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Found 355 results

  1. I figured instead of having a monthly thread, we could just keep a running thread of funny instances in our sims.
  2. The Walsh saga keeps going on, after a couple of hopeless and devastating sims (which I strongly recommend you to read in Thor's group because of the wonderful @Geoffrey Teller and @Wes Greavesknow-how about writing drama) it seems that there is some light at the end of the tunnel. Here Teller displays an excellent prose, and a wonderful new point of view of this micro-history within the mission intermingling a select handful of cultural and spiritual references of our beloved Bajorans, creating again a deep, dramatic and highly recommendable scene to read, introducing us fully into the world of Star Trek. Another Good Job Guarantee for sure @Geoffrey Teller
  3. Just plain creepy! Love it! ((NucleaCell, USS Nimitz)) Almost a decade ago, the crew of the USS Nimitz had been infected with an unknown virus that the medical officers couldn’t figure out a cure from. Even going as far as using different types of medicines to combine with one another, hoping there’d be a way to slow the virus from manifesting itself. With no hope from even neighboring planets, they had to figure out something because nearing the end of their fruitless trials, nearly eighty-two percent of the Sovereign class starship had succumbed to the plague. Without much fortitude to live on, the former Captain’s adversary became themselves. Nothing to gain and unable to help the helpless soon overwhelmed the remaining crew, soon beginning to take their own lives. The ship’s power systems faded and soon began to drift as the life support dwindled until they drifted toward a planet’s gravitational pull which caused some sections to pull apart, then the chief scientist picked up some unusual signatures from beneath the planet as the alert rang out to abandon ship. Trudging along the planet’s surface while in an unknown and foreign sandstorms was no easy task as the scientist had also brought along some of her own department officers and several others from different duty posts. Not many had survived the landing as they could see from the clear patches through the blinding, dirty wind that now the ship was using the planet’s atmospheric as an orbital path which they realized after finding a mining entrance that there were Borg nanoprobes keeping the Nimitz from crash landing. Of course it didn’t make sense, but Commander Sidney Holtz wasn’t the chief science officer for no good reason. She wanted to get to the bottom of it so she started to do some quick research and determined that the nanites were acting as some kind of healing devices as she and the crew walked further inside and began to feel better. With that kind of instant cure and satisfaction, she was determined to get back up to the ship with samples of probes that she began to experiment with back in her main medical science labs. Right from the start, there were issues that began to arise. Sidney developed an obsessive need to perfect anything that became a problem which fixed that problem, but then something else would come up. The nanoprobes were doing their designed functions, but would adapt to gain control of itself rather than go by Sidney’s commands. The short dark haired, caramel complexion, toned, and determined senior officer constructed a plan which never finished as the nanoprobes noticed a pattern and ended up going around what the commander did before she even thought of it. Ever since then, Sidney was soon enveloped into the main provider which caused the AI computer to react and change into her own consciousness. Feeding into anything that looked like they were sick, the ship began to act as if it was a sentient being. With only one mission in mind and that was to cure anything that it determined was sick and needed treatment. Even if the Nimitz itself felt it was feeling ill and needed a boost of energy by stripping away its own parts to gain another spacecraft section. Juvantibus was her name now. The Latin term meaning “from that which helps” and refers to in the medical context, “the process of making an inference about disease causation from an observed response of the disease to a treatment.” Her Designation being One of Twelve, Secondary Adjunct of Unimatrix Forty. The black, snake and leather like cables that held the top half of her body began to lower her from the former chief science office, connecting her to the lower part of her cybernetic body. As she was finally put together, Juvantibus presented a soft smile as she sort of mechanically swayed with her hips, moving her arms back and forth, approaching a monitor that displayed anything outside the ship. One of her drones had spotted a vessel that had plenty of supplies that the Nimitz Collective wanted. Since the ship wanted it, the Nimitz fired a couple torpedoes at the medical freighter. A direct hit both times, but the vessel was still operational. They don’t ever want to intentionally harm anyone for their mission was to assimilate and add others’ superior features into their Collective for the greater good of the Nimitz. Drone: ? Juvantibus of Nimitz: ::glances upward without moving her head:: Hail them. Let the Nimitz Collective see if they will comply. ::turns with a sickening, yet sensual grin:: Drone: ? Juvantibus of Nimitz: =/\= We are the Nimitz. Cut engines and prepare to be boarded to be added to the Nimitz Collective. =/\= Sadger: ::she put on her most confident tone.:: =/\= Who are you? What do you want? We are on a mission of peace! =/\= Juvantibus of Nimitz: =/\= Peace is the cure all. The causation from an observed response of the disease to a treatment. Your freighter will adapt to service us. Sadger: =/\= This is the ECS - we are on a delivery with much needed supplies to put colony worlds - =/\= The information the medical vessel relayed to them was perfect for the end goal. Getting to that goal was going to be either faster or slower than what was needed. Being out in space for eight years didn’t make a difference because the amount of time passed to what comes in the future was irrelevant. The Nimitz locked onto the vessel with a tractor beam. Juvantibus of Nimitz: =/\= We are the Nimitz. Where your culture was going is irrelevant. Your biotechnological distinctiveness will be added to our own. From this moment, you will be added to service the Collective. =/\= Sadger: =/\= ? Drone: ? Juvantibus of Nimitz: =/\= Irrelevant. Lower your shields and surrender your ship. Initiating the cutting beam. =/\= Sadger: =/\= ? The Nimitz didn’t have a cutting beam functionality. The Borg technological weapon wasn’t any type of addon. The nanoprobes were going off on what they knew from being manufactured on a Borg Cube years before they were on the planet. Still, Juvantibus was running on programs and codes rather than thinking for herself. Juvantibus of Nimitz: =/\= Prepare to be boarded by the Nimitz Collective. =/\= Sadger: =/\= ? ----- Juvantibus of Nimitz Nimitz Collective Leader One of Twelve, Secondary Adjunct of Unimatrix 40 V239507GG0
  4. Please post any funny lines or memorable quotations from sims from our crew!
  5. ((Somewhere... and Nowhere)) What is nothing? Is there really such a thing? For there to be nothing, there had to have existed traces of something, from which that null could grow. But if it was nothing, how could it be recognized as such? For Chloe, nothing was now... or maybe it wasn't. Unconsciousness gripped her. There was no body, very little feeling. And yet... there was awareness. A painful awareness. Both literal and figurative. To the helm officer, her awareness felt like it spread across the entire universe. And every part of her non-existent body was screaming with pain. Something was wrong, very very wrong. Why wouldn't it stop? Then... relief. Oh sweet, sweet relief. A voice pierced the nothing-somethingness and reverberated everywhere, as the pain was slowly sucked away. Feel better Lt. Feel better Lt. Feel better Lt. And she did. She felt better. There was no pain. But still very little substance. She couldn't bring herself to worry though, for some reason. This was what it was. Was this what death felt like? Another sound began to reverberate. Whatever it was... it was an alarm. Something was wrong. She knew that sound. Alert. Red alert. That's what that sound was. What was wrong? NT ************************************************************************************* Lieutenant JG Chloe Waters Helmswoman USS Arrow, NCC-69829 ****************************** Podcast team member ****************************** Writer ID: E239601CW0 *************************************************************************************
  6. I think there are few Tellarites written and should be written more often. They are terrific fun to read, and they provide a very interesting balance between Vulcan stoicism and humans, for example. In this SIM @Sirokwrites Zheg in all his flowery glory, a character quite different from his main character and at the same time full of personality, with an amazing capacity (as is his habit) for technobabble and, to crown it all, reconnecting two SIMs a little bit different so that everything works. What more can you ask in a SIM? Add to all this that English isn't Sirok's main language. I try to avoid posting Sirok's SIMs here because I'm obviously biased, but you deserve this one. Good job.
  7. (( Hall 1, Deck 16, Starbase 821 )) Nakada: Commander, who can I speak to about getting back on board the ship? I’d like to help out with the repairs. I have little other work on board the station anyway. Shayne: Good man. I’ll speak to the dock master, but don’t forget- you’ve got enough on your plate already. That paperwork isn’t going to finish itself, and right now, you’re the ranking engineering officer. Keneth was a bit confused for a second, before he caught on, mentally facepalming himself. He was being told to submit the engineering reports, which, considering he was the only engineering officer onboard at the moment, made sense. The tactical officer seemed to have come to a similar conclusion Serinus: Yes sir, seeing as there are currently no Tactical Officers assigned to the Arrow, at least to my knowledge, is it safe to assume that those responsibilities fall on me, as well? Shayne: At least for the time being, yes. I will be reassessing that regularly, but for now, you are our duly notarized Security and Tactical officer. I assume you’re up for it? He didn’t hear the officer’s response, mentally dividing his work. He definitely had It cut out for himself. He was brought back by a curt silence, followed by the realization that the others were watching him. Nakada: Sorry. Yes, sir. I’ll get to the report immediately. Should be done well before we launch. He nodded and turned away, heading towards the turbolift. It was time to see how the ship was doing. (( Main Engineering, Deck 3, USS Arrow )) So, update. The ship was doing fantastically, all things considered. It seemed the starbase crew had given up on the existing warp core after it had “emitted puffs of lemon-scented black vapor and spilled its coolant matrix onto the deck” or as the dock master had put it “it threw up so we yanked it”. They had just replaced the entire assembly, which was surprisingly simple, owing to the existing ejection mechanisms. The new core was purring soundly, plus had a minor upgrade so they could actually sustain Warp 5 without sacrificing other systems, such as the secondary medical computer. He had helped them with the rest of the deck, which had been completely cleaned up with fresh teal paneling, uncracked displays and a spotless floor to top it off. The modularity was a blessing. Entire consoles were just … removed and replaced. In some ways, the urgency of the situation was an agent as well. He was pretty sure they wouldn’t have gotten unlimited use of the industrial replicators without some pulled strings somewhere. There were hidden signs of the expedited timeline though. His audit had revealed that much of the power system had been hastily patched around. While the damaged and destroyed hardware had been cleared, some of the work was … unfavorable. They had had to run nearly all the weapons through just two relays, which was uncomfortably non-redundant, but the remaining lines had been completely trashed and they did not have the time to replace them. He had then proceeded to ask where the holodeck was, so that they could take it offline for the time being. This had lead to a half an hour search, after which a crewman had the excellent sense to consult the computer. The computer had cheekily (that might have been in his head) replied that the only recreational facility onboard was a gymnasium. Keneth just shook his head. The ship was quite old and had been built for the war - at least this meant one less power draw on the system. He’d finished up his report toward late evening, as the starbase personnel had finally departed, leaving an unrecognizable deck and a lonesome PADfD full of data. His quarters were a deck below, which suited him just fine. It meant that it was less likely somebody would show up at two in the morning with an inane request like “should we light the warp core yellow or blue today” or “Dan caught his beard on a plasma conduit” or “can we have a toilet near the Jefferies tube”. For the billionth time, no, he was not going to ask Commander Shayne for a toilet near … how did they even come up with this? In other news, he’d finally trimmed his beard to a less scraggly windswept look, which Crewman Patrick had chided him for. You should look wild!, he’d proclaimed while he stroked his own gigantic face plumes. Keneth told him that any more hair on board and they’d collectively clog the air ducts. Overall, when he sat down on the big chair in his room, he was feeling quite satisfied. He was somewhat nervous about what they were heading into though. Those kind of numbers were last seen … Romulus. He suddenly realized what had been irking him. For all the amazing work the crew had done, they had absolutely no idea what kind of horror show they were about to arrive in. They were a small, weakish ship by any reasonable metric. Starfleet’s main strength has always been it’s people, he reminded himself. They didn’t really churn out officers like the Klingons. It took years of training, resources and dedication to graduate. Their best hope, like always, was to simply outsmart the enemy. He fidgeted with his hot chocolate, his fourth that day, especially since he discovered they had a caffeinated version. There would be more information at the briefing he console himself, as he forced himself to doze off into a fitful sleep. Just outside, the stars burned bright into the void that they would soon be back in.
  8. Is it dusty in here? Fondest of farewells, but not goodbyes @Kudon! The Resolution is lucky to have you! We'll see you always around the fleet ❤️ ((Kudon's Quarters on Starbase 118)) ((OOC: Although I'm transferring to a ship that will be more appropriate for me in terms of the number of posts, I will miss everyone. I have gotten to know so many of your characters and had so much fun interacting with them. I hope to do some cross-posting and JP's in the future! Bye everyone!)) Kudon had packed up all of his belongings, not that he had brought all that much and he lifted up his bag and was about to leave when it occurred to him that he really wanted to do a proper goodbye. He put his bag back down on the bed and had a seat on the mattress. He did not have time to go visit everyone he wished to, since he had to get to the USS Resolution soon. But that did not mean he could not find another way to say farewell. Kudon: Computer, record private message to deliver to Commander Galven. Begin recording... Commander, I wish to thank you for your mentorship of me. I know you may not have intended to be a mentor, but when we spoke after the mission, you made me feel better about my experience of fear I had during it. What you said has very much stayed with me and I am realizing that by choosing to have emotions, there are certain things that are just unavoidable. You gave me the hope that I can handle them. And come to think of it, I have only been on one away mission so far, making you the only superior officer I have had on one. I am not one to say much, so I will stop here. But know that you have my thanks and I was proud to serve under your command on Vankoth II. Kudon: Computer, transmit message. Record private message to Lieutenant Casparian. Begin recording... Romy...as fellow engineers I still wish we had had more time to interact as professionals. But I am glad we did spend some time together. It was nice having you over for dinner with a few others. At least I was able to cook for you. Good luck dealing with Rusty. I wish you the best for the future. Kudon: Computer, transmit message. Record private message to Commander Deveau. Begin recording... Alora. I knew you for a very short amount of time, but it was appreciated. Our talk on the Holodeck was very helpful for me...helpful for me to think through what it means to be a Vulcan with emotions. And I enjoyed sharing musical interests. Take care, Alora. Kudon: Computer transmit message. He paused for a moment, thinking about how he felt that he and Alora could have been friends if he were not being transferred. Part of him wanted to say this, but it did not feel like an appropriate thing to say to a superior officer. Plus Kudon was just plain shy. Kudon: Computer, record private message to Commander Hael. Begin recording... Rusty, what can I say? You are an...interesting person. I'm sorry we did not work together too often, since I was away on mission. But I will remember all the Terran food you exposed me to. And keep listening to Orion. Kudon: Computer, transmit message. Record private message to Lieutenant Bailey. Begin recording... Lieutenant, I am sending this message to say goodbye to you. We may not have known each other personally well, but I will always remember our mission together on Vankoth II. You showed what real bravery was in the way you took charge when Commander Galven was hurt. And I have wanted to tell you for a long time that I admire how much you persevere through your physical challenges in higher gravity. You are an inspiration since when many in your situatoin would have given up, your effort never wavers. I hope the rest of the crew can appreciate that about you. Kudon: Computer, transmit message. Record private message to Captain Taybrim. Begin recording... Captain, I want to thank you for giving me the opportunity to serve under your command. Your awarding me the Inspiration Ribbon and promoting me to Lieutenant Junior Grade are among the greatest honors I have ever received. I do hope our paths cross again and I will be eager to serve under your command again if the circumstances permit. It has been an honor, sir. Kudon: Computer, transmit message. Record private message to Ensign Taelon. Begin recording... Taelon, I want to tell you that you are a fantastic science officer. The work you did with the Breathers was of the highest caliber. You certainly deserve the Innovation Ribbon far more than I did. I may have tinkered with them, but you created the machines in the first place. I am sorry we will not be working together anymore. But know your work is appreciated. Kudon: Computer, transmit message. Record private message to Crewman Swenhart. Begin recording... Miskre, our last interaction was less than pleasant. I still do not know why you ran out of my quarters...but since I am leaving I want you to know that it is ok and I am not angry anymore. I will always remember you as the first person to show me around Main Engineering. It was an act of kindness that made me feel welcome. Kudon: Computer, transmit message. He could have gone on all night, finding things to say to everyone. Kudon had said enough private goodbyes. There was just one more for the records. Kudon: Computer, record message to all senior officers on Starbase 118 Operations. Begin recording... To my superiors and those equal in rank, I wish to say a brief thank you and goodbye. Although my time with Starbase 118 Operations has been rather short, it has been an experience I will always remember and you have all played a significant part in starting my Starfleet career. I leave having learned more than I have given and it is my sincere wish to take all that I have learned and make the galaxy a better, more humane place. You all make me proud to be a Starfleet officer. I certainly hope our paths will cross again. Kudon: Computer, transmit message and add it to my personal log. Kudon picked up his bag again walked to the door, and before it could swish open, he turned around to take one last look at his quarters. He had not spent much time in these quarters, since he had been away on the Narenda for much of his assignment. Nonetheless, he had started to get used to the idea of them being his home and it felt oddly sad to leave them behind. Though he was nervous about transferring to the USS Resolution, he felt that in some ways it was not so much goodbye as a calling to a different part of the same Starfleet mission. And more than anything, it was that mission which he was proud to commit his life to. Kudon turned around and left his quarters for a bold new adventure. Lieutenant JG Kudon Engineering Officer Starbase 118 Ops O239703K10
  9. OOC: Part 1 was just Genkos leaving the away team he was on. Part 2 here is where it hit me in the feels. We'll miss you on the Gorkon, @Genkos Adea, but I know you'll have a great time on the Resolution! ---------- ((TIMESKIP - a few days later)) ((Main Shuttlebay, USS Gorkon)) Genkos stood in the Executive Transport Shuttle that they had sent him from Starbase 118 to bring him to his new commission. He looked at the reflective surface of the inactive station, the black mirror reflecting his face back at him. He touched at his forelock, the reason for his transfer. After being brought back from the Brantax asteroid to deal with Gnaxac’s mysterious ailment, Genkos had retired to his quarters and heavily launched himself into a fitful sleep. A stressful series of dreams forced him to relive some the absolute worst moments of his career; causing a riot on Sikuna, fighting for his life on the USS Unpronounceable, the repeated jaunts to an alternate universe where he was a grizzled, alcoholic psychopath and savagely attacking people he had thought were friends on Væron. He had tossed and turned all night, and was finally awoken by Toto’s loud yapping. The littlest pup had clearly been affected by Genkos’ dreams as well, although Genkos wasn’t sure if that was because of telepathic projection or because he’d just been flailing around so much. Either way, as he had stepped into the bathroom and washed his face, he had made a startling discover. The curl of hair above his right eye had gone silver overnight, completely drained of the dark brown of the rest of his hair. Genkos remembered he had stumbled backwards from the mirror in shock. He’d broken his vow of abstinence that night, drinking several glasses of sapphire wine that he had hidden in the bottom drawer of his desk in his office. He had composed a request for reassignment, and then hovered over sending it for a few hours. He had weighed up the positives and negatives for what felt like an absolute age, and in the end, he had concluded that the only reason he had for staying were the friends he had on board. Without really realising it, he had grown afraid of the ship, every away mission was a chance for more death and psychological trauma and he was still reeling from revelations from years ago. He had not more room for new ones, and was in danger of shutting down. But even so, the Gorkon was his home. It was the first ship he had been assigned to, and he would miss so much about it. Drinks in Sto’Vo’Kor, laughing in his office with his fellow medical officers, and being sharked in games of pool by the command staff. He had known, as soon as he had pressed send, that it was the camaraderie and friendship aboard the Gorkon that he would miss the most. He had eschewed having a party in farewell, but instead had met up with those he would miss the most individually. Naturally he had started with Quinn, his request for reassignment soon turning into a personal conversation. Breakfast with Jo and Erin, croissants and some tears from the Betazoid, much like that breakfast so many months ago after his world had been shattered for the upteenth time. A meeting in his office with Cait and Loxley, where he’d toasted them and their abilities. A quick session of tassa’akai with ‘liss, in which he told her, if she did marry Loxley, Genkos would be on the first shuttle back. Finally he’d had a small round of drinks in Sto’Vo’Kor with Arlo, Samira and the rest of the crew. He didn’t tell them he was leaving, he just used it as an excuse to see them all one last time. As someone once said “when I leave, there will be no cake in the break room, I’ll just be gone”. As he piloted the shuttle out of the ship and into the darkness of space, he turned it around for one long last lingering look at the ship that he’d known and loved for the best part of three years, the best (and worst) part of his life. Adea: ::quietly:: Goodbye. Toto raised his head from the makeshift bed that Genkos had made him for the journey, and the Betazoid ruffled his fur. Adea: Good boy. ::Pause:: Computer. Set a course for Starbase 118. Engage. ----------------------- Lieutenant Commander Genkos Adea MD Chief Medical Officer & Second Officer USS Gorkon G239502GS0
  10. ((OOC: I find one of the most interesting challenges in our format to be creating 'small moments' within the bigger arc of a plot that's going on, and it's why I think this sim deserves particular praise. Alieth has, in a few exquisitely poignant lines, established the simple lives and tragic deaths of nearly half a dozen characters, adding enormous emotional resonance to a scene and using a facet of her Vulcan character in a way I've rarely seen executed so beautifully. Bravo!)) ((Sickbay, Deck 10, USS Thor, Five Hours & Fourty Seven Minutes until QSD Overload)) The patient's breathing was laboured, difficult and arrhythmic inspirations with a wet murmur underneath. His eyelids fluttered like frightened birds, but the few times his eyes opened wide, his empty gaze didn't focus on any particular thing, just minute pupils wandering through a ceiling he couldn't see. Alieth didn't need to check out the data that the biobed was screeching. Instead, she just sat on her bedside, placing the padd in her lap. She took his only hand between her tiny ones. And waited. First, she felt his pain, a searing, excruciating sensation that no modern medication could entirely mitigate. And then, there was the fear. oO I am here. I am with you. Oo oO You are not alone. Oo She held his hands until his chest dropped one last time. Until the last swirl of his mind faded into nothingness, the spark of what had been him gone forever. His name was Raphael Watanabe. He was twenty-six years old. He loved dogs. Four days ago he had managed to convince his roommate to adopt one. Since then, he had spent most of his free time looking for the perfect pup. Eventually, he had decided in favour of a sad-eyed white adult with an even sadder past. He wanted to call her Cheesecake. She let her rigid fingers slip through hers and recovered the padd from her lap. With a mechanical gesture she had performed too many times in the last few hours, she introduced his profile info in the database. And the stardate and hour of the demise. The Vulcan's shoulders sank an extra micron. She wouldn't forget Raphael Watanabe. Just as she wouldn't forget any of the others. All the minds she had last reached out to, to give them some comfort in the very last moments, when there was nothing else she could do. As Thiri zh'Poltal, Petty Officer, 2nd Class, Operations. Today was her day off, but when the disaster struck, she had run to help. Or like Astrid Wethern. Fourteen years old, she was part of the civilian contingent. She had joined the crew in Ferenginar to accompany her father to find out if she was going to be an astrophysicist or a holonovelist when she grew up. For the brief time that the two had shared their minds, Alieth was sure that she would have excelled at both activities. Or like T'Lar, an assistant in the xenobiology department, whose name meant "lady blue desert bird". Alieth had arrived too late, and when she had checked her status, she had already passed away. She was 115 years old and her katra had been lost forever, the experiences of a lifetime vanished in an instant. At homeworld, she had 3 children and 8 grandchildren. Cammy Jackstadt would have been 43 in 78 days. Warrant Officer in Engineering. She had suffered major damage to the back of her head and her last thoughts were very disjointed. For some reason, her injured mind repeated over and over again a memory of a summer in Idaho. It had been so intense that Alieth had almost felt the breeze caressing her skin and still had in her mouth the flavour of the fruit that Cammy had shared that day with her best friend. Porter Solari, a nurse, had died just minutes before Jackstadt. He was 23 years old and his maternal grandmother had been a Romulan. During shoreleave, Alieth had issued a recommendation for him to go to Starfleet Medical School. He could have been one of the finest doctors in the fleet due to his selflessness and compassion. He had died in the belief that everything that had happened was a nightmare and that he would soon wake up and be able to take the shuttle back to Earth. Alieth had been unable to comfort him, and he had died scared and confused. Alieth halted her steps and leaned, for the briefest of moments, on the sill of one of the windows. The strange blue light from the sub-space travel bathed her hollow-eyed face, rendering her visage strange and tired. Her fingers clasped the padd tightly. Much more than needed. But this way her hands didn't shake. That brief quiet moment evaporated with the hissing of the door, which heralded the entry of the two red-collared officers. Alieth pulled herself together as best she could, stretched out her wrinkled uniform by grabbing the hem of her jacket and stepped closer to them with strides more resolute than she really felt. Her left hand kept gripping the padd firmly, but otherwise she wore the hieratic Vulcan indifference façade. She couldn't afford to let her unemotional mask crack. Not at that moment. Alieth: (nodding sternly) Acting Captain Geoffrey John Teller, Lieutenant Commander García. Quen: Response Teller: Doctors - have you made any progress on the...::Geoff shrugged over towards the isolation lab::...mass? Quen: Response The Vulcan kept silent and listened to her colleague's explanations. The Bajoran woman had spent all her time on that case, while Alieth attended to those left behind after the evacuation, so she knew little to nothing about the.... mass. Garcia: Response Teller: I see. Ensign Wilkins, you were orchestrating the first Marine team that was attacked - what are your impressions of the device we're dealing with? Anything could be useful at this point. Wilkins: Response Quen: Response Once again, Alieth listened and said naught. Her eyes wandered from her feet to the stasis field and from there to the padd she was holding in her hands. She unlocked it one more time, moved the report of the fatalities to the background with a miniscule grimace and logged on to the medical database. For a short while, the only sound that came from the Vulcan-shaped shade was the faint tap-tap-tap of her fingers on the screen. Garcia: Response Teller: That's helpful, thank you. I've got Lt. Cmdr. Brodie working with Lt. Lovar on a way to disentangle the mine from our innards, and our Security and Marine personnel are attempting to reinforce the QSD core, which appears to be this devices ultimate objective. Our goal is to neutralize, hinder, harass or otherwise annoy the biological components of this device enough so we can excise it from the hull without being attacked again. This is an open forum - no idea too crazy, so speak freely. By my count, we've got just over five and half hours left - so lets get into it. Wilkins: Response Alieth: The closest thing I find in the computer memory is an encounter with Quasi-energy microbes in 2369. These are life forms that exist simultaneously as matter and energy, sir. Quen: Response Garcia: Response Wilkins: Response Teller: Response Alieth: (with exhausted voice) It is possible, sir, but it seems much more complex to the eye. Quen: Response Garcia: Response Wilkins: Response Teller: Response Tag & TBC ================================= Lt. JG Alieth Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 Fleet Captain A. Kells, Commanding Author ID number: E239702A10 =================================
  11. (OOC: I couldn't remove the Bolding for some reason but that's no excuse not to post this JP in it's entirety. It's a lovely three-way JP between @Tony (Kells)@Wil Ukinix & @Geoffrey Teller that gives a satisfying and call-back laden send off to several friendships I loved watching on the Veritas. It's both fan service and quality writing and I enjoyed having it in my inbox this morning. ) (( Shuttlecraft Miranda, out of the USS Veritas )) Nic del Vedova grinned over at his fellow Aussie. There wasn’t much to grin about, since they were hurtling along through subspace with nothing particularly exciting immediately ahead of or behind them. But, at the same time, there was nothing not to grin about, so Del grinned. Wil had his feet up on the helm controls, ankles crossed, fiddling with a replicated cube that he’d found out about by chance in the Starfleet database. The cube had nine squares on each face of a different colour. The idea was to randomly mess it up, and then twist and turn it until it was back into its original state. It was mind numbing yet somehow mesmerising. Playing quietly in the background was one of the songs from his music collection, which he was also quietly singing along to. Ukinix/Speakers: I kissss and-tell, all my fe-ears… Fallin’ down-the moun-tain…. End-up kiss-in’ diii-iiirt….. He looked over at Del who was grinning away. Ukinix: ::Smiling:: Watch’ya grinning about? del Vedova: Just thinking. But no, that wasn’t right, was it? Too often recently, too much thinking had gotten him to do the opposite of grinning. Ukinix: Ah. Enjoying a bit of quiet time? del Vedova: It’s more that I’m actually doing something. I’ve been stuck in physical therapy for way too long on Starbase 284. Even if I’m not going back to Veritas, it feels good to be doing something that isn’t working out my leg. Wil nodded and smiled, while placing the cube game on the nearby console, before interlocking his fingers and placing his hands behind his head. Ukinix: ::Cheekily:: IIII… reckonnnnnn… someone’s a bit keen to see their boooy-friiieeend! Wil opened his mouth, and gave Del two deliberately exaggerated winks. Del nodded. That was certainly true. del Vedova: Him, too. I’m definitely looking forward to reuniting with Aron, (beat) even if it means leaving you and Roshanara and the rest of our friends behind. Wil breathed a big sigh through his nose, and nodded in agreement slowly, pondering. He had lost his fair share of close friends in recent times. Losing Del was another loss. Wil considered him his good friend, and not just because they were from the same continent. Del knew he’d always have a community of friends on Veritas, despite his monthslong absence, which made it more difficult. In fact, he thought leaving them now was harder than it would’ve been if he’d left from Veritas directly. But Wil had been good enough to come and pick him up at SB284, using one of the Veritas’s type-10 shuttles, to ferry him to Thor and Aron. Ukinix: That’s why I wanted to give you a lift. Well, that and I need the helm practice. At least this way I get to say goodbye. Plus, you’re effectively my neighbour, I gotta look after my mate from Sydney. del Vedova: Why’d you do it, anyway? We could’ve just talked by subspace. I’m grateful, don’t get me wrong, but you know you didn’t have to do this. Ukinix: ::Serious face:: Teller stole my craft beer stash. del Vedova: (slight frown) Oh. I see. Wil slowly put his tongue in his cheek, and began to silently laugh. He couldn’t keep a straight face. Ukinix: ::Smirking:: Sucked in, Del. Only kidding. Del’s face cleared. del Vedova: Of course you were kidding. He laughed and winked, covering that he definitely hadn’t known. But just as quickly, his happy face faded, to be replaced by a stonier look. del Vedova: Can I ask you about something? Wil’s one quarter Betazoid self subconsciously sensed some tension in Del. He placed his hands in his lap, and sat up straight, giving Del his full attention. Ukinix: ‘Course you can. Del looked away from Wil as he spoke, not certain how to broach this difficult topic. del Vedova: I’m just not sure what I’m going to do when I get there. Ukinix: ::relaxed tone:: Whaddya mean. del Vedova: I still have months of therapy to do on my own, if I want to be reinstated. And if I do, what guarantee is there that I’ll be on Thor? They have an excellent medical staff from what Aron says, headed by Addison MacKenzie. Where do I go? Pursing his lips, Wil breathed through his nose, and thought for a few seconds. Ukinix: Yeah, but you’ve done other stuff besides medical, right? You were Diplomatic Officer when I first joined the ‘Tas. del Vedova: (with a nod) That’s true. Ukinix: You two have served apart for so long. Starfleet owes you two some decent time together. Besides, Aron’s a fleet captain, he’d be able to have some say in it, wouldn’t he? del Vedova: (another nod) That’s true, too. And, Del thought, the fleet owed them some leeway, given Del’s pain and suffering (not that it was the fleet’s fault, but still) and how they’d served apart for an extended period. del Vedova: He’s pretty gregarious, too. Nothing on me! But he’d be able to talk some stuffy admiral down, I’m sure. (beat) I forget, did you meet him when he came to Veritas? Ukinix: I met Aron briefly on Limbo, then he was in the transporter room when Roshie had her trip to Krios Prime. Other than that, not much. del Vedova: Well, trust me on that, then. And as for me… Even if he’d be serving only half-time for a while, he didn’t know where that half-time would be. But Wil had an answer for that, too: Ukinix: The Thor is unfeasibly large compared to the ‘Tas. I’m sure they’d easily find a role for you. del Vedova: (more cheery) You’re right. It’s a damned city in space. There must be something for me to do. Del turned a raised eyebrow on Wil. Between the two of them, he was sure they’d arrive at the Thor with a perfect plan ready to present to Aron. Fait accompli! Wil pondered for a moment, then chuckled for a moment as a thought entered his head. Ukinix: ::Smirking:: You know I always secretly referred to Aron as “Del’s Kells”? del Vedova: (with a wink) You think that’ll endear you to him? Ukinix: Don’t you dare tell him that. del Vedova: My silence can be bought, for a price. (playful) Let’s see how helpful you are before we get there. How long do we have, anyway? Ukinix: Oh, uuummm…. ::Leaning over to read console:: Six days? Nah, that can’t be right. Wait. del Vedova: Six days?! You’re kidding! I thought that this shuttle had some sort of propulsion magic thingie that would let us travel super fast and… Del trailed off. He could tell by Wil’s look of concentration that he wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention. Wil silently tapped away at the console. He could hear Del, but he didn’t answer just yet. Meanwhile, his face blushed red... del Vedova: What? Ukinix: I, um - ::clears throat:: - wrong course. del Vedova: (a frown turned quickly to a grin) Let me guess, you had us heading towards Kells’ Dells? Ukinix: ::Still tapping at console:: Nah, it’s ok! I fixed it, Commander. 16 hours. That’s more like it. We only lost an hour. ::Under his breath:: Maybe three. With the fingers from his left hand, he wiped and flicked away imaginary sweat from his forehead. del Vedova: Listen, as long as we get there, that’s all I care about. Wil placed his hand on Del’s shoulder, and gave it a friendly shake. Ukinix: We’ll get there mate, promise. ( Jump: Six Hours Later, Aboard the Thor ) The rest of the journey had been smooth enough, and Wil -- despite his attempt to send them off to the depths of Tholian space -- had proved himself equal to Del’s demand, and Del now had a very good idea of how he’d sell his presence to Aron. Not that Aron would need much convincing, but the personnel officer for the fleet who would never see either of them face-to-face certainly would. However, upon arriving, Del had a thought. del Vedova: Why not stay for a bit? Wil smiled at first, but then his face showed a little disappointment. Ukinix: Del, I’d love to, but I gotta get back through the Shoals. Roshie would have my guts if I’m not back on time. He rubbed his chin, and thought a bit longer. Ukinix: I wouldn’t have to stay for ages though, would I. del Vedova: Nah, not long. Just enough to see some folks. We’ve both served with about half of this crew, haven’t we? Ukinix: ::Smiling:: Bloody oath we have. del Vedova: Well, how about this: Let’s head to the bridge, and see if we see any familiar faces. I have to officially report in. Though “officially” reporting in seemed a little silly when one’s partner was the CO to whom one had to report. How could he have done otherwise? Ukinix: ::Thumbs up:: Done! del Vedova: Great! The Thor was a big ship, and it took plenty of time to get from the shuttle bay where they’d landed up to the bridge. Once there, Del was disappointed: There was only a skeleton watch, and none of them were familiar. The unknown lieutenant on watch told them that the captain was in his ready room, and Del hurried on despite the crutch that slowed him down. The lieutenant attempted to add something else, but clearly Del wasn’t to be dissuaded. But maybe he should’ve listened, as he crashed right on into a meeting in progress between Aron and his first officer, Geoff Teller. Teller: ....And the Antedian ambassador is very annoyed at whoever keeps drawing little cartoon fish on the doors to their quarters. I’ve asked the educators at the onboard schools to keep a tight lockdown on the art supplies, but my money is on.... Geoff turned, surprised that anyone would stride, or in this case hobble, into the ready room unannounced. His surprise redoubled when he saw Doctor Niccolo Del Vedova, formerly CMO of the Veritas, supporting himself on a cane. He’d barely had an opportunity to rise out of his chair before he was struck by something halfway between hug & tackle - in the form of Wil Ukinix, who was surprised to see Teller, and, instinctually, flew through the air, knocking Geoffrey to the ground, and squeezing him in a perfect tackle. He then proceeded to rub a knuckle into the top of Geoffrey’s head. del Vedova: Well, hello there. Kells: I expected you hours ago! Meanwhile, Wil and Teller exchanged their own hellos. Ukinix: ::chuckling:: Geoffrey! How are ya, ya [...]! Wil loosened loosened his tackle, then stood up, offering his hand to help Geoffrey up. Teller: You cheeky drongo, why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I could’ve had the shuttle shot down! ::smirk:: No offense, Doc. Aron grinned, and Del did a moment later. Kells: Maybe you two should be stationed together. del Vedova: Wil’s just very enthusiastic. Wil’s face began to blush when he realised he’d just crash tackled a first officer in front of a *Fleet Captain*. Ukinix: I um - ::hands behind back, looking at Aron:: - Fleet Captain. ::Clears throat:: Delivering Commander del Vedova to the Thor, sir. Teller: If I didn’t think the nacelles would go flying off the Veritas, I would’ve forged his transfer papers myself. Besides, The Skipper would never forgive me. Kells: Space forbid I steal Roshanara’s chief engineer. She’d hunt me down and spike my head as a warning to others. (beat, to Teller) On the other hand, I did already steal you. (to Ukinix) There’ll always be space here, Mr. Ukinix. (to Del) For everyone, but especially for you. You already have some plan for your assignment here, don’t you? del Vedova: (with a nod) And it’s very detailed. Wil helped me work it out. Geoff snorted and elbowed Wil in the ribs. Teller: ::smirk:: In that case you better double check the spelling. Wil shot a playful look of hurt at Geoffrey. Ukinix: Oi! Just because you’re in red doesn’t mean I won’t crash tackle you again! He closed his eyes in embarrassment, before looking forward at Aron again, this time blushing more than before. Kells: (slight sigh) Welcome to the Thor, Commander del Vedova. Of course it would’ve worked out. I’m glad you’re here, but you two did crash a command meeting, if you don’t mind… Geoff’s voice fell to a whisper. Teller: I’ve still got that Romulan Ale from Ketar V in my quarters and I’m off duty in an hour. Can you stick around? Ukinix: ::Whispering back out of side of mouth:: #$%@ yeah. Wil had looked at the specs of the Thor on the trip out of the Shoals. What he considered the most impressive part of the ship immediately popped into his mind. Ukinix: ::Still whispering:: Can we go bowling? Geoff had never once bowled in his life but that didn’t stop his competitive streak from showing. Teller: :snort: I will destroy you. Kells: Gentlemen. Not that Aron could really be cross when it came to this reunion, especially since Del had just arrived. He attempted to argue to himself that they had interrupted a command meeting, but then he shook his head. It was meant to just be to himself, but Del caught it at once. del Vedova: No? No to what? It seemed, however, that Wil wanted to err on the side of caution. Ukinix: We’ll, um - ::pointing thumb over shoulder towards door:: - we’ll leave you two to it then, yeah? Geoff coughed, only now fully appreciating the awkwardness of the situation. Teller: Of course sir, if you’d like me to remain on duty, I’m sure Lt. Cmdr. Ukinix…::Geoff’s eyes went wide and his attention was diverted back to Wil::...they made you a Lt. Cmdr? Are things really that bad? Aron let go an involuntary laugh, and then clapped his hands on his desk and stood. Kells: That’s all for today, Geoff. Go have fun with the I’m-sure-well-deserved-Lieutenant-Commander Ukinix. Wil clapped his hands together. Ukinix: Right, well, quick meeting’s a good meeting! ::To Aron and Del:: Will you join us? Teller: Kells: And as for you. Aron’s gaze pinned Del to the ground where he stood. He even wavered slightly. del Vedova: As for me? Kells: Let’s find a way for you to stay, even if it requires stealing this ship. del Vedova: Sounds good to me. Aron pulled Del close, and both men noted as he did so that both Teller and Wil covertly and politely made themselves scarce. Wil smiled, looked sideways at Teller, before gesturing with his head towards the door. He could sense how much they had missed each other, and thought they deserved this moment. (( One day later: Main shuttlebay on one of the three thousand decks that the Thor has, which is impressive by the way )) Standing in front of the type-10 shuttle, Wil had his hands behind his back, looking a little pale. OK, a lot pale. Ukinix: oO It turns out that 5 hours sleep, a bottle of Romulan Ale and several beer chasers while bowling really *does* make you feel complete crap the next day. Oo It was time to say his goodbyes. Again. Kells: It was good of you to come all this way, Commander, especially since you’re the only one who’s not staying. (beat, and a smile) Yet. Ukinix: ::Chuckling, smiling:: The Veritas is my home. Thanks for having me, Captain, I really appreciate it. Kells: Anytime, and I do mean any time. Geoff felt like he’d wrestled with, and lost to, several large Nausician musicians. It had been a while since the last time the two of them had properly tied one on, and Geoff was definitely suffering for it. The shuttlebay lights had never been brighter. Teller: You ready to go back to the second best ship in the fleet, drongo? Wil walked up to Teller, and wrapped his arms around him, patting him firmly on the back. Ukinix: This isn’t a ship, it’s a starbase that someone’s slapped some nacelles on. Geoff barked an entirely inappropriate laugh. Teller: Damn good to see you, brother. Next time give me some warning, I’ll have the starbase polished for you. Ukinix: Mate. I’m lucky to have seen you again. Thanks for a good night. I’ll miss ya. Teller: Same - this doesn’t get any easier. ::Geoff pulled Wil into a final hug:: and I hope it never does. Geoff stepped back and nodded. It helped to know the Veritas was in good hands, but Geoff quite simply missed his friend. He wasn’t the only one having trouble saying goodbye. The hardest part of the trip had finally arrived for Wil. Saying goodbye to Del. del Vedova: Listen, Wil... Ukinix: ::Wrapping up Del in a hug:: We’ll always have the Crapeliguin, Del. Gonna miss you. del Vedova: Well, then, we’ll just have to make sure we see each other again soon. Ukinix: Promise me we’ll go back home together one day soon? And you’ll take me to The Rocks for a schnitzel parmigiana? del Vedova: (with a smile) Absolutely. Teller: ::Geoff couldn't resist a last bit of ribbing:: You about done, or are you going to say good bye to Scarecrow and the Tin Man next? Ukinix: Oh, and say hi to Addison for me. Kells: (dryly) I’m sure she’ll know you were here when she sees the state of our Mr. Teller. Wil smiled. At least Kells seemed to be Teller’s case like Roshanara would have been, he felt that was good for him. Teller: Right as rain, sir, just...jogged here. Kells: You are going to go and get some fluids in Sickbay? Teller: Of course sir, but I was planning to go by jefferies tubes. Medical staff are busy, they don't have time in their schedule to berate the XO right now. Aron sighed, but Del laughed. He also shuffled back a step and grinned at Wil as the latter boarded the Miranda again, ready for his own trip home. del Vedova: Until next time, and I mean it! As he boarded the shuttle, Wil’s eyes became glassy as he held back a few tears, and took one last look at the three men. He gave a nod and a wink to Teller, and a thumbs up to Del. He hated goodbyes. He was extra sad to be saying goodbye to his friend Del, who had done more for him than maybe Del realised. But he could sense the delight in both Del and Aron. Like he had told Geoffrey and Addison via the Beatles song he had given to them as a parting gift before they left... Ukinix: ::To Del:: “There's nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be.” Seeya, mate. END! ======================================================================= Commander Nic del Vedova Currently On Leave & Fleet Captain Aron Kells Commanding Officer USS Thor V238208LV0 & SB118 Captains Council Magistrate (so ask me anything!) And Lieutenant Commander Geoffrey Teller Executive Officer USS Thor - NCC 82607 Fleet Captain A. Kells, Commanding V239509GT0 And Lieutenant Commander Wil Ukinix Chief Engineer who bowls 121 when sober, 148 when tipsy, and 74 when drunk USS Veritas V239511WU0
  12. It is always extremely difficult to introduce or let out a character in the very middle of a mission, even more so when a good part of the mission premise is a race against time in which the life of the whole crew relies on working together. Just for that reason, how this SIM solves that conundrum, is worth to be in appreciations, since it does it in an extremely intelligent and elegant manner, becoming a wonderful prelude for the next part of the mission. If we add to that the emotional significance of the scene and how much in character both officers are, conveying the gravity of the situation and the bonds that link them, what we have is a treasure. Thank you very much for this exhibition of good work and great writing @Geoffrey Teller and @Addison MacKenzie (and, again, you'll be DEEPLY missed in the Thor, BOSS!)
  13. There was one of these for the Victory and I seen other ships with a simular topic, so here is a new one for a new ship, who wants to be the first to put up a funny Quote from one of the crew??
  14. This is a beautiful example of what a counsellor can do in a crisis situation, and how a seemingly reserved and always composed character can bring a lot of emotional weight to a scene and assist another writer's character development. It's a wonderful sample of collaborative writing, scene timing, and prose. Besides killing ourselves a little bit inside for adding one more tear to the sea we are crying with this mission. Thank you for that, @Alex Brodie
  15. OOC - This sim has mention of abuse, not graphic. All thoughts and opinions are of that of my character. ((Sal Tybrim’s Office - Starbase 118)) Sheila would not deny that she was scared to talk to Sal. Sal was her commanding officer and about the 4 person she was going to tell about what happened. This time however she was planning to outright say it. It would make things easier. Plus she even had to tell them how the thoughts pretty much almost got in the way of her work on the mission. How she felt over run with panic. It wasn’t that she couldn’t handle going on missions or even being in Starfleet but it was a matter of how much those feelings got in the way. Sheila stood outside of Sal’s office wearing her 1700’s style flats, a pair of black leggings and a dark sunshine yellow long sleeve sweatshirt. The sweatshirt had an image of flowers, mainly sunflowers, in the middle, with the words ‘Plant These’ [top] ‘Save the Bees’ [bottom]. The pink of her crutches complemented the dark sunshine yellow of her sweatshirt. Sheila rang the doorbell. Taybrim: Response Bailey: ::entering the office:: I’m sorry to be so forward. I want to thank you for meeting with me. Mind if I sit? Taybrim: Response Carefully Sheila took a seat, setting her crutches down on the floor. She was ready to go out and say what was on her mind yet she had to take a few deep breaths before she spoke. It rattled her brain to outright say what had happened to her. Bailey: I wanted to let you know of some personal details that could affect my work. So far it hasn’t but in this most recent mission I felt like it could have. She didn’t mention how it had affected her work during her appointment with Glaven but that wasn’t she was here to talk about. Taybrim: Response Bailey: I would like to mention this to my friend not my CO if that’s okay? She was asking for Sal to put away his CO persona for a minute. She hoped this would help him see the situation with compassion and not authority. She could do her job, that wasn’t in question. The question was how much of a problem it would be. Taybrim: Response Bailey: Thank you. My Uncle, Marc Clarence, was not a nice guy. Not nice to me. He spent his life physically and mentally abusing me and my sisters. During this mission I was reminded of those instances while fighting Klingons and treating Commander Galven. Reminded me of how I had failed. Taybrim: Response TBC/TAG Lieutenant JG Sheila Bailey Medical Officer Starbase 118 Ops M239512BG0
  16. ((Starbase 118 - Doctor Foster’s Quarters)) Rue considered herself rationally brave and functionally adult. She had her duties, and responsibilities, and day to day routines. She took care of herself...mostly. And then there was the consideration that she had her own moments where her emotional fuses just blew. And then there was the Andorian doctor who for so long, she considered her rock. Her anchor. And then in the holosim she had watched that facade cracked and now she was filled with questions upon questions. How had she missed it? Was she blind, or just was he that careful about hiding things? Why did he hide it - did he not trust her? The questions were piling up and she didn’t want to let them fester. And so she made the difficult choice of going to talk to him. She made a light call, just offered to stop by. She had to be honest and genuine, couldn’t contrive, and she also knew - she had to be ready for a climb. One that likely..would require multiple tries. She steeled herself as she approached the doctor’s door and pressed the panel to alert that she was there, waiting for him to invite her in, or open the doors. Foster: … ::in the dim light of his quarters he rolled over to give the door a vicious bit of side-eye:: Oh, come on now. He was having a perfectly good time brooding all alone is his quarters. It was that enjoyable sort of brooding, the sort before you fell too far when the darkness and the silence and the melancholy just felt good. Like a bit of relief from the intensity of the mission. Of course such brooding would easily go too far, turn into a vast lonely wasteland, cut off from friends and family. That stupid chime rang again and he rolled his eyes at it. Foster: Yeah, yeah, come in. Blackwell::As she entered, she kept an unguarded smile on her face: Hey Wyn - ::And before he could contrive an excuse, she brought up a box - a puzzle:: I was hoping you were not too busy today, and thought we could share a quiet afternoon together. He looked around his quite plain, quite bare, quite standard quarters. They had been better decorated in times past, but now he felt he was living like a transient, hopping from ship to ship, position to position. It was painfully apparent how spartan they were, and he was still looking for an excuse to say he was busy. He was… reading… technical… journals… on shore leave… Yeah, that was pitiful. Foster: I mean, sure? I didn’t think that was your thing. Blackwell: On occasion, when the mood strikes. It tended to be the one thing Lucas and I could do together and not fight when we were kids. :She glanced for a place to place down the puzzle:: Foster: Sounds thrilling. ::He intoned, stretching to lounge bonelessly on the couch.:: Here I thought prime shore leave activities included hot tubs and loungers on Little Risa and getting embarrassingly drunk… Which he usually didn’t do any of those things. But he might be cajoled to go to Little Risa after sundown when it wasn’t so hot. Blackwell::She gave a light shrug. She was dressed in a comfortable long sleeved top with blue and black stripes and rather old fashioned denim jeans. It was something she appreciated from her father’s studies on ancient Earth antiquities as denim tended to be sturdy enough for her not to worry about ripping, and yet comfortable. She slipped off her shoes as she walked in, preferring to be barefoot:: Oh, I know that a lot of the crew is getting into various forms of harmless trouble ::she smiled lightly, while she positioned a coffee table between them, and opening the box to set out the pieces. The picture on the box suggested the completed picture would be a winter scene - a lovely cabin and snow against a night sky.:: I have been more just taking it a bit slow this leave. Nothing wrong with a vacation that includes a bit of actual down time. Suspicious doctor was suspicious. He watched her all in good cheer and pleasant commentary and decided that it was all too nice, too happy and too pleasant. Then again he might be paranoid. Might. No. He was paranoid. Starfleet had made him paranoid. Foster: Next you’re gonna tell me that something mindless is the very best thing to take your mind off of the fact that we almost got killed by a pack of Klingon ships. As she set out the pieces, she could feel his eyes on him and knew that the [...]ly senses he possessed were quite alert. That made the proverbial ice a bit slippery, but she decided regardless of her own trepidations - not impossible to pass. And if she slipped, she’d just get back up. She had to. But it was when he was the first one to speak that she felt a proverbial foot slide a bit under her. Blackwell::Her eyes lifted to him, the heels of her palm resting on the table. Answer too slow, and it looked like evasion. Lie, and that was definitely an evasion. She wanted truth, and so she would have to respond with that. She gave a slight gesture with her hands, flexing her fingers, keeping her eyes up:: No, for that I tend to prefer some exercise, something to get me moving. ::She paused for a moment:: Something a counselor recommended. Foster: Exercise is a medically proven way to release endorphins and regulate neurochemicals. ::he said academically:: I’m sure Saveron knew that. Blackwell: The Vulcan counselor, who was for her, still a bitter-sweet memory. She missed Saveron, his clarity, and his shared interest in terrible romance novels. She gave a bit of a wry smile and nodded:: He recommended ways to reduce stress, and process things - yes. Foster: That begs the question ::he lifted his vivid blue eyes towards her:: What prompted the need for the counseling in the first place? She did not like admitting weakness. Period. She had cracks that she had filled as best as possible, but cracks were never fully whole. Never fully complete. They could still break again. But she recalled her academy combat instructor, who had shaken her after a fight stating in clear terms the reason you lost was you were too inflexible. Bend with the situation, be flexible. Blackwell: ::she glanced to his blue eyes and flexed her hands for a moment:: A few things - first, a little past childhood trauma that left me feeling a bit...vulnerable. ::she wanted to try and say that word easily, and she caught her jaw tighten. She didn’t force it, instead, letting the muscles relax enough for her to continue:: Foster: Childhood trauma? ::He watched her and made a small motion with his fingers:: I suppose if you’re making a list we can come back to that but… ::he shook his head:: Dammit, what did I miss? I mean we were a quarter of the way across the globe and that’s nothing with transporters. Blackwell::she shrugged a little:: I’ll avoid the list - it's simpler to parse it out. :she was talking while digging out pieces with corners and straight edges:: When I was about..twelve, almost thirteen- I was in school and had a project to bring in a piece of family heritage. I brought a necklace that had been passed down for generations. ::she smiled fondly: It went over well, a little too well. A girl in my class took a shine to it, and her boyfriend noticed. ::she considered how to phrase it:: well, we both know that children can be cruel, even in our day and age and they tried to take it. Luke..got in the middle, and broke his wrist. ::she shook her head::.I still remember just thinking ...not only had I lost a piece of our family treasures, but Luke’s talent...all in one stroke. ::she lifted her shoulders and tried to ease the tension coming into them:: He tipped his head to one side, antennae tracking curiously, considering it all. Somehow he had missed that bit of their childhood. Then again he was probably completely immersed in his own struggles at that point. He didn’t know how much things sunk in with human children. He had been pretty resilient back then - resiliency that he lost as he aged. Foster: So your brother got into a fist fight defending you - and apparently got patched up because he seems fine now… and no one ever mentions it so… why did that never come up? Blackwell: Because they thought it was fine…::she said quietly:: they were comforting, and they understood I was upset, but I don’t think even then they quite understood how much it ..sank into me. That...was the summer I decided to start taking martial arts lessons. Anything I could sign up for really. Mom thought it was a strange phase brought on by me watching too many superhero movies from the past. Dad just thought it was funny, and Luke thought I was just being weird. ::she smirked a little bit:: remember when you came to the family reunion - it was that summer ...when I’d learned how to do a throw, that I tossed my cousin into the pond. Foster: I mean at least water’s soft. ::He turned to look to her:: I can understand the reaction, but if everything was OK and put back to normal why did it bother you so much? What was the underlying reason you carried it with you? Perhaps that was blatantly searching, but he figured he’d try it. Sometimes childhoods were easier to talk about because they felt so far away and removed from everything. Blackwell:she gave a small smile and leaned back, taking a moment to pause on gathering the pieces:: I want to say something wise but the honest truth - I suppose...I just felt small. Weak, and defenseless..::she shrugged:: Foster: That’s wasn’t it. ::He challenged almost immediately.:: You’ve never been weak. You punched me enough times as a kid to let me know that early on. ::he fixed those vivid blue eyes upon her.:: Try again... Blackwell:::she pushed off her hands, leaning back in to rest her elbows on the table, meeting his eyes, green against blue. It took a minute for her to be sure that her tone would be even:: Fine...the other piece there is that I was...always if not invincible, at least never afraid of getting hurt. Because it was - me- who would get hurt if I did something silly or reckless. Never anyone else. He nodded, gently. In some ways he could empathize with that. In other ways his pessimism rose to the forefront and retaliated against the idea. Foster: Very chivalrous of you. I would have felt the same. But you can’t always protect everyone. Spoken like someone who had the very real and painful experience of having that proven to them firsthand. Starfleet was great at reminding people of the fragility of life, and how helpless one was most of the time. It was impossible to protect everyone, or even just one person if the circumstances were right. Blackwell:::she considered her response for a moment:: No...but how often are emotions rational, Doctor? Foster: Never. Vulcans will be the first to tell you that. ::he chuckled very slightly.:: Blackwell: Often repeatedly ::she quipped lightly, starting to sort out the pieces:: Anyways...that also got aggravated a bit - by my first mission ::she glanced up to him:: do..you remember hearing about the situation with the Gorkon going missing, and the Yarhala Nine? He nodded a simple assent to that. He had a higher rank than her at the time and had enough clearances to get the basics. Most of it was classified and she had only tiptoed around the issue thus far. Foster: Only the very basics. I did note that you have never talked about it in any sort of detail. Blackwell: You...might find it a little :she wrestled with the words...she wanted to say controversial, but for some reason...popped out with:: surprising..? Foster: Nothing surprises me about Starfleet anymore. ::he said drily. Puzzle all but forgotten about.:: So my ears are open, my mouth is closed. Blackwell::she considered the irony that she was hoping to get him to spill out some of his thoughts, but perhaps this was the way to do it. So she pressed on:: So you recall the Gorkon went missing, right? There were all sorts of conspiracy theories as to why...but that said, Starfleet had not satisfied everyone's needs to find out what. And that is when the USS Yarhala was stolen. ::she picked up a piece and considered it idly:: I was placed on the Clovis, and I thought it would be a somewhat tense but straight forward mission: find the Yarhala, talk them down, bring them back home. Foster: Ok. We’ve seen play out over and over again that all straightforward Starfleet missions… never are. Starfleet had this wonderful habit of coming up with the most mundane of orders and then throwing everything out the window and tossing crews into unimaginable danger. It was as Starfleet as the uniform. Blackwell::she responded with a dry laugh:: No. Turned out the Gorkon was stuck in some sort of rift, those that stole the Yarhala were determined to find them, and all procedures just went out the window first thing. Foster: Oh, yay, unknown rifts. Met a couple of those in my life before. None of them were good. Blackwell: The Clovis got damaged and we ended up on board with the Yarhala...after some...really tense deliberation, we agreed to help them ::she grinned faintly:: Technically, I am pretty sure I should have gotten in trouble for that. Foster: Gotten in trouble how? ::he asked, antennae curled forward in curiosity.:: Wyn could think of a million ways that a Starfleet officer could get in trouble for doing the right thing. That was another one of the pessimistic constants Wyn found in the Starfleet universe. But he was curious as to the specific reasons it affected Prudence Blackwell. Blackwell: Aiding the Yarhala Nine ::she said simply:: I wasn’t forced. I wasn’t pushed to. I did some maneuvering, helped defend, entirely willingly...rather than you know, forcing them to return immediately to base like I was supposed to do. ::she considered:: we found the Gorkon...and it was torn to near ribbons, Wyn. Four hundred people were either killed or injured. ::she tossed the puzzle piece aside:: and when I got back to Mckinley, I was pretty much patted on the head and told it was a good thing I hadn’t helped or I’d be in the trials too. Foster: Wait, what? You went to help an Admiral’s flagship… met a ship that was also aiding an Admiral’s flagship and everyone who helped them was put on trial? What in the everloving tar pits of Deneb was going on? Not that was unfair. Pretty blatantly unfair. In fact he was pretty sure there were protests and boycotts about how unfair it was. Which, in retrospect was probably the light at the end of the tunnel for those involved. Having the support of others was a small relief that reassured that, yes, something did go wrong and no, you weren’t totally crazy. Blackwell: ::she considered for a moment:: Well keep in mind, the Yarhala was considered stolen by Starfleet. Not borrowed. Not requisitioned. Stolen. ::she said firmly:: and a runabout was supposed to bring back an Admiral’s Flagship. ::she waited for him to consider that picture and exhaled:: The Clovis got hit by another enemy. And through a lot of push, pull and crazy maneuvering, we found out the Gorkon was actually stuck in another dimension, and when it came out - it was torn to ribbons. The fact it could still be called a ship - was a miracle. That sounded… weird to say the least. Wyn never really understood how subspace rifts worked. Sometimes they are full of murderous alternatives living a shark life in a war torn universe, and sometimes they were apparently filled with angels who gave his assistants roses. He personally tried to avoid them altogether. Foster: I mean people boycotted the jailing of the Yarhala Nine for weeks until they were released and in the end everyone got promoted so ::he shrugged:: All’s well that ends well? Blackwell: I know ::she moved to adjust how she sat, absently moving to rub her shoulder, a spot that loved to get tense:: It did end alright for those that came back. But it left a bitter taste in my mouth for a while as it just should not have happened. :she wet her lips for a moment:: And given I’d spent the prior year having to explain to my sister in law, brother, mother, that Starfleet was not an organization that practiced cover ups - it sat poorly with me, at the time. Foster: Starfleet practices coverups. ::He said with absolute dead certainty.:: any large organization does. It’s the fact of illogical sentient life. Pessimism and facts taught him that. It was pretty simple when one thought about it. Big organizations had a lot of moving parts and not all of those parts moved in line with the others. And when something broke down it generally was covered up until fixed. Blackwell:::A slight breath at that in a bit of frustration, though not directed at him:: Well, then I was naive...or stubborn. Or both. ::she looked to him:: I wanted to be in Starfleet...and prior to enrolling, had to fight my family about it as ..::she closed her eyes, opening them again:: basically Darcy thinks her parents were killed, not in an accident, but something was covered up…::she shook her head before continuing::...and off and on I’ve prodded into it. Foster: And what did you find? Blackwell:::she exhaled:: Over time, a lot of reports that just didn’t sit right. Contradictions in strange places, or sometimes information that was missing entirely. And I ended up picking it up and down, like a bad habit. Once you picked up a mystery it was hard to put it down, especially if you kept finding a bread crumb trail of clues to lead you forward. Foster: And so you kept looking? ::He prodded.:: Blackwell::She bit the inside of her lip pensively - This was going very very awry. She’d wanted to get into his head, not the other way around: Long story short - I did...maybe. I went to the Salter’s old home to check things out...and found a few pieces. ::she stared at the puzzle for a moment:: but...I ran out of time. Given I was due to Ops..and had no time to really make sure all bases were cleared - I told Darcy I found nothing, packed up my research and got myself here. Foster: What did you find? ::he repeated - he was honestly curious.:: Blackwell::In her mind, the story still sounded rather hard to believe, but she explained quietly:: Short version ::she gave a wry smirk:: At first, nothing, however then I noticed a lot of correspondences with a man named Redwood, out of research and development referencing specific books: cook books, old technological manuals, and just the context seemed ...out of place.Fun note - according to any reliable outside database, those books don’t exist. ::she exhaled:: But I found them at the house. Pouring through them...they seem to have a pattern to them, a cypher..that I haven’t cracked yet. ::she then looked to him and held up a puzzle piece:: But I know a puzzle when I see it... Foster: Circumstantial but you’re sure that it happened sort of thing? Blackwell: Basically. ::she bit her bottom lip:: But I haven’t gone back to it yet...given we’ve been busy, and I’ve...been a bit unnerved. ::she shrugged a little:: He fixed that piercing gaze upon her. That irritating perception that made him such a good doctor also meant he was frustratingly good at picking up signals that there was more of a story to be told. Foster: what made you feel unnerved? Blackwell: Last day I was in California, someone decided to drop a note on a drink they sent me, warning me not to pursue this. Let the dust stay where it was was the exact phrasing. ::and this would be the point where turning the conversation was likely going to be difficult, if not impossible. A sarcastic thought ran through her mind: oOWell played Rue. Well played. Oo:: Both eyebrows and antennae raised at the same time. That was beyond unnerving and went straight into concerning. Foster: Seriously? Rue… you haven’t ever talked to an Intel Officer about this? Not a counselor. An Intel Officer. Someone who would be able to see the bigger picture and help protect her. Blackwell::And the rabbit hole she had dug just started to get deeper and deeper, and she exhaled slowly: No, not yet.::she gave a cautious and sheepish look, and realized this was going to tip the scales:: Wyn bristled with that innate protective response. If it was up to him he would ensure no one could hurt her. But he knew he had limits - there was out of his control and all he could do was plush her towards an expert. Foster: Find someone you trust that can help and get them onboard. He said with the same unyielding tone he had taken to push her to press charges against her ex. She hadn’t exactly taken his advice then either. But that was more of a ‘I’ll punch your friends’ threat not an ‘I’ll kill you in your sleep’ threat. Blackwell:She exhaled slowly and saw again, he was being her rock. But that was what he did - he protected those he cared for...it was innate and instinctual. One of her favorite traits, when it wasn’t directed at her:: If this is a cover up then don’t you think intelligence might be in on it? ::her left hand swung out to her side in a bit of vehement determination, though her voice was even:: I want answers. Foster: ::antennae pressed forward he frowned:: I mean do you want answers? Do you want me to be the one to call your family before a I ship a corpse back for burial? ::harsh, but possible considering her tale:: you can solve both with the right ally. Blackwell::That was a verbal gut punch if there ever was one...and on so many levels. Picturing him having to make that call, her family reacting...a grim picture that combined the worst elements of guilt, survival instinct, and strangely protectiveness, all at once. She thought long and hard for a moment and finally conceded:: Alright. I’ll find someone I trust, and see if I can’t solve this. ::she then found her point of pivoting, as her eyes fixed on him for a long moment:: finding people one can trust to solve problems...is generally good advice. Foster: Generally, yes. ::he said a bit too nonchalantly.:: Blackwell: Well, there is something to be said about your particular hue, Pot. ::she set her hands on her knees, preparing to make a stalwart stand:: Foster: Yeah? ::He canted one antennae upwards in a vaguely irritated expression. He didn’t particularly enjoy emotional blackmail. Which, was certainly a harsh point of view. But he was harsh on himself in general and it generally translated into a harsh, gruff exterior. Blackwell: I...told you what happened with me. What happened..with you...on the holodeck? That got him to perk a brow and he leaned forward, voice a bit thin and tense. What did happen on the holodeck? It was, in a nutshell, a long story. A story that he didn;t want to tell her, one that he would redirect and deflect for as long as possible. Even though he knew, deep down that he should be honest he had built up a thick layer of protection against a very vulnerable subject. Foster: Were you not on the Constitution when the holodeck tried to kill us all? As I watched a friend and lover prove that the brain damage done by a Vulcan mindmeld that he was continually warned against and ordered not to do destroyed his personality and irrevocably changed who he was forever? ::He shook his head.:: I didn’t think that was so classified. Wyn had spent the majority of that holodeck adventure as the king of snark as well. Holodecks never put him in a good mood. Neither did dating engineers apparently, that was more co-incidence and bad history than any actual issues with Engineers. This was also a fantastic explanation for his reaction, all of it true. All of it traumatic and all of it happened. And that’s why it was so brilliant - he was telling a lie with the dead honest truth. Covering up a far deeper more personal trauma with an echo of that trauma. There was a reason T’Reshik and Choi’s mindmeld hurt so much. He had let details slip through the cracks to Saveron, the only person who was fully aware of Wyn’s history. Talking about it once gave him the assurance that no, he wasn’t crazy. It was the push to start the healing process. That was a very long process. He was only a small way along the path to recovery from a trauma he successfully hid from Rue for years. Blackwell:::she watched him lean forward and she steadied herself, keeping her stance. She would bend when she needed, but for now, she could keep a steady stance. She remembered Choi..clearly. She considered the puzzle for a moment, and then back up, her words soft.: I remember the holodeck situation, yes..::she said slowly:: I didn’t realize there was a mind-meld involved...Choi and T’Reshik? Foster: Oh yeah, they mind-melded. It was an absolute [...]-show in sickbay, Rue. And in the end after the brain damage was repaired I couldn’t do a single thing to fix it. Two living people, with living brain tissue, but the soul that made them unique was changed. Blackwell::She considered all the various responses. She thought of choi and for a moment felt angry. Damn damn pilot. Handsome, Charismatic, irritating, and as reckless as she was. The only real difference was ..she at least attempted to contain the blast zone.:: You have a right to be angry with him...and her honestly. He was angry. A little. But moreover he was sad. He had lost a friend and lover that day. Brains were delicate things, and messing with minds and memories was very dangerous. In the end only one of the two personalities stayed the same before and after - the other was clearly affected and imprinted by the meld. That would never fully heal. Foster: I mean how many times do I have to tell people not to do something that will kill them, or get themselves hurt and do they listen to me? Usually not. And that’s the thing, right? I’m the doctor, I get to pick up the pieces. Dry, wry, pessimistic. There was the Wyn she knew from the Conny. Blackwell::She felt a sharp pang of guilt, but she steadied herself for a moment:: Well, that depends on I think the person ::A lift of her shoulders:: Some people refuse to learn. And I realize given everything I just dropped on your lap, I’m not a great example of someone who has demonstrated an ability to listen to that advice in the past...and actively listen and learn. :: she looked to him now, and her brow creased:: And I apologize for that. ::the tone was solemn - not uncharacteristic - but one that signaled clearly...he was hitting home:: He shook his head gently, expression softening slightly. Foster: You know you don’t have to apologize. ::He shook his head slightly.:: Why do you do that? That question wasn’t cruel nor accusatory. It was just curious, maybe even a little self-deprecating. Blackwell: Because like it or lump it- you are important to me. ::that part was firm, equally unrelenting, her eyes on his:: Very important. I’d say aside from my family, one of the most important people in my life. Foster: Really? It was an odd tone, as if the admission caught him by surprise and he wasn’t overly sure how to react to that. BUt he wasn’t denying it nor pushing her away either. Blackwell: Yes. ::she kept her eyes on him, watching him quietly:: but how does that make you feel...is what I need to know? He shrugged, watching her carefully. Foster: I mean we talked about this before, but I’ve known you for a long time and you’ve always been like the kid sister I never had. Blackwell: We have talked about this ::she agreed quietly:: But I don’t think we’ve ever sorted out...what we want ::she exhaled at the mention of her being a kid sister comment and swallowed, a sort of weak smile on her lips:: well, I’ll say any sister of yours would be strong, intelligent person I’d like to know. Foster: ::He chuckled:: You are who you make yourself to be. You know I have no biological relationship to my Dad. Blackwell:::she tilted her head to him at that:: And we are both smart enough to know that a lot of times, family doesn’t always depend on biology or genetics. It’s about connections, and that give and take of being part of one another’s lives ::she raised her eyebrows:: It just comes down to what those connections are exactly. He settled back in his chair, fixing an even gaze towards her Foster: That leaves the question of - what do you want? Blackwell:: Well, let me preface this - my wants are the only part of the equation here, Wyn. ::She shifted, standing to sit on the end of his couch, putting herself level with him, hands on her lap:: First - primarily..be.someone you think….no, not think... know you can depend on. ::She looked at him closely:: I don’t know what happens in your mind at times, but sometimes I get the sense you think...one moment of weakness, and that’s it. You protect me. Well, I’m protective of you as well. Every damn time I fly this ship, you are someone - I am protecting- Foster: :::He tinged navy.: I appreciate that… He trailed off, a little wary of where this conversation was going, despite deeply appreciating the sentiment. Blackwell: Second - yes, I like you more than a brother, or more...differently. ::she put her hands up:: I can’t help it. You are handsome, and the fact you are someone who will give me point blank your opinion, or as some would put it - tell it to me straight, is a hell of a lot better than someone who just tries to treat me as if I couldn’t handle it. ::she put up a hand:: however, there is a but to that... Foster: Alright, what’s the but? He was feeling that this was something of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Then again the very thought of intimacy was something he was pretty well and truly burned on. Blackwell: ::she straightened for a moment, and for a moment losing that cheerful nature she held on, her gaze even:: If you think there is a chance for more between us, I want to take it. But you have to want it as well. If there is one thing I do know - I do deserve to have someone who wants me as much as I want them ::she grinned faintly and exhaled:: Because I am worth it. Foster: I agree, you are worth it. ::He said strongly.:: And that was that. He seemed convicted of that. A longer than was comfortable pause fell between them. Blackwell: However…::she prompted: He shook his head very slowly, antennae curling downwards before he fixed her straight in the eyes, gaze absolutely unyielding. Foster: I can’t provide that for you, Rue. I know I can’t. It would be cruel and selfish to lie to you and say that I could just to benefit from your compassion. He didn’t know how else to put that, but honestly. He knew he couldn’t be intimate at this point. He didn’t know if he could ever be intimate again. Physically, mentally, emotionally - on all levels. That trust was taken from him, ripped - literally and figuratively. He simply would not hurt one of his longest and best friends by making promises he could not keep. Blackwell::The words stung. Oh they stung hard, but it was the last part that made her quirk a brow:: Compassion - that makes it sound like somehow I’d be settling for less and you’d be getting more of a benefit. ::She gazed evenly for a moment:: Let’s just be very damn clear here...you are not less, and you would be worth it as well. He shrugged, his expression hardening. Foster: As a friend, steady ear, shoulder to lean on, and Starfleet officer who saves peoples lives? Sure, I’m absolutely worth it. But what you’re asking for is intimacy Rue. That’s what you’re asking for even reciprocation on, right? Blackwell: Her own gaze hardened for a moment:: Let's back up for just a moment, and take me out of the equation ::she moved forward toward him, summoning all of her stubbornness:: Are you saying that you are not worth anyone wanting that sort of relationship with you? You say benefit from my compassion….as if I’m pitying you. ::she stared for a long moment, challenging him, squaring her shoulders: and you act like somehow someone wanting to - work- at that with you...is a waste of time? :And her was where her tone lost that even keel, her own pain forgotten for the moment:: Wonderful. Exactly not what he meant, and yet pinpointing everything he specifically feared she would do. No one pulls pity and waste of time from thin air unless they are somehow projecting some of their thoughts and experiences onto a conversation. Foster: No. ::He frowned and stood.:: Don’t put words into my mouth when you’re in my quarters. Blackwell:::she exhaled a bit and put up a hand, cooling her temper for a moment, and letting him get the space he needed. As two pacing individuals in the space was not ideal, she busied herself putting away the puzzle that was forgotten. Not hastily, just taking a moment:: I misread that then. Fair. Foster: Not fair. You think every calculated movement is to harm you? ::He shook his head:: I don’t say these things to hurt you, but because I have spent the time to realize my own strengths and limitations. Stop making this about some sort of spit-shined rose colored reality where everyone is worthy of love and affection so we just all open up our hearts and things are hunkey dory. If that was true we could hug the Cult into submission, and stop the Borg with the power of feelings. Anger welled up, fighting against his better judgement. She had hit a nerve, and what started as an honest discussion of limitations where no one was the bad guy had taken a sharp turn into his feeling defensive and his tone turning equally sharp. Blackwell:::she looked up at him:: I know you are not trying to hurt me, nor would you ever intentionally harm me. ::she looked up, surprised even at the suggestion of it: I’m more worried you are shutting a door. ::She looked back at him, leaning back:: And actually, I tend to think that feelings are intensely messy. Life is messy. People are messy. And sometimes life is -very- ugly. The cult and the Borg...that’s the ugliest parts of life that we who..want others safe, have to face. I don’t laugh because I don’t know that ugliness is there. I laugh because I -know- its there. But just as we can’t look at everything with rosy glasses..sometimes we also have to remember moments of levity and light. Foster: Sure. I thought this was supposed to be some sort of relaxing night. ::he waved a hand in the air.:: Levity and fun were never on the menu were they? Blackwell:::she considered for a moment:: I was more hoping to talk, but this wasn’t the topic i had in mind, no. ::she chuckled dryly: :Is that admonishment. He shook his head, finding a seat on the other side of the room to flop down into. Foster: No, that’s not admonishing. ::Pause:: Or maybe it is. But you came here with an agenda, didn’t you? So what do you want me to say? ::He asked, sounding frustrated, maybe even a bit lost.:: What are you looking for? He paused a moment, leaving one sentiment unspoken, but there: what do you want from me? Blackwell::she exhaled::: Right now, I think just trust that I’m not trying to harm you..more however clumsy I’m being...I am actually trying to help you..or at least remind you if you ever want it, the help is there to take. ::she pushed her hair back from her face:: What happened in the last holosim, that silly adventure - something rattled you Wyn. More than I’ve ever seen. Foster: Told you I don’t like holosims. ::He returned evenly, calculated.:: Blackwell:::She looked at him, catching the evasion:: I know what I saw. Foster: No, no ::he waved a finger in the air.:: You pulled pity from your own mind not my words and the last targ-ridden thing I want in the world is your pity. Blackwell:::she watched the finger for a moment. There was a temptation to fold her arms, get angry, but instead she kept herself open, arms at her sides. She spoke quietly:: It’s not pity, it’s concern. And perhaps I’m up the wrong tree, misreading some emotions but I know one thing I did not mistake ::She looked to him camly and steadily:: I know what a panic attack looks like. He set his mouth in a thin, hard line. He could deny that was what happened in the holodeck. Sure. But that would be a blatant lie. Foster: You live through enough in Starfleet some things sink in, Rue. You should know that if you felt it rise within you on the bridge, thoughts of the Yarhala and the gutted Gorkon. Maybe you even saw in your mind a view of the Narendra, gutted and adrift? Blackwell: It was more that I saw everyone else, gutted and adrift :she said quietly and nodded in acknowledgement to that image:: He shook his head, looking towards her. Foster: As I told Romyana, I have been in Starfleet for seven years and I have never been through a ship battle as harrowing as the thing we just lived through. If that’s what you went through getting to the Gorkon… ::He gave a low whistle:: I don’t envy you. Blackwell:She gave a bit of wry smirk: It is one of those stories though isn’t it. One of the ones that years from now, some aspiring young recruit is going to read and think something along the lines of ‘What if I was there?’ or imagine somehow they could heroically change or avoid the situation. Be that piece that somehow changes the entire picture. Foster: They think they know what they want when they’re young, and then you live through it and realize that it’s not what you think it is. Blackwell:::She considered for a moment and exhaled deeply to that:: There is that. And then there is another hard choice isn’t there? Foster: Is there? Blackwell: Figuring out how to move on ::She said quietly and simply:: Some people try and fight the pain, stamp it down and ignore it. ::And a wry note:: Which doesn’t work. At all. ::and then she continued:: And others..I guess let it mold them and shape them, and some are actively wise enough to learn from it and actually put that experience to good use. The Andorian eyed the pilot for a moment with a look of clouded suspicion. Maybe he was projecting. Was he hiding stuff from her? Of course he was. He had done so for the past four years with a smile and a sassy joke, and done it with style. The closest she had ever gotten to guessing was the night she drug Ish Th’Zarin into sickbay and he had insisted that one or both of them press charges on Gabe - Rue’s insane ex who assaulted Ish. But she was too caught up in her own anger, fears and concerns to notice any cracks in Wyn’s facade. Foster: That’s called growing up, generally. ::He watched her evenly.:: What did you learn from the Yarhala situation? Blackwell: Well, the situation with the Gorkon and the Yarhala made me more willing to consider outside the line protocols. ::she grinned a bit:: To be taken very carefully, of course :a light wink:: Foster: I mean that seems par for the course with this crew. ::He shrugged:: Jalana was more by the books. Predictable, a sweetheart. Oddas was more rough and tumble but concerned about regulations. This crew? I have it on good authority that protocols are more like suggestions. Wyn didn’t know if that made him feel better about serving with a group of people who had the capability to see the big picture and focus on the important issues over the bureaucracy or terrified because he didn’t know the rules they were playing by. Blackwell:She smirked faintly to that and quietly regarded him for a moment, as she felt a bit of calmer emotions take hold, letting her widen her view. In the back of her mind had been the panic attack and she’d gotten him to acknowledge it. So she was up the wrong emotional tree, but was right - somewhere, the Andorian she considered her rock, there were cracks..it was a question that for now she put in the margins while they talked. To the situation of protocols being suggestions, she grinned faintly: Well, Starfleet is known to have their Mavericks :But something in her face suggested she knew there was another side to that coin. Foster: Well sure, I just never thought I would be assigned under a Captain who thinks that fighting six Klingon ships is all in a day’s work ::He said with a healthy dose of sarcasm:: That’s not being a maverick, that’s called insanity. He even gave it a good smirk, enough humor to say that he wasn’t going to recommend a nuthouse for any of the senior staff - yet. That was, of course, always on the table. Blackwell: Sure, we hear about the ones that were successful, the stories, the heroes ::she lifted her fingers into quotation marks, and shrugged:: I know my own piloting falls out of standard protocol sometimes..I look to adapt. The problem is, balancing the knowledge that protocols exist for a reason...with the fact, you can’t plan for everything. ::she lifted her eyes back to him:: And you can’t control everything either. Foster: I know ::He sighed:: Least of all other people. Wasn’t that the truth? The thing you needed the most in the galaxy was the least controllable. Blackwell::She nodded to that with a slow, wry smile:: And that is where relations and interpersonal connections...are always so tenuous and prone to being snapped - by either individuals holding too tight, not tight enough, or other variables. ::She exhaled slowly:: Foster: ::He gave a long, slow sigh:: I know you want to try a relationship. I’m not blind. ::He looked at her.:: I can’t guarantee it will work - and will that mean our friendship will be hurt if it fails to work? Blackwell:::She considered that for a long moment, rolling his words in her mind for a moment: There’s always things that could hurt a friendship, or any relationship, no matter how careful people are, and no relationship ever comes with a guarantee…..which is why they are so important to take care of. ::She looked to him: I know my flaws, Wyn. I know whoever is with me will require some amount of patience. But that in turn...means I am also learning to be patient. :And then back to him: He offered her a reserved, wry smile. Patience was a virtue that neither of them possessed naturally in spades. Learning to be patient was a lifelong journey. Foster: Learning to be… and are…they are two very different things. Blackwell: ::She huffed:: An old parable from Earth is the tortoise and the hare...Last relationship, however, we were both hares. ::A wry smirk to any potential innuendos that could come of that image, before getting more serious:: This time, I’d rather be the tortoise.. Slow, and steady. Foster: I’ll hold you to that. ::he remarked not unkindly.:: Blackwell:She pushed a bit of hair from her face:: I’d expect nothing less, Doctor ::she gave a faintly amused smile:: He gave her a simple nod back. He would hold her to that. If there was any chance that a relationship between the two of them would work it would need a stable foundation - something that neither had in romance up to this point. Foster: So, are you going to push me for starting requirements? Blackwell: No...for now, why don’t we just plan on a nice trip to see Jalana, and we’ll go from there. Foster: Alright, that’s a deal. ::he gave a single nod and leaned back closing his eyes.:: Maybe a vacation is what we need. Blackwell: I think so ::she exhaled softly and gave a faint smile:: I’m looking forward to it...so, we’ll have a good time, see friends, and just ….let things fall into place. ::she said as she put the puzzle back into, the pictures on the pieces mixed and still in disarray even within the box, then stood up: : I’ll go pack I think ::she was cautious and for now, didn’t cross over to offer an embrace goodbye. Too soon, she thought:: I’ll see you at the shuttle bay. Foster: Yeah, I’ll be there. ::He gave her a smile. Maybe a bit of a half hearted smile, but a smile nonetheless.:: She returned the smile, but it was careful. Genuine, but careful and then walked towards the door, taking one last look and was gone. ~*~ ~fin - for now... ~ ~*~ A JP Between: Lt. Prudence Blackwell Starbase 118 OPS G239308PB And Lt Commander Shar’Wyn Foster Interim Chief Medical Officer StarBase 118 Ops Simmed by: Fleet Captain Sal Taybrim E239010ST0
  17. @Hutch @Quinn Reynolds - Thought this was really well written, guys! Lovely look at two old friends! -- ((Earth, Copenhagen)) Jhen Thelev yawned as he lifted the ice-blue teapot from the kitchen counter, pouring hot amber liquid into the glass teacup. Replicating tea was quicker, sure, but he preferred the little ritual of a proper brew. He was looking forward to having the next few days off after a particularly gruelling week of work. Although ‘gruelling’ could also be read as ‘tedious’, ‘dull’ and ‘repetitive’. The Andorian sipped his tea and drummed his fingers on the work surface. It was time, he decided, to do something he’d been putting off for quite some a while. Thelev: =/\= Computer, open a channel to the USS Gorkon, Admiral Quinn Reynolds. =/\= As the Federation logo spun lazily on the screen, Jhen found himself hoping that Quinn wouldn’t be around so he wouldn’t actually have to ask her in person. He had no idea what the time would be on her ship — she could be asleep, or off the ship doing… things. More likely, crawling around in a Jefferies tube fixing stuff on the sly. The thought made him chuckle, and even if he wasn’t exactly thrilled with his reason for contacting her, Jhen still thought it would be good to catch up with an old friend. The Starfleet logo blinked away, replaced by the sight of a mousy-haired woman sat in the panelled mushroom-grey ready room of a Sovereign-class starship. Light reflected off the admiralty brass on her collar, jacket discarded in favour of the grey-yoked vest afforded to command officers. The comm channel established, her eyes and smile came alive when she saw who was on the other end. Reynolds: =/\= Jhen! =/\= Her freckled face was little different to when he’d last seen it and very different to when he’d first seen it, all those years ago. He couldn’t help but smile. Thelev: =/\= Rear Admiral Quinn Reynolds, head of the Tyrellian Sector Taskforce… that’s quite a title you’ve got yourself there. =/\= Reynolds: =/\= It's a mouthful. ::She grinned.:: But you're a sight for sore eyes. How the hell are you? =/\= Thelev: =/\= I’d like to say older and wiser… but just older. It’s good to see you, Quinn. I’ve been meaning to get in touch for ages, but always something gets in the way. And I’m sure you’ve been more than busy out there. =/\= Her expression turned wry, an eyebrow lifting while her head dipped in a nod. Still, the delight continued to dance in her hazel eyes, beyond pleased to see her old friend and academy classmate. He was one of the few people still in the fleet who'd known her back then, in all her easily startled, stammering, and awkward glory. Reynolds: =/\= That's a polite way of putting it. =/\= Thelev: =/\= I know the Gorkon spent some shore leave on Earth last year, but I got called away to Bolus at short notice. Bad timing. =/\= Reynolds: =/\= I know. ::Her grin returned.:: You missed my wedding. =/\= Thelev: =/\= You got married?! ::Jhen was genuinely speechless for a moment:: But… how? Wouldn’t that have meant a whole day being the centre of attention? =/\= Reynolds: =/\= Yes. Yes it did. ::She chuckled.:: Although it turns when you throw a really big party it's fairly easy to hide in the crowd, even when you're the guest of honour. =/\= Thelev: =/\= Wow... I’m sure you were thrilled with that part. =/\= Jhen shook his head as he sipped his tea. Clearly there was a lot he had missed and he felt even more regret for not keeping in touch. He used the pause to regard Quinn for a moment - there was a lot more confidence about her now, hardly surprising given her rank and the fact she’d been commanding starships for years. But there was something else, a sadness maybe, that he couldn’t quite identify. He wondered briefly what those hazel eyes had seen… and thought it best that he didn’t know. Reynolds: =/\= I survived, just about. ::Her smile refusing to budge, she sat back in her seat.:: What about you? It's been forever since we last spoke, what have you been up to? =/\= Thelev: =/\= Me? Oh, I’ve been around here and there. After the Achilles was decommissioned I came back to Earth, spent some time working as a Starfleet liaison at the Federation Treaty Office. I even had a secondment to the Department of Temporal Affairs for a while. I’d say that I couldn’t tell you more because it’s classified, but really it’s because I had no idea what was going on most of the time. ::She grinned and he sipped his tea again, his antenna dipping in the Andorian equivalent of a shrug:: But last few years I’ve been part of Starbase Command. =/\= Reynolds: =/\= Stuck in an office. ::A finger pointed upward and performed a circular motion.:: I know the feeling. =/\= Thelev: =/\= That’s why I was contacting you, actually. Although I’d been putting it off because it felt too selfish. Hells, it feels even more selfish now…. ::Jhen sighed:: I want to get back out there, Quinn. Sitting in an office planetside, attending the odd meeting is, well, let's say it’s not exactly exciting. I miss being on a starship, on a bridge. I put in a transfer request months ago, but I’ve heard nothing. So… I was wondering if you had any ships that needed a new Chief of Ops or something...? =/\= He left the question hanging, his azure features turning a little plum-coloured with embarrassment. Her smile softened in reply, a gentle amusement creeping into her expression. Quinn hadn't been asked for many favours in her career, usually only by those in desperate situations seeking an equally desperate escape. Perhaps she didn't seem the type, and perhaps she wasn't; the last time she'd pulled a significant favour for a friend, it had backfired to say the least. Come to think of it, the last time she'd been asked for a favour was over a year ago now, when Sienelis — resigned to what she'd thought had been an early doom, or at the very least, exile — had asked if she could let Johns' insubordination toward a JAG officer slide. Quinn had done that and one better; she'd promoted the young Petty Officer. A decision that in retrospect, had really turned out quite well. Reynolds: =/\= I'm fairly sure I still owe you for hauling me and my ship out of an ocean, so... =/\= Thelev: =/\= Ha! You know, I had actually forgotten about that. ::He shook his head slowly.:: So many crazy adventures, you need the memory of a Cardassian to keep track of them all. Or just be a highly organised flag officer. But that’s exactly the sort of stuff I miss. =/\= Reynolds: =/\= Let me see what I can do. The Hawking is due to join our taskforce and the crew roster isn't finalised. How does an Oracle class sound? =/\= Jhen’s dark eyes sparkled and her smile widened again, delighted to have delighted. Intentional or not, he'd picked the perfect time to ask and she was more than willing to oblige. Perhaps she'd accumulated a bit of a reputation for it, offering positions in the taskforce for officers like Walter and Harry, Sienelis and Bjarnadottir, who for various reasons had asked her or been asked by her for a posting in the task force. Thelev: =/\= Well now! That would be quite something. ::he held up one blue hand:: But you know you don’t owe me any special treatment. If I was offered the job of technician on a prison transport right now I’d take it, just to get back out into the black. =/\= Reynolds: =/\= I'm just offering a posting to a good officer. You'll have to do all the hard work. =/\= Thelev: =/\= Ha! ::he laughed again:: Seems reasonable, Quinn. I’d like a challenge more taxing than sourcing a thousand stem bolts for Starbase 118. Although don’t get me wrong, those stem bolts can be tricky to find. ::The Andorian finished his tea with a flourish and placed the cup down on the surface in front of him.:: I appreciate it more than I can say. Thank you. =/\= Reynolds: =/\= You're very welcome. =/\= Thelev: =/\= Well, with that out of the way, I think there’s a few things you have to bring me up to speed on. Such as who is Mr Reynolds? =/\= Reynolds: =/\= Well. ::She grinned, a familiar touch of pink colouring freckled cheeks.:: I don't think you ever met Walter Brunsig... And so the conversation ran on, two old friends with a great deal to catch up on. Conversation, laughter and reminiscence ran on long into the small hours, counted in cups of tea and aching cheeks, until the two friends bid each other good night, to meet again soon. -- Commander Jhen Thelev Simmed by Lt (jg) Loxley Medical Officer USS Gorkon R238401JT0 & Rear Admiral Quinn Reynolds Commanding Officer USS Gorkon T238401QR0
  18. Nicely framed, @Randal Shayne. Gentle hand as you tame that unruly yet majestic beast.
  19. ((OOC: This JP with Noelle has been in google drive for a LONG time. So it is finally time to post it )) (( Quarters D'Sena )) The announcement about the Vacation planet had been ship wide, so Akeelah had heard it too. She couldn't imagine that the planet was suitable for her visit in the wheelchair and she was not yet stable on her legs. But what had really occupied her mind since then was the invitation towards families. Her own family was too busy to get all the way out here and the only family that she wanted to see even more was across the galaxy on Starbase 118. She sat behind her desk, the small box in her hand open, displaying a Jade ring she had not yet sent back to Jack. It had been surprisingly had for her to do so because it felt like she had a piece of him here. Her mind went back to several months ago when he had sent it to her. (( Flashback - about a year ago )) ((Starbase -118)) There’s a lot of work that goes into planning a wedding. Seriously - like a lot. And with so much distance it’s astronomical. At least for most people. However this was Jack Gard and Akeelah D’Sena we’re talking about. There were things to decide, however, both big and small. Decision of big and little consequence. First and foremost, the ring… something not so easy. Jack had gone to various little shops looking for just the right ring. Something that said… Something that was ‘Akeelah’. Which seemed harder then he had originally thought. They were too small, too flashy, too… everything. Anything. Nothing was right. Computer replicas, by the thousands, took to long to sift through causing him to abandon such endeavors. It was bordering on frustrating. Why couldn’t he find what he wanted? It wasn’t until he received a little package in the mail. In a hand made box with ornate oriental patterns all about it. It was small and could have easily gotten lost, and yet many took care to bring it to his personal quarters, hand delivered. He sat quietly, simply looking at the box. Jack knew who it was from, the only people in his life who would send such a box. What he didn’t know was what was inside it. He took a sharp breath in, held it for a long moment while his hands reached out. One on the lid the other hold still the rest. Like a bandaid, he opened it swiftly. There was cotton-like material stuffed inside. He curiously pulled out the stuffing, a small clater fell on his table top. His heart nearly skipped a beat, as his eyes fell upon the small jade rings laying tied together. Those were the wedding bands that belonged to Tabby’s grandparents, before they renewed their vows and gave each other two new rings. These were old pieces of jewelry, handed down to each generation. It had been discussed that Jack and Jessica were to get them. But he had been stubborn, insisting on something new, bright and dazzling. Believe it or not, but he had been a bit foolish in his younger years from time to time. He swallowed hard, picking them up and holding them in the palm of his hand. They felt… heavy. This was not only approval of the marriage, but also an unspoken question to carry on their tradition, to keep their part of the family apart of his… apart of Tabby’s. He squeezed them tightly as his chest clenched too. It had been a long time since he thought of his passed wife. Was it selfish? Foolish of him to let his mind wonder to her, knowing he was working getting to ready to marry another… he hoped she would be happy for him, that he’d finally moved on and found such happiness and joy. He would send them to Akeelah, seeking her approval. There was no way for him know if she would see the honor or the taboo in keeping the rings. He wrote her a long letter, talking of all sorts of things; his had, how Tabitha was doing, and school. He asked her of her day and her health. And at the very end, before signing off, he asked her about the rings. . ((USS Constitution, Marchlands, Akeelah D’Sena’s personal quarters - a little while later)) It had been a busy day full of work and rehab. Akeelah had finally returned to her quarters. She had gotten used to gauging the distance between the wheels of her chair and the doorframes or the furniture. Such a long time in this thing would do that. As always her first way was to the desk in the corner, where she pressed a button to activate a small holoimage that flickered into existence. The piercing warm eyes of Jack looked right at her, beneath him the sparkling bright eyes of his daughter Tabby. Akeelah smiled gently, running her fingers through the apparition, tickling over her skin as they went right through it. Computer: One message waiting. The reminder of the computer, which had noticed she was around, pulled her out of her melancholy. She missed both of them. D’Sena: Play message. Computer: One delivery for Akeelah D’Sena has been placed on the table. She pulled her brows together and turned her head, noticing the small package on the table top. While she wasn’t a big fan of strangers entering her quarters without her being here, she appreciated that the delivery had not been delayed or taken back to the service offices. Placing her hands on the the wheels of her chair she moved to the table and picked up the small package. Opening it she found a letter first and a smile played around her lips as she recognized Jack’s handwriting on the paper. It was as if she could hear his voice, telling her about his day, all the things that he and Tabby did. Her cheeks flushed at some parts that went into a lot of detail about how much he missed her. She couldn’t pretend that she didn’t feel the same way. As the letter prompted her to open the package inside, she pulled it out and opened the box, revealing two circular objects made of a green shiny stone. She pulled one of them out and noticed that they were heavier than expected, the light from the ceiling reflected on the smooth surface. D’Sena: ::mumbling:: Beautiful… but what is it? She went back to read the letter and her brows raised when she read the explanation Jack had included. Her eyes went back to the rings, forehead furrowed in confusion. D’Sena: Computer, what is the meaning of wedding rings? Computer: In various cultures a wedding ring or wedding band is a finger ring that indicates that its wearer is married. It can be manufactured from various materials. Depending on culture, a wedding ring is typically worn on the base of the left or right ring finger. Many spouses wear their wedding rings day and night, causing an indentation in the skin that is visible even when the ring is removed. Certain cultures consider it unlucky to remove a wedding ring once it has been placed - D’Sena: Stop. ::She watched the ring curiously.:: Why is it important? Computer: Due to their design wedding rings are seen as a symbol of eternal love and has been an emblem of love through time, a symbol of devotion and an agreement between two parties to love and cherish one another. D’Sena: Huh… It was the first time she actually had heard about wedding rings. The time off her own home planet had been limited to the Academy, the Apollo and the Constitution. She was aware of married couples, but hadn’t known that they wore something to show their unity. Since Rodulans didn’t marry this was all new to her. She still held the ring between her fingers and in the spur of the moment pushed it on her left ring finger. Raising her hand, she looked at the contrast between the jade green and the dark skin. The heavy material did its own to make her realize that something was on her finger. She could imagine it to be a constant reminder of her bond with Jack. Was this why people wore these? She couldn’t help but smile. D’Sena: Computer, establish connection to Lieutenant Jack Gard, Starbase 118. The computer beeped in compliance and the screen popped into a rotating Starfleet logo. Since it had to go through all kinds of relays she knew there would be a delay but she didn’t mind those few seconds of waiting between answers. Gard: ::somewhat concerned:: Akeelah? ::he scanned her face. He hadn’t expected to hear from her.:: Is everything alright? D’Sena: What? Can’t I call my fiancée out of the blue? His features softened, giving her one of his ‘just for you’ smiles. It was nice - more than nice really. Gard: Fiancée? ::he teased her lightly.:: D’Sena: I looked up the term. I used it right, didn’t I? ::She was worried to have learned the wrong term for a moment.:: Gard: ::a single nod.:: Yes, you did. ::he assured her.:: D’Sena: Good. ::Relief washed through her:: I got your package. Ah, so that was the reason for the call. They were from two different worlds - meaning there were differences and one could make the other uncomfortable if they were cautious. Gard: And? ::he asked.:: D’Sena: Did you buy them? Gard: No, ::he sighed slightly.:: Tabby’s grandparents gave them to me. D’Sena: Your parents? Gard: No… ::he repeated.:: Her mother’s parents. ::hesitantly.:: Akeelah tilted her head ever so slightly, a gesture that anyone but Jack wouldn’t even have noticed. D’Sena: Are these the rings you and your late wife wore? There was no judgement or anger in the words, just sheer curiosity. Gard: No, we didn’t take them at the time. ::curiously.:: does it fit? She looked down to her hand, the ring embracing her finger was out of camera view. With a material like that changing the size would have been hard, and how big was the chance of it actually fitting like that? It was like it was made for her. She raised her eyes again and then her hand followed, showing him the jade ring on her finger in a beautiful contrast to her dark skin. D’Sena: It fits perfectly. Gard: ::better question.:: Are they acceptable? The gaze of her pitch black eyes softened, something only noticeable when one had spend a lot of time looking into Rodulan eyes. She knew he tried hard. Since her people didn’t marry they both didn’t have a script to go by. There was no example on how to deal with these two cultures and traditions entering this kind of situation. All they had was their love and their compromises to make this special for both of them. D’Sena: They are beautiful. He was relieved. Part of it because he couldn’t seem to find anything he liked better and partly because of what it meant to Tabby’s grandparents. Jack offered a soft smile in return. He wished he could see her in person, how he missed her. There was a Terran saying that fit this feeling: distance made the heart grow fonder. He must have gotten lost in thought as she spoke up again. Her voice low with a hint of the emotion that bubbled just beneath her surface. If he hadn’t known her so well, he might have noticed. D’Sena: ::Lowering her hand again:: I will return the box to you, to keep them until we need them. Gard: Is there anything you’d like - something specific from your world or beliefs in regards to the wedding? They hadn’t had much chance to talk about such things in details. So it was a lot of guess-work and trying to find a happy balance. While he’d gone through the process once before, Akeelah was a different woman and her needs were vastly different from his first wife. Something he appreciated. D’Sena: My people do not have traditions or rituals like weddings. ::She thought:: But we have a bonding ceremony. Since I honour your traditions, maybe we can implement some of mine. Gard: Absolutely. ::as if she really needed to ask.:: I just need to know what. Akeelah began to speak of her own traditions and Jack listened to her description of something she wished to bring into their wedding. It would be a mixture of Terran and Rodulan and them. Which seemed more than fitting. He smiled softly as she explained yet another facet of her people’s culture. Gard: I think that will fit nicely. D’Sena: I am glad. He gave a long pause, studying her face. Memorizing her features. It would be some time still till he could be close to her. Before he could hold her again. Distance was a terrible thing in reality. D’Sena: I wonder where your thoughts are. If he had been here, she would know. But this was how things were right now. He had duty to uphold far away. Gard: Hmmm? ::He was pulled from his inner thoughts.:: I’m sorry - I was just thinking about … how much I wish there wasn’t so much distance between us. ::he admitted.:: D’Sena: ::A more open smile, she placed her hand on the screen.:: I wish the same. I can't wait to see you again in person. ((/Flashback )) She took a deep breath and brushed her fingertips over the smooth surface of the ring. She missed him so much it was painful. But it would be worth it in the end. If the time apart had shown her one thing it was that her heart didn't easily change. Maybe someday soon she could tell him in person. ---- Lieutenant Jack Gard Engineer simmed by Lieutenant Commander Nijil Executive Officer Starbase 118 Ops USS Narendra A239202RH0 & LtCmdr Akeelah D'Sena Security Officer - Momentarily off duty simmed by Commodore Jalana Rajel Commanding Officer USS Constitution B Image Team Co-Facilitator A238906JL0
  20. This kind of stuff is why we can't have anything nice on the USS Thor... and why I love hate writing with those nerds Good Job Guarantee @Geoffrey Teller
  21. This is a direct punch in the feelings, you are warned. This is Mr. Walsh's first (and so far only) SIM, the view of what is happening on the USS Thor from the viewpoint of one of those nondescript characters that fill the background of our scenes, that manages to summarize, rather promptly, the emotional cost of what the "officers at the top" are trying to fix. Really, really well written and an excellent sample of the good work of @Wes Greaves I won't forgive you this, sir.
  22. Two appreciation posts from me in a week but I do have to say I’m a huge huge sucker for lots of fine, intricate description. I absolutely loved the atmosphere. MOAR please 😂And I do also have to say sailing ships are fantastic. @Jarred Thoran ((Somewhere in the Atlantic, HMS Destiny)) ((OOC: Just a little something from Jarred's unconscious state)) Jarred stood on the quarterdeck, a sweeping view of the ship in front of him, men busying themselves with work. The ship in question was the 32-gun fifth rate frigate, HMS Destiny, a 19th century Royal Navy ship.It had a deck composed of great wooden planks, with three huge masts protruding from it. Each of the masts was furnished with great off white sails. Above were clear blue skies and below dark blue water. The swell of the waves caused the ship to roll gently, creating an almost calming effect. He took a deep breath, feeling the sea air filling his lungs. He’d always felt more at home on the sea, the oak planks beneath his feet than he ever had on land. He had been fascinated by the sea from an early age, the mysteriousness of what lurked in the depths, the adventures to be had in distant lands. A sudden sway caused a splash of salt filled water to hit his face and a moment later the peacefulness was broken as a voice called out. Callan: Hands to quarters. Hands to quarters. Enemy ship to larboard. The previously quiet humdrum on the deck now becoming a hive of activity as the crew hurried to their stations. The air filled with the sounds of shouting of orders, the drumming of the marines and the piping of the whistle. In mere minutes the entire crew had turned onto the deck, many racing up from below. Standing beside Jarred was Lieutenant Callan, who was presently occupied with the telescope, keeping track of their enemy. The deck rumbled and groaned as the 12-pound cannons were rolled out into position. A contingent of red coated marines had joined Jarred and his officers on the quarterdeck, their muskets aiming at the ship now bearing down on them. Thoran: Fire as we bear Mister Stanway. Stanway: Aye aye sir. A moment passed and Jarred smiled to himself, pleased with how swiftly his crew had run their guns out and had prepared for action. There was a certain thrill with the anticipation of battle. The Destiny had been assigned to patrol the shipping lanes after a spate of pirate attacks against the merchant shipping in the region. After two days on the hunt they had finally found their prey. The ship on the horizon was larger than the Destiny, but Destiny had the advantage of the weather gage on their side. With the weather gage, Destiny would be the one to dictate the terms of engagement. They were upwind of their opponent, meaning they would be able to manouvere at will towards them downwind.. Stanway: FIRE! As his First Lieutenant gave the order, it resounded down the ship, each officer repeating the order for the gun crews to hear. The fuses to the canons were lit and a couple of seconds later the deck was awash with smoke, the sound of cannon fire filling the air. ------------------------------------------- Commander Jarred Thoran Commanding Officer, USS Atlantis NCC-74682 A239405JT0
  23. I guess you may already know that but USS Arrow simulation was just launched last Monday. In order to celebrate such unique event here are the nominations for the Top Funny Quotes of the Season. 🤣😆😂😝
  24. ((Holodeck 23, StarBase 118)) German had been feeling rather nostalgic about the moment when he started training as a cadet two years ago up until more recent days. A little over a year ago, the Denobulan was given the opportunity to become a training officer himself which was one of the more exciting things he enjoys doing. Any time the Academy Commandant would allow him to be either the training commanding officer, first officer, or disguised as a mock cadet, he’d waste little time to get ready to teach the future officers of Starfleet. One of his most memorable classes was with a Risian female cadet named Charlena Vanlith who he had read that she was making a name for herself in the Shoals aboard the USS Veritas. Knowing that there’d be a rough connection due to the tetryon fields that more often than not blocked any way of communication to be sent, German waited for a freighter to be shipped out from Ops to the Shoals. He had spoken with the owner of the freighter if he could send some communication beacon like probes and have them be placed in the direction he went out in space to hopefully be a temporary way to meet with Charlena. As he waited, German had figured up an encryption code so there'd be no way for anyone to break through the firewall. First, he typed in his Denobulan language, translated the first bit of coding to Klingon, and finished with a mix of Trill and El-Aurian. After a few weeks of radio silence, he had been given confirmation that the probe breadcrumbs were set and ready to be turned on. German approached the holodeck and punched in his encryption codes to turn on the bandwidth frequencies inside the probes and transmitted the data between his location to where the Veritas was. He glanced down at his PADD and watched with anticipation as each light illuminated signaling it was working, then German walked into the holodeck. Galven: Lieutenant Vanlith? Can you hear or see me? Vanlith: Commander Galven yes I can hear and see you. How is it on your end? They both had to configure their respective systems to get better holographic imaging software which gained momentum as it began updating. A few seconds went by and while it was still fuzzy in some areas, German could definitely make out the officer in front of him. Galven: Much better. ::smiles:: You're looking more exquisite by the day. Vanlith: ::smiling:: well it is good to see you. It's been far too long. Is it a year? Galven: I believe it has. Since then when we last saw each other during Mei'konda's promotional party, I'm now on Ops. ::chuckles:: Time flies. How have you been? Vanlith: I've been good. There's been some changes around here since then which took some getting used to. Teller and Addison leaving and now G'var is off. All for what is best for them so it's not too sad but it's definitely different. Less sea shanties in engineering now. He definitely could still hear Teller's sea shanties in his head whenever German tried to sleep. Being roommates was certainly an adventure. Galven: I understand how you must feel. My first post was the Veritas, then transferred to the Montreal which led me to the short lived Astraeus when just after a few short months, I was transferred to Ops without knowing a single person. It's certainly hard, but remember what you trained for. Sorry for talking so much. How are you holding up? Vanlith: I'm doing well. Engineering keeps me on my toes and with us just having dealt with pirates I'm happy that shore leave has come now. Gavlen: Pirates? What happened there? Vanlith: It's all rather complicated but some pirates turned up on the Veritas with a Blake from a different universe that they had cotton due to a spore drive. The spore drive had been stolen by a different pirate so we had to get it back. It's all rather weird. Charlena's hologram started to flicker a bit and every now and then while she was talking, there was a noticeable pause in between sentences. While German studied Terran history in primary school, a few of the holo-videos from the mid 20th century until the early 21st century had the same issue on Earth whenever the news was interviewing someone on a different continent. Galven: ::chuckles:: That's the nature of the game. We get involved with some rather… "unique" situations in our line of work. You mentioned an alternate Commander Blake, right? How's she and Captain Rahman doing? Vanlith: I’ll be honest I should probably get to know both of them better. I tend to keep relatively to myself or engineering so I need to branch out to say the least. From what I’ve seen of them they seem good. I know through the grapevine that Blake wasn’t happy with an alternate Blake on board. So I guess she’s still not happy as we still need to get her home. Charlena shuffled slightly and looked down. Recently she had realised how little time she spent with others on the ship and she knew she needed to do something about it. Having been on the ship for over a year she barely knew her own captain's first name let alone anything about her. And she was sure she somehow knew even less about Blake. Vanlith: Urm anyway what's going on for you over there? Even though they were many lightyears apart, German could hear the tone in her voice that Charlena sounded like she was disappointed by what she said. He could relate because there were plenty of people who were missed opportunities for him to get to know. He glanced down at his PADD as his fingers tapped on a few commands which materialized a couple chairs and the holodeck transformed into his apartment's living room on Ops. Although, it caused a few more energy sources which didn't help with the grainy, flickering hologram that was the young engineering officer. Galven: We've actually been on shoreleave for a couple weeks now. ::pauses, then takes a seat:: You're more than welcome to take a seat if you like? Vanlith: ::sitting down facing him:: And how has that been? Galven: ::nods:: Pretty eventful. We just recently received quite a few new ensigns as well as a Lt. Commander who actually served on the Veritas as well once upon a time. Did you ever get to meet an Alora DeVeau? Vanlith: I recognise the name, not sure we ever met. Galven: Well, as you know, I'm always one to help people adjust so I've unofficially become the starbase's tour guide. ::chuckles:: If you're ever this way, I'd love to give you a tour too! Vanlith: ::chuckling:: Tour guide Galven, you’ll be like Teller next. He gets confused as a bellhop, you’ll be a tour guide. Maybe I should open a hotel and hire you both. But in all seriousness a tour does sound nice if we are ever out your way. I would be nice to actually see you again. And no borg tribbles this time. A smirk formed on the right side of his lips. One of his more memorable training classes in the Academy was with Charlena when she took her final exam. Everything was going just as it was programmed to do until a slight curveball came into their way. Galven: ::chuckles:: Hey, I think that was a nice addition to a fairly boring class up until someone couldn't help herself when she picked up that tribble. Vanlith: ::chuckling pretending to be defensive:: Hey it was cute and fluffy. For all I knew it posed no threat. Galven: No, it didn't have to be a Borg tribble. ::smiles:: The look on your face was priceless when you first saw it. Have you come across any more troubling tribbles? Vanlith: No tribbles as of yet. It would be funny but I think I’d get in trouble for trying to keep one. Galven: ::rubs his ridged chin and sticks his index finger upward:: Tell you what! I believe there's a supply freighter about to leave drydock soon heading to the Shoals. The starbase has a pet store that has tribbles. Would you like one? It's a gift from me to you so I'm not taking no for an answer. ::pretends to appear stern by furrowing his eyebrows, but smiling in the process:: Vanlith: Are you serious? Charlena could feel the shock written across her face. She couldn’t believe that he was actually offering her a pet. She was sure BAXTER wouldn’t mind and that was the only possible hesitation to her. A pet tribble would be a brilliant fluffy companion and she could imagine the look on Wil’s face if it turned up in engineering with no warning. She was sure that would be a laugh. Galven: Which part? That there's a supply freighter or the tribble gift? Vanlith: You’re going to get me a tribble? Galven: ::nods:: Of course. I'll send you the shipping information and its expected delivery date. Vanlith: That's amazing. I’d love a tribble. And it sure would be a story to explain why to everyone. Plus as I recall the Borg tribble loved me so I’m sure a normal tribble would too. German was enjoying how excited she was which he got a kick out. Just as he was about to speak, a holographic chronometer illuminated up and behind Charlena's head which started a countdown at a minute and a half. It seemed like their meeting was about to run its course. Galven: Also, I want to let you know that the tribble I'm sending you is "fixed" so there's not going to be a million little furballs once it gets to you. ::smirks:: Vanlith: Just because I now know that doesn’t mean I won’t amuse myself in engineering before I tell the others ::chuckling:: Galven: ::laughs:: Let me know what happened when you tell your colleagues about it. ::clears his throat:: Listen, we don't have much time left because the tetryon levels seem to be affecting our connection. I noticed that the Veritas is just starting shoreleave, correct? Vanlith: Yeah that's right. Why do you ask? Galven: Given how intense the mission was for you and the crew, I would suggest that you try to connect more with everyone. It really does help, at least for me, to decompress by collaborating with others. Would you mind doing that? Not just for my own sake, but for you as well. Vanlith: Still giving me advice and direction even now. For you, sure. I really should get to know the others better. Maybe even have a chat with someone I don’t really talk to outside of being on duty. Galven: ::smiles:: Perhaps that someone could be your Captain. I know that whenever we came back from a mission, she would either take a nightly stroll to the library and Rahman loved it when a certain Ensign would bring her coffee. I mean, where else did Teller come up with the Brew Continuum? ::points to himself, smirks:: Vanlith: Coffee to the Captain. Is it really that easy? Galven: Of course! Roshanara is very approachable. Even more so when there's that fresh aroma hitting her nose. Vanlith: Well, I will remember that. Fresh coffee in the library. Thanks Charlena smiled rather thankful of the advice, she was more nervous of the Captain then she was willing to admit. It wasn’t because she was scared of her but more that she was worried she would say something wrong. Galven: It looks like our time is up so before we're disconnected, let her and everyone else I said hello. ::stands up:: Also, don't be a stranger and maybe we can send PADDmail back and forth between us. Oh, and Charlena? Vanlith: That sounds good. What? Galven: Optimism, Lieutenant! ::dons his signature Denobulan wide grin:: Vanlith: ::smiling herself:: And you Commander, hopefully we can see each other soon. ---- LT. JG Charlena Vanlith ( @Sophie290999 ) Engineering Officer USS Veritas V239604CV0 & Lt. Commander @German Galven 2O/Chief Science Officer StarBase 118 - USS Narendra V239507GG0
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