell NCC 58999 G239202RS0
  2. ((Enroute to the Engineering Deck, USS Fortwith)) ((OOC - You can fit this into the timeline how ever you'd like folks, just had this fresh in my head, so I wanted to get it out there. )) :: Parsons had been a loyal officer, but perhaps even his mind had been a little warped since the beginning of all this. Mac moved quickly through the corridors that didn't have lift access, making sure to keep eyes out along the way for crew members that would need to be ready for the explosion ahead. He didn't even know if he fully trusted what was about to transpire, but they had no other choices, no other options that would even sound remotely sane or possible. He had to get to the core. oO What has gotten into him? Oo. :: :: He remembered the first time he'd brought the man aboard his ship. He remembered how green he was, and also how he had advanced through the ranks fairly swiftly. He remembered his pinning ceremony to that of a Lieutenant Junior Grade under his tutelage. He held back the smile that so often came to his face. But this time, he held his hand on his pistol, drawing it out in preparation for what was to come. The tone of the man's voice had Mac sniffing out mutiny... :: ((Engineering Section, USS Fortwith)) :: The doors to engineering slid open, squeaking as they did having been clearly damaged in the crash. The power was on, and the place was lit, but there was smoke about, and sparks now and again. Some of the uninkured crewmen were making projects of the sparks and smoke, attempting to clean what they could. He holstered his pistol for now, approaching the command and control station. Jeffrey was there. :: McMillan: I don't think the comms were working correctly Lieutenant... Parsons: No... no they worked just fine :: as he turned to face the man before him. :: McMillan: Listen, they have a plan... One that could get us home. Parsons: And you believe it right? There are Klingons onboard Mac... Klingons... McMillan: And they've proven useful thus far. Why now all of a sudden are you doubting me? Listen if you're not gonna follow orders, then I guess I'll have to do this... :: He was cut off by a punch to the throat. He fell to his knees, grasping at his neck. He looked to Parsons, who then kicked him in the face sending him backwards, striking his head hard on the floor. The man walked over to him, securing his weapon in his hand and stepping back. :: McMillan: :: With a winded, raspy voice. :: What the F*&# are you doing.... Parsons: You've been colluding all along... With the Klingons. You brought us here... You killed us REX... YOU KILLED US ALL THE MINUTE WE ENTERED THIS SYSTEM. McMillan: You don't know what you're talking about. That doesn't even make sense Jeff! Parsons: I do... And I'm not letting it go any further... Right after we attempted to get rid of the Klingon that came to Earth. We ambushed them... but somehow, we made it out alive. Somehow, even though many others gave their lives, good ole Rex made it out alive. And now we're here, with Klingons aboard trying to render aid. You're a traitor... :: He was so confused. He hadn't seen this coming at all, not even a hint of it at all. He stood for now, keeping his distance. :: McMillan: Well. Hmph. :: beat:: I guess you'll just have to take me into custody then right? :: You couldn't even touch the tension with a knife. He glared at the boy... who glared right back at him. He was swollen with pride, that he had everything all figured out. He wouldn't know the error of his ways. :: Parsons: Oh you can count on it... :: he started moving towards Rex :: :: He waited for the man to move within a foot of him while turning to place his hands behind his back. He turned suddenly and dove into the man's midsection, sending him backwards into the console. The pistol went flying to the left. Jeff returned with a series of blows to the back of the head, and a kick to the chest. Mac fell to the floor, head cloudy, face a mess... He turned his head right... oO The pistol... Oo. He lunged with every ounce he had left, grabbed the weapon, and turned it towards Parsons... He pulled the trigger, and a round flew, narrowly missing Parsons, and striking the area of the core. He recognized the green that began to spew from the coupling he'd apparently hit. Parsons was nowhere to be found. There he was again, only this time he wielded a spanner, striking Mac in the shoulder. He returned with a head butt, sending Jeff crashing to the floor. He moved to the console and opened the comm as quickly as he could :: McMillan: =/\=BRIDGE! GET READY!=/\= Bridge Folks: =/\=[Tag]=/\= McMillan: =/\= I don't have a lot of time here... There's... AAHHH.... There's plasma venting into the room! =/\= :: He turned to see the plasma spilling into the room, the coolant lines had gone, and the core was going awol at least per the console. He watched as plasma enveloped Parson, setting him ablaze and sucking the air from the room at the same time as ignition. He felt choked. He heard Jeff screaming, and watched as his skin bubbled like the crackling of a roast pig. It fell away from him and then into nothing but carbon spent along the corridor floor. He felt the heat rising... :: Bridge: [Tag] McMillan: =/\= DON'T YOU DARE RACHEL, THERE's NO TIME! I'M EJECTING the co...... Ugh..... AHHHHH..... =/\= Bridge: [Tag] McMillan =/\= Just make sure this wasn't for nothing..... =/\= He cut the comm :: :: His uniform ignited as the green plasma approached. He could feel the air within him boiling, rushing from his lungs, his legs caught fire, then his back and torso... He took his hand and put in the short code for ejection, just as his consciousness left him... :: :: The room suddenly was quiet, and rushing with wind all at once. The air was sucked from the room as the port side hatch opened, ripping the doors from their posts, sending the warp core flying through. It would eject from the side of the vessel in a smoldering heap of junk, ready to burst at the seams. The decompression seemed efficient enough to send the core some distance. :: TBC/Tags -- MSNPC Captain Rex McMillan Commanding Officer USS Fortwith NX-03 as Simmed by Lieutenant JG Na'Lae Mandak Helm Officer USS Blackwell Andaris Task Force O238901VL0
  3. I always love it when @Randal Shayne is left in charge ----------------- ((Bridge, USS Blackwell)) Whittaker: ::he looked to Shayne and spoke directly.:: Report. ::Shayne felt himself shift out of the role of commander, and into the mindset of a first officer, both relishing the relief that Whittaker’s presence afforded, and trying not to concentrate too admimently on the sudden drop in exhilaration and adrenaline. He hoped his decision to bring Whittaker back to the bridge had not interrupted anything the captain had been doing below, but Merzan’s request, the Klingon ships’ sudden movement toward the anomaly, and the other equally dangerous or problematic features of their situation left Shayne feeling as though no other choice were possible. Some part of him chafed at his cowardice- running for daddy as soon as matters got even slightly over his head. Nevertheless, Whittaker was one of the most competent officer’s he’d ever had the pleasure of working with. If anyone could take care of this, it was him. Succinctly, Shayne broke down there current dilemma.:: Shayne: Commander Walker is preparing to test a solution- I don’t pretend to understand it, but it has something to do with beaming down to the surface and attempting to rescue our people. It’s dangerous, so I figured I’d best get your approval on it. They’re on their way to the transporter room now. ::His mind raced, trying to remember that Whittaker had just arrived, and had not been party to the events of the recent past. What else was important?:: Shayne: The gik’tal has begun to move toward the rift- I’ve got Commander Ezo warning them off. Additionally, Mr. Ramirez reports that the anomaly will be closing again soon, in a matter of three hours or less. However, he believes that focusing anti-particles in to the midst of the rift might stave off that closure for a time. And, intriguingly, Commander Merzan has requested to join Walker on her escapade to the surface. ::His words, especially to an outsider who had not witnessed the exchange, sounded somewhat absurd, and so Shayne did not blame Whittaker for consulting with Jolara. It was at that moment that Shayne realized that he should have done just that. She was the counselor, after all, trained to read emotions and detect falsehoods as a secondary but important side effect of her main work. Whittaker hadn’t been on the bridge ten seconds, and already he was making Shayne feel foolish just by implementing sensible behavior. Whittaker: ::to Jolara:: Do you have any reason to suspect Merzan's motives? Jolara: ? ::Shayne’s own confidence in Merzan, and his own determination to not look like an impotent knob, had likely influenced his decision to not consult any of his other officers. He vowed to learn from his error, while still maintaining confidence in Merzan’s sincerity. He had not met a Klingon yet that lied, and he refused to believe that his first encounter with one would be with a Defense Force starship captain. Nagging doubts lingered, of course, but from what he’d seen of Merzan, and Walker, if anything poor were to happen on their little voyage, he felt it unlikely that it would stem from a betrayal on Merzan’s part.:: Whittaker: Alright. Mr. Shayne- give Commander Walker to go ahead to traverse the rift then take Ensign Ramirez, Lieutenant Mandak and Lieutenant James to deflector control to implement the ensign's idea to delay the decay of the rift. ::Shayne gave a swift nod.:: Shayne: Aye, sir. ::The first order of business was communicating Whittaker’s command to Walker, ostensibly in the transporter room at this point.:: Shayne: =/\= Shayne to Walker. The light is green. You may proceed. =/\= Walker: =/\= Will do Commander. We’ll be back soon. =/\= ::He had faith that Walker’s statement was true, but he couldn’t help but pray all the same. He liked this pink-haired commander, and though he regretted the loss of any Starfleet officer most deeply, it would likely be ever so slightly more painful if Walker were to not return. She had such a spark of life, and a love for the same. And, of course, a pregnant wife complicated the mix greatly. Suddenly, he wondered if he should request to take Walker’s place. Shayne was fairly confident that he could handle Merzan’s brusque brutality. But he certainly didn’t have the technical abilities, despite his status as Operations Officer. This was only proven by the fact that he still did not comprehend entirely her plan.:: ::They all had their assigned duties. His were waiting for him in Deflector Control.:: Shayne: On me, folks. ::Shayne made for the turbolift, and could hear the subtle scuffling as the other three individuals moved to follow him.:: Whittaker: Lieutenant Drass, keep monitoring the situation from up here. Ensign Leath, start scanning for anything that might give us a clue as to who is responsible for the creation of this rift. ::From the beginning, the readings had been strangely… formulaic. Orderly, in a way. The idea that it was an artificial creation had lingered in Shayne’s mind throughout this affair. Whittaker’s words now seemed to confirm that perspective. Whatever they’d found, he hoped it would cast more light on their problems.:: Drass/Leath: ? Mandak: And here we go... ::The turbolift doors shut before him, and the quartet plummeted into the bowels of the Blackwell. :: ((Deflector Control, USS Blackwell)) ::Shayne hated the Blackwell’s bridge, mostly because it was a preposterously small affair, deeply insufficient for the volume of people needed within it. When he’d served aboard the Apollo-A with Nicholotti, he’d be astonished by the sheer size of the Odyssey class control center. A transporter room in the back?! Multi-tiered seating? It looked more like a conference room. In his career, he’s luxuriated in the unnecessarily spacious, and groaned in the unreasonably cramped. Now, as he beheld Deflector Control, and how it was not too much smaller than the bridge he’d just exited, he finally resolved to talk to Whittaker at their next refit stop. Perhaps they might be able to scrounge up a larger bridge module for the Blackwell. It was worth a shot, anyway. He put those thoughts aside as Mandak spoke.:: Mandak: So... What now? ::Once again, he was entering a situation that demanded everything but his expertise, or so it felt. He thought himself rather fluent in engineer-speak, but Walker’s plan, and now Ramirez’s idea, eluded his grasp.:: ::Fortunately for the second officer, help was not long in coming.:: Ramirez: Uhmm… Lt. James, you are an engineer, right? ::A good question. He was aware that James was Walker’s wife, but beyond that (and a fleeting understanding of her skill set) Shayne knew virtually nothing about the pregnant officer.:: James: Yes. That’s right. Ramirez: Good. What I need from you is to configure the Deflector to produce the chroniton anti-particles. :: tapping on a PADD, and passing it to James :: These are the characteristics of the anti-particles we need to produce. Do you think it is possible? ::Shayne raised an eyebrow. The newcomer was already taking charge, and from the sounds of it, most competently.:: James: It is possible. Ramirez: Thank you. Please, let me know when the modifications are complete. I will give you then the information about the energy output and how narrow the beam must be. ::The ensign then turned to the newly promoted Mandak, and… did Shayne catch a whiff of affection? Or infatuation? Either way, the brief look on Ramirez’s face vanished within an instant of its appearance, and business was once again on the forefront of his mind.:: Ramirez: :: clearing his throat :: Lt. Mandak, Can you provide the exact location of the outer and inner rims of the anomaly, please? ::The request was simple, but satisfying it would likely be time consuming. Unlike what Shayne had come to expect from anomalies in his travels, this one stayed fairly consistent in size- another factor leading him to personally believe that it was created by mortal instruments, not by the random authority of chance.:: Mandak: ? Ramirez: Please, patch that information to my console once your calculations are complete… Mandak:? ::There was a controlled excitement in Ramirez’s slightly accented voice, and Shayne almost wanted to share in it. Their newest science officer was clearly looking forward to seeing what would result of his idea, and beyond that, Shayne knew that many science officers held the thrill of discovery above almost everything else. Casually, he looked at Ramirez, who promptly noted the intrusion.:: Shayne: You’re looking pleased. Anything I can do to help? ::Just like Merzan, Shayne despised sitting idle. When others around him were working, thas resentment morphed into an intolerable burden. He actually wanted an ensign to give him instructions- anything to be a part of the team.:: Ramirez: Sorry, sir. :: clearing his throat again :: Hmmm… Can you monitor the anomaly and keep an eye on the rift’s chroniton density, please? :: providing a PADD :: Here you will find instructions about how to do it, sir. Please, that that station :: pointing the a place close to Mandak's :: ::Shayne now raised both eyebrows. Most cadets or brand new ensigns demurred from taking command of any situation if offered the opportunity, and those that didn’t often had an inflated opinion of themselves and their abilities. But Ramirez was proving to be a most pleasant surprise. What a remarkable display of competence.:: Shayne: Aye, ensign. Mandak: ? ::After a short time, during which Shayne was just beginning to wrap his mind around his assigned task, James spoke up.:: James: The modifications are done, Ensign. Ramirez: Response ::There was no doubting the concern in James’ voice as she replied. Indeed, Shayne shared some of that apprehension.:: James: ::as casually as she could manage:: And you’re positive this will work ::The doubt was still present, but Ramirez’s confidence gave Shayne the courage to put some faith into their work.:: Ramirez/ Mandak: ? Shayne: From what little I understand, it’s got a good chance. James: Okay… Ready when you are. ::Shayne consulted his instruments.:: Shayne: Ensign, chroniton density is dropping, slowly but surely. We’ve got to hurry. Ramirez/ Mandak/James: ? ::As the process began, Shayne’s panel lit up with a warning he didn’t immediately recognize. After a moment, though, it came to him.:: Shayne: We’re firing an antiproton beam directly into the center of the anomaly. ::He squinted and looked closer.:: Shayne: Some strange readings over here… Ramirez/ Mandak/James: ? Tag/TBC… Lieutenant Commander Randal Shayne Ops Officer/ Second Officer USS Blackwell NCC 58999 G239202RS0
  4. ((USS Fortwith, Crashing towards somewhere...)) ((ooc - If there are any audio visual folks in the room, I wrote the first part of this to this song "Song for Bob - by Nick Caves and Warren Ellis")) :: whirring sound, like wind tunnel... darkness...:: :: The last thing he knew they were plummeting towards a planet of some sort... Flores as at the helm while he stood by. Just because she was there, there was no certainty that they'd even make it; even with one of the most experienced flight directors int he fleet. He wasn't ready to die. :: :: The view screen closes down as the power retreats in a shower of sparks. :: :: He braced the back of the chair to the helm position and positioned his feet in a way that 'might' keep him from flying about. But then again, there they were hurtling towards an atmosphere of literal unknowns. This was only his third year in command of anything... oO Short and sweet I guess... Oo. Gravimetrics were offline by now... :: :: whirring is louder now... realizes it's in his head... he looks about the cabin, watching as some others brace as well, and one cries out loud. :: :: He felt the deck plates shaking apart... The heat in the room increased... They had gone through what atmosphere that planet had. What should have been a clean 2 minutes was taking an eternity. He wasn't sure if he was ready to die... or to pick up and start again wherever they were, if that was even an option. He thought of his wife... his children... He thought back to that time they had mistakenly ended up halfway around the world because he booked the wrong pleasure cruise after their honeymoon... He thought of teaching Ella how to ride her first speeder. Or the first time Ryan took to flight professionally. If only he could see them all one more time... :: :: The vessel lurches to the left, sending plasma bursting through the room, and the Captain flying to the floor... There was flame coming into the room now... One of the crewman nearest the hole was sucked through, followed by a large piece of metal that seemed to cover the hole. :: :: He regained his stance, and made for the center chair... He could see Flores yelling to him, bracing... but he couldn't hear her. As were the others... :: :: Whirring is intense... nearly the only noise in the room... growing louder... room becoming overwhelmed with emotion, fear, anger, flame against his face... then... darkness and silence.:: ((USS Fortwith, Sometime later)) :: The room was spinning in a thousand different points of light and darkness. He felt as if he was in five million parts... but then again, he was feeling. He thought for sure that he was dead. That was until he felt the pain... Pain on the left side of his face... He began to scream. A gutteral scream that must've caught some attention. Before he could move... darkness again... :: :: This happened a few times before he finally would awake to a far less painful state. He realized then that he was in his own sickbay... Rex began to sit upright, as the doctor ran to this side to attempt sedation once more. :: McMillan: NO! Doctor: Sir! McMillan: GET AWAY FROM ME... That's an ORDER... :: His face felt stiff... He ran his hand across one side, just to feel hard flesh, and pain. His ear was gone. His mouth was stretched to one side. He realized he'd been burned... badly. He didn't care though... He was alive... and with a massive pit in his stomach. :: McMillan: I'm sorry... I... What the frack is going on? Doctor: Sir, we've been crashed on this rock for a few hours now... Lieutenant Flores has been in command... McMillan: Where is she... I need to know what's happened. :: He began to stand, and felt pain shooting through his right side. He didn't care... :: Doctor: Bridge sir... :: He didn't even acknowledge him, but he heard. He turned and immediately made for the bridge... :: ((Fortwith Bridge)) :: The trip took so long... The damage to the vessel was unspeakable... there were bodies in the halls... there were just as many seemingly trying to make something out of nothing as they attempted repairs, or care for the injured. He stepped over them, in desperation of his XO's face. He had to know if she was alright, and what the situation out there was. The bridge lay ahead, with the doors propped, and he could hear her voice speaking... He crested the door to the bridge, and was immediately attacked... by a Klingon. :: Krenn: [Tag] :: He began to struggle with him at first, but was overcome by the pain in his body... then there were others... people he didn't recognize at all. They were dressed strangely. All this he managed to see while being nearly strangled by the Klingon in front of him, shouting obscenities. It was all really too much. The strangely dressed one managed to control the Klingon long enough for him to struggle away and over to Flores. :: McMillan: What in the HELL is happening around here??? And Who is this? Or you? Krenn: Response Thoran/Little/Krenn: Response McMillan: :: His look was incredulous. :: I have no clue what he's saying... Pandorn: ::quietly and evenly wih a scowl:: When you go hand to hand with a Hur'Q, then talk to me. Krenn: [Tag] Pandorn: Broke its back against a wall. Made a very nice cracking sound. The same Hur'Q we ::indicates the away team:: drove off Arndall. If you doubt me... Krenn: [Tag] Pandorn: That's right. We fought the Hur'Q on Arndall and won. We could fight the entire time we're here, or we could work together to fix this. What's it going to be, Sogh? Krenn: [Tag] McMillan: WHAT IS GOING ON HERE! My ship is crashed, my face is burnt... There's a Klingon on my ship which I never thought would happen unless there were here taking my head back to Qo'Nos, and here stand you people to make it worse, arguing about who's PHOTONS are bigger? Pandorn: [Tag] McMillan: :: Interrupting him:: LIEUTENANT, might I get a report please... :: Holding his side, staring at the Klingon:: Flores: [Tag] :: He looked around the room... the whirring started again. He looked to the Klingon, and the seemingly friendly man in yellow that was holding onto him like some sort of puppy. He didn't like this... He didn't know these people... Some of his have died, and now there they stand... :: Thoran/Little: Response McMillan: Lieutenant Flores... he drew his weapon, and nodded for her to do the same. :: Get these people together... we need to figure out what's happening here. Thoran/Pandorn: [Tag] McMillan: ::Sticking the black phase pistol straight to the man's face. :: I want to be crystal clear... :: whirring stops:: We were morphed to this space... struck with something... I wake up with half my crew DEAD or DYING... and a bunch of weirdos and a Klingon on my deck... Don't TELL ME to calm down. Now take a step back... against the wall... all of you. :: :: A few other crewmembers had drawn down as well. :: Anyone: [Tag] TBC/Tags - - MSNPC Captain Rex McMillan Commanding Officer USS Fortwith - NX-03 As simmed by Lieutenant JG Na'Lae Mandak Helm Officer USS Blackwell Andaris Task Force O238901VL0
  5. Jarred Thoran

    Unknown - Where We Find Hell

    @Kali Nicholotti This was breathtakingly beautiful!!! ((Space and Time)) ::Trapped within the tendrils of concepts that could only be moderately understood, existed reality. What was and what wasn’t found itself cornered on the edge of an acuminous blade, dancing amid the recitation of facts spoke in mendacity. Statements made to persist would always fall haphazardly on the side of history, while history itself found its place within the ever encroaching Cimmerian shade.:: ::Life, and death, were one and the same, neither surpassing or superior to the other. In the growing darkness, perpetually expanding, life made its futile attempts at gaining footholds, and yet, contrary to its ignorant declarations, it did not endure. All that was, all that endured, was annihilation, as the darkness of the universe closed in and suffocated all that it surrounded.:: ::And in time, all things that were, all things that would be, sought absolution.:: :: But the Terrans, and their allies, were inconversant with the very universe they traversed and professed to understand. Though they could see into the inky blackness, they did not know her, nor could they. They did not recognize the persistent tightening of the noose, nor, in their self-proclaimed enlightenment, did they fathom the nefarious malignance that was inherent within the very absence of all. Nothing was intrinsically auspicious as the creatures believed. And it would be that belief that would guide them all to a decisively premature eradication.:: :: Contrary to the purported cogitations of those same creatures, who, in reality, knew far less than their egotistical minds asserted, space was far from the vacuous vacuity it was postulated to be. No, it was saturated with things and concepts that the fracturable beings could never hope to comprehend. Waves of information traversed vast distances in ways yet to be discovered by the simple minds housed within the metallic structures that carried them, against which those very swells broke as if they had found their way to some cosmic beach. With the compounded force of the universe's lackadaisical stance and the pernicious tendencies of the dark nonexistence, it reverberated through the so-called marvel of Terran engineering at incomprehensible speeds.:: ::Simple minds would never cognize the unbounded knowledge held within the copious darkness, despite their incessant attempts to do just that. The edge of a perpetual ledge would be all that the infinitesimal creatures would ever be able to see, with everything else concealed within the lightlessness of an abyss so immense that only itself knew its bounds.:: ::If there was a hell, it would be found within the obscurity of the nothingness. Shrouded in a treacherous elegance, dotted with a million pin[...]s of white-hot light, death would continue to entice life into its unyielding grasp. And life, incognizant of the indiscriminance of it all, would linger on the very threshold of decimation, seeking to enter into the depths of their own demise.:: ::Eventually, the crepuscular waves would rise to meet those who remained. Then, in contempt of everything that life had cretinously professed, only darkness would remain.:: ::The time was coming, evidenced by the first waves to meet the darkened rock on which multiple timelines would inevitably intersect. As life meddled, so too did the ever constricting helix of desolation. In one solidified moment everything changed.:: ::In one solidified moment, the nothingness once again stole the surface for its own. Life, having just encroached on this beach within the cosmic sea, was once again gone, leaving only emptiness, and two silently floating starships, behind.:: TBC The Abyss of Space As simmed by: Fleet Captain Kalianna Nicholotti Ambassador at Large USS Blackwell Andaris Task Force R238605KN0
  6. @Mirra Ezo @Theo Whittaker Leaving me here, wiping away a tear. ((USS Blackwell - Guest Quarters)) ::Commander Theo Whittaker was not man given over easily to nerves. He had a steel in him that meant he could face most situations head on without hesitation or fear. It was this quality, he supposed, that had led from the engine rooms of starships to their bridges.:: ::Which was why, as he approached the currently occupied guest quarters, it was so unusual for him to feel a sense of trepidation. A little voice in his head began to tell him to turn around and leave. As he reached forward to tap the doorbell, he could feel his body screaming to run. And yet he moved not an inch other than with his elongated finger.:: ::The wait for a response was an eternity all of its own as seconds stretched out into infinities all of their own. He began to wonder if she would ever answer.:: ::And then she did.:: Ezo: ::shakily:: Enter. ::The doors hissed quietly open and Theo stepped into the modestly decorated cabin that smelled fresh and clean, like a room of a hotel somewhere on Rise or Wrigley’s Pleasure Planet. Like every other space aboard the U.S.S Blackwell (that was not a medical facility), the room was rather small and ‘cosy’- which meant Theo’s eyes found Mirra Ezo immediately.:: Ezo: ::stuttered:: H-hello...Commander. ::Once upon a time on a space station a thousand light years away, Theo and Mirra had served together and had been the closest of friends. They had survived murderous tribbles, undercover operations on drug-ravaged worlds, the hidden levels of StarBase 118, scurrilous rumours spread by a disgraced Commodore (whom Mirra may or may not have punched), warmongering renegade starship captains and a sadistic pirate out for vengeance. Whatever the universe threw at them, they swatted them.away like they were Molvanian March Flies.:: ::Then one day, out of the blue- Mirra left that space station a thousand lights from the Par’tha Expanse, with no warning other than she needed to take some time off. Theo had been bewildered and more than a little upset by his closest confidante’s abrupt departure. He had many questions and he turned detective to find her- to no avail. When Mirra Ezo did not want you to find her, then you wouldn't. He had even briefly considered employing the talents of another close friend who worked in Intelligence to find her but decided against it, knowing it would be seen as an inappropriate use of station resources.:: ::Now, here she stood- six months later, aboard his starship. Emotion welled and surged within him, fogging his mindscape, threatening to spring tears from his eyes and causing a lump in his throat. He opened his mouth before shutting it, not knowing what to say.:: ::Mirra Ezo was very rarely at a loss for words. Sometimes at a loss for polite words, but rarely without something to say. But standing in front of her was the one person she ran across galaxies with her proverbial tail tucked to avoid. She’d failed him. She’d failed all of them. Every bit of fire that made up her soul had slowly been burned out till nothing remained but embers. She didn’t ask for help, because she had no idea how. Everything she ever trusted to be true suddenly...wasn’t. She lost her spark, her edge. Dulled by the blade of the fearsome Chennel. She went to therapy, as required, but the physical damage to her shoulder was repaired long before the emotional damage. The one person who could understand and offer solace, she couldn’t turn to. She couldn’t let him know she failed.:: Ezo: ::quietly:: Please say something… ::A bit ironic for a telepath to beg for words, but Mirra never crossed that line intentionally with Theo and had no plans to start now. An errant thought here and there were the exception, especially when he was riled up about something, which was often. She began fidgeting nervously. Overwhelmed by her own mixed sense of elation and terror, she could barely sense his emotional state. But it was clear he was conflicted. Did he hate her? Would he send her as far away as his command would allow? Had he written her off as a moronic ginger haired Pakled with a sass problem?:: ::Should she say something? Attempt to explain the unexplainable? They faced down monsters of every imaginable kind together, survived heartbreaks and hangovers, broken bones and broken spirits...but when she lost her faith in who she was and what she did, she just ran. The most unforgivable of offenses. He stood stoically before her. If he could just say something, even if it was “I hate you.” She fought hard against the pull of once again running away, standing her ground with knees locked, prepared to face her fate. The tears welling up and threatening over as each silent moment stretched on was the only slip of her already shaking composure.:: ::He stepped towards her, hesitating at first. Her reappearance had opened up an old wound he had come to pretend did not exist. How could she simply leave without a parting word? Without telling a soul outside of a promptly filed leave of absence request? When Mirra vanished, he had never felt more isolated and alone- ironic when he served on a station with 300,000 souls aboard.:: ::As he took another step, he realised none of that mattered and before he knew it he had swept her up into a fierce, tight hug, eveloping her in arms. He didn’t ever want to let her go. His best friend, the better half of the coin, his person, his reality check was back in his life. And in that moment- he didn’t want to let her go. Ever.:: Whittaker: ::his voice cracked with emotion as he spoke.:: Hello you. ::He felt a tear on his cheek and he was surprised to find that he was crying.:: ::What little control she had on her emotions bolted right out the nearest airlock when his arms wrapped tightly around her. The tears began flowing like a waterfall as she buried her sopping face in the shoulder of her best friend’s uniform. It took a good few moments before Mirra was capable of intelligible speech:: Ezo: ::muffled:: I-I am s-so sorry Theo! ::mostly unintelligible squeaking:: P-please fo-forgive me. I am s-so happy t-to see you… ::Although one could argue against that considering the veritable rivers falling from her eyes at an alarming rate. Before long, she’d owe her friend a new shirt. That is, if she didn’t accidentally crack a rib from how tightly she was hugging him. Every little broken piece she’d had rattling around inside her for the better part of six months somehow began mending themselves back in their rightful places. No matter how far she’d traveled, Theo Whittaker felt just like home.:: Ezo: ::quietly:: How you must hate me... ::Despite the better angels of his nature, he broke the hug and looked at her with a smile despite his tears. He was not a man given over to overt displays of emotions- one of the lasting lessons his father had imparted- but none of that mattered. He had never been more happy to see another living being in the whole of his life. Mirra Ezo, somebody he was not sure he would ever see again, had fallen in to his world again.:: ::There was nothing but happiness and tears.:: Whittaker: ::he shook his head, wiping the salty tear from his cheek before it rolled into his mouth.:: Not one iota. None of it matters. Not right now. ::he took her hand in his.:: I’m just happy to see you in one piece. ::If something had happened to her on Arndall… whatever was she doing there?... he would never have been able to forgive himself. He would have cracked the whole world in two to avenge her. Caraadians, Valcarians and Kam’Jahtae be damned. He would have hunted those responsible to through space and time with a fury like no other.:: ::He didn’t hate her. Not one bit. He was clearly a far better person than she was. Not that this wasn’t already a known fact, but it still nearly took her breath with shock. Her red, blotchy face and swollen eyes did very little to hide the relief that washed through her.:: Ezo: ::small wry smile:: You’re a commander of a Federation Starship. ::squeezing his hands tightly:: I knew you were destined for greatness. ::He made a tutting sound with his mouth and rolled his eyes in a display of mock annoyance. It was an old and familiar routine, one that they had perfected between them over the course of three years. How quickly, after months apart and seismic changes in both of their lives- both personally and professionally- they slipped back into old habits.:: Whittaker: ::he rolled his eyes for emphasis as he spoke.:: You know how much I loathe you being correct. Ezo: ::grinning broadly:: How many times must I tell you, I am always correct and you should stop doubting me…? ::Suddenly her face fell. She realized that her entire plan over the last few months had been nothing but doubt.:: Theo...I… ::He held up a hand and shook his head. There would, of course, have to be difficult questions answered in the coming days, weeks or maybe even months- about her sudden flight from StarBase 118, about her silence for so many months…- but he did not want to tackle them now. Not when the storm of conflicted emotion had- for him at least- subsided. All he wanted in that moment was to be with his friend.:: Whittaker: Not now, Mirra. Not today. ::despite his interjection, he was smiling warmly at her.:: I just want to be here with you. All the difficult conversations can wait. We all make mistakes. ::And he should know better than anyone. He had taken the assignment to the Blackwell without discussing it first with Taelon, the Chief Science Officer of StarBase 118 with whom he had been in a complicated…. something with. He had effectively ended their burgeoning relationship without warning. All because he had been fleeing from the return of Baylen Anders. Theo might have prided himself on his professionalism as a Starfleet officer, but he could take no such satisfaction from his personal life.:: Ezo: ::raising an eyebrow:: Not that I am not...elated at your forgiveness...I must say I am a bit…::shuddered breath:: I mean... Whittaker: People in glass houses should never throw stones. At least that was what my mother used to say to my father when I was younger. ::he reached out and wiped a tear from Mirra’s cheek. A soft chuckle escaped his lips.:: Come on now, let's not cry anymore. ::he said as his voice threatened to crack under the emotions palpable in the room.::::he nodded, approvingly.:: I'm descended from British aristocracy- we don't do emotion. ::Despite the wellspring of emotion that had engulfed the room, Theo had an idea- one that made him smirk as he looked at the Betazoid.:: Whittaker: But we do one thing very well. ::At that point, the weight of a neutron star smack dab in the middle of her thoracic cavity seemed to lighten significantly. She had been truly terrified. And now…? Well now she was home. In a sense. Something she hadn’t felt in well over 8 months. Forgoing any lingering dignity, she used the shoulder of her ill-fitting uniform to ebb the tide of her sobbing face.:: Ezo: And that would be….? ::His eyes shimmered mischievously as he stepped across the guest quarters towards the replicator. He looked at Mirra with a matching grin before he turned to the invaluable device and spoke.:: Whittaker: Two Manhattan Cosmopolitans with orange peel twists in stemmed martini glasses. ::Mirra nearly felt the tears returning in full force, but instead, she snorted in a failed attempt to stifle her laughter.:: Ezo: ::smirking playfully:: Did the executive council know of your addiction to cosmopolitans before they handed you the reigns of this Starship…? ::The device whirred to life, materialising the classic beverage on the small pad. He lifted the crystal cut glassware by the stem. Returning to Mirra, he handed her one and raised his glass in a traditional gesture. Though she would have to face some difficult questions about her activities on Arndall in time, Theo wanted her to know that he would stay by her side as much as he could for as long as he could. They shared many hardships in the three years they had been friends and they had always come through to the other side and shared a drink together. This would be no different.:: Whittaker: To our friendship, Mirra. May it never, ever end. Ezo: ::raising her glass in return:: And, if it should ever end, may we haunt the ship together! ::grinning::
  7. @Mirra Ezo keeping up diplomatic relations. ((Syrandio - Outside Syrandio Medical Centre )) ::A distraction. No big flashes of light or heavily armed backup. But they had to do something, keep them looking in their direction long enough to let Lieutenant Pran and Lieutenant Pandorn set the charges.:: Ezo: So, what do you have in mind? Open a channel in the guise of negotiating for the injured...? Adyr: Somehow I just don’t see them caring. ::That was unfortunately accurate. In fact, if they brought up the injured, they could just turn them into a liability. No slaver wants broken property.:: Ezo: Well, despite the outfit, I'm not currently Starfleet. Just a civilian. I might make an easier target, so to speak. No one knows to come looking for me? Adyr: I think not, and as a former Starfleet Officer – I assume – you’ll know why. ::So...they would have to make due with staying inside. Just her...a comm...and the angry army in front of them. oO I'm going to get us killed, aren't I...? Oo:: Ezo: I bet I can keep him talking. Long enough for the charges to be set. Adyr: Then lets talk, but we aren’t going outside. ::Mirra approached the front of the vessel at Commander Adyr's gesture. The haze had cleared somewhat, enough to give view to the waiting enemy outside the suddenly thin feeling hull.:: Ezo: ::taking a deep breath:: Keep them talking, right? Adyr: =/\=You're on.=/\= ::And just like that, it was live. Commander Adyr stepped behind her. She wasn't sure if it was as a show of support, or another deversion tactic. It could be the Commander just couldn't stand to look in the beady eyes of their so-called new owners. Not that Mirra blamed her in the least. Ezo: ::clearing her throat politely:: =/\= Hello? Am I speaking with the bu- ::pausing:: man in charge....? =/\= Rsssarkar: =/\=I will not warn you again, primitive creatures. You will not resist and you will comply as property should do.=/\= Ezo: =/\=Ah, yes. About that, you see, I am quite a stickler for protocol, as one must be in this day and age. I'm afraid I can't just turn myself over without substantiating your claim of ownership. Quite a bother, I realize, but I must ask on what authority you are acting under? =/\= ::oO Gods of useless buracracy please protect us...Oo:: Adyr: =/\=Response? =/\= (If any) Rsssarkar: =/\=Everything on this world, including it's primitive mammalian populations are now my property and the property of the Kam'Jahtae Empire. There is no point in resistance. Surrender to the inevitable.=/\= :: Kam'Jahtae? They were a long forgotten, albeit bloody, stain on history. From eons ago. It wasn't possible these were actual Kam'Jahtae...was it? Her wide eyes turned momentarily towards Commander Adyr in shock. Well, whomever they were, she had her mission.:: Ezo: ::confusion colored her tone:: =/\= Kam'Jahtae...? I'm not quite familiar with that particular branch of government. Did you just make that up? You see, I cannot allow myself to become a slave under such...flimsy claims such as that. After all, what would my ancestors think...? Do you have the proper documentation of ownership of this planet and it's inhabitants? Adyr: =/\=Response? =/\= (If any) ::Well, that did something. Previously, he seemed distracted, if not a little put off by the delay. Now, his focus was entirely on her. The jolt of hostility hit her like a scorching beam. She fought against the urge to take a step back in reaction. Instead, she braced herself.:: Rsssarkar :: =/\=Perhaps I will keep you alive until you learn your place. The Kam'Jahtae once ruled an installer concordium the likes of which you have never seen before. All we have lost will be restored.=/\= ::Alright. That wasn't the first, or probably the last time an enemy had suggested she learn her place. Or offered in so many words to put her there. Back on familiar territory. oO Please please don't let me get us killed....Oo:: Ezo: ::clearing her throat again with the utmost politeness:: =/\= My apologies Mr...ah, well, I am afraid I didn't catch your name...? ::silence met her, she was pushing against already borrowed time:: No matter, there will be plenty of time for pleasantries once we get this matter of ownership sorted. Now, back to the beginning, you say you ruled this planet previously? Rsssarkar/Adyr: =/\=Response? =/\= Ezo: =/\= Ah, yes, likes of which I haven't seen, I do remember that part. Can we back up to the organization again? Kamble-Jantey was it? oO By the Great Fire..please let the charges be ready...Oo =/\= Rsssarkar/Adyr: =/\=Response? =/\= Ezo: =/\= Oh! Do forgive me::She turned to Adyr, looking almost shameful, as if she'd just been caught in a cultural [...] Pas. Exaggeratedly gesturing towards her mouth:: It appears it's more of a long "ah" sound, Kam'Jahtae..::turning back:: Did I get it right that time? =/\= Rsssarkar/Adyr: =/\=Response? =/\= Ezo: =/\= Yes I am quite familiar with your terms. I however, would like to make sure I have taken the proper time to become completely informed with my surroundings and situations. You see, my mother always expressed to me the utmost importance of making a proper acquaintance, first impressions being so important. ::Actually, her mother had often told her to smile and keep her mouth shut most of the time. Apparently commenting on the number of chin hairs upon her great aunt's face was considered rude.:: Rsssarkar/Adyr: =/\=Response? =/\= ----------------------------------------- Lt. Commander Mirra Ezo, MD Diplomatic Officer USS Blackwell C239205ME0
  8. @Na'Lae Mandak getting herself into a bit of a situation, all because of a sneeze... (( Somewhere in Navatria, Arndall)) :: There had been an enormous hiccup in the plan thus far. What started as a simple medevac, had turned into far more than a cluster. There were many casualties now, including those of the Revan. Lae was among them. Matthew had been unconscious, Dairro injured as well. The doctor seemed to be one of the more better off folks. The others were worse for wear. Not to mention the actual casevacs they had been sent to retrieve in the first place. For now, they tended to their wounds, and made ready for what lay ahead for them, on the hostile planet. :: :: The crew had been tending to their wounds, and getting their wits about them, when a loud shriek had been heard from outside the downed shuttle. It wasn't terran... But is was organic. Ferentis had instinctively gone on the defensive, wanting to know what it was they were on about now. But he was injured, and worse than what he let on. :: G’Renn: Ferentis, what’s wrong with your arm? Ferentis: It’s nothing at all. I’m fine. Mandak: You should sit... How're are you gonna be any sort of tough guy if you're hurt? :: Lae stood near the man, trying to be supportive, but in reality, she wished he'd take a seat. :: Thoran: Ms Mandak....is right. G’Renn: If you think I’m about to let you go out there without least checking your injuries, you may want to think again. Mandak: Just let her look mate... Ferentis: [Tag] Thoran: Mr Ferentis, …. I insist…. you allow….the doctor….to check….you over. Ferentis: [Tag] :: For now, he seemed to give into the Commander and his physician. Probably a better move than he thought. :: G’Renn: Now, let’s take a look… ::That was when she saw the bone sticking out of his wrist.:: We’ll need to set that bone back in place. Hold still for a moment. :: Lae listened to the snap crackle and pop of the doctor working. It looked to be a bad break of the man's arm. She worked quickly though, setting things straight. Lae had readied her firearm by then, and began to work on getting the comms system in some sort of order, even just to send a distress signal. Letting the Blackwell know what had happened would more than likely be something the Commander wished to do. She wanted to be ready for the order. She quit fiddling with things when the Commander spoke again, amidst his own wounds. :: Thoran: Doctor, what is…. the status of…. the Valcarian patients? G’Renn: I will check on them right away. Thoran: Okay. Let me know…. once you’ve done…. that. Mr Ferentis…. being our resident engineer…. I want you to…. start working on restoring…. power. Ms Mandak... :: Just as she piped up, she could hear whatever it was outside had drawn closer, and had friends. She was awaiting the order... :: Thoran: Ms Mandak…. take Dairro and Matthew….have a quick scout outside..... Assess…. the situation. Keep comlines open. Mandak: Aye sir... :: She nodded to the two, who had armed themselves as well. :: Let's get out there... :: She moved with the small team to the main entry in the rear of the craft, which was slightly open, just enough for them to slip out. There was smoke about... dust. It was tough to see anything really. Lae took up a starting position on her knee in front of the door, while the other two fanned out, but stayed close. There was a well defined trench in which the runabout sat. She could see now the extent of the damage to the Revan. That's when she heard the shriek. She turned her head suddenly to her left, looking straight at... something... The others followed suit. Lae gave a signal to stay low. :: :: It was large... whatever it was... and there were two other smaller things with it. It bore armor... dull and gray... with some sort of headress. Or at least the big one had it. The other two seemed scraggly, seemed to follow the big one about. It was bipedal, and hulking, with large claws, or hands or something. She could see a weapon of some sort as well, but couldn't make it out that well. The dim light of evening was creeping in now, adding to the difficulty in seeing anything at all. :: Mandak: Mandak to Commander Thoran... :: in a low voice. :: Thoran: [tag] Mandak: A small group. One large one. Insectoid. Bipedal. Armed. Thoran: [Tag] Mandak: They're moving away from us for the moment... :: She could see out of the corner of her eye, Matthew was holding in a sneeze... oO No... No no no...Oo The sneeze exited his face... And so did his color. He immediately clamped down on his mouth. She looked to the thing, which had now turned about, and was looking right in their direction. She could see it in full view now. Large, with smaller arms in other places, and a definitely insectoid set of DNA. It was moving towards them quickly now, clearly having spotted them. It let out another shriek, getting the attention of the smaller broodlings that had accompanied it. The thing raised a rifle, and began to fire right at them. :: Mandak: Gotta go... we've got incoming... :: She hit the charging unit on the phase rifle. The comm closed. :: Thoran: [Tag] Mandak: FIRE! :: The phaser blasts flew from Dairro, not so much from Matthew, who sort of slunk down in the dirt. She raised up to a crouch from her knees, and sent phaser pulses down range at the smaller units first, striking one of them square in its toothy maw. It landed hard and slid a good six feet. The second one met a similar fate. The larger one... That was a different story. :: :: She sent pulses in its direction, with the energy striking it's armor, but leaving no real damage save for a singe mark here and there. She couldn't tell if it was shielded, or if it was just the armor plating it wore. Either way, they were going to have to come up with a plan. The thing took up a position near the runabout, and kept the aggression up. :: Mandak: Commander! :: Over her commbadge :: Thoran: [Tag] Mandak: One baddie left... He's shielded. Under fire. Need assistance! Thoran / Anyone: [Tag] TBC/TAG -- Ensign Na'Lae Mandak Helm Officer USS Blackwell Andaris Task Force
  9. @Anath G'Renn I especially loved the part where you put Jarred back together ((Navatria, Valcarian Capital, Arndall)) Thoran: I don’t much like the idea of heading to a Valcarian facility. Doctor, do you think he’ll survive long enough for a shuttle to arrive? G’Renn: He’s not going to drop dead right this second, but the longer we sit here debating what to do the closer we get to that point. Thoran: Okay, i’d like you to do what you can for the moment. Ensign Ferentis, see if you can raise Ensign Mandak for an emergency evacuation. Ferentis: Aye, sir. ::While Ferentis worked on arranging a shuttle for them, Anath and Thoran took on the far more challenging task of convincing a Valcarian to trust outsiders.:: Thoran: Your colleague, ::he pointed towards the Valcarian G’Renn had been treating:: our Doctor states he needs surgery to survive. We don’t have the capability here so we’re going to take him back to our ship. It’s a medical vessel. Valcarian Driver: I cannot allow that. I will need authorisation from command. G’Renn: oO Can we all just cut out the mistrust, paranoia, and delays for ten minutes so we can keep that man from bleeding out? Oo ::Nothing about the situation was helping her frustration. The attitude of the Valcarian was not helpful. The fact that by the letter of their orders they weren’t even supposed to be helping them because of their military uniforms went against Anath’s very nature. Everybody’s anger and mistrust were getting to her and she felt like the lives of two beings were not worth any amount of xenophobia and pride.:: Valcarian Driver: I cannot raise them. Something is interfering with the signal. My colleague is not going anywhere with you. ::One moment, everything seemed to be in the right place from her perspective. Then the ground of Arndall began to quake and Anath found herself viewing the entire world as if it were tilted on its side. She had been thrown off her feet, and it seemed as if her teammates and the Valcarians had been similarly thrown about by the tremors as she got back to her feet.:: Ferentis: What... G’Renn: Ensign, Commander? Are you two alright? Thoran: I’ll be fine. ::The ground began to shake again, startling her. The sounds of screams, weapons fire, and the very world being torn apart all rung through the area and assaulted her sensitive ears. For a moment she instinctively covered her ears and tried to block out the horrifying noises. However, she was needed more than ever. After a moment to regain her bearings she looked around for the source of the sounds.:: Ferentis: The Valcarians must be attacking in full. Thoran: Doctor, the third Valcarian may need some assistance ::he gestured towards the figure that lay on the floor.:: Mr Ferentis, any word on that shuttle? G’Renn: Right away! ::Anath approached the Valcarian with the burns, offering a hand to get them back to a sitting position before pulling them onto their feet. They were probably in a lot of pain, but could walk. The man who had been impaled in the vehicle would need a lot more help.:: G’Renn: Our patients should be ready for transport in the shuttle, ::shooting an angry sideways glance at the driver:: assuming we take them with us. Ferentis: ? Thoran: Good work. Both of you. Now we’ll have to sit tight and hope Ensign Mandak doesn’t take too long. ((Timeskip: Several minutes later)) ::In the grand scheme of things, the shuttle didn’t take too long to arrive. It was only a few minutes at most. Unfortunately, time was a relative thing. When she was curled up on one of the loungers in her living room reading a good book a few minutes wasn’t all that long. In the middle of an active warzone each second dragged on forever, heavy with the threat of sudden death from some stray fire from the battle or a miscalculated artillery strike. The familiar sound of a Federation shuttlecraft’s engines immediately drew her attention to the sky.:: Thoran: Cavalry’s here. Let’s move out. Mandak: =/\= Mandak to Ferentis, Ready when you are! =/\= Ferentis: ? ::Finally things were looking up. Looking up until they tried to gather their patients, that is. That’s when the Valcarian driver decided to step in their path and try to stop them.:: Valcarian Driver: I said my..people..stay.. ::he thrust a pointed finger towards the floor.:: here. Thoran: Your people are seriously injured and need medical attention. At the very least, allow us to take you and your colleagues to a Valcarian facility. ::What happened next happened so quickly Anath barely registered what all occurred. Commander Thoran tried to pass by the Valcarian, there was some movement from the driver, and then their security chief sent him to the ground. This was not going well.:: Thoran: You can come with us or you can stay here. Your colleagues will die if they don’t get medical attention very very soon. Valcarian Driver: I shall stay here. And I assure you, I shall be making a full report. ::With that, they collected the two injured Valcarians very carefully and carried them over to where the shuttle had landed a short distance away. Anath helped Ferentis carry the soldier from the backseat of the crash.:: Thoran: Doctor, hopefully you should have everything here to stabilise them long enough for us to reach the Blackwell. Mr Ferentis, see if you can get a lock on the supplies and transport them aboard. G’Renn: They should be able to make it. We definitely shouldn’t wait around any longer than we have to. Ferentis: ? ::Anath helped the two into the shuttle and tried to make them as comfortable as she could. The shuttles weren’t exactly as spacious as an ambulance runabout but there was more than enough room for two patients. Once they were secure she made her way to the front of the shuttle.:: Thoran: Good to see you Ensign. Mandak: To the Blackwell then? Do they know we're coming? Thoran: I’d like you to do a fly over of the city, see if there is a hospital or something. If not, then yes, the Blackwell. Mandak: Anyone else coming? ::Anath wanted to go back and talk, or yell, some sense into the driver. He was being stubborn and letting his pride get in the way of any common sense. Unfortunately that wasn’t the kind of problem that a few Klingon insults could fix. Besides, she had absolutely no authority when it came to “you’re being too stubborn.”:: Thoran: Just us i’m afraid. Mandak: ? ::She found a seat just as the shuttle took off and began to climb into the sky above the city. Anath closed her eyes and tried to banish all the aggressive and unhappy thoughts from her brain. Then all the noises of the shuttle stopped. When she opened her eyes and noticed that the power was off and the shuttle was dark. Even worse, it was beginning to enter a nosedive towards the surface. As she felt the change in acceleration she had only one thought.:: G’Renn: oO So many ways to die in the line of duty, please not like this… Oo Thoran: Report. G’Renn: I think something may have disrupted our power. oO Or someone’s been seriously neglecting this shuttle’s maintenance schedule OO Ferentis/Mandak: ? ::The impact was quick, and sent her flying out of her seat and into the wall of the shuttlecraft with considerable force. She felt metal dragging across her forehead and could immediately tell that it had broken the skin. She knew even before she could feel the green blood pouring down her forehead. Luckily it felt like a light cut. She wasted no time flipping open her medkit, removing a bandage, and adhering it over the site of impact. There would be time to deal with it later once she was sure her friends were unhurt.:: G’Renn: Is anyone seriously injured? Ferentis/Mandak: ? Thoran: ? ::Anath approached the [...]pit and looked down at Thoran’s chest. She couldn’t see very well, but it seemed that something had been lodged in his stomach, and the area immediately around the object was darker than the rest of his uniform.:: G’Renn: Commander, try not to move too much. I’ll do what I can for you, but I need some more light. Either of you have a lamp? Ferentis/Mandak: ? ::After switching on the emergency light source and setting it on the console above them, Anath opened Commander Thoran’s uniform outer jacket and looked closer at the wound. A piece of metal shrapnel was the culprit. She would need to act quickly to get it removed before it caused any more serious bleeding. Anath removed a set of gloves from her medkit as well as her field surgery kit. She broke the sterile seal on the kit and removed a few tools that she would need to remove the shrapnel, as well as loading a hypospray with a light painkiller.:: G’Renn: Deep breaths, Mr. Thoran. This is going to pinch just a bit. ::That was of course a bit of an understatement. Even with a painkiller now moving through his system he would probably still feel it. If she had her way she’d sedate him before removing the object. Unfortunately time was not on their side, and after your shuttle was just possibly shot down was not the time to sedate your security officer. She waited for a few moments after injecting the painkiller before swiftly removing the piece of console and setting it aside.:: Thoran: ? G’Renn: Okay, so maybe a little more than a bit. Just hold still while I close up the wound and the painkiller does its job. ::Charging up the dermal regenerator as she spoke:: Deep breathes, few words. ::For such a small piece of metal, the piece of debris had certainly done quite a bit of damage to the commander. Much like the similarly small and sharp arrowhead that had struck him in the knee during their holodeck exercise. Anath spent about a minute with an autosuture and a dermal regenerator sealing the wound before applying a bandage and backing up to give Thoran some room to breathe. Not a moment after she stood up, she heard what could only be described as an angry shriek from somewhere outside the shuttle. She couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t sound like a normal humanoid race. It sounded insectoid, and made her skin crawl.:: Mandak/Ferentis/Thoran: ? Lieutenant Anath G'Renn Chief Medical Officer, USS Blackwell - Andaris Task Force A239402AG0
  10. ((Holodeck, USS Blackwell, In the Caves)) ::It was all she could do to keep firing. Thankfully, she’d gotten quite a few lucky shots and the ones on the other side didn’t seem to get any. With the thought that she might actually end up hurt or dead in this exercise, she felt a kind of fury well up within. How dare anyone put the crew at risk, especially without telling them that.:: ::Her mind scattered as her body went into autopilot mode. Faster than she could keep track, she fired arrow after arrow making sure to stand between the counselor and the weapons pointed at her. Somewhere nearby, she knew the rogue was fighting just as hard. With hair flying and blood spattering around them, Cayden found herself lost in the moment. It threatened to drag her down to a place she wasn’t sure she wanted to visit. At least not then, and not in the middle of the chaos.:: ::Nevertheless, fury clouded the best intentions and soon she found herself fighting an entirely different fight. Though she was there in the holodeck, fighting the goblins and robed figures, her mind saw the Jem’Hadar. Around them blood was spilt and the warriors of the other side fell. In her mind she saw both sides falling. Friends, comrades, partners in so much more than just a class project.:: ::Cayden was there in the holodeck, but her mind was far away, in the body of Jazra, on the surface of Betazed. And Betazed was just about to fall.:: ((Flashback, Medara Betazed, 2374)) Jaxx: Saraa!!!! ::The blood curdling scream drew her attention regardless of how much she was trying to look at what she was doing. They had been given no warning, no time to prepare, and just like that, Jazra Adyr had absolutely no time to process what was happening.:: Adyr (Jazra): We need to get out of here! ::She grabbed his arm and pulled desperately, and yet he held on to the lifeless body of his betrothed. Looking back later, she knew she couldn’t have blamed him, but in that moment they needed to move. The hulking forms of whatever was bombing them were coming. She could see their shadows dancing in the courtyard below where they stood now.:: ::There were no words to be said. Jazra could see the blood and the gash on her best friend’s head. But there was no time.:: ((End Flashback)) ::Somewhere off to the side of the room, Cayden half expected to see Jaxx, along with the lifeless body of the woman he was to marry. Her own stint on Betazed had been to school there, which had been a high honor. She’d become as much a member of society and of her own little family as possible. Then they came and took it all from her, including her life.:: ((Flashback, Medara Betazed, Not Long After the Invasion)) ::Flickers of light lit the path of the resistance fighters as they moved through the shadows of the nearly abandoned outer neighborhoods. The roads stank of death and burnt flesh that had been left behind by the murderous troops that had been through there. Some of those who had once lived there were mercifully put to death, but others were now prisoners. It was those prisoners that she now lead the small team towards.:: ::The mission was considered to be suicide, but Jazra, who had joined the ranks of a small group of rebels who fought against the Jem’Hadar after the death of her best friend, knew that if they did succeed, they would potentially turn some things in their favor. Though the chances were extremely slim, it was that tiny percent that she held to be the truth. They would win this night; they had to.:: ::In her mind, the face of Jaxx flickered in the firelight of their hideout, the one place where they found respite from the war. It was a safehouse where the rebellion came together to plot and plan, and one that moved often, but it was one that held all of the few good memories that she had left. The days that had followed the initial invasion had been difficult, but even moreso for the man who now led the Medara resistance cell she was a part of. He had lost the girl he was to marry and she had lost her best friend. In the wake of such devastation, the two had clung together to remind themselves just why life was worth fighting for.:: ::The memories of his touch brought an inexplicable smile to her face as her small team moved into position. It was that touch that she longed to feel again, and that touch that would bring her home.:: ::As her eyes rose to meet the imposing building in front of them and the troops standing guard outside of it, she suddenly felt lightheaded. Half of her wanted to run back to that house now, and back to the relative safety of his arms, but her mind held her firmly where she was. A voice whispered in the darkness behind her, having seen the initial reaction.:: ((End Flashback)) ::Her fury only grew and she lashed out on the creatures – every single one of them – with everything that had been stowed away following Jazra’s death. She could feel herself moving faster and harder than she thought she could, and for the moment, she let go of any control and let her adversaries face the hatred of her past.:: ::Somewhere in the back of her mind she could see the creatures dropping until there weren’t many left. And then suddenly, perhaps it was an arrow or maybe the daggers the rogue wielded, all that was left was a puff of acrid smelling smoke where the so-called ringleader used to stand. When Cayden came to, all she could see was a pile of tattered robes and a strange looking claw on top of them.:: ::It took her a long moment to catch her breath, all the while she stood in place.:: Jolara/Mandak: ? ::Standing and putting her bow back on her back, she shrugged.:: Adyr: That was something I don’t necessarily want to do again. Hopefully that’s something important. Jolara/Mandak: ? ::As if they hadn’t already been through enough, the cavern suddenly shone bright like a star had just been born right there in front of them. Blinking and trying to regain her sight, Cayden could feel the energy of something now. Around them, the bodies of the fallen seemed to fade into the dirt itself as a strange wall of dark light, if that made any sense, descended from nowhere right to their feet.:: ::All she could do was look at it strangely.:: Adyr: Well, either somethings coming out of it, or we’re going in it. If I had half a thought I’d say let’s roll. ::Especially considering the re-emergence of thoughts she didn’t want anything to do with.:: Jolara/Mandak: ? TAG/TBC Lieutenant Commander Cayden Adyr Chief Intelligence Officer (Executive Officer) Andaris Task Force R238605KN0
  11. Jarred Thoran

    PNPC Ensign Ferentis: Dots

    @Randal Shayne yet another incredible Ferentis post. Such an enjoyable read ------------------------------------- ((Deck 10, Near Holodeck 1, USS Blackwell)) ::For the first time in many years, Ferentis was distracted on the job.:: ::He was a dinosaur with a keen, active mind. Despite his somewhat deliberate, lethargic appearance, beneath the massive dome of leathery skin and scaly hide that roosted upon his broad shoulders, a powerful intellect snapped and explored. Multitasking was often a breeze, with his attention rationed equally on his often delicate engineering tasks and the music he so frequently tuned into, or conversation (something that happened with far less frequency), or on the great mysteries of the universe.:: ::But now, he was kept from focusing on his labors by the nagging task ahead of him.:: ::He squinted and shook his head slightly, the bulbous cranium whipping back and forth. Now it was time for systems diagnostics. Now was not the time for dwelling on what awaited him in his quarters.:: ::A grumbling sigh emerged from his lips as he reexamined the task before him. The holographic systems were suddenly clamoring for more maintenance than usual. In particular, Holodeck 1 had not seen a rest for hours. This wasn’t unusual- holodeck time was a highly prized, highly valuable commodity, especially during a journey of this length. Indeed, oftentimes they received no downtime for days at a stretch. Generally, there was no trouble, but this time around, the strain on the machine was more visible, as was the toll it took on the circuits and relays. Ferentis had been at a loss until he was informed that what seemed like the entire senior staff was in that single holodeck, playing games. “Team building”, the crewman had called it. Team building. Why did they have to use a holodeck to build a team? For that matter, why did they all have to share the same one? One or two or three or four or twenty people in a single simulation could usually be handled without difficulty, so long as they all stayed in one another’s general proximity, and didn’t push the limits of the holodeck’s capabilities. But if the entire senior staff had gone inside, and if the program was detailed enough, and if they’d split up, that might very well stretch the capabilities of the computer. Once he’d heard that information, it made sense. A millisecond after, he realized what it would take to keep the whole confounded thing going perpetually.:: ::Though he was mildly displeased, the real irritation came in the realization that he’d likely have to wait many hours before he could open the letter.:: ::He’d been putting it off for days, letting the icon on the monitor blink its mournful announcement without cessation. He didn’t want to see who it was from, nor read it. In fact, he was utterly convinced that things would have been better were he to have not received it. Much thought had gone into deleting it, and foregoing its examination entirely. But something stopped him. He was caught in limbo.:: ::The icon blinked on…:: ::He was sleeping, his great thick tail wrapped around his body like a cat’s, when the dream came. There was too much to follow- it wasn’t sensible. Ferentis tried to keep up, and had some limited success. If someone had asked him to recount it, he would have been utterly unable to. All he knew is that when he finally awoke to the alarm overhead, he had an overpowering desire to read the letter. It was the kind of gnashing, hungering desire that one was only blessed with on the rarest of occasions, the type that stuck with you until you performed whatever deed the urge demanded. He got to his feet- a remarkable process, to be sure- and was nearly to the console when he realized just how astonishingly late for his duty shift he was. Normally, he’d leap to action, and bolt out the door as soon as he slipped on his regulation duty smock- well, normally, he wouldn’t be late at all; Ferentis just wasn’t that sort of Pakhwa-thanh. And yet, now he stopped, glancing toward his closet and the console that housed the letter. Closet. Console. Closet. Growling low and dangerous-like, he stomped toward his clothes and draped a uniform over his green, semi-awake carcass.:: Ferentis: Later. ::With that he’d left, moving quickly, and preparing the words he’d use to plead his case to the commander of his watch. But the letter never quite left his mind for the whole day.:: ((Timeskip, several agonizing, button-filled hours later, in his quarters)) ::And now he crouched in front of the console that had been haunting his dreams.:: ::Blink.:: ::Blink.:: ::Blink.:: ::In one fluid motion, he pressed the control that would open the letter.:: ::When he soaked in enough courage to open his eyes, he took in as much information as he could.:: ::Dots.:: ::The screen was filled with dots.:: ::Hundreds- no, thousands- no, tens of thousands, littered the screen, in no pattern whatsoever. Ferentis scrolled up and down the document, looking for something further. Nothing.:: ::Was it a code? A symbol? Had the transmission been corrupted? With haste, he checked the address.:: ::”To Thordic Sende Ulthex Ferentis”. Yup, that was him. “From”...:: ::He squinted.:: ::”From the Eyeless”.:: Ferentis: Well, that’s just maddeningly unhelpful. ::On the one hand, his desire to read the message had been relieved. Further, he was glad that it didn’t contain news from old acquaintances- or any news, for that matter, especially any that came from Dupwa-thuv, his homeworld. But the fact that it contained nothing...at all, really, deeply disappointed him. For the next three hours, he ran every sort of analysis he could think of on the array of screen pimples. It was three hours wasted. In frustration, he finally gave a groan, and then a sorry little whimper, and resolved to turn in early. As his tail wrapped around him again, he couldn’t help but notice the symmetry. He’d gone to bed dreaming of the letter. Now he’d go to sleep dreaming of how to read the letter. His heavy eyelids shut, and he was again cast into the ether of unconsciousness… TBC… PNPC Ensign Ferentis Engineer USS Blackwell NCC 58999 =======As simmed by======= Lieutenant Commander Randal Shayne Helmsman/Ops Officer/Second Officer USS Blackwell NCC 58999 G239202RS0
  12. (( Prior to Briefing, Just after Check In, USS Blackwell, Deck 12)) ((OOC- Started working on this a while ago, thought I'd finish it up and shine a light on Lae a bit. )) :: It had only been a short while since Lae had checked in aboard her newest assignment. She had spoken with the commandant of the task force to start, getting some pretty simple orders for the time being. Most everyone else were all trying to check in with medical, or psych, or whomever they needed in order to get their particular show on the road. Lae had decided to take a small tour instead. She'd be doing things a bit backwards, wanting to get to her quarters and get her things moved in from the cargo area. She moved off of the deck 12 turbolift right near the Shuttle Flight Control room. She smirked a bit remembering her first commission... The commandeering of the shuttle that took her from academy to Starbase 11, and the pilot who almost soiled himself...:: (( Flashback three years prior, Shuttle Tyderion, Perimeter of Starbase 11)) :: She'd been enroute to her first posting for some time, but finally the shuttle pilot looked over to her. :: Pilot: We'll be arriving shortly ma'am. Mandak: Perfect... It's been a while since we left... Is that... :: She smiled as she leaned forward through the [...]pit area. She found herself instinctively sitting down in the second seat next to the pilot, watching in awe as the Starbase came into view. It wasn't the base that caught her attention though... It was the Constitution, and her massive glory. All 42 decks were calling her name. She felt a rush of energy all at once, knowing that she needed to be on that ship; that her life was about to begin. :: Mandak: We going to the Constitution I hope? Pilot: Well I'd orders to set down on the Starbase ma'am... :: She pulled up the comm stack before letting him talk further. :: Mandak: USS Constitution, this is Shuttle Tyderion, requesting to land... :: she mouthed the words sorry to the shuttle pilot...:: Conny: Tyderion, cleared to bay Two High. Slow approach pattern advised. Mandak: May I? :: looking to the pilot, who was still figuring what to do...:: Pilot: I mean, you basically already are so... :: He sort of put his hands up in desperation, signaling his transfer of control to her. :: :: She Rubbed her hands together, and got her bearings about the control panel. oO You could just be appropriate, just this once... NAH...Oo. Lae wasn't a hotshot by any means, but there was the random occasion where she'd run outside the lines a bit. This was one of those occasions. She took control, and moved the speed indicator up a bit. :: Pilot: I'm pretty sure they advised low speed approach ma'am... Mandak: They did? Hmm... :: They were making their way pretty quickly to the suggested bay, and noted that the door was opening. She moved the speed up even higher, moving quicker and quicker towards the bay. her eyes widened a bit as she waited for the right moment. The proximity alarm began to go off, sending the pilot into a panic. :: Pilot: Ma'am, give ME CONTROL! NOW! Mandak: Live a little will you? :: She punched in a 180 maneuver, turning the shuttle about face as they continued to move backwards at a ridiculous speed for landing. The rear of the shuttle breached the force field, and she threw on the rear maneuvering thrusters, just long enough to stop the shuttle, having her land ever so gingerly on the deck. She looked at the console with a satisfied look, then having forgot about him for a second, over to the pilot, who showed a face made for radio... :: Pilot: Get out... Mandak: Alright, alright... Sorry... :: The rear hatch opened, and she began to step out. :: Pilot: You forgot something... :: he launched her bag out the rear door onto the floor at her feet. :: Mandak: I said Sorry! :: The door closed as the words came out. This was why she typically chose the more reserved moments in life. :: ((End Flashback 1, Back to Deck 12, USS Blackwell, Quarters Mandak)) :: Before she knew it, she'd managed to wander to where the senior officer's quarters began in that section of the deck. She knew the layout of this deck in particular, as she wanted to be able to offload her gear in good time to make for the first briefing. She found the sliding doors to her room, and punched in her access code. That familiar woosh rang out, and she took a few steps into her new abode. For now, things seemed pretty basic. She wasn't much of an accessorizer, so the chances of it remaining basic were pretty good. Just after she'd arrived, the chime rang on the door. Certainly it would be logistics with her things. :: Mandak: Come :: The door opened once again, and in stepped a rather tall yellow clad logistics officer, with a hovercart of belongings. :: Logs Officer: Ma'am... I have in total three bags, and a personal computer. Mandak: Sounds about right. What about the safe... Logs: Safe ma'am? Mandak: You know... the one with all my credits and latinum in it... :: She shot him a serious look now, with her hands on her hips. :: :: The man seemed to squirm for a moment, clearly not seeing the ruse and thinking he'd messed up. :: Mandak: Sorry, just messing with you. Do I need to sign something? :: The man stayed quiet, and handed her the PADD she was holding. She punched in her signature in receipt of her gear, and gave it back to High Tower. He gave her a low smirk, and went to turn. :: Logs: Anything else ma'am? Mandak: That's all for now... Let me know if you find it... :: With that, he turned and left, chuckling to himself. She moved now to her things, plopping the computer on the bed. She'd a lot on her mind as of late, some of which she'd be able to explore on that computer. With Johan's disappearance some time ago, she'd been combing through local news and other personal sources for any leads on his whereabouts. He had always been the reason to keep on pushing. Always was the reason to keep on fighting, through whatever life had to throw at her. But with him gone now, it made things seem so... heavy. She opened the computer, and pulled up the HUD, punching in her command code. She opened her skimmer app, which could be programmed to scan news sources, much like a ticker, built to custom parameters. Nothing popped out at her... She sighed and laid back on the bed, undoing her top, and letting her hair fall. There wasn't much time till briefing, but she was beginning to doze a bit. ((Dreaming, SS Diligent, Area of Rekar III Trade Space, Some time ago )) Johan: Alright my dear... Take your place. It's nearly time. :: The smell of smoke was thick on the deck of the bridge. The operational room was full of cigar smoke. She never understood the terran man in that sense. Of all the things Na'lae knew of the human race, and in particular this human, she never understood the purpose of a cigar. Johan insisted it was to christen the new ship. Lae didn't necessarily think that her vessel needed to be filled with smoke as a send off. Nonetheless, she thought it was quirky. oO That's dad...Oo. She moved about the cabin, touching all the surfaces and controls as Johan moved around as well, smoking his awful treat. :: Mandak: These things are just as I drew them... Johan: I made it a point to use your drawings in the design plans. Had to make sure this ship was special. Mandak: Well you didn't have to. :: She smiled lightly.:: :: Lae had drawn starships for as long she could remember, using them in stories that would take her imagination to the Sol system and back. She never thougth she would be walking in and touching an embodiment of her mind. :: Johan: You know things are different now. No more being told what to do, when to do it. You've grown. I think it's time you were afforded the opportunity to move forward on your journey. Mandak: You know, for once I think I might be able to do that. :: She moved towards the helm, getting ready for pre-departure procedures, when another man came and motioned to the seat she was about to take. :: Excuse me... Johan: Lae... Your chair is here. :: he pointed to the center chair that was hoisted from the ceiling on a control arm, a bucket type seat with systems panels at the sides, almost like a small pod of sorts. The Captain's seat... oO Why's he pointing at that... Oo. Mandak: I don't get it... Johan: Don't you? I didn't just want to build a ship that was inspired by you. I wanted to build a ship that was commanded by you Lae... It's time. Na'Lae Mandak... Take the seat of your first command. And for gods' sake, let that man take his station... :: Lae was... in shock. Not quite sure what to say, she turned to see the helmsman smiling at her, as were a few of the other crew members. She stumbled to the side awkwardly, letting the man take his post. She moved towards Johan, and touched the arm of the chair. She sat inside the control station, and the control panels came to life. Systems subschecks were being performed, and she could see the progress reports being filed by the deck bosses one at a time through the holographic heads up display. She moved her hands in the air in front of the screens, watching them arrange to her liking. She rotated the control arm on the chair, moving her about the radii of the center of the room. She could see all stations, all angles. Centering back now towards the main helm, the computer prompted her on the screen "ma'am... where shall I plot a course?" :: Johan: This ship knows you, Lae. Knows your make up. It is you... Biometrics that are tuned to you, and can learn from the routines you perform. This is quite your ship now. :: Her thoughts were racing, not knowing how or why, or what next. :: (( End flashback )) :: She stood now, snapping back to reality, with the looming feeling of running late. There had been the trailing of a commbadge notification, no doubt the Captain wanting his seniors to assemble. She got herself together, putting her long hair back up, and redressing. She needed to find Johan... Some way... Some how. She just had to. :: TBC -- Ensign Na'Lae Mandak Helm Officer USS Blackwell Andaris Task Force O238901VL0
  13. ((Holodeck 1, Oakenfort Program, USS Blackwell)) Thoran: Excellent idea. Perhaps you would like to volunteer making a copy of the map for the Whitehammers. Avarin: ::Nodding:: I will. ::She found the individual holding the map and took a long moment to study its contents. The task was not a difficult one and once she had the information, she walked about the square, finally settling on an elderly gentleman dressed in long flowing robes noting as she did so, the ink-stained, gnarled fingers just visible at the end of his voluminous sleeves.:: Avarin: o0The attire is illogical given what I surmise to be his profession but then again, I suspect that this simulation was not intended to be historically accurate.0o ::She approached, her footfalls whisper-quiet though that was more due to years of training rather than any abilities assigned by presentation of a card, and came to stand beside the gentleman. His blue eyes were faded, his nose showing signs of badly set break, and his beard hung to the middle of his thin chest. She could see, now that she was closer, crumbs clinging to its knotted, greying length.:: Avarin: Excuse me, Sir. I am in need of paper and writing implements. Scribe: ::Squinting up at her:: Eh? I've only one length of vellum left and not likely to be giving it to you, I have to say. Avarin: ::[...]ing her head slightly to one side:: o0Vellum. Animal skin and as such, unacceptable were this an actual away mission. This is the holodeck and no lifeform would be harmed to assuage any concerns the team might have about my ability to recall accurately.0o Perhaps you might have a few scraps available? I would not need much to complete my task. Scribe: ::Stroking his beard causing crumbs to spinkle down across his sandaled feet:: I might ... thought I'll not be just giving it away. Avarin: It can be reused. When our task is finished, I will return the scrap to you. Scribe: And why should I trust ::looking her up and down:: the likes of you? Avarin: ::Arching one eyebrow:: Why wouldn't you? We are here at the request of your mayor for the benefit of your town. Surely one scrap of vellum of little worth to you as it is, is a small price to pay. Scribe: ::Nodding sourly:: Aye, I agree. One scrap ::wagging one finger, ink-stained with dirt crusted under a long nail:: but no more! Avarin: Ink and a quill will also be needed. :: Scowling, the Scribe walked away, muttering under his breath, and motioned for her to follow. Together, they entered his home where the Scribe lifted scrolls and boxes, finally finding a scrap of vellum of suitable size. Avarin sat at his desk, an act which caused the man to start muttering again, and drew the map from memory. It was a task suited to her training though not within the skill set outlined on the card she had been given. The Scribe hovered over her shoulder, watching her work, and nodding in mute appreciation.:: Avarin: o0I can be only who I am.0o ::Rising:: Thank you, Sir. I will return this scrap when our task is complete. Scribe: ::Waving her off:: That were good work. No need to return it. Avarin: ::[...]ing her head to one side:: o0Illogical. It will disappear when the simulation ends. :: With that done, she returned to the group and wordlessly handed the map over to the Commander.:: ~*~**~*~**~*~**~*~ Ensign Avarin Engineering Officer I Whitehammers USS Blackwell My Writer ID: A239411ZC0
  14. @Randal Shayne I do love a Ferentis sim! Especially one as well crafted as this! ---------------------- ((Corridor on Deck 6, USS Blackwell)) ::The shimmering colors played against his eyes. Robust bronze, golden ochre, electric blues and every shade in between rebounded within the cramped confines of his working area. His eyesight was not quite up to par with most of the other members of the ship, but in such a feast for the cones as this, his visual inadequacy was hardly relevant. It was merely the reflective nature of the metals and their interaction with the light emitted by the transparent plasma conduit above him, but the rustic beauty it provided was undeniable. The tight EPS access, already a squeeze for most humanoids, proved positively stifling to his considerable bulk. Yet he toiled away regardless.:: ::He loved Gamma Shift.:: ::Ferentis knew how the majority of his fellow Gamma Shifters saw their assignment; as punishment. To any sane, social creature, what else could being relegated to the graveyard shift represent? For many, there was a certain, restrained resentment. Ferentis did not join them in this respect.:: ::Where his comrades complained of their isolation, he reveled in it. Being able to move without running aground on some poor ensign’s face was a tremendous relief. Even he, a Pahkwa’thanh- a race famed for their stringent and ubiquitous codes of etiquette- had begun to grow tired of the word “sorry”. You would too if you had to repeat it forty times a day for crashing into people. He fancied himself as graceful, and blamed these collisions on his natural physical bulk. Maybe he needed to consider the option that he was a genuine clutz.:: ::But not now. Now, he would bask in the lack of interaction, and fix things. In this case, an EPS manifold cut-off.:: ::As his massive talons nimbly provided the dexterity required for such a fragile job, his eyes drifted to a particularly vibrant blue hue out of the corner of his eye. Flecks of green appeared as he focused on it, and his mind immediately took him to the one place he was denied.:: ::Home.:: ::Flashes of forested swaths of contenant passed before his eyes. Great azure oceans and standing swamps pooling around tree trunks the size of warp nacelles. He missed the hot sun spilling against his thick hide, missed the hunt, longed for the stench of decaying plant life and fresh soil. He shut his eyes. Not only was that paradise hundreds of lightyears away, but inaccessible to him as a person. It had been months since the word had come in. Somehow, his family- for it could only have been his family- had maneuvered the Ministry to declare him persona non grata. His name, whatever title he may have inadvertently earned, any chance of returning...gone in single claw print.:: ::And why? Ferentis knew his family loathed him. They were a tiny minority on Pahkwa’thanh had always maintained an isolated viewpoint, and when he had first left their planet to explore, and to learn, he knew he was about as good as dead to virtually all of his immediate family, and probably beyond as well. He hadn’t always expected the relationship to be so...finalized. And now, the perpetual misfit- not welcome at home, not built for a starship, not young enough to start again- wondered what to look forward to.:: ::Even for him, a reserved, dignified individual, found that particular question too painful to dwell on. And so he dived back into his work. But after a few minutes of his brain refusing to clear itself of the loneliness, he realized he would need some additional help.:: Ferentis: Computer, recognize voice print. ::the computer bleeped its acknowledgement.:: Give me something good. ::The codeword was accepted, and he was instantly rewarded. A hard piano entry, accompanied by a bass and a resounding brass chorus gently echoed in his ears. Without meaning to, he began to hum along to the words.:: Computer: =/\= Father wears his Sunday best Mother’s tired, she needs a rest The kids are playing up downstairs Sister’s sighing in her sleep Brother’s got a date to keep, he can’t hang around… =/\= ::It was a harmless little program he’d designed to feed his ever-growing addiction to Earth music. His planet had little interest, and even less invention, when it came to music. Ferentis, ever an outsider, couldn’t imagine life without his tunes close at hand. At his command, the computer would lock onto his combadge and have the nearest ceiling speaker play something random from Earth’s past. Any sort of other communication, such as a ship wide message, would overrule the program- he wasn’t there to create problems. But, as the humans said, if he had it, flaunt it. He had the tech know-how to create what he wanted without massive ramifications. What was stopping him?:: ::The unusual nature of his hearing also helped him, allowing him to receive the full musical experience without cranking up the volume. Should anyone human stride up to him as he labored away at his little impromptu worksite, they’d find a dinosaur with his torso in a hole in the wall, jamming to a whisper.:: ::Suddenly he stopped as thoughts pooled into his mind, unbidden. His body froze, leathery skin and taught scales motionless. Images of the last shore leave, and his raktajino-fueled explosion of bad dancing assaulted him. In the moment he’d enjoyed it. In hindsight, the fact that an entire restaurant had seen him flailing about to music made him seriously consider the airlock. Though he was somewhat confident that no Starfleet personnel besides Anath G’Renn had seen him, even that was enough to make him blush hard. His control had been disrupted- a violation that would be difficult to forget.:: ::Now was not the best time for distractions, as was proven by the startling pain in his claw a moment later. A careless movement had left his now tender hand exposed to a breaker of some sort. He gave a quick, brutal roar, and sucked on the stinging, smoking digit hard.:: Crewman: =/\= Harper to Ensign Ferentis. =/\= ::Ferentis rolled his eyes, trying to keep himself under the most rigid control.:: Ferentis: =/\= Ferentis here. =/\= Crewman: =/\=Sir, I have a message here for you, marked personal. =/\= ::That stopped him. Slowly, he extracted his claw from his mouth. Who would send him a personal message? Certainly no one on Pahkwa’thanh. Nor was it likely to originate from someone he knew during his days on the rim. So who could possibly…:: ::Suddenly he realized the crewman was waiting on him.:: Ferentis: =/\= Thank you, Mr. Harper. Please send it to the terminal in my quarters. Ferentis out. =/\= ::The channel closed, and he found himself more preoccupied than ever. As the whirling thoughts and possibilities fought for ground inside his mind, he forced them down. The message could wait, as much as he craved to see who it was. Too often lately he had let his emotions guide him. He was disciplined individual. He would not yield to the cravings of curiosity when there was work to be done.:: ::And speaking of work, it looked like his little accident had disrupted power on Deck 7. He sighed, the music now a parody of his former decent mood. It would take some time to repair the faults.:: ((Some time later, another junction on Deck 7.)) ::His face was placid, but his mood was quickly dissolving. No one would ever know it, though. Years of control came in handy occasionally. He’d been working for hours, and finally, everything was beginning to approach tip-top shape. He flexed his thick neck, trying to relieve the kink that had found its way there as a result of odd angle he’d been holding it in. Once again, he was reminded of why so few of his people ever left their homeworld.:: Thoran: response. ::The voice startled him slightly, but even that minimal movement caused him to smash his head on the edge of the opening he now worked inside. A low groan escaped his lips before he moved to extricate himself.:: Ferentis: Yes, sir. I apologize for the difficulties- I’ve been working to correct them. I hope there have been no other problems? ::He was afraid that something like this would happen. His error was far from deadly- a minor blunder, at best. But he knew of this individual’s reputation for scrutiny, and excellence in his duties. He should have figured the security chief would have noticed.:: Thoran: response ::He caught the sight of his reflection in a shiny piece of bulkhead. His eyes were a little more red than usual. How long had he been going at this?:: Tag/TBC… PNPC Ensign Ferentis Engineer USS Blackwell NCC 58999 =======as simmed by======= Lieutenant Commander Randal Shayne Helmsman/Ops Officer/Second Officer USS Blackwell NCC 58999 G239202RS0
  15. ((Ilsam’s Quarters, USS Blackwell)) ::Looking around his quarters, he smiled softly. With his duties having calmed, he had at last been able to unpack. On a tall bookshelf near the sofa sat hard copies of his favorite collected literature works, a bin containing various PADDs, as well as a few unique artifacts he’d collected over the years. Most were reproductions, of course, with their original counterparts sitting in museums across the quadrant. But even the facsimiles offered a measure of connection to the histories behind them. His passion for art covered the walls of his quarters, a reproduction of Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” and many other classics, as well as a couple of his own paintings.:: ::On the desk in the far opposite corner with his monitor sat various images of his parents and his sister as well as one particularly good image of himself, Usatt, and Ilara. It had been taken on their first trip together. Until meeting his partners, he’d never been outside his home province. They’d travelled the world together, mostly for Usatt’s business conferences. Tai had often kept Ilara entertained with various museum visits, both sharing a passion for art and culture.:: ::A nostalgic smile touched his lips as he lifted the image and framed Ilara’s face gently with the edge of his thumb. She’d been so beautiful...so full of life. Even now, he could hear her laughter ringing out like bells as they danced under the clear, starry skies. The three had been seriously discussing conceiving a child when Usatt and Ilara had been killed. Tai had imagined a thousand times over the wife of his heart cradling the child in her arms after its birth, singing a soft melody in that perfect, lyrical voice of hers. His smile faded, replaced by an implacable longing to hold her in his arms again one last time, if only to tell her how much he loved her and how much she meant to him. How much she’d changed his life.:: ::Setting the image aside, he slid into the chair in front of his monitor, his gaze flickering to the image of himself and his sister, Prielle. His work had kept him rather busy, preventing him from contacting his sister for their daily communique. Given that he was on assignment, those calls were, unfortunately, likely to become fewer. He was uncertain how he’d cope with this drastic change in his life. Prielle had been a source of strength for him since he’d made the difficult choice to leave Bactrica and had kept him going when he’d wanted nothing more than to return home. He entered a series of commands into the panel, calling up the screen he was looking for.::
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