Karrod Niac

MSNPC's are such a vital part of our narrative structure - they can add so much flavor and gravitas to a mission when done right and I think this is a great example! In introducing their character and the situation, @Quentin Collins III has done a great job of contributing to our missions tone and I can't wait to see what we get next! Also, anybody else getting some Andor vibes? And I mean that as the highest compliment! ================================================================== ((Interior. ???. Sheliak Mining Camp, Hab Block 6.)) Two-thousand, one hundred and ninety-one days read the fuzzy display of Arianna's barely functioning visual display. Not that she needed the reminder. Basic training had all but hammered a finely tuned internal chronometer into her chest. She had felt and clocked every day here since the first. Just like Basic. Then it was Reveille at the crack of dawn, stringent PT throughout the day, insertion and TAC training throughout the night. Up, down, left, right. She had loved it then. Clung to it even, in some of the lowest moments. The routine, the repetition toward something greater. It was everything she had always wanted. But her life now? If one could even call it a life...it had the very same repetition. The very same routine. But it was cruel and twisted. Deadly even to some. She flexed her tired joints and swung her legs up and off the dirty standing cot that she shared with seven other "miners", four of which were already on shift and gone. Wiping a film of dust from her exposed eye and polishing as best as possible the implant ocular display on the other with the tail end of her tunic, she peered up and through the holey, corrugated wall of the Hab. Her flickering display concurred with her eyeballing. It was just about dawn. She had another few hours before she would be corralled with the rest of her shift. She finally stood, placing her aching feet carefully into her boots but not lacing them. Sleep had been but a memory for a while now, but she was really just trying to get through what she considered the worst part of her day. Crossing slowly, she started the day as she always did, trying to will feeling and strength back into her limbs. A nearly impossible task thanks to the meager food and water rations the Sheliak allowed them. But she started her walk anyway. Up and down once more the whole length of the Hab, as she had done many, many, MANY times before since her arrival...wherever this was. She used to do yoga, running drills, and war games with people she loved and respected. Now she had to shuffle up and down a rusty shack to indifferent, almost hostile glances from her "roommates", catching contemptuous looks at herself, from herself in the few mirrored surfaces of the Hab. Usually scraps of broken glass and smooth trisilicate shards smuggled into the Hab from shifts. Most days she figured it was what she deserved. Others, she couldn't even think about it at all. Those days, secretly, were the worst. Because that meant she was getting closer and closer to giving up. Closer and closer to acceptance and apathy. Something that would have been akin to blasphemy two-thousand days ago. A voice from that storied past found her again. Almost starling her as this had been the first thought not in her own voice for...too long she decided. "Nothing wins like time." By that metric...Time had had a stunning victory in sights for a while now. Maybe it was time for Arianna to accept that. Her body clearly had. Her once lustrous and sparkling hand circuitry and the lithe silver filigree that had run from her arm up into her cortex unit had chipped and dulled. Spriggy farm rows of thatched auburn hair had matted across the junction lines of her headpiece while the other side hung dirty and clumped nearly down past her shoulders now. Making her look like a half burned toy. She didn't even bother trying to maintain it anymore. It didn't get in the way of work, so why should- A rusty SHUNK-ing sound frightened her more than she expected it to. A far cry from the woman she once was, a sudden and jangling realization that just pitched her despair darker. The bad feeling continued as she realized who was standing in the now open doorway. Azo. Her "Shift Manager". A hysterically mundane moniker for what he really was. One step down from a slave driver. The equip belt hanging dumbly across his rippling form. The mag-stick was already in his...flipper? Blob? Arianna still didn't really understand Sheliak psyigomy. She just knew their capacity for cruelty and corporal punishment. Azo was...particularly skilled at both. But he was nearly a full two hours early. And seemed...oddly upright for his usually hunched and squelching gait. Sokova: What's- Azo: Out. On ssssshift. Sokova: I'm Second Shift. First isn't even done y- The mag-stick thrummed to life and Arianna felt as if a million tiny needles were prying up her hand circuits, pulling her forward even from her stance halfway across the Hab. This was painful, obviously, but it was also...new? That was...something. Something Arianna immediately filed away. She didn't like the idea of being pulled off of Grumm's shift, her only real contact to the before times... But...Azo not even teasing a carrot this time...and going for the mag-stick instantly to bully her back into the pathway toward the pit, slinking forward behind her like a slug. Old instincts flowed back into her as she darted her eye and optical scanner across the whole of the upper surface of the "mine". That same ripple on Azo was crinkling across the rest of the "Shift Managers", all of whom seemed to be driving their charges just a bit harder than usual. Yet another morsel of new that she filed away. oO They are nervous. Since when are the Sheliak nervous? Oo And then...for the first time in two-thousand, one hundred and ninety-one days, Arianna Sokova felt something else new...something that seemed far away and impossible... She felt something like hope. To Be Continued... Lieutenant JG Arianna Sokova Sheliak "Miner" As simmed by -- Lieutenant Commander Quentin Collins III Chief Science Officer -- U.S.S. ARROW NCC-69829 ID: E239512QC0 -- F.N.S. CONTRIBUTOR (SB118 Forums) ARROW WIKI OPERATOR

May the road rise to meet you, Jansen.

Somewhere old Geoff is smiling.

Ah, look at that fresh faced kid with barely a whisker on his chin.

Deeply appreciate the kind words @Quinn Reynolds & @Kali Nicholotti - means quite a lot. Edit: Additional thanks to @Tony, aka VAiru who I accidentally omitted from my original post! I'm thrilled to see how Wes and the Thor/‘Oumuamua have grown since my departure and I'm so glad you folks are doing well. Best of luck with the new ship!

With all due thanks and credit to the incomparable @Alieth I present - Classy Karrod:

I think First Contact is the absolute best TNG film and with that said - it's still a really bad movie. It starts incredibly abruptly and gives zero transitional time between Generations and the new Enterprise E, or the new conditions of the crew like Geordi's eyes. We very quickly launch into a major Borg action setpiece that could've easily been a major part of the film but it all happens so fast and so arbitrarily that even though the movie talks about it like it's the end of the world the whole thing is setup and over in less than ten minutes of screentime. Those ships that exploded? Who cares. How did the Borg get all the way to Earth again? Doesn't matter. Why do they launch a ball? Also doesn't matter. The whole first act feels like it's high speed setdressing to get us into our wacky time travel adventure which pendulums between antics on the surface and psychological horror and terror on the ship with our new techno-slick (and always damp looking) Borg. It's also the first time we really see the 'movie' arc for Picard - which is rapidly morphing from an elder-statesman and contemplative diplomat into a psychologically unstable action hero. It's baggage that chases the character all the way up to Picard S2 and it's never a good look for the character and it all starts right here. I love First Contact. But it's also terrible in a lot of significant ways that get looked past because it is arguably the only good Next Gen movie. Wrath of Khan this ain't.

hey thanks @Vitor S. Silveira!

We all form a special relationship with the ships we serve on and the occasion of losing one, even when 'planned,' can be very emotional for all involved. The former crew of the Reso decided to commemorate their lost vessel in this stirring and beautifully written group JP. Well done to everyone involved! ===================================================== (( OOC: A huge thank you to everyone who jumped into this scene! I loved reading what everyone added to our little private service. )) (( USS Resolution Memorial, Deck 227/228, Deep Space 224 )) With the lights at minimum illumination, the stars could easily be seen shining brightly through the viewports against the blackness of space. The only significant source of light in the room was the obelisk in the center, projecting a holographic image of the lost ship overhead. Yogan was the first to arrive, and when he stepped through the door into the darkened room, the projection of Resoltion backlit by the stars outside took him by surprise. He’d not seen Resolution during her final moments–the controlled descent into a planetoid with 14 souls still aboard–he had been aboard Rinascita Station at the time, fighting Suliban extremists, depleting oxygen, and his own symbiont. The holo-image of the small-but-heroic ship was how he preferred to remember her. The public dedication of the USS Resolution memorial was to take place shortly. They’d all been invited, but Yogan received permission for his crewmates to gather in private for a short while before the main ceremony. It would be an opportunity for them to see the memorial for the first time together, without the pressures of having to be “on” for the public and manage their reactions for an audience, however well-intentioned they might be. Yogan smiled as his cremates and friends entered and looked at the memorial. When it appeared that everyone who was going to come had arrived, Yogan stepped into the center of the room, just in front of the plaque at the base of the sculpture and broke the solem silence. Yalu: Thank you all for coming. The public ceremony will begin soon, but I thought we would all appreciate this time to ourselves. Before anything else, I just want you all to know that–– ::gestures to memorial:: this was made possible by the Commercial Sector Merchants’ Association. They spearheaded the effort to install a permanent memorial to our ship almost immediately after the news reached the station. Seeing this now, I just want to express gratitude to the shopkeepers and residens of Deep Space 224 for being a part of our extended ship family. Yogan hand brushed against the gold plaque, onto which the names of 13 Resolution crewmembers were etched. The fourteenth victim, Liam Wyke, was represented by a single five-pointed star, as he was not publicly identified in official reports until the necessary debriefings had concluded. Yogan briefly wondered if Admiral Regillensis would have appreciated an invitation to the public service, but that was impossible. He would likely not be a free man for a long time. Yalu: I don’t really have a program or an order of service, or anything like that. Just some time together, and say a few words. ::beat:: Captain, would you care to start? There was nothing quite like saying goodbye. Over the course of so many years and so many ships, homes, places she’d been, goodbye had started to become that ever consistent thorn in her side. Just when she was getting settled and stable, it would come along and knock her over. It would leave her scrambling for the next solid foundation, which she would often find just in time for another wave to sweep through. The Resolution was no different, and yet, it was as different as one could think because it was both a beginning and an end. The raven-haired command officer could still remember the day she set foot on the tiny Nova class ship for the first time, lockstep with Ensign’s Makal Kora and Eliaan Deron. Her fellow Academy graduates and friends had since left Starfleet, but that moment, over a decade ago, still seemed quite fresh in her renewed memory. Kali’s eyes fell on the memorial and considered all that it represented. The ship was gone, and with it, the lives of the few who could not escape the untimely demise. She would never walk the corridors where she had lived, and died, again. The echos of Jaxx, and Kora with his terrier Agrippa, of Guy Hunt, the Laudean child she’d nearly adopted, of her flute, and the budding love story she now found herself happily entrenched in would never be heard again save for in the deep recesses of the minds of those who were there. Those who would remember. As the room had filled, Kali found her way to the front of the small group, looking at each in turn. Her eyes settled on the darkness found in Genkos’ eyes and she found strength, even as though she thought he might feel it lacking. Try as she might, she was concerned that he would always feel as if part of the destruction was his fault, even if the board of inquiry, and she, thought otherwise. Nicholotti: There really are no words that can fully encompass the loss of the Resolution as well as this memorial, which will stand for as long as 224 does. It almost gives her a new life, despite the fact that she might not fly again. Kali took a momentary break before continuing. Nicholotti: The truth is, as long as we remember her, our service aboard her, and those who gave the ultimate sacrifice to make sure that everyone else got away…she’s never really gone. For a moment, her crystalline blues lost focus and her thoughts once more drifted to those early days. After the silence settled, she simply nodded to her first officer and took her seat. Addison nodded to her CO as she rose to take her place in front of the group. Her gaze fell upon the memorial - the beautiful granite, and the projection of a ship she never anticipated serving on brought a smile to her face. It was fitting, in her opinion, that the simple ship be memorialized in a monument equally simple - both were beautiful in their own ways. MacKenzie: ::gesturing to the memorial:: We cannot bring back those who were lost on the Resolution. Their deaths leave holes in our hearts that each of us will feel for the remainder of our days. Our service on that ship, and the shared experience of its destruction, has bonded us in ways that many crews will never know. She paused to look around at the familiar faces of her colleagues gathered. MacKenzie: But we are stronger for it. And now, we go forward carrying out the duty that our fallen comrades no longer can knowing that they died in service to Starfleet, honoring a mission and tradition that we all value and serve to protect. That is to be our greatest memorial to their legacy. She took a breath in through her nose as the faces of their colleagues flashed through her mind. After an exhale, she nodded to those who remained in front of her and returned to her seat. Vitor stood quietly as he waited for his turn. Although he was beginning to find some peace, being here wasn’t helping. The memories of his only mission on the Resolution weren’t pleasant ones. He even wondered if she should be there. But it was his turn. So he took the step forward. Silveira: I, regrettably, spent little time on the Resolution. Although I have been in the Fleet long enough to suffer losses, this was the first time the ship I served on was destroyed and so many of my comrades died. He paused, looking down, recalling them and his own memorial he did for them in Risa. Taking a breath he raised his head and spoke again. Silveira: I won’t need a memorial to remember them. But this is a deserved tribute to them all. He bowed to the memorial before returning to his previous position. Hallia took a deep breath, taking her own step forward, she folded her hands in front of her, feeling almost at a loss for words. This was far bigger than just simply one Starship, the Resolution was a place where Hallia felt like she was valued for her skills as an officer. She formed so many meaningful attachments and the Resolution had become a symbol of that. Stepping forward once again and then turning to face the officers gathered here today. Suddenly she was at a loss of words, and the old wounds she thought had long healed only seemed to open themselves up once again. Yellir: The Resolution was a small ship, yet like her crew, it was tougher than a diamond. I’m beyond thankful for the honour of sharing this journey with all of you. I wouldn’t trade all of our adventures, journeys to unfamiliar worlds and survey missions for the universe. To those we lost ::beat:: they’ll always be with us, and as Starfleet officers, we owe it to them to keep going just as they did. And… right now, I hope nothing more than to wish them safe travels on their own journeys, w- ::beat:: w-wherever they are… She felt her voice break towards the end of her speech. Once again, to steel her nerves, Hallia took a deep breath. Her lips quivered, yet her face didn’t change. Two tears slid down her cheeks as she looked the hologram in a moment of silence. As Iljor stepped forward, a strand of his shoulder length brown hair slipped from behind his right ear and gently rested against his face. Brushing it back, he turned to look at the assembled officers, all of whom he had come to consider family in one way or another. Then he gazed fondly at the holographic representation of the late starship Resolution and words came to him. Etan: Resolution was my first assignment out of the academy. A great bug deflector dish with a warp core attached. I didn’t know what to expect, to be totally honest. I’d expected a science station posting or somewhere in a laboratory. A starship was the furthest thing from my mind. But I am beyond grateful for the Resolution. She got us through some of the most difficult moments any of us could have expected. But most importantly- for me anyway- is that I found a family aboard her. And for that I will treasure my memories of the ship wherever I go. He looked at the hologram once more, bowed his head in a moment of respectful silence and then yielded the floor, wiping away a solitary tear. It was Genkos’ turn, and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he did so. This was tough - the Resolution was lost under his command, and it had been his final order evacuate the ship. His cane tapped loudly against the floor, sounding almost thunderous as he took a single step forward. Opening his eyes, he looked around at each of his fellow officers in turn and saw them staring back. Adea: The Resolution was our home, and the crew our family. I will forever be proud of what they achieved, and I am glad that whatever happens to us, even once we’re gone, this ::he waved to the memorial with his free arm:: will always remain. May the four ever watch over them. Then, looking down at his feet, he took another step back, his cane almost silent as he did so. After each of Yogan’s crewmates took the opportunity to speak, the room fell into solemn silence once again. He stepped forward, the sound of his boots against the deck echoing slightly in the large, mostly empty space, and he looked at the memorial once again. After losing the ship, watching the escape pods being recovered, writing the lists of survivors and lost, the investigation and subsequent testimony he’d given, and the distance of time since the disaster, he thought he’d made his peace and moved on. Not so. This was the thing he needed, the missing ingredient for closure. Yalu: Omed, my third host, once said, “Lifetimes of wisdom can make you arrogant. Lifetimes of heartache can make you timid.” It was caution, her warning against allowing events like the loss of our ship to make me jaded or paralyzed by indecision. When I looked at the image of the ship, and those fourteen names, I couldn’t help feeling those inevitable questions. “What could we have done differently?” “How could we have changed what happened?” The memory of standing in the shuttlebay of the USS Carpathia and clutching the PADD of names threatened to overwhelm him, but instead of suppressing it or fighting it, he allowed himself a moment for the wave to wash on by. Yalu: I will always remember this ship and the crew who served on her. But instead of dwelling here, I hope this memorial will allow me to look forward instead. To honor the ship and those we lost in the best way possible: by serving Starfleet and the Federation to the best of my ability, exploring space, and adding to my knowledge and understanding of the universe. I won’t always be perfect at it, but that’s what this moment, this memorial, means to me. Yogan could hear the sound of people assembling outside the doors, a low rumble of conversation that contrasted sharply with the almost chapel-like atmosphere inside the room. Yalu: The public ceremony is about to begin, and I’d like to invite everyone who wishes to to stay and dedicate the memorial. Before we let everyone else in, let’s have one last moment to remember the USS Resolution NCC-78145, and those fourteen people who gave their lives in her service: Iefyr Farrel, Chandra Amari, Verian Ohar, Gaavi Lak, Duncan Ruthers, Zenko-Taff, Ev’ell Gridung, Joss Ghunkep, Anaïs Burgess, T’Yor, Saar Spurloecke, Jane van Klaveren, Doria ch’Rino, and Liam Wyke. After the moment of silence, Yogan stepped over to the doors and allowed the residents and shopkeepers of Deep Space 224, the friends and associates who’d so kindly created permanent place of remembrance for them, to enter. [End scene] Commodore Kalianna Nicholotti – Commanding Officer – R238605KN0 Commander Addison MacKenzie – Executive Officer – V239601AM0 Commander Genkos Adea – Second Officer & Chief Medical Officer – G239502GS0 Lieutenant Commander Yogan Yalu – Strategic Operations Officer – D238804DS0 Lieutenant Etan Iljor – Chief Science Officer – C239203TW0 Lieutenant Hallia Yellir – Chief Engineer – G239409EK0 Lieutenant JG Vitor Silveira – Tactical Officer – O238907VS0 USS Excalibur NCC-41903-A

One of the real joys of 118 is watching a small idea grow into something big and ridiculous due to the fantastic contributions of others and @Etan Iljor hit it out of the park with this one. Great job buddy! ============================================================== (( Harbour Docks, The Village of Jupe )) At Kard’s instruction, Iljor wrapped his fingers around the smooth handle of the phaser. His heart beat a rhythm in his chest, thrashing against his ribcage like a mad plychyk in heat. Yet again, he found himself staring down the barrel of uncertainty thanks to a mission that humans might say had ‘gone to hell in a handbasket’ (whatever the heck that meant). The frigid air stung his cold, cosmetically altered blue skin and made his eyes water and with his free hand, he wiped the saline tears that had begun to leak out. Iljor watched as Kard peered around the shipping container the two were using for cover. For what seemed like an eternity, the Trill remained still as the creaking footsteps grew ever closer. Holding his breath, Iljor felt a thrill of fear travel from the base of his spine to the nape of his neck. Then, with surprising dexterity and grace, Kard lept from behind the crate. The muffled sounds of a struggle only lasted for two seconds before a large form dropped to the wooden slats of the dock. Iljor jumped in surprise, almost dropping the phaser in the process. It was only his lightning fast reflexes that prevented him from losing it at the last second. Kard had raised his fist and was barely an inch from the face of the form of the Demesian when he stopped. Even in the murk of grey fog, Iljor recognised the look of surprise on the man’s visage. Niac: Fungus?! ::Karrod hissed in surprise.:: What the hell are you doing here? Gawping at the rotund form of the tavernmaster, Iljor’s thoughts matched what Kard had hissed. Had it not been the very same man that had warned him that getting lost in the fog was as fate worse than death? What was so important to Fingus that he would risk such a fate? Lakar: Flying Embers Kard! ::He huffed a little.:: I nearly messed my trousers. For the first time, Fingus seemed to recognise that Iljor was there. Without hesitation, the scientist placed his hand holding the phaser behind his back to shield the weapon from the Demesian. The man shot him a quizzical look before he addressed Kard once again. Lakar: I expect I'm bloody well lost in this fog... I think... I think I've bumbled my fool self onto Thrike's wharf ::He narrowed his eyes.:: Wait, why in the fading sun are you here? The dock had suddenly fallen very quiet and Iljor could no longer hear the calls and barks of orders. Kard looked about once again before looking back at Iljor and Fingus. Niac: Shh, keep your voice down man...we're...uh...we've got an excellent reason to be here...which...Il was just about to explain...very quietly. A note of annoyance crept into the tenor of Iljor’s thoughts and he glared waspishly at Kard. If there was one thing that Iljor was not particularly good at- it was making up an excuse on the spot. His parents had taught him the value of telling the truth. Etan: oO How ironic… Oo ::he thought to himself, bitterly.:: ::he shifted.:: We were- Niac: Look this is just a misund... It was at that precise moment that Iljor felt something grab on to the collar of his oiled leather coat and hoist him upwards. In his surprise, he let go of the phaser as he flailed for purchase. The next thing he knew, he felt the ice cold touch of something sharp and metallic at his throat. He didn’t need to be an expert to know that they had been discovered and that somebody was currently holding a knife to him. Thrike: ....I warned you there were colder things in this world than the frost, yokel. Before them loomed the imposing form of Sydonia Thrike. Just as she had at their last encounter, the woman radiated aggression and power. Flanking her were half a dozen of her crew, all of whom looked impossibly menacing. One, Iljor noted with no small amount of trepidation, was missing an eye and at least half of his nose. He gulped. Lakar: Cap'n Thrike, this is... ::He laughed nervously.:: We got turned around in this fog... If you'll just point us towards the way out… Iljor looked down surreptitiously to see the phaser he had dropped lying to the right of his foot. Neither Thrike or her lackeys had noticed it- for the moment. The tenants of the Prime Directive thundered through his thoughts and he knew that he needed to prevent the Demesians from acquiring it. Slowly – very slowly – he nudged his foot towards the weapon. Niac: Uh…parlay? Thrike: Response. Iljor felt his boot touch the side of the phaser and he slowly moved it towards the edge of the dock less than two inches from their position. After an agonising second that stretched on forever, he felt the weapon fall off the side of the dock and land in the water with a gentle sploosh. He knew that he had just deprived Kard, Fingus and himself of a tactical advantage- but the risk of Thrike discovering the device was simply too great. They would simply have to find an alternate way out of the mess they had gotten themselves into. Lakar: Come on Captain, we didn't see anything, ::He gestured wildly.:: Nobody can see anything. Just... let us be on our way. Etan: We mean you no trouble. ::he said, hopefully.:: It is as Fingus here, says. We simply got lost in this infernal fog. Won’t you let us return to our homes and I promise that we will speak of this to nobody. Given how Thrike had treated him and Kard previously and her overall demeanour, Iljor knew that his entreaty was likely to fall on deaf ears. Thrike: Response. Lakar / Niac: Response. Three of the woman’s lackeys stepped forward brandishing what appeared to be hessian sacks. Instinctively, Iljor began to struggle, writhing in the tight grip of the goon with the knife to his neck. It was no good, for moments later, the man with one eye and half a nose placed the bag over his head. Then Iljor felt a sharp pain and the world around him dissolved into black. Before oblivion claimed him, Iljor realised that his best hope of survival lay in the hands of Tovir and Teeny- if she could be trusted. Etan: oO We’re scr-Oo And with that, the darkness took him. (( Time Skip )) (( An Indeterminate Amount Of Time Later )) (( Undisclosed Location - Demes II )) Sensation and consciousness returned to Iljor suddenly and without warning. Ice cold needles stung his face and he felt wetness envelop without warning. He jerked upwards, opening his eyes and gasping loudly, greedily gulping at the frigid air. Something, however, rooted him in his place. His looked around wildly, his now wet hair flinging droplets of arctic water all around like some great shaggy dog. He tried to stand again, but felt resistance and he realised that he was tied to something. Looking down he saw that he had been slumped in a chair and that his legs were tied to the two front legs and his hands to the backrest. The rope binding him to the seat was tight and extremely uncomfortable. He struggled for several seconds against the restraint but realised it would do him little good. Instead, he turned his attention to his new environ, eyes darting about and his senses taking in everything that he could. Dimly lit craggy rock met his eyes at every turn and he soon realised that he was in a cave. Shadows danced around the grey walls from the two torches on either side of the round space. Judging from what he knew of the situation on the Northern Peninsula, he reasoned that he was somewhere in the warren of caves that dotted the coast along the Northern Sea. The reports from both Starfleet Intelligence and the Federation Anthropological Council had suggested that the smuggling operation rife in the area around Jupe had been using them as a base of operations to avoid the prying eyes of the local constabulary. Across from him sat the unconscious forms of Kard and Fingus. To his righ, at almost ninety degrees, a guard stood watch over the now-prisoners, her back to him. The torchlight glinted off the serrated blade at her hip. Guard: It will do ye nae good to struggle. ::she growled, not turning around. Iljor thought that he could detect a note of humour in the woman’s voice.:: There’s no finer knotter in the Northern Peninsula than Clhem. ::she added with an air of affected nonchalance.:: Etan: Release us! ::he demanded, a surge of anger coursing through him like a fire.:: We have done naught wrong but been in the wrong place! The guard turned suddenly and strode across the cave and struck him with the back of her palm. Iljor’s head snapped to the left and he felt the sting of her strike stabbing at his cheek and made him wince. He looked back and up at her, eyes defiant. The woman unsheathed her dagger and placed it’s flat top side against the skin of his chin. Guard: One more word such as that out of ye and I’ll cut your tongue out and feast upon it for dinner. When Iljor said nothing, she released the dagger from his chin, glared menacingly at him and then strode back to the entrance of the tunnel beyond the chamber. A groan from across the otherside of the room garnered Iljor’s attention and he looked in time to see Fingus and Kard stirring from their enforced slumber. Etan: Fingus! ::he hissed.:: Kard! Lakar / Niac: Response. Etan: Are you both okay? It was a stupid question. None of them were okay. The three were bound and captive kosst-knew how far from Jupe and at the mercy of Captain Thrike and her merry band of smugglers. The only thing going for them was that Tovir and Teeny were still uncaptured- but who knew how long that would last. Lakar / Niac: Response. Etan: I think we are in the caves near the village. ::he looked around.:: Never did I think I would miss our house. ::he added, sardonically, giving Kard a humourless grin.:: Lakar / Niac: Response. Etan: I have no idea. ::he shrugged as best as he could.:: Our jailer will not tell me anything. ::he jerked towards the guard who was studiously ignoring the captive trio.:: Lakar / Niac: Response. TAG! -- Lieutenant Etan Iljor Chief Science Officer USS Excalibur NCC - 41903 - A C239203TW0 Reply all Reply to author Forward

These plates will increase in value, and that's a Good Job Guarantee!

The current Thor/Amity joint mission has generated a lot of highlights for me but I wanted to take a moment to show my appreciation for @Ikaia Wong's humor and style. This JP was his idea, went in completely unexpected directions and ended up being a real pleasure to work on. I hope this encourages folks to reach out and try writing with new people as often as you can! =================================================== ((High Containment Science Lab 4, Deck 3, USS Thor)) Geoff Teller grumbled slightly as he made his way from his office to the lab spaces on Deck 3. The visiting crew of Amity had been given run of the ship and while that hadn’t been a problem, it had mostly lead to some vaguely lost officers wandering the halls. As First Officer, he’d been primarily responsible for herding these lost sheep so when he received an alert from the High Containment Science Labs, one of the few fully restricted areas aboard ship, he assumed it was simply another officer who had gotten turned while looking for the ships spa. What he wasn’t expecting was a frantic looking medical officer tending to a large and varied collection of plants, spread across several of the lab tables in specialized bio-monitoring pods. Geoff watched in bemused silence for a few moments as the young officer, a Lt. in blue with an oversized lab coat, ran the scanner from a medical tricorder over one of the bits of flora before reviewing the readings with narrowed eyes. When Geoff realized he’d likely be standing there for hours if he didn’t say something, he cleared his throat politely and spoke up with a smile. Teller: I don’t remember authorizing a new Arboretum on this deck, Lieutenant. Ikaia nearly jumped out of his skin from hearing that voice. His hand reached up and clutched his chest as he spun around. Wong: Ah! Commander! I didn’t see you there! ::Takes a moment to breathe:: I nearly had a heart attack…. Geoff chuckled and put his hands up in a placating gesture. Teller: As you were, this isn’t exactly a formal inspection. I don’t think we’ve met...Geoff Teller, ships XO. He stepped from the doorway and offered a hand in greeting. Ikaia allowed his hand to drop from his chest as he tried to relax. He reached out to shake the ginger haired officer’s hand. Wong: I’m Lieutenant Ikaia Wong. Physician Assistant and part of the Amity crew. Nice to meet you, Commander. Teller: Ah yes, Mr. Wong...I remember your name from the manifest. You’re Amity’s incoming Chief Medical Officer, right? ::Geoff nodded to the wide assortment of plants:: Botany a hobby or are these for medical use? Ikaia put his tricorder down on the nearest counter. He had been caring for many of these plants since he was an ensign. In fact, it was a collection of plants he had inherited from a previous doctor. In many ways, he felt like he had adopted them. Wong: Ah yes. That’s correct. I’m looking forward to my new posting. As for these… ::gesturing to his plants:: …. They’re something of a practical hobby, I suppose. I’ve been caring for them for a better part of a year and in their care, I’ve also been studying them as well. With the exception of the aloe, many have their origins in The Shoals. Teller: Ah I see...quite the impressive collection in that case. ::Geoff walked over and looked at a few closely, surprised to recognize a few varieties from Ketar V and Havleys Hope:: In fact, I might want to steal a few ideas from the designs...I’m always looking for a way to grow a better coffee bean. Ikaia offered a curious head tilt. Wong: Are you into botany as well? Or coffee? You almost make it sound like you’re sourcing something for The Brew Continuum. Teller: The Brew Continuum? ::Geoff’s expression was the picture of innocent ignorance:: Never heard of it. Ikaia raised an eyebrow at him for a moment. Then a smile crosses his face. What a cheeky Commander! Wong: I know that at one point, the Brew Continuum was created by you. I can say I recognize at least your name from that. I was a regular customer back on the Veritas. Geoff found himself smiling again, thinking back to the tiny converted storage space that had grown into so much more over the years. Teller: Guilty as charged. ::Teller nodded back towards one of the pods:: Don’t think I’ve ever seen that species before...the hell is it? And why is it doing...that. Ikaia picked up a watering can and went to water one of the plants. He stopped to glance back at Teller. Wong: Be careful around that one. That’s u. Tempturvium. It may be beautiful to look at. But it’s actually about to bloom very soon. It lets off a fine mist of oils that smell very much like a rotting corpse. A sonic shower absolutely will not remove the smell from your skin and well…. The less said about what it will do to your uniform, the better. I’ve had a few incidents with it. The Klingon PA could remember the first time he encountered the Tempturvium’s oils. He got a face full of it. This would have been a horrible experience for a human. But for a Klingon, it was like entering a level of hell. Especially in getting it directly in the face. He could still smell that rancid smell for a few days following the incident. Teller: Great, a stinkbomb plant. Well, at least it’s in the right place - we can eject this whole lab compartment directly out to space if we need to. Haven’t had to do it yet but there’s always a first time. Geoff shook his head and took an extra wide step around the cylinder. Teller: What is that? Ikaia moved over to the next plant. It looked like a collection of vines curled up in a pot. Wong: This one is v. Eatoanium. It’s a fast growing carnivorous vine. I suspect that in its native environment that it would have snagged small prey items such as small birds or rodents. However, this specimen has been known to go after well…. Me. I’ve found ways of placating it, though. Geoff leaned forward just enough to catch the vines ‘attention,’ which began wriggling within the containment chamber. Teller got the impression that ‘Eatoanium’s definition of small prey definitely included him. Teller: Interesting choice of pets, Mr. Wong. I find myself glad you’re taking them as far from me as logistically possible, though. Wong: You can see why I asked for high containment lab space for these plants. Many of them have specialized care needs and probably wouldn’t have been safe to be allowed into the Arboretum where anyone could have access. Previously, I kept them in my office as it was the safest place for them and typically, I was the only one who usually used that office. Geoff snorted, remembering the close quarters aboard the Veritas and imagining this flower show jammed in it. It definitely would’ve made a visit to Sickbay a lot more interesting. He dug a small padd out and verified that the lab was properly assigned to Lt. Wong for the duration of the journey and, satisfied all was in order, prepared to leave. Teller: Absolutely appropriate, Mr. Wong. I don’t think the Commodore would appreciate having his stroll through the Arboretum disrupted by the scent of corpses. Alright, I’ll leave you to it Lieutenant - as you were. Geoff turned to leave but only made it a step before he paused. The vinelike ‘Eatoanium’ was writhing violently within its containment vessel and the whole apparatus was beginning to thrash about on the lab table. Teller: Your salad looks upset, Mr. Wong. Ikaia paused to look over the Eatoanium. He froze. A look of horror briefly crossed his face. Wong: Where’s the PADD that went with this? This plant needs that PADD. Geoff’s eyebrows went up as he took another instinctive step backwards. Already, Ikaia could see the vines shift and move. He started backing up as soon as they started slithering out of the pot. Teller: Wasn’t anything on the table when I walked in here. What do you mean the plant needs the padd? It’s just a plant….right? Almost in response the whole writing mass of vines shifted as once, tipping the containment chamber off the table and onto the floor where it shattered open with a crash. Alarms began howling and alert strobes began blinking urgently and the labs heavy isolation doors slammed into lockdown with a muted thud. They were now locked in a very thick duranium box surrounded by numerous redundant containment fields. Wong: Usually, this is placated with recordings of Picard’s speeches or 80s power jams! Something about the rhythm usually calms it down! That’s why I had the PADD with this plant! ::Turns around to see the isolation doors slam shut:: Oh that’s just perfect! It’s a plant! Not some spore or highly dangerous contagion that will invert your rib cage or fill your sinuses with incompatible fluids! Geoff worried about how unusually specific those two descriptions were but felt it wise not to press the issue at the moment. He had other, more immediate concerns. Teller: Computer, erect a level ten containme…. Geoff ducked as the vines slapped a tray full of instruments his way. When he looked back, the mass of vines had vanished, scuttling behind one of the lab tables or possibly into the equipment racks. Bits of gear clattered to the ground as the creature shifted. Ikaia put his hands on his hips as he pushed some air out of his cheeks. This has turned into a much bigger mess than usual. He went looking for a PADD. Wong: Well THAT'S new. Normally, that plant isn't entirely mobile. Teller: =/\= Teller to Larell - Chief, we’re stuck in one of the science labs with an angry plant, tell me you can beam us out of here. =/\= Geoff suspected he already knew the answer, but he had to ask. Larell: =/\= Sorry sir, you know how strict the lockdown protocol is around the labs. You’d have to bring down the isolation fields for me to get a lock and if the computer detects those have failed, it’ll automatically eject the lab. Can’t do it, sir. =/\= Already the plant had decided enough was enough as it started chucking lab equipment at Ikaia. The Klingon PA squeaked as he saw a microscope come flying towards his face. He quickly dodged that one. Wong: For the love of Kāne! You get back here this instant! ::Dodges some empty petri dishes:: Teller: Stay on it, Chief, we need some kinda way out that doesn’t involve floating home. Larell: =/\= Yes sir, I’ll give you an update as soon as we have something. =/\= Geoff sighed to himself, wondering how his day had gotten this far away from him so quickly, before shooting a scowl in the direction of the nearby Mr. Wong. Teller: So we’re locked in...we try to break out, we get ejected into space. We try to beam out, we get ejected into space. Compartment’s independent life support is only good for about...oh..four or five hours. ::Geoff leaned back against one of the lab tables as casually as he could:: I’m open to suggestions, Mister. Ikaia picked up a tray to shield his face. More petri dishes rebounded off of it. Wong: Our issue is two fold here and it's not as simple as looking for a means to escape. We need to calm down my Eatoanium first. It's likely agitated from the alarms. There's a PADD on the far counter I've been recording my work on. If we load that with the correct sounds, we might be able to soothe it. Either that or--- ::a vine now lashes out at him causing him to yelp!:: GAH! Either that or we both end up on the menu after it's done with its temper tantrum! Ikaia vaguely motioned to where the PADD he mentioned was. He knew that if they didn’t calm down his plant before their escape, there was a chance it could be released into the ship at large and this was something he did NOT want escaping the lab. Wong: The second part of our plan, the escaping part, we're going to need your PADD for the security clearance alone. I've been having a number of issues surrounding my guest clearance. Most of which surround doors and replicators. I will NEVER eat wasabi-cilantro paste out of desperation again! Geoff ducked under something that looked suspiciously like a microscope hurtling through the air and crouched low, trying to keep a few heavy solid barriers between him and the aggravated parsley. Teller: I can’t lift the lockdown until we get that thing... ::A beaker flew and shattered against a far wall:: ..back in a tube and the computer is content there’s no hazard to the ship. Wong: Right. As to what we need the PADD for ----- ::Deflects a vine with his tray:: Ugh! Let’s just get my plant to settle down and take it from there? Geoff took a quick glance over the top of the lab table and still couldn’t find any evidence of an errant padd. With a sinking suspicion he ducked back behind the table and turned his attention out the observation windows at the rear of the lab and into the connecting compartment. There, on a small worktable just on the other side of the sealed door a Padd sat perched, completely out of reach. Teller: Well, the good news is I found your padd. Geoff pointed out the nearby window and shrugged in frustration. It may as well have been on Vulcan for all the help it would be out there. Wong: This is literally the third thing I've been trapped in in about six months! ::A beat:: The good news? Why does it sound like there’s BAD news? Ikaia felt something wrap around his right foot. He screamed as it yanked him over. He fell flat on his butt and felt himself being dragged across the floor. He smacked at some other vines coming for him with his tray. It looked like Klingon was on the main menu as an entré! Geoff dove around the table and grabbed the man's labcoat, yanking backwards as hard as he could. The plant had an alarmingly firm grip. Well, Ikaia had mostly been yanked away from his plant. The vines were still firmly wrapped around Ikaia’s boots while his bare feet were free to the elements in the lab. Ikaia grabbed the counter top and stumbled back to his feet. Teller: Hold on! What did you say was on that padd again? Music and speeches?! Wong: Yes! 80s power jams and Picard’s speeches. That’s the only thing that seems to calm it down! Teller: Well library computer access was cut when the lab went into isolation mode and my singing is limited to sea shanties....how’s your accent? Wong: My accent? Well, it’s Hawaiian…. Teller: No, your french accent! Start Picard’ing, that’s an order! Wong: Oh. Riiight. Uh… ahem…. :Glancing nervously at the vines coming for him:: “Starfleet was founded upon seeking out life. To boldly go---” GAH! Ikaia ducked as one of his boots was flung back at him. Teller: No no, it’s gotta be a little more British than that for some reason! Like this…::Geoff took a deep breath and tried to draw upon the gravitas, poise and baldness of one of Starfleet’s most legendary officers.. ”“We’ve made too many compromises already. Too many retreats. They invade our space and we fall back...this far...no farther....” The creature continued to thrash about but the vines slowed slightly, but his [...]-french accent would not have won him any awards. Ikaia tried to concentrate. What did a French-British accent sound like again? Wong: Okay okay. Let me try this - “While most of us recoil in fear, we must remember that this plant, the Eatoanium, is still worthy of our care. It has demonstrated at least on some level sentience. Are we not there to seek out new life?” He could see his plant starting to calm down a little more. It was still gripping on to that other boot. Teller: It’s working! ::Geoff cleared his throat and tried again for something approaching stately gentility::...”With the first link, the chain is forged….The first speech censured, the first thought forbidden….” Teller doubted he’d win Starbase 80’s famed talent contest but the creature was loosening its grip, and Geoff was able to haul Mr. Wong backwards towards relative safety, but not before another projectile headed their way. It flung the last boot. It rebounded off of Ikaia’s head. He yelped as it smacked him. He was getting really tired of being hit with things. Wong: Ow! GEEZ! Ugh….“That is one of the tenants that Starfleet was founded upon. We are Starfleet. It is our duty to ensure that this plant is well cared for as long as it is under our protection. It is not to be ejected into space like refuse.” Geoff put aside his personal feelings in this moment of deep crisis and called upon the powers of Earl Grey himself. Teller: “The first duty of every starfleet officer is to the truth! Whether it's scientific truth, or...uh”…::Geoff’s memory was failing him so he improvised.::....to space truth...or...ground..truth... The plant was starting to come down off the shelving. Ikaia crouched down low and started making his way closer. Wong: Ah… it’s working….. It’s calming down…. Ah “Part of seeking out new life is also the care and protection of that new life. That’s what we must do. This is not a compromise.” Geoff tried to lower his voice towards a register he hoped was soothing as he slowly lifted an unbroken containment canister. Teller: “So I lied...cheated….bribed men to cover the crimes of other men….”...wait, dammit, that’s not a Picard speech. ::Geoff took another small step towards the creature and nodded to Mr. Wong.:: “There’s coffee in that neb…” dammit that’s not right either. Ikaia calmly approached his plant. The vines were already starting to curl back up into its pot. He carefully picked it up in his hands. Wong: ::Whispering:: Are you ready to seal it up? We’ve got it back into dormancy. With the vines as docile as he’d seen them, Geoff crossed the final meter and scooped the vines into the canister and sealed it in one quick motion. It wasn’t until after he’d gotten it fully back on the lab table and behind a level five containment field that both men exhaled and slumped to the floor, Geoff’s back against one of the tumbled equipment racks. After a few deep breaths, Geoff laughed out loud at the absurdity of the last few minutes until his eyes were watering. When he could catch his breath again, he wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes and tapped his com badge. Ikaia was more than thrilled to see his plant safely tucked behind glass. He rested his back against a counter as he seemingly sprawled across the floor. Ikaia snorted. The ludicrousness of it all! But at least everyone including the plant was safe. Wong: ::Sighs:: That’s a relief….. Maybe now we can lift the lockdown? Teller: =/\= Computer, lift isolation lockdown on containment lab 4, Authorization Teller Sigma Kilo Alpha Nebula Tango Sigma. =/\= Computer: =/\= Unable to comply, internal sensors detect a possible contagion which matches established viral profiles. =/\= Geoff gulped, his good humor forgotten. He looked around nearby and found several tricorders scattered in the debris on the floor. He flipped one to Wong and began scanning the area the vines had been writhing around. Ikaia blinked at what the computer had said. Sure, he often worked around the sick. But that wasn’t without decontamination afterwards. He took the tricorder in his hands and began looking. Teller: Were you storing anything else in here? Biomatter? Research samples? Especially pungent cheese? Wong: There shouldn’t be. I always decontam whenever I deal with the sick. There shouldn’t be anything here. Teller: Tricorder’s picking up nothing over here...air reads fine....no particulate matter...no radiation...certainly nothing that looks like a virus….you got anything? Ikaia was about to get up when his hands brushed against his thigh. It stung when he touched it. Bringing his hand up to his face, he could see a pink liquid coating his fingers. Blood. His blood. He glanced down at his thigh and sure enough, he could see where it had been sliced. Possibly from the glass when the Eatoanium escaped. Wong: I think some of the glass got me. My thigh’s been slashed by something. I’m going to need a dermal regenerator here to fix it. Geoff swung around in alarm at the shrieking tricorder. Teller: Stay still, try not to move. It could be on your uniform...we could still decontaminate it… Ikaia froze. He looked at Teller. Wong: Wait. On me? Geoff narrowed the scan field on his tricorder and took a few steps back towards Mr. Wong, following the increasingly rapid beeps from the scanner. When he was within a meter, he slowly panned the device down, starting with Mr. Wongs head. Teller: I’m no medical officer, Mr. Wong, but I’m picking up something tricorder thinks is a retrovirus…. Ikaia’s eyes went wide. It was as if Teller had said something that had triggered a memory for him…. ((Flashback - Russell River Mines - Approximately Six Months Earlier…..)) S’Ten: What do you know of Drell? That question came as a surprise to him. His hand slowly reached up to touch his hair. Since he started experiencing new cultures and other planets on his travels with Starfleet, that name has come up over and over again. Mostly in response to his blond hair. Some days, he was half tempted to dye it just to keep a lower profile if he knew he was dealing with other Klingons. Wong: House of Drell. I’ve heard of it. Mostly through it being shouted at me with plenty of finger pointing. But I really don’t know much about it. Except for that blond hair seems to be a house trait. Although, I’m not sure if I’m connected to that house or not. I absolutely know nothing. What do you know about this? S’Ten: I see. I can only tell you what I know from my briefings on Romulus. It was important to understand the workings of Great Houses, while they are an Empire there are always disputes between their houses, which is something that can be exploited during a conflict. Membership of a Great house has traditionally been by virtue of birth, or marriage. But the House of Drell was different. You are aware of the Klingon augment virus? Wong: Bits and pieces about it from what’s been mentioned in Starfleet databases. Victims impacted by it lost their head crests. S’Ten: The first Klingon that was born with blond hair was a result of this virus. Over time, Klingons with your hair color were born throughout the population, but only a handful. Word of them spread, and they became shunned like other augments. As a joke, Klingons said that blond Klingons were of “jul”¸ the Klingon word for “sun”. Klingons also found it amusing to claim that any Klingon born of jul were of the same family. One blonde Klingon was so incensed by being teased constantly that she formed a house named “Drell”, a play on the word jul. She declared that any blond Klingon was instantly a member of Drell, should they choose to be. Wong: Did all those impacted join this house? S’Ten: Many blond Klingons joined, proudly. Conversely, many sought genetic modification. And some… were sent from the Empire by their parents to live elsewhere. Ikaia frowned slightly. The gene pool expanded significantly and even if he got a hit in his search using DNA, it didn’t mean that it would be someone from this house. His investigation has just hit its first snag. ((High Containment Science Lab 4, Deck 3, USS Thor - Present day….)) Ikaia scanned himself and began cross referencing his DNA with the RNA of the Augment Virus on file. Sure enough, the virus had been embedded in his DNA. It was less than a 5% fragment of the original virus. But it was still there. He briefly reached up to touch his blond hair for a moment. Ikaia’s breath seemed to be caught inside his chest. Time almost felt like it had stopped for him. This was a major revelation. The reason for his hair colour, for who he was came down to a virus fragment. He looked at Teller wide eyed. He had been quiet in his realization for the longest time. At that moment, he finally broke his silence. Wong: Commander….. That virus you’re picking up isn’t on me. It’s a part of me. Geoff’s attention turned away from the baffled tricorder and towards the bewildered looking Mr. Wong. Teller: That’s...that’s somewhat alarming. I’m alarmed. I feel like you should be more alarmed. The lab is certainly alarmed. Wong: I have less than a 5% fragment of the Klingon Augment Virus embedded in my DNA. It’s what’s causing the blond hair and I suspect what triggered the lockdown when I got cut by the glass. It was never my plant. It was me the entire time. Geoff flipped the tricorder closed and scowled but focused on the immediate problem and located the compartment's medical kit, one of the few things that hadn’t been tossed around. Teller: Pretty basic but there’s a dermal regenerator in here along with some broad spectrum antivirals... Wong: I’m not contagious nor am I sick. It’s a virus fragment. But it’s certainly enough to trigger the lockdown of the labs. I’m sorry, Commander. Which meant that now the labs had to be keyed into his DNA just to avoid future lockdowns pending their survival from this lockdown. Teller: Well, it’s not really me you need to apologize to, it’s the sensors in here. Patch yourself up and try not to bleed on anything else. We’re going to need to decontaminate every surface you’ve touched or brushed against and…::Geoff shook his head, wondering how he’d explain this to the Commodore.::...lose the pants. Gonna have to vaporize those. oOExcuse me. Who’s the medical officer around here---- wait. Is he REALLY suggesting THAT?! That’s EXTREME.Oo Wong: You’re asking me to depants myself and BURN them?! Am I hearing this correctly? Teller: Look, I’m not the one who [...]ed off the computer, so I get to keep my pants…. A single drop of pinkish blood, accidentally smeared across the back of Mr. Wong’s tricorder dangled and fell before either man could react. Geoff could only watch in horror as it landed with a small splat on the right leg of his uniform pants. Ikaia gave something of a coy head tilt. Wong: Hmm yes. I seem to recall something to the effect of vaporizing one’s pants if they’re contaminated with my blood? Ikaia started to remove his pants. This was quite embarrassing. Almost as much as the tattoo on his backside. Teller: Welp...yep, ok, now we’re going to be two totally normal officers not wearing pants, cleaning a lab. ::Geoff sighed and began sifting through equipment on one of the nearby racks.:: Find yourself a subsonic sterilizer and get to work once that leg is patched up. Wong: Don’t worry, Commander. I very much understand sterilization procedures and medical care. Pretty sure that’s why I’m the Amity’s CMO. ::Sighs:: This is really embarrassing. We’re really going to have to key in my DNA into things to avoid generating false positives in the future. He finally removed his pants entirely and folded them up on the floor leaving him in his standard issue Starfleet boxers. He cleaned off his hands and grabbed the dermal regenerator to run across his wound. The whole incident had him stressed out, if he had to be honest with himself. It wasn’t just that he’d have to make the long walk to his quarters without any pants. It was what he had just learned here today. It was entirely possible with the virus fragment in his DNA that he was a member of the House of Drell. But given how Klingons handled matters like this, there was still a chance he may not be. Either way, this was a heavy result for him. It made him somewhat terrified of what the entire truth was going to be. Wong: Sorry about the mess….. It was the better part of an hour before the two men, fully stripped down to their starfleet standard issue skivies, emerged from a lab the computer now considered entirely free of pathogens. Both men made a dash for the nearby turbolift in an attempt to forestall questions or curious glances and they were entirely successful, except for Lt. Kowalski, who valiantly managed to restrain their laughter inside the turbolift car until Geoff stepped out, but broke before the doors could close again. [End] ======================================== Lieutenant Ikaia Wong PA-C Chief Medical Officer Amity Outpost V239711IW0 & Commander Geoffrey Teller Executive Officer USS Thor - NCC 82607 Commodore A. Kells, Commanding V239509GT0

Welcome aboard @Sival!

Welcome Aboard!

Welcome aboard! It was a pleasure writing with you in class and I'm confident you'll do great in the fleet!

I'm honored that I was able to participate in such a special moment for my CO, @Tony, aka Kells, and that I could help be part of what made it special for him! To all our guests you have our sincerest thanks for participating! =========================================================== (( Main Arboretum, Deck 5, USS Thor )) In his dress whites for the first time in a long while, Geoff felt an odd bit of nervousness creeping in around the edges of his fairly manic last minute planning. The guests were due to arrive at any moment and represented friends, mentors, colleagues and some of the upper echelons of modern Starfleet. It would be the largest single function the Thor had hosted and, thankfully, it wasn’t even Teller’s court martial. Fleet Captain Aron Kells, his CO and friend, was about to step into the truly rarefied air of the Starfleet and all these fine people were arriving to celebrate and witness the moment. Teller: Commodore Kells...rolls off the tongue. Very nautical. I like it. Talik: Sir, are you talking to me? A nearby petty officer was arranging trays of food on a nearby table, designed to mix in with the ambient foliage and rolling green grasses of their small slice of nature. Geoff realized as he listened to the rushing of the nearby waterfall that he hadn’t spent nearly as much time in this room as he should’ve over the last year. It was a profoundly soothing space, most especially here under the wide boughs and thick leaves of the central tree. The air handling systems had been designed to emulate a planetary weather pattern and Geoff found the occasional hint of breeze rippling in the treetop tremendously calming. Talik:....sir? Geoff took a deep breath, smiled, and put aside his small reverie. Teller: I wasn’t, Mr. Talik, but your opinion is welcome, and speak freely. Think the Fleet Captain’s new title suits him? The petty officer placed the tray down and considered his response for a moment before speaking. Talik: Well, honestly...sir...it’s a little...embarrassing to say but… Geoff's eyes crinkled into a confused squint. Talik:...well it’s just...Co’mo’dr is the archfiend of the afterlife on Denobula...I grew up there and I guess the name...stuck in my head. Geoff snorted, rolling the unfamiliar pronunciation around, entirely amused. Teller: I’ll make sure to pass that along to Starfleet Command. Can’t have the higher ups getting called devils behind their backs. ::Geoff lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper:: Not when they don’t deserve it, anyway. Geoff winked to the young crewman and relaxed a hair as the large double doors to the arboretum opened. Their first guests were arriving. Teller: Various sirs, ma’ams, honored non-specifics ::Teller was babbling. Apparently that ninth cup of coffee had been one too many.:: Welcome everyone, welcome. Please, make yourselves comfortable while the rest of our guests arrive. We’ll be getting started in just a few minutes. The Constitution was on shore leave; fairly extended shore leave due to the slight issue of not being entirely in one piece, the most notable issue being the missing warp nacelle. Which meant that, after a trip to Vulcan, to detour via Cardassian space on the way back to the Marchlands in the galactic south. Saveron had never really anticipated stepping foot on the Thor, but this was the second time within a relatively short space of time. Dressed in the robe variant of Starfleet dress whites, the Vulcan Commander paused to regard the expansive greenery afforded by the Arboretum, before his grey gaze fell on one of the few familiar faces. Approaching, he raised one hand in the ta’al, the traditional splay-fingered Vulcan greeting. Saveron: Commander Teller. It is agreeable to be in your presence again, and observe that you appear to be well. Given that the last - and first - time they’d met was so that Saveron could help extract the katric remains of Alieth’s long-dead lover from Geoff’s brain before he went completely mad, the fact that the Thor’s FO appeared to be suitably functional was eminently acceptable. Teller: Commander Saveron! I’m glad you were able to make the trip again, I never really got to thank you for the whole ::Geoff artistically pantomimed removing a ghost from one's head via the ear:: well, anyway...I owe you one. Geoff extended his hand in the ta’al but his smirk was far from stoic. Teller: That’s a Good Job Guarantee. Buried somewhere in his uniform jacket Geoff’s padd chirped with an incoming message. With a smile and a wave, Geoff watched Commander Saveron join the rest of the party as he dug out the padd and discovered a message for their guest of honor. // To: Commodore Aron Kells, Commanding Officer, USS Thor NCC-82607 From: Lieutenant Commander Chythar Skyfire, Medical Officer, USS Chin'toka NCC-97187 Subject: Congratulations & Invitation Hey, Kells. It's good to see you excelling in the fleet and I wish I'd be able to present a kilo of our Chin'toka-branded Nip of Winter in person, but with all of the planning for my wedding going on I am not exactly Mr. Free Time. I have arranged for said kilo of coffee to be delivered to you. By the by, if you aren't doing anything in October, I was wondering if you'd be interested in popping over to the Chin'toka for my wedding to Lael. I so rarely do social things in the public's eye, but here's a recording for you to enjoy of the proposal. And man, let me tell you keeping her in the dark that long was hard. Miss you, buddy. Fair winds. Fair winds and following seas, commodore. Regards, CD // Geoff smiled as he pocketed the padd, glad his first CMO was happy and well aboard the Chin’toka. He’d make sure the soon to be minted Commodore saw the message after the ceremony. Compared to normal space the Shoals was like mashed potatoes compared to - well, normal space. Thick and gluggy, and hard to navigate through. When Lieutenant Commander Wil Ukinix of the USS Veritas had received an invite to the celebration of Fleet Captain Kell’s promotion to Commodore, he couldn’t resist. So he’d made his way to the Thor despite knowing how slow the initial journey from the Shoals would be. Kells had been marooned on a tropical moon along with Wil and the rest of the Veritas crew, and Wil had personally escorted his ex-crewmate, good mate and continental neighbour Nic del Vedova back to Fleet Captain Kells so that they could be re-united. But there was another good mate that he had to see personally first. And, thankfully, that person hadn’t seen him yet... And once that person was lined up (and in keeping with what was becoming tradition), Wil ran at full speed in a straight line, and then crash tackled Geoffrey Teller to the ground. Geoff had made the small tactical error of turning his back to the door, concentrating instead on a plate of surprisingly delicious confections from some planet he’d never heard of. His moment of distraction and gluttony was all that his best friend needed to stealthily approach and tackle him to the ground. Geoff didn’t even bother looking up before speaking. Teller: ::wheezing:: G’day knackers! Ukinix: CHIEF! Teller: I thought I told our Marines to keep this crowd respectable. Panting, Wil stood up and offered his hand to Teller to help him up. Geoff smiled warmly as he was dragged to his feet and into a firm embrace. As soon as the Thor’s FO was on his feet, he wrapped his arms around Teller’s shoulders. Ukinix: How’s it going, ya’ bugger! It’s good to see you. Teller: Good to see you too, Chief. Or do you prefer your majesty these days? Wil Ukinix, Second Nephew of the 47th house, heir to the ancient creaky chair of Ithric? Not totally surprised by Geoff's teasing of Wil's potential pending Betazoid nobility, the Human/Betazoid hybrid gave Geoffrey a gentle but effective smack on the back of the little man's head, before looking around the room. Ukinix: ::Cheeky smile:: Is Kell’s Del around? Geoff looked around the arboretum which was filling nicely as the hour approached. Chatting amicably near a small crowd was the guest of honor himself and his husband, Doctor Niccolo Del Vedova, their acting chief of medicine. del Vedova: He’s right here! And he’s his own man! So to say, as he fairly charged Wil and wrapped him in an embrace, and only after that was broken did he reveal the man of the hour (difficult though he was to hide behind the shorter Del): Aron himself. Kells: Hello, Wil, Geoff. Geoff, thanks for this, truly. Aron looked around at all the familiar faces and beamed as he took them all in. Her arms crossed, and uniform collar extended to reach her chin, Commander Blake tilted her head down toward Captain Roshanara Rahman next to her. Blake: I think Wil’s trying to hog everyone to himself. Rahman: I suppose I can’t blame him... Ukinix: ::Turning to Blake and Rahman:: Isn't it exciting! Geoff’s smile widened to nearly goofy proportions at the sudden reunion of friends from the Veritas. It was the first time he’d seen all these people in the same place since he transferred more than a year ago. Teller: Commander Blake...Skipper. It’s been too long. A warm smile donned Blake’s face as she relaxed her stance. Blake: It’s good to see you again. I’m glad we could make our way out of the Shoals to be here. Rahman: Indeed. Roshanara smiled as she looked back at Teller, and then her gaze turned towards Del. Kells: (with a grin) I’m glad you could as well, especially since my last trip out there did not go according to plan. del Vedova: Aw, but at least we still spent some time together. That, Aron thought, was the understatement of the century: Limbo, as the Veritas crew had nicknamed the moon, operated outside of the time experienced by the surrounding space. What had seemed like hours from a removed orbit had been experienced as months by the shipwrecked crew. Naturally, though, Roshanara waved off the memory of that extended planetary stay with a more important question. Rahman: Are you two still an item? Aron considered answering with a kiss, but Roshanara also would remember his habit of a friendly kiss for any of his crew who received a promotion or an award. It would not answer her question. Del, however, beamed and embraced Aron for a moment. del Vedova: Space husbands! Rahman: ::shaking head:: Naturally. The Kriosian captain of the USS Veritas then looked to the man whom she’d first served under as chief engineer before he had brought her back to active service as his first officer for the Invicta Expedition. Rahman: No matter what, sir, you’ll always be Captain Kells to me. Del interrupted Aron’s search for a reply that matched how heartfelt Roshanara had been with a smack in the shins from his cane. Certainly he knew that Aron was in danger of tearing up. del Vedova: And never mind him, you’ll be Rosh to me. As Addison entered the arboretum, she smoothed the front of her dress whites when her eyes fell upon a group of colleagues very dear to her who’d already arrived. She’d normally have been there earlier, but she took the opportunity to take a quick tour of the ship. It was in much better shape than the last time she’d been aboard - leading the majority of the non-essential personnel off the ship in shuttlecraft during an emergency was a memory that wouldn’t soon leave her. Grabbing a flute of champagne, she approached the group of distinguished guests and former colleagues. MacKenzie: Teller isn’t causing trouble, is he? I mean, aside from his usual… Captain Rahman, always good to see you. Rahman: Likewise. I hear you’re doing good things on the Resolution. MacKenzie: ::gesturing to Blake and del Vedova:: And the two of you are looking good - the last time I saw each of you, you were patients of mine. Del exchanged a look with Blake, then shrugged at Addison. del Vedova: We got better. MacKenzie: ::resisting the urge to smirk at Ukinix:: Trouble’s junior colleague. ::winking:: How’ve you been my friend? Ukinix: ::mock offense:: Hey! I'd at least be Trouble's first officer by now. ::Offering hug:: It's so good to see you again Addison, I've missed you. With pleasantries exchanged, she approached Kells and offered a hug. MacKenzie: The man of the hour! I can’t think of a more CO. Congratulations, Commodore. Kells: Thank you, Addison! And all of you. I can’t tell you how much it means that you were all able to make it. Nor had everyone arrived yet, as the group in the arboretum continued to grow, most recently with an officer Aron had first met when he’d been assigned as an ensign, and who was now a captain of his own ship. Mei’konda: Speakiing of congratulations…hello, everyone. And congratulations, soon-to-no-longer-be Captaain Kells. Aron had last seen Mei’konda at his wedding to another of Aron’s former officers, Evan Delano, and he hugged Mei’konda as well. Kells: Captain! It’s so good to see you. It’s been too long, too long since I’ve seen any of you. Mei’konda returned the hug, despite just a moment of hesitation. There was a time, not so long ago, where he stiffened up like a board when Aron Kells’ eyes fell upon him. But this was a special occasion. Mei’konda: Indeed! It’s like a family reuniion, isn’t it? The Caitian approached the gathering of senior officers, dressed in the carefully tailored dress whites that inadvertently emphasized his lean, muscular build. With negotiations for the Federation’s new colony site successfully concluded in the Expanse, the Chin’toka had moved back close to Federation space in order to prepare to escort the shipments, and it had given Mei’konda the time to take a brief shore leave out to the Thor in order to attend a very special occasion. Since his own promotion to Captain, this might’ve been the most brass he’d ever been in the presence of, but he found it interesting that he didn’t feel uncomfortable in the slightest. These officers - some of whom had been his direct superiors during his own early days in Starfleet - were now his peers. He aimed a reserved nod toward the Admiral lurking at the edges of the room, and a slight smile toward Teller and Saveron, as well. He and the Vulcan had had their disagreements years ago, but he liked to think they’d buried the hatchet. Mei’konda: Commander Teller. Commander Saveron. A pleasuure to see you both again. Teller: Captain Mei’konda! This is fantastic...I haven’t seen you since..hmmm...since I got my [...] bitten off by some voles at your Captaincy promotion! I can promise you - none aboard this ship. Mei’konda quirked a slight smile over at the red headed Commander. Mei’konda: If it was goiing to happen to anyone, Mr. Teller, it would happen to you. Geoff laughed good naturedly as he fought to urge to scratch his suddenly itchy backside. Teller: I’ll take that as a compliment. Commander Saveron, do you know Captain Mei’konda Delano of the Chin’Toka? Kells: He sure does! (glancing around) Almost half of the Invicta’s senior staff is here. They were missing a few faces — Alora DeVeau, Quinn Reynolds, Evan Delano, Hanar Tuk — but Geoff had promised Aron that most of them would be there, and it was an impressive guest list no matter what. Flicking his tail upward to curl it around one of his ankles, the Caitian folded one hand behind his back and held the cup of cinnamon tea he’d replicated in the other, lifting it to his lips to take a careful sip. There were unfamiliar faces here as well, some he didn’t know at all, and some he knew only by reputation. Mei’konda: On that note, my husband sends his regaard, Captain Kells. He’s on assignment, commanding the Diligent just outside of the Par’tha Expanse. A moment later, he added to those he hadn’t yet greeted. Mei’konda: Captain Mei’konda Delano, USS Chin’toka. A pleasuure to meet all of you. The rest of my crew sends their regards. She had slipped in among the other guests, pausing in the doorway, partly to admire the beauty of the surroundings. Arboretums were one of her favourite places to visit aboard ships, and she was pleased that the ceremony would take place in the Thor’s. It was well cultivated, a wide variety of plants growing in clusters according to soil and environmental needs. Alora paused at one such cluster, inhaling the scent of the blossoms, their sweetness energizing and almost addictive. From that spot, she had paused, her eyes shifting from person to person. There were quite a few people gathered, not surprising considering Aron’s long history with the fleet. She had known him from the beginning of her own career - he had been her first captain. And yet the man she came to celebrate that day was not the same man she had met when she had come aboard the Mercury. That had been someone different, but when the real Aron Kells had shown up, when so many people had doubted, when suspicions had been raised, she could only think about how hard it must be. He had proven to be as kind as she knew he would be, and the two had forged a friendship that had turned into something of a kinship. Even when he had left Starfleet briefly, they had remained in touch - rather necessarily thanks to their mutual investment. Had it only been eight years? It felt like she’d known him almost her entire life - and she certainly couldn’t imagine a future without him in it somehow. There were others she’d known for just as long and when her eyes settled upon them, her expression brightened into her characteristic smile. Faces so familiar, and dear to her, though in a different way, mingled together. It had only been two years since she’d seen some of them - though it seemed like it had been far longer. Taking one last whiff of the flowers, Alora finally turned and aimed for the cluster of bodies, the gathering of people with whom she had, at one point in time, served with. DeVeau: Man, I’m getting hit hard with some déjà vu. Wil turned to look to see Alora, and froze. They had communicated via dreamscape only weeks earlier. He checked his hand to see if it had the right amount of fingers, ensuring he wasn’t dreaming lucidly again. He then looked again at Alora. Ukinix: ::Blinking eyes:: So am I. DeVeau: I almost feel like I’m back on the Veritas. Or the Invicta. She’d followed a couple from one ship to another. Some had been left behind while others had remained. After her classified assignment, she’d suddenly been placed on Starbase 118 and had only known one person there - thankfully, a friendly one. Now, faced with the ghosts of the past, she couldn’t stop the nostalgia from rolling over her. DeVeau: How are you? Each of you? Kells: (another grin) Persisting and thriving, I’d say. And all here, most importantly! Teller: Hale and hearty, Alora, just like that violet you gave me. Further back, a solitary figure lingered around the edges of the gathering crowds, watching the reunion of old friends. Clad in a pristine dress uniform, Rear Admiral's pips marking her rank, the scrawny, freckled hybrid kept her distance, not wanting to intrude. The only one Quinn Reynolds truly knew was Rahman—and while their interactions weren't the frosty poles of Andoria they'd once been, it was still awkward enough she thought it best to stay away. She didn't want her arrival to ruin the moment. That, and underneath it all, Quinn was still the chronically shy woman who'd fled from almost every party as an ensign. Instead, she contented herself with a stroll through the arboretum while the guests continued to arrive. The sex botanist delighted in the flora on offer; admiring the brilliant rainbow of colours in vibrant blossoms, breathing in the heady scents of exotic blooms, running her fingers across velvet petals and furred leaves. The professional engineer wondered how feasible it was to pilfer the arboretum design for the Gorkon, and whether it was an abuse of power to reconfigure the ship to have a nice garden. A very nice garden. She spared a smile and a nod for Saveron as they moved through the crowds, pleased to see him again. Perhaps later they'd have a chance to catch up, and she could let him know Amelia was thriving. But for now, her attention was drawn by another; the man she was here for, finally alone... at least for a few minutes. Reynolds: It barely seems like two minutes ago we were evacuating refugees from Romulus. ::She chuckled.:: If you'd told me then HQ would pin this much brass on either of us, I'd have laughed you off the ship. Aron was very happy to find himself alone for a moment with Quinn — Admiral Reynolds, now. He’d followed her career, of course, but it had been many long years since they’d served together, since he’d relied upon her counsel as the director of intelligence. She’d had a storied and successful career since she launched the Gorkon, but like Roshanara and Mei’konda, and equally like the officers there who weren’t (yet!) captains, he both relished their success and missed the good advice and endless assistance that had allowed them to progress in their careers. Kells: (with feeling) I’d have helped you! No doubt. She grinned at him, struck with both awe and a sense of ridiculousness at their situation and status. A pair of flag officers who’d caused no end of trouble and headaches for Starfleet HQ back in the day, helping the Romulans when the rest of the Federation had forsworn them. Many of those refugees still lived on Vulcan to this day, a community counted in the tens of thousands, thriving and seeding the beginnings of reconciliation. Reynolds: Valesha sends her congratulations, by the way. ::The Romulan scientist had been one of those refugees, and both Quinn and Aron had taken a special interest in her career.:: She's doing well. Kells: I’ve heard! Lieutenant already? I’m glad she’s done so well, and that she’s been with you for most of her career. Not that she needs one of us to keep an eye on her, but — you know. However, whatever else they might have said was truncated, as Geoff had obviously noticed Aron’s absence from the main group, and called for everyone to be seated. With the guests assembled the attention returned to Geoff, who nodded respectfully to his CO and then to Admiral Reynolds as he approached the small podium placed directly in front of the great tree. It seemed to Geoff a worthy backdrop for this rare, special ceremony. He waited patiently at the podium, not bothering to raise his voice and within moments, the room grew hushed on its own accord with a shared sense of anticipation. When the silence was complete, Geoff spoke in clipped, clear tones that carried across the room. Teller: Attention to Orders, Please. Attention to Orders. Fleet Captain Aron Kells, please step forward sir. Aron did so, with aplomb. Or as much aplomb as he thought he could handle, given the circumstances. Kells: Here and ready, Geoff. Teller: Thank you, sir. Rear Admiral Quinn Reynolds, would you step forward please ma..::Geoff barely caught himself in time.::...would you step forward please. Kells: (muttering) Good save. With an arched eyebrow and the hint of a smirk cast in the direction of both men, the Admiral stepped up to the podium as requested. Heart thrumming in her chest, she smiled through a deep breath. Over the years, she had learnt to keep the timorous tremor out of her voice, still the anxious fidgeting that wanted to erupt when dozens of eyes were upon her. But she was here for Aron, and the desire to honour and celebrate her friend made it easier to bury the nerves. Reynolds: I'd like to first thank you all for coming. There are a lot of familiar faces here, and I know how pleased Aron is to see you all. It speaks to how many lives he's touched, and how important he is to so many. Geoff stepped aside and retrieved the small decorative box which seemed unusually heavy in his hand. From here on out the attention of the entire room fixated on the two people standing front and center. Reynolds: Those of you who know me are already well aware that I loathe public speaking. For those of you who don't; it takes a very special event, or a very special person, to lure me to the front of a crowd. Today fulfils both requirements. As Quinn began to speak, Aron found that Del’s earlier save with Roshanara had been for naught, as he started to tear up anyway. He broke his gaze away from her and gazed out at his friends, but that was even worse. The people gathered in the arboretum represented decades upon decades of memories and experiences, and if he was looking for an escape, they were not it. Not that he was looking for an escape. It was just — after all he’d been through recently, from Calabrum and the Zet to nearly dying on New Bajor, he wasn’t sure if he’d thought a moment like this — not even the promotion, but where he was able to gather with so many of his friends — would ever happen again. Even by Caitian standards, the room had grown quiet but for Admiral Reynolds and the ever present subtle rush of a starship’s life support systems functioning around them. Mei’konda kept his ears angled toward the two standing together as Kells’ only superior officer in the room continued speaking, and Mei’konda stood silently with his fellow officers. It was one of those rare occasions that he’d come to savor in Starfleet - as much reward as he felt when he was able to promote or offer commendations to his own officers, there was something particularly special about being invited to witness one of his old Captains being recognized like this. Reynolds: I first served with Aron over ten years ago. He was a science officer under my command on the Drake, and we had a few... interesting adventures together. ::She grinned at him for a moment, a shared joke twinkling in her hazel eyes, and then continued.:: He was one of the finest scientists I've served with, and I valued his keen insight, quick wits and his ability to keep a clear head under pressure. They had shared just about every professional dynamic there was in Starfleet: subordinate, superior and peer. It had forged a respect and understanding few shared, and though—or perhaps because—there had been some bumps along the way, Aron’s friendship was one she treasured. Distance made it harder, but her fondness had not diminished with time. Reynolds: It was a few years later, when I served under his command aboard the Mercury—and later, the Garuda—when we became friends, and someone I still trust to this day to offer me sage advice when I need it. As well as my friend, he's been my teacher; I strive to emulate his diplomatic finesse in all situations, and his ability to cut to the heart of a problem. It is my firm belief he is one of the most exceptional officers in Starfleet, and I'm beyond honoured and pleased to be here today to recognise his ability, his compassion, his loyalty, and his dedication to all those he serves with. Quinn looked expectantly toward the red-haired Commander. Geoff lowered his voice and leaned in, waggling the Commodores pips. He couldn’t hold back a small smirk. Teller: Last chance to change your mind and pin these on me, Admiral. Reynolds: You shouldn't play with fire, Commander. ::Her eyebrows twitched upward as she responded just as quietly.:: You might get burned. Geoff stifled a laugh and opened the small box, profferring its contents to the Admiral, and she turned back toward Kells with pips in hand. For Teller, the challenge of the day had instantly been made worthwhile when he saw the look of profound gratitude and deep joy on his CO’s normally reserved face. Reynolds: Fleet Captain Aron Kells, it is my privilege to promote you to the rank of Commodore, with all the associated rights and responsibilities. ::Then, more softly,:: You’ve done us all proud, Aron. Kells: (quietly) Thank you. (more loudly) Truly, thank you. I can’t fully express how much it means to have you all here. And then came the moment. Quinn had the single-gold-pip-on-black of the commodore ready to go, and the moment itself — the pinning — was over in a moment. His new insignia gleaming under the arboretum lights, she dropped her hands onto his shoulders. Then, with an impish smile, she copied his favourite trick and rose up onto her tiptoes to press a kiss to the new commodore’s cheek. Reynolds: Congratulations, Commodore Kells. Teller: Three cheers for Commodore Kells! HipHip! The quiet of the Arboretum was broken by the thunder of applause and the shouts of hurrah ringing from the walls. But then the applause. Oh, the applause! This time, Aron tried to return the room to its former quiet, and he locked eyes with everyone there as he gazed around. Kells: Without each of you, I wouldn’t be here. That you’re here to celebrate the continuation of what I love to do — it means so much. Maybe it’s inadequate to keep saying so, but: thank you. Teller: My sincerest thanks to all of our visiting guests, you’ll be receiving complimentary gift bags on your way back to the shuttlebay or transporter pads. Officers and Crew of the Thor...please assemble front and center. The Commodore isn’t the only one we’re celebrating today! Mei’konda couldn’t help a subtle flattening of his ears, this time. There was such noise, and his ears were sensitive. But he participated nonetheless, the broad smile on his short muzzle exposing his sharp teeth while he clapped in turn with the others. Later, he’d share time with the others, perhaps take a brief tour of the Thor considering that he’d never been aboard a Vesta class ship before, and catch a shuttle back to the Chin’toka late in the evening. Mei’konda: Congratulations, everyone - and thaank you for the invitation! Responses: ? END! =================================== Commodore Aron Kells Commanding Officer USS Thor V238208LV0 he/him/his (character & player) & Commander Geoffrey Teller Executive Officer USS Thor - NCC 82607 Commodore A. Kells, Commanding V239509GT0 with special guests (in order of appearance) Commander Saveron First Officer USS Constitution-B R238802S10 Lieutenant Commander Chythar Skyfire, MD Medical Officer / Barista USS Chin’toka NCC-97187 O239002CS0 Lieutenant Commander Wil Ukinix Chief Engineer, Second Officer USS Veritas V239511WU0 Cmdr Sky Blake Executive Officer USS Veritas C238803SB0 Captain Roshanara Rahman Commanding Officer, USS Veritas I238705TZ0 Commander Addison MacKenzie, M.D., Ph.D., FASFS First Officer USS Resolution V239601AM0 Captain Mei’konda Delano Commanding Officer USS Chin’toka, NCC-97187 M239002M10 Lt. Cmdr. Alora DeVeau First Officer Starbase 118 Ops alora@blar.net M239008AD0 Rear Admiral Quinn Reynolds Commanding Officer USS Gorkon T238401QR0

HEY! That is only mostly true!

Continuing his tradition of a 'Counselors Perspective' writeup of each mission, Lt. Cmdr. Brodie does another great job summarizing the beats of a complex mission and making it interesting even if you weren't there. I hope the folks at Starfleet Medical appreciate his work as much as we do on the Thor! Great Job Alex! ========================================= ((Intelligence Watch Centre, Deck Three, USS Thor)) Broide had occupied the main office in the Intelligence suite. Jehe was on leave so he was taking his rotation although there was less in the way of intelligence briefings and a lot more legal documentation scattered over the desk. This was likely to be a bit of a problematic report for the ship and, while his reports were mostly kept to the medical archives he wanted to make sure he had everything locked in place. He pulled up the draft. --- THR-AWB-COU-MIS-0010 TO: Starfleet Medical Central Records CC: USS Thor Central Records Following a period of shoreleave on Vulcan the USS Thor was initially assigned to conduct a survey of an unusual stellar phenomenon: a pair of hypervelocity stars on nearly identical trajectories. Enroute to the system in question, however, the Thor detected a distress call from a cluster of nearby planetoids. This identification code associated with the signal identified it as being the USS Excalibur. Records show that this vessel was officially listed as lost during the Federation-Klingon War in the mid twenty-third century – well over one-hundred years ago. Under the guidance of Commander Geoffrey Teller this officer, along with Ensign Peri Katsim and Ensign Dar Elandra began reviewing available information regarding the vessel, including its likely course and possible locations. Consideration was also given to General Order One (Prime Directive) regarding potential indigenous populations and the effect that either the Excalibur crew, or their descendants, may have had on their natural evolution. The same also applies to the potential transfer of technology – which seemed likely, given the source of the signal. Given the lack of information available in the records, and the age of the information that was. A decision was made to beam down to the surface as a group, under cultural camouflage protocols and investigate further as well as take scientific samples for further study. Upon arrival on the planets surface, in the margins of a volcanic plateau, samples were collected and some tectonic readings were taken indicating an increase in volcanic activity in the region. Shortly after arrival, however, a series of life signs were detected and the group moved to cover with overwatch being provided by Ensign Dar. The lifeforms in question appeared to be Klingon in origin. These riders were led by an individual known as Betlak and appeared to be a ‘scout party’. This officer conversed with Betlak as the universal translator seemed unable to process the dialect they were using. The situation deteriorated as Betlak was not receptive to diplomatic channels – taking Ensign Per Katsim hostage. This conflict was short lived, however, as a group of mounted troops arrived to disperse the Klingons. These troops, more accurately knights, were from the local city of Calabrum and were led by their Queen – Arta Du Pendragon. This city, it became clear, had been established by the original crew of the Excalibur and maintained by their descendants. This officer, in addition to Commander Teller, Doctor and Quen and Ensign Dar was granted an audience with her Highness. It became clear that it was the queen herself who had made the distress call and that she was being advised by the court ‘wizard’ a man named Velik. It also became clear that the decedents of the Klingons – known locally as ‘Klings’ had been at war with the city of Calabrum for the majority of the previous century. In recent times these Klings had become more organized under the leadership of an individual known only as Modrawt. It was resolved that Ensign Dar and Commander Teller would remain and work with the Knights Calbrum and myself and doctor Quen would accompany the Queen to the local settlement of upto see how the conflict had affected the local population in the nearby settlement of Upton. On arrival it became clear that the local water supply had become contaminated, possibly deliberately, form the volcano leading to chemical burns. A parasitic infection, however, could not be ruled out. Following the realisation that a larger raiding party was headed for Calabrum to place the city under siege a meeting was called between Fleet Captain Aron Kells and Queen Du Pendragon where a plan was put in place to remove the descendants of the Excalibur, at their request. Further, the increased tectonic activity of the volcano now threatened an eruption. While this could not be prevented under General Order One it would provide appropriate cover for the evacuation attempt. This officer was assigned, along with Lieutenant Commander Lia Rouiancet to provide a level of control to the volcanic eruption. This involved the use of a binary explosive mixture that would be detonated in order to collapse a section of the magma chamber. This allowed a portion of the magma to be drained to adjacent chambers to limit the exposure to Calabrum. The detonation was conducted without incident once the explosives had been placed by hand. During this time, the remaining senior staff performed the evacuation. [[Classified: Command Level Only]] Consideration must be given to the Prime Directive. The actions undertaken by the USS Thor during this mission do constitute a violation of the prime directive. In mitigation, however, I submit the below reasonings along with appropriate precedents: The distress call was directed by Velik. Further review of the original crew manifest of the USS Excalibur at the time of its loss would indicate that this is likely to be a Vulcan who was serving as a junior science officer at the time. This would classify as a request for aid from a fellow Starfleet officer and the need to conduct a rescue mission [Precedent: Zeta Gelis Star Cluster, 2366]. In addition, any request for aid [Precedent: Drema VI, 2365] may be considered exemption criteria and the level of aid rendered by the crew of the USS Thor was conducted in such a way that it is believed it would not have impacted the pre-contamination development of the indigenous society [Precedent: Barkon IV, 2370]. This also allowed the correction of alterations to the natural evolution caused by the Klingons [Precedent; Neural, 2268]. It is my understanding that any indigenous people who were caught up in the evacuation are being transferred to Deep Space Thirty-Two for repatriation. The Same is true of the Klingon descendants who have been repatriated to the Klingon Empire already. The descendants of the Excalibur are to be relocated once a suitable world has been identified for them. It is recommended that observation teams are dispatched to both the original extraction planet to monitor any possible disruption. [[End Classified]] [[Personal Notes]] The nature of this mission, regrettably, is somewhat of a pyrrhic victory. While there was the aversion of a significant loss of life, we cannot ignore the fact that a culture has been uprooted from their home world and will take some time to adjust. Further, this culture, through no fault of their own, has been locked in a conflict with the remnants of the Klingon Empire for over a century. I wonder what the Klingons will make of their new wards? I would hope they would welcome them back as fellows but where they may fit into Klingon society after one-hundred years…it will be a difficult adjustment but I hope the Klingons hold true and honour their ancestors. Following the events of this mission several crew changes have occurred including the leave of Doctor Quen Deena and Junior Lieutenant Jeha Saja. I’m pleased to report, however, that Lieutenant Commander Ben Garcia will be re-joining the USS Thor on our arrival at Cardassia Prime. Signed Lt. Cmdr. Alexander W. Brodie; Psy.D, Ph.D. Chief Counsellor, USS --- Alex re-read the citations on the legal side of things, just to make sure he had his dates right and then submitted the report. He leaned back in the chair and picked up a PADD - Cardassia Prime....how long had it been? FIN ------------------------------------ Lt. Cmdr. Alexander Brodie Chief Counselor USS Thor NCC-82607 dualit...@gmail.com Writer ID.: A239005BM0

Poignant & well written - great job!

Mercifully alone after hours in sickbay, Geoffrey John Teller stood in his quarters and wept openly for the first time in his adult memory. Wracking sobs shook his torso as he supported himself with one hand against the bulkhead, peering through tears at the indifferent stars beyond the viewport. He’d maintained his composure through all the debriefings and the mandatory counseling sessions but now, in the safety of solitude, Geoff let the feelings he’d been tamping down pour out unfiltered. Tears ran down his face and onto his uniform unchecked as the events replayed in his mind once again. It started, as it always started...with the children. Their smiling, delighted faces. Their giggles and laughter. Their pure, innocent wonder. Their screams of terror. Geoff tried to shake the memory away but it would not be restrained anymore and he collapsed to his couch, hunched over with head in hands. A renewed series of sobs made his entire body shudder. It was several minutes before he could compose himself, and even then he was far from settled. His mourning had given way to a fierce anger every bit as unrestrained as his grief. With a hoarse bark he called out to the computer, his mind growing dark with increasingly violent thoughts. “Give me all the atmospheric surveys conducted on Telstrus 3 prior to beam down, along with the names of every officer and crewman responsible for their research. Someone is going to pay for this if it’s the last thing I do.” The computer's polite request to have him restate his query led to a shattered display and four broken bones in Teller’s right hand, although he didn’t know that. At the moment, the pain was strangely satisfying and helped focus his incoherent rage down to a fine, precise edge. He dug into the research for almost two hours as his hand throbbed and discolored, subsisting on a diet of cold coffee and even colder rage, but he came away with his answer. “Lieutenant Kowalski, report to my quarters, now!” The comm successfully conveyed the acid in his words because moments later his door chime rang. “Get in here and stand at attention, Mister.” Geoff’s tone was harsh, his quarters a mess and his own appearance far from uniform standard, but none of that mattered to him at the moment. The sole thing on Geoff’s mind was justice but at this point he’d happily settle for a violent measure of revenge. “Lieutenant Koawlski reporting as ordered. Sir, may I speak freely?” The tension in Koawlski’s voice was thick enough to land a shuttle on, but Geoff wasn’t in a mood to be compassionate. “No you damn well may not, Lieutenant. And I thought I told you to stand at attention!” Kowalski’s already rigid posture became ramrod straight, their unblinking eyes fixed on a far off point on the bulkhead. Geoff finally turned his attention away from the console and stood, closing the distance to Koawlski until they were nose to nose. Geoff’s eyes were frantic, red and bulging. A passing medical officer could have checked his blood pressure from the hallway. “Lieutenant, I am going to ask you a series of questions and you are going to respond Yes Sir, Commander Sir or No Sir, Commander Sir. Is that absolutely clear?” Geoff’s tone made it clear what answer he expected. “Yes Sir, Commander Sir.” To Koawlski’s credit, they weathered this volcano of rage without flinching. “Good. Were you the planetary meteorological officer on duty when we arrived at Telstrus 3?” Geoff knew the answer but he needed to hear the man say it to his face. To admit it was him and not some incomprehensible computer error. “Yes Sir, Commander Sir.” Again, it was the answer Geoff had expected, and it did nothing to quell his anger. “Were you responsible for preparing the atmospheric survey the Captain used to judge the coordinates of our beam down?” “Yes Sir, Commander Sir.” “When the Captain asked you to prepare that survey, were his instructions in any way unclear or subject to misinterpretation?” “No Sir, Commander Sir!” “Do you consider yourself competent at your duties, Lieutenant?” “Yes Sir, Commander Sir!” “In that case, Lieutenant, perhaps you’d like to explain why the Thor’s first children's kite flying contest was such a massive disaster?!” “Sir, I...the wind...it was supposed to be gentle...favorable...nothing in our models suggested hurricane force wind gusts!” “Perhaps you’d like to explain that to seventy-three primary school children who just saw two months of their hard work turned into high altitude confetti while they suffered scrapes and boo-boos the likes of which I’ve never seen!” “Sir, I can’t...I...I’ll resign...or...or you can file charges...you can’t possibly….” “Oh yes I damn well can, Lieutenant. As of now, you are assigned to serve as a class mascot until such time as I feel you’ve learned an important lesson.” Kowalski’s voice went up several octaves in shock. “But Sir!.....” “But nothing, Mister. Now get into that Flotter costume and get down to Deck 12. Those kids are getting blankies and juice boxes and they expect a visit from their new pal real soon....” Kowalski sputtered in incoherent shock but retreated in defeat, leaving Geoff alone again in his quarters. He’d always loved the wind but after today...he’d never be able to think of it without remembering Telstrus 3.

An eloquently written intimate scene between two characters that just survived a near death experience and discovered a little something more along the way. Well done @Wes Greaves & @Alora DeVeau! ============================================ ((Main Sickbay, Deck 9, USS Thor)) It was never completely quiet on a ship. Everything was still, all the people around had left, and she was alone in the darkness. Surgery had been successful, and after a brief stay in ICU, Peri had been moved to a regular biobed for monitoring. In all honesty, she would have preferred her own quarters. Despite the presence of a roommate, the surroundings were more familiar, more comfortable. Those sounds, the ones that crept through the stillness of the night, were more appealing to her there. The deep, steady hum of the ship held an even lower pitch in her quarters, and thrummed a well known lullaby to her every night. The soft breathing of Saja had, over the course of the week they’d been together, already harmonised readily. There, in that bio bed, the almost imperceptible crackle of the privacy field and slightly higher pitched hum were a harsh antithesis to what she was used to. Fatigue had settled in, even though she’d spent at least a day in the clutches of the slumber that had claimed her down on the icy would-be tomb of a planet. There, she had no qualms about meeting her fate, if only the man with her could be spared. Her fervent prayer had been lifted up, the last vestiges of her strength poured into it, her desperate plea to the Prophets. They had answered. That answer had been coupled with her own salvation, a request she had not made specifically, though she had no desire to die. It had just been more important to her that he live. And they had graciously granted his life, and hers. When she had awoken, the soft beeps of the computer, the gentle and somehow not quite monotone voice of Alieth greeting her, she had barely been able to remain conscious to listen to her explain what had occurred and what had to be done to her on the operating table. It hadn’t mattered. Wes was alive. She was alive. Only moments later, she had slipped back into the realm of unconsciousness, her body desperate for rest. For all the technology they had, healing wasn’t instant. Regenerators seemed to do so instantly, healing and closing up minor wounds with ease, but there would always be soreness associated with it. They didn’t actually heal, simply promoted healing by increasing the body’s own natural cellular regeneration. It was still the body working, and the consequences of it could still be felt. So, she slept, her body losing sense of its circadian rhythm and simply listening to its own internal needs. At some point, however, sleep became a ghost, a spirit that wandered, haunting her for a time, only to leave and keep her guessing as to when it might return. In the middle of the night, she found herself wide awake, alone, still exhausted, but unable to crawl back into that healing trance. **** Four days in sickbay. That was the price to pay for the shuttle crash. Who knows how much physical therapy would follow. Who knew how much therapy would follow. Each time Wes closed his eyes he could see the ice peak filling with the screen of the shuttle, powerless to stop it’s collision course. All he could do for now was to lay there in the bed, stare at the ceiling, and contemplate their disaster. He replayed the events over and over in his head. What he’d missed. How the shuttle’s warning systems could have failed. Should he have caught it earlier? Could he have? Was a lapse in judgment the cause of his near death? Of Peri’s? And what had happened to them on the planet together? They both saw the end in sight. He’d never given up the fight for survival but for a time, just before the transporter beam took them away, he didn’t think he’d make it. When he thought Peri was gone, all had seemed lost. The thought scared him. In that moment, he’d been broken in a way that he hadn’t experienced since young adulthood. He was still working through that event, and now his mind was filled with new terrible thoughts. For a time he lay there, disaster replaying over and over in his mind. Finally he couldn’t take it any longer. It was late, and the medical staff weren’t paying particularly close attention. He needed to talk to someone. Someone who could understand. He needed to talk to Peri. Cautiously Wes crept from the bed, unhooking a monitor from his arm. His bare feet pressed against the cool metal of the floor and he was thankful the loose fitting medical clothes did not include shoes. He could move much more quietly without the resounding footfalls on deck plating. Carefully the Marine moved around his bed, ducking when nurses looked his way, until he reached Peri’s bed in an adjacent ward. No one was immediately nearby so Wes chanced a whisper. Greaves: Peri, are you awake? She heard him before she saw him, the gentle tap of feet against the floor, the rustle of fabric. Turning her head, the shadowy form was familiar enough that even if she couldn’t see him properly, she knew exactly who it was. A smile attempted to appear, and appear it did, small, but sincere. Katsim: Wes. Her voice was soft, partially from fatigue, partially from the knowledge that though Sickbay was less populous at night, there were still doctors and nurses about. Peri suspected he had set out on his journey without permission, and while she was one to generally follow the rules, the relief at seeing him, to put a visual to the reassurance from the medical personnel that he was just fine, was far too potent for her to protest. Greaves: (Approaching her bedside and smiling) Man, you look awful. Katsim: So do you. He stifled a small laugh, and the pressure on his ribs flared in pain. He’d been hurt worse during the crash than he initially had thought, and the doctors had assured him that healing would take some time. Greaves: (A little more serious) I can’t say how good it is to see you awake Peri. How’re you holding up? For a moment, Peri didn’t answer. What should she say? Go into the gory details of her injuries? The consequences that would linger? How she was exhausted though she’d done nothing but lie there? Staring at him for a moment, she decided not to delve into specific aspects, and really, that wasn’t the question he had asked. Even so, she shied away from giving too much information. Katsim: I’ll survive. That was it. And maybe, for now, that was enough. He nodded, just glad that she was still alive. The moment that she’d passed out on the shuttle Wes had thought she was dead. It was foolish. No one dies like that in real life. A dramatic closing of the eyes was how it worked in the holo-flicks. Still, it had felt like she’d slipped away from him in that moment, and Wes had realized something when he thought she was gone. Slowly he reached out and clutched the woman’s hand in his own. Her skin felt cool and soft. Greaves: I’m sorry Peri. He was apologising, though she couldn’t fathom why. That brow furrowed, the ridges standing out more with the expression and she turned her head a little, as if trying to see him better. Katsim: For what? Greaves: I messed up. I should have spotted the issue with the warp coils before we even left. Katsim: Oh. So he blamed himself. That hurt her more than any of her physical injuries, the idea that he was dealing with guilt in regards to their accident. Peri shook her head slightly, and the hand that he held tightened its hold, hoping somehow to reassure him with more than just words. Even though she knew they would likely fall upon deaf ears, she spoke them anyway. Katsim: It wasn’t your fault. Greaves: (Frustration creeping in his voice) Of course it was. I was the pilot. That shuttle was my responsibility. Katsim: It was an accident. And you weren’t the only one who looked at that shuttle. Likely it was an issue before, one that had somehow slipped under the radar. They had just been the lucky ones to be in it when it had become a bigger problem. He took her hand again, gave it a gentle squeeze and forced a smile in acknowledgement. She believed her own words, but Wes knew better than to fall into that trap. He’d made a mistake somewhere, and it nearly had cost them their lives. That was simply something else he’d have to learn to deal with. Greaves: It doesn’t matter. What happened, happened. I’m still sorry, and you’re just gonna have to accept that (smile softening into something more genuine). Peri didn’t respond right away, but her hand tightened in response to his. Her eyes regarded him, a silence settling between them, words, waiting to be spoken, yet not uttered. Those words ran over and over again in her mind, thoughts returning to those moments where they had clung together, to the words that she’d managed just before she’d passed out from everything. Yet, in that moment, what she wanted to say remained captive and instead she spoke words that had nothing to do with what roiled around inside her. Katsim: You need to let it go. It wasn’t your fault. The man looked into Peri’s eyes for a moment before responding. Greaves: I’m just glad you’re alright. Maybe we stick to the holodeck for our outings? He wasn’t going to let it go. Peri hoped he wouldn’t sit on it and let it fester, wouldn’t let the guilt linger. She sighed softly, then managed a half smile. Katsim: That might be best. Greaves: Good… speaking of which. You feeling up for a springball match tomorrow? (Winking) For a second, Peri couldn’t only stare at him. Springball? Tomorrow? After all that? Peri wasn’t even going to be released for another day or two! Then it dawned on her. A joke. He was always joking, and she was always falling for it. Once more, she relaxed, and the smile that appeared was brighter than the previous. Katsim: I feel like you’d have an unfair advantage. Greaves: Hey! I have to get in the wins where I can! Katsim: Maybe give me a week or two. If not more. Peri had been told the extent of her injuries, and despite the technology that was vastly superior to what they’d had even fifty years ago, her body was going to take time to get over everything that had happened. Greaves: Deal. But only one week. I don’t stand for slackers, and there’s no way I’m gonna let you live down laying around for two whole weeks. Besides, I might not be able to whip you if you get that much rest. Katsim: We could race again if you prefer. Greaves: (Raising hands defensively and taking a step back) Oh no, I’m not falling for that again missy. Let’s make it a light jog and we can relax at the water’s edge after. (Voice softening) I liked that last time. Peri couldn’t help herself. The smile grew a little wider at his insistent joking. He was intent on making her feel better, and she had to admit, his demeanor was uplifting. For a moment, she almost laughed, but her body’s aching reminded her that might not be the best course of action. Still, there was weight that lifted from her shoulders. His presence, his smile, the tease of his voice, they all seem to lighten her mood, lift her spirits. Around his hand, her fingers curled, his warmth soothing and she sighed softly, settling further down into her bed. She didn’t want him to let go, didn’t want him to leave. For a moment, her pain wasn’t quite so acute, could be pushed aside and ignored because all she had to do was concentrate on him and it seemed to simply fade away. Katsim: I liked that too. And there was more that she could show him. While not the real place, it was a replica, a replica of where she had run and visited on Bajor. It had been a sanctuary, a place to rest and get away from what lay behind. To forget the world and simply be. There, she could enjoy the beauty of nature, be at peace with all creation. Only one person had shared that with her. She was gone, but Peri knew that she could share that with him. Suddenly, she wanted to share that with him, to take him there, but they were in no position to do so. Not yet. Katsim: I...like running with you. Greaves: I… She’d caught him off guard and suddenly there was a bump in the road, a hiccup in the peace that had for a brief time had settled between them. An awkwardness developed, and though he still held on to her hand, she could sense his uncertainty. His hesitancy. Had she said too much? Revealed too much? Was it not returned? Peri chided herself. Why would it be? Just because they had lived through a frozen hell didn’t mean anything had changed. His invitation had been given to a friend, nothing more. Peri’s dark eyes settled upon him and silence invaded, a distance seemed to stretch out between them, one that could not be seen but could certainly be felt. Leveling her gaze at him, she pined for that fleeting moment of closeness they’d had just seconds before and she struggled to bring them back there. How would he handle it? What would he do? Katsim: I especially like beating you. Greaves: Oh man, look who’s got the jokester now. The levity had helped, and though Peri’s smile returned, her heart twisted a little in disappointment. She had expected too much. Of course she had. Katsim: You’re rubbing off I guess. Greaves: What can I say? We’ve been spending a lot of time together lately. It was bound to happen. (Jokingly) Good thing I invited you to Earth, right? Now we get to spend some real quality time together in sickbay. Katsim: I’m glad you did. Her eyes shifted to the opening that would allow someone to walk in if they so desired, the privacy afforded her easily intruded upon. That was as it was in sickbay, though those who trespassed were simply medical officers doing their duty. Her eyes returned to him and studied the man a little more closely. Wes followed the woman’s gaze as he heard the sound of voices approaching. For a moment, he thought that his escapade had been discovered, but the voices passed without pause. Katsim: What did the doctors say? Greaves: (Nonchalantly) Oh, you heard Alieth. Nothing else new really. I’m gonna be here another day or two for observation, and then light duty with regular treatments for the next couple of weeks. You? For a moment, Peri didn’t answer. Alieth had listed out all the injuries, the procedures, the subsequent consequences and she knew Wes had been there to hear it. Not that she had minded that so much, but that she still hadn’t really taken the time to process it all. Katsim: At least a couple of days beyond that. He winced at the thought. It made sense, Peri had died after all. Still, Wes couldn’t help but feel responsible for what would likely be a very unpleasant stay in sickbay. It darkened his mood again and brought the man’s thoughts back to the crash. Greaves: Look, I know you don’t want to hear it anymore, but I’m so sorry this all happened. It’s just, when I thought you died down there… when I thought you were gone… (trailing off) He paused, not sure of what to say. The Marine had been concussed and probably suffering from blood loss and shock at the time. Still, he remembered the moment clear as day. When Peri’s eyes had closed and her body went limp, when he kissed her goodbye, something inside him broke. Greaves: ... I’m just glad you’re okay. Really glad. Katsim: I’m grateful that you are all right. Her prayer, it had been spoken with all of the will, all of the strength that she’d had left, and she would have said the same, even if she knew the outcome had been different. But it hadn’t been. They had been rescued, they were there, and the conversation waned into stillness. Their eyes met again, and a small smile formed on Wes’s lips. In that moment something unspoken passed between the two. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was, or what it meant, but Wes felt the connection. He felt the warmth in that look, the calmness it brought on, and the comfort. Still, they lingered, his hand still furled around hers, their warmth joining together. The silence that fell between them was gentle, filled with unuttered phrases, unspoken words, murmurings kept close to their chests and inside their hearts, perhaps desire present, but afraid to manifest itself. She held his gaze, her dark brown against his lighter blue, shadows of hope whispering behind the coloured windows, but nothing was voice. That silence reigned, but it was pleasant, each one basking in their presence, hesitant to break it, but finally practicality won out in the mind of the marine who hovered at her bedside, her hand still gently clasped in his. Greaves: I really should get back to my bed, before they catch me up and about. Peri almost said no. She almost requested that he stay, that he linger a little longer, maybe even remain until she was safely tucked away into slumber, the last thing seen was his smiling face. But once more, the words shied away from actual speech and she merely nodded. It was Wes who had to break the hold, his hand releasing her own and she let it fall back to her side, the chill of the room stark in comparison to his warmth and she couldn’t help but shiver a little. He cast her one last smile and she returned it with a small one of her own. Though he was not present when Peri finally did return to the realm of slumber, she had, at least, that to ponder upon, the vision of his face and the gentleness of that departing expression carrying her into sleep. ********** ========================= Captain (SFMC) Wes Greaves Marine Detachment Commander Chief of Security & Tactical USS Thor - NCC 82607 E239702WG0 ========================= & Ensign Katsim Peri Science Officer USS Thor M239008AD0

Welcome aboard @Scotty Reade!

Welcome Ensign Thorne!

Welcome Aboard!

I want to thank @Alieth, along with @Roshanara Rahman & @Quen Deena, for making this entire arc absolutely incredible to explore. I've said this on Discord, but I'll reiterate it here because I think it's important - generally speaking I find it difficult to explore my own character, or to make them the 'center' of a narrative arc. I'm always concerned it's self-indulgent or exclusionary so I rarely go to these stories, excepting with the help of the writers I've most come to respect and trust. I'm glad I did, because what @Alieth did in this last sim is an incredible reflection on my own character, and my 'history' with our fleet. Thank you, Troublemaker. ========================================================================= Falling from the ((Bridge, Deck 1, USS Veritas)) Reality collapsed at Alieth's feet, in a cascade of memory fragments into darkness. Glimpses for the past rained down around her, disjointed and senseless as she tumbled hastily into the abyss. The red light in the teetering corridors of the USS Artemis. A well-endowed front end of a version of Captain Rahman riding a Veritas through the space, with spots ALL the way down. Teller: Alieth! For some reason, a violent impact to the chest followed by a more than audible “FALLHHHASLLPPPPPPPP!”. Someone speaking in a strangely flowery manner. For some reason the words "Silas" and "Saga" echoed over and over in the void. Neither made sense to the Vulcan. The texture of the Uss Diligent's captain's chair, firm under her fingers, though she had never been there. The woodlands of Til'ahn, the gurgling sound of his chest after a runabout fell on his head. Mackenzie, working on a mechanical arm for a reluctant G'var. A robotic leg for a Betazoid officer, Adea. While Alieth knew the former CMO, she didn't know either of the other two, but she recognised their faces. Somehow. A little girl, playing with a yellow-robed muppet, who looked suspiciously like a certain red-haired fellow. For some reason, she knew there was a degree of mischief involved. Teller: Alieth! We have to go! Now! A white wake that, for some mysterious reason, left a trail of bamboo and coconuts behind it hurried towards her amidst memories of a crazy party with someone called Ukinix and a snooty-looking black-eyed woman in the chase of a bellhop. Somehow, there, when everything was crumbling around her, smelt like coffee. Amidst the maelstrom of memories and shadowy images, she intuited a familiar form. Alieth stretched out her hands in search of the faint figure she could not fully see. Alieth: We cannot Sern is still... Teller: It won't matter if we don't get out of here. You have to break the meld! A firm hand grasped her wrist. She clung onto him as they both spun on the trajectory that had resulted from their collision. Alieth: Alright! Alieth closed her eyes and concentrated on her hands. Not on those, clinging to the skinny pale wrist, but on another, far, far away, resting on the profile of a face just over the qui'lari. She felt the electric tingle under her fingertips, the vibrant connection between her minds. With one last effort of her will, Alieth flexed her fingers... ... And pushed. And when she opened her eyes, she was still in her office chair, as a very large dog performed the duty her kind had been performing for millennia and was saving a human's life. Licking him. ((CMO's Office, Main Sickbay, USS Thor)) The light in the office was too white, too bright after her plunge into darkness. Alieth closed her eyes and breathed in, the emotions of the meld still lingering in her mind. Some were not her own. Most of them were just hers. And she didn't want to deal with them, not there, not at that moment. She just could not. She breathed out deeply and inhaled once more. When she exhaled again, it was herself all over again, what had happened pushed away and tucked away in a place deep in her mind, shelved for... for later. Yet there was... a certain tension in her face, a certain frown in her slanted eyebrows, a subtle dull gleam in her dark eyes. Teller: Doc...Alieth...are you... Alieth: I’m fine. ::She frowned deeply and reworded the statement:: I am fine. Fine was a non-descript and imprecise term, and yet she could find nothing better to convey the truth. Teller: But...what about Sern? What the hell was all that? Alieth: That is rather more complicated, I… She tilted her head to one side and, quickly, she regretted it, the throbbing pain piercing through her temples. She leaned back for a moment, eyes closed, before she stood back on her feet. For a moment she held herself upright, as if she questioned her own stability, just before she moved the scant two steps that separated her from the officer sprawled on the floor and the solicitous canid. She patted the animal's head a couple of times and pushed the dog aside from him before she offered a hand to the human. With one efficient motion, she assisted him back to his feet. That brief contact ceased quickly, however, with Alieth pulling her hands away just as soon as he regained his verticality. She folded her hands behind her back, hiding them in the sleeves of her lab coat. Alieth: Sern needs help, expert guidance. Assistance that I can only find in Vulcan. Teller: ? Alieth: I cannot answer that, Geoff, not now, but whatever it takes, I will sort it out, he can count on me :: She gazed into his eyes earnestly, her concern well hidden behind her impassive mask :: And so will you. Teller: ? She allowed herself for a moment to relax her firm grip on her features, and one corner of her mouth curved up slightly, barely a shadow of what she had been in his mind. Alieth: We shall see, but for the time being I think you should have some rest. And in the next few weeks just... make sure you stay out of trouble. And for once play it safe, troublemaker. Teller: ? [[Tag! & TBC]] OOC: qui'lari -> the Vulcan name for a focal point in the bioelectric field in foramen magnums of a humanoid ================================= Lt. Alieth Chief Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 E239702A10 Image Collective Facilitator /Art Director =================================