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As much suspense there was in the build up of part one, @Jalana and @Dizmim ChNilmani really killed it with the drama here!

@Jalana & @Dizmim ChNilmani deliver an intense twist here!

It's been a day for @Randal Shayne, @Nolen Hobart, @Connor Dewitt, @Karrod Niac, @Toryn Raga, @Alieth, and @Kali Nicholotti and their respective crews. Thank you for this lovely coda.

(( Jeffries Tubes Junction, Deck 3, Main Compartment, Deep Space 33 )) The distant sounds of weapons fire echoed through the maintenance passage even two decks down. A testament to just how severe and intense the fighting was and had been for nearly an entire day at this point. They had few options left, but it was not in the Worene’s nature to back down from a battle, especially one they had no chance of retreating from. He’d climbed down two decks to hunt as many of the Lattice forces as he could before the end. One extra phaser would not make a difference up on Deck One, but here, behind their lines. It could do great damage. And he had many cubs to avenge this day. If this was his last, then he would ensure that it would be the most impactful of his life. Woman: Would you hurry up already, Jonas. There’s someone else in here with us! Jonas: I’m going as fast as I can, Genai! The Tholian or Sheliak that sealed this hatch didn’t exactly make it easy, you know. His ears perked up and shifted forward as he crawled through the tube and paused. His rifle was slung over his back for easier movement here. He had his sidearm as well, but based on the voices he doubted he’d need either. Osiris: You are not alone, but you are also not in danger from me. The Worene announced carefully as he approached the junction and saw a sandy blond, short haired head pop up to look right at him in initial terror. A cub, male. From the scent, Human. Barely two decades by his estimation and beside him with a shakily held hand phaser pointed at him peered a more calm faced older female. Fiery red mane to the shoulders. Bajoran. Three, maybe for decades. Slightly less of a cub, but still younger than he. Palen noted the male wore a tattered gold uniform and the other was in teal. The nearby engineering kit suggested the former’s occupation. Genai: Thank the prophets. We thought everyone else was dead or still stuck fighting on the upper decks. Jonas: Never thought I’d be glad to see a cat…Uh…I mean, it’s good to see a friendly face, sir. ::murmuring:: Please don’t eat me. A gentle smack to his shoulder from the woman forced the awkward cub to clear his throat and Palen bared his fangs in a smile that did little to prove whether he would or wouldn’t eat the cub. Osiris: I have bigger prey to hunt, Crewman. The cub nodded briskly at him and resumed their attempts to open the hatch that would let them enter deck 3. The Bajoran held the phaser in both hands as if it were a rope clung to to keep from falling off a cliff. Genai: Good. Here’s hoping you can take a few of them with you before we die. It was a bit morose a comment coming from a physician, but given the amount of death they’d seen this day it wasn’t unreasonable even for lifesaving practitioners to feel bleak. Jonas: Nonsense, Genai. The Lieutenant’s here now and everyone on the Ops deck is still fighting. ::He grunted mid effort to loosen something:: And we have two Starfleet ships outside right now defending us. We'll be alright. Palen noticed the woman’s smile directed at the back of the cub’s head and a slight flush of color to her cheeks when she noticed the large felinoid was looking at her. Osiris: The day is not yet done and many still draw breath. The statement was simple but effective. A triumphant huzzah escaped the cub a moment later and the hatch door retracted to reveal the ladder down. A shushing sound followed from, both Palen and the Bajoran. Jonas: Oh, sorry…I got excited. Uh, I guess after you sir? Osiris: Yes, I am hunting. I suggest you both find an escape pod and wait there. If we fail to hold the station it will be scuttled and you will want to be somewhere else. The human cub shook his head vehemently at the Worene who’s tail flicked slightly in curiosity. Jonas: We can’t do that sir, not if there’s something we can still do to help! We were going to try and see if we can get a transporter working to maybe beam some of them into the pattern buffer and thin their numbers. Genai: We didn’t get far since we got stuck here. Palen’s ears twitched slightly and he considered for a moment before another nod was given to the pair. Osiris: Very well, I understand the need to do something. I will clear the way. Without further comment he descended quietly down the ladder and then manually opened the door at the bottom to permit them onto the deck proper. It opened with a soft hiss and he pushed it aside with one hand, the other held his hand phaser. With this being two decks below where anyone on their side was fighting it should have been relatively empty and yet his ears twitched and turned, the sound caught of movement and voices. A quick glimpse let him see a Sheliak and the Worene immediately holstered his sidearm and pulled the long rifle slung over his back in hand. One ear shifted as he heard the cubs come up behind him. Osiris: Quiet. Enemies. ::He whispered:: Genai: Here? But we don’t have anyone on this deck. Jonas: Can you scan for how many there are? The Bajoran opened her tricorder and leaned out just enough to point it in the direction of the hostiles. Genai: Eight Sheliak and five Tholians. Jonas: Ohhh, well I’m sure that’s nowhere near enough for the Lieutenant here. The tone of the cub’s comment suggested he didn’t believe his own words, but was trying to. Osiris: I have faced more. Though even these will pose challenging. Palen knew if he opened fire it would draw all of them. This hunt would have to be a careful one, as all hunts should be. Osiris: We will go the other way and avoid them. I will come back and hunt these when you are locked in the transporter room. The doctor’s tricorder chirped angrily for a moment and it nearly drew the attention of their enemy. Genai: Prophet’s, please tell me I’m reading this wrong. Jonas: What’s wrong? Genai: I’ve never scanned one before but I think there’s a torpedo with them, or some kind of explosive. That got his attention and Palen glanced at her device. His tail flicked curtly from one side to the other. He was quite familiar with torpedoes and the brief reading taken he did not like what he saw. Jonas: That’s near the starboard hull, I think one of the airlocks maybe? Genai: If they set it off inside the station!! Both cubs looked pale but Palen had to focus. Osiris: Be calm. I will find a way to get through them and disarm the torpedo. Jonas: There’s no time sir, that looks like it’s going to overload. Osiris: More reason to not dawdle. Palen leaned around the curved corridor and fired his weapon. The beam struck a Sheliak in the head and they dropped like a rock fall. Then the corridor erupted in a maelstrom of disruptor fire in his direction. When he turned to fall back to better cover neither cub was in sight. He moved to the opposite side of the corridor and spotted the pair emerge from a maintenance hatch behind the enemy. Where he could not help them. He tapped his comm badge, Commander Raga and Ops needed to know of the threat. ((ooc: What follows is from the perspective of Genai and Jonas)) The two of them rushed up to the Tholian torpedo that rested on a stand of some sort near the outer bulkhead. Jonas immediately opened his kit and started to scan it. Genai: Jonas….this is insane, can you disarm this?! Jonas: I have no idea, torpedoes aren’t really my thing. That’s a tactical department purview but we don't have much choice. This thing has maybe two minutes before it blows and the Lieutenant might not beat them all before it does. Genai: What can I do? He pulled a hyperspanner from the kit and then started trying to remove the casing cover. Jonas: Well, seeing if your prophets could bless us with some luck couldn’t hurt. ::He smiled:: Genai looked at him and couldn't help but stare as he feverishly removed the cover and inspected the innards of the weapon. She never could understand how he could be so bright and hopeful all the time. She nodded and muttered any prayer she could think of. It wasn’t when she noticed he’d stopped working that drew her focus, it was the shaking in his hands. Jonas: I….I’m not going to be able to disarm this. It’s already in a cascade. Genai: Maybe we can beam it off the station? He shook his head. Jonas: That would just set it off and might make it worse. We have to move it, Genai…away from the hull. Genai: What?! Jonas: There’s no time…we have maybe a minute. We need to move it as far inside the deck as we can. Please!! Her breath caught in her throat at his pleading and despite the liquid in her eyes she moved with him. The whole thing was heavy and didn’t have wheels, but they somehow managed to pick it up and barely managed to carry/drag it down the passage. As soon as they could they turned down an interior corridor while the Worene seemed to be still fighting not far away. Panting heavily the torpedo began to thrum more and more. With the cover off she could even see the warhead glowing brighter. Genai: Jonas…how long? Jonas: Doesn’t matter, Genai…keep pulling we have…to get this..as far as we can to save the others!! She felt her arms giving out on her and stumbled a few times. Even Jonas, the sweet font of eternal hope could barely keep going and the nex time they both dropped to the ground he looked at her with tears in his eyes. Jonas: Genai…I’m sorry I couldn’t disarm it… Genai: …call me Raeya His eyes widened at her use of her given name and a brisk nod was given. Jonas: Raeya…::He said almost breathlessly:: Always thought you had such a beautiful na.. Ethan’s comment was cut short when her lips met his and ten seconds later the brilliant flash of the Tholian torpedo detonating ended everything for the two of them. But in that moment, those ten seconds felt like eons filled with regrets, fond memories, and realization of a kiss that should have happened years ago. Then, noise, violent destruction and devastation, but contained nonetheless. A gaping hole left as a shocking reminder of what could have been. And the mangled husk of a hyperspanner seemingly fused to what was left of a Bajoran earring by the blast. Picked up by a wounded and silent Worene. Held tightly in paw in honor of those who didn't stop until the last moment to save the station they called home. End of Act 3 for Osiris ========================================= Lieutenant JG Palen Osiris Starfleet Ranger - Scout Specialist As simmed by Commander Toryn Raga First Officer USS Ronin - NCC-34523 Writer ID: A239410TR0 https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Toryn_Raga

The ability of @Gila Sadar to fully portray manic self-conscious paranoia never ceases to amaze me. I love their writing!

There are a number of ways to mourn a friendship, nay, a brotherhood between two people that has imploded. While Lhandon has found his other friends and worked out his anger on the punching bag, @Erik Johnson's PC Toxin Arlill, takes a different approach. The stark contrast between the scenes tells its own story. I'll link Maxwell's sim from that scene here, so you can see the contrast yourself. This friendship between Arlill and Nilsen has been a cornerstone in each other's lives for over a year. They called each other brother and they held together the Operations department on both the Oumuamua and Octavia E Butler. They did so much together, they raced in the Denali Invitational, they constructed the new Operations Centres together and they even knew each other's families. And now that's gone up in smoke. This sim...even though I'm involved in this story and I knew that Erik was cooking, made me want to reach through the screen and hug Arlill. Erik is a phenomenal writer, and don't worry, we haven't fallen out IRL.

As a general rule, NPC usage during missions require skill to be done correctly. We don’t want to oversaturate our writing with NPCs, as our PCs are supposed to be the core crew, and the NPCs are just there for flavor. But masterful use of a one-off NPC can sometimes elevate a mission arc, and that is exactly what I feel Ensign Cecil Valo accomplishes over on the Ronin with this sweet Sim. In the midst of a violent battle with the Lattice Alliance, we’ve seen Ensign Haydd comduct his duties as a counselor in what ways he could, and in this Sim, we see him further humanized as he engages in banter with friends in a grim moment. Not only is the implications of a boardgame centered around Caitians eating Betazoids hilarious, but in typical Ronin fashion, this Sim uses humor ti effectively communicate the idea that your bonds with your friends provide a safe haven in even the darkest of times. Capital Sim, Ensign Valo!!

What started as a simple NPC they rescued in a sim developed into the most beautiful narrative of two family members connecting for the first time while living apart. Patty, the simmer behind Dr. Toz and the new NPC Barney Nilsen, has made me cry. She took bits of Gault lore that I wrote MONTHS AGO and brought them back, crafting a backstory for Barney that is a pleasure to sim with and creating someone who I just wanted to reach through the laptop screen and give the biggest hug. Patty, thank you so much for expanding the lore of Nilsen's and expanding the lore of Gault!!! I can't quite wrangle the Google group to highlight everything (ignore the T'Larn sim) but you can see the threads of where Barney started and the MASTERCLASS Patty has given up in character development and taking the time to pace that from their very first introduction! https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-butler/search?q=Barney Nilsen @Toz

Oh. My. God. @Salkath LITERALLY just posted this but I was dying of laughter so I decided EVERYONE needed to see this as fast as possible. He writes such a good Vulcan, and such a funny one. Watch as he meets the designated Good Boy of Artemis, and tries to keep up his Vulcan Decorum in the face of just the cutest little doggo.

I think I'll collect all the previous sim and the ones to come into a book. I haven't post the sims before this one, but they are great too. You can find them in the denali group mailing list

Here we have a perfect example of why we do what we do. May we all be as brave as Mister Quirkle-Burkle ((Passageway R-3, Deck 6, Main Module, Deep Space 33)) Zenno and Torado were climbing up the turbo lift shaft to get to Ops, where it seemed that Starfleet was making a last stand. The Bolian had got a glancing blow from an energy weapon on the arm, but he was making do. It hurt tremendously. But the fact that his caustic blood was eating through Torado’s uniform and skin was even more bothersome, to him at least. She seemed to be not be too worried about it. But there was nothing for it at the moment anyway. They had to clear the area and get to Ops. Surprisingly, they had not seen any enemy activity on the way up. They had expected some kind of action and it was disquieting. Clearing out of the shaft at Deck 6, they made their way down to the next junction. Their comms were down. They could occasionally receive. But the transmitting functions weren’t working. He desperately wanted to get a current disposition of the enemy forces. It ate at him at there could be a tasty target of opportunity in the next passageway that Ops had on the sensors and he wouldn’t know. But as they say on Earth, c’est la vie. He had read that phrase somewhere, but couldn’t recall the exact context. No matter. Torado interrupted his musings as they climbed. Torado: ::whispering:: How’s the shoulder? Zenno: ::whispering:: It moves. How is your face? Torado: ::whispered:: Not tingling as much anymore. Zenno: ::whispering:: Excellent, the tides are with us. He knew there would be discoloration on her face and hands at least. Perhaps analogous to a sunburn. It would heal, but he was upset at having caused it. They had arrived at the next junction. Torado looked for the controls. And this one was actually a manual access panel. It had a hand crank. How quaint. Perhaps they could send a message to Ops with a carrier pigeon next. She did her work and Zenno kept watch. Any enemies would be invited to get drowned upon presenting themselves, but none appeared. He looked behind and Torado was cranking the handle and it made a sound like the wailing of an angry Caitian. Perhaps an angry Caitian in a heat cycle. Zenno had heard such at the Academy a few times and it was reminiscent. And the doors opened so very slowly. Torado: ::cranking, frustrated:: If this was an actual emergency we’d be dead. Zenno: I am not such a naysayer. I have great faith in us! He wasn’t sure she appreciated his enthusiasm, but it was genuine, for whatever that was worth. But then he perceived a sound where there should have not been one.Alert, he froze and attempted to determine the location. He could tell that Torado had noticed it too. Torado: You hear that, too, sir? Zenno nodded his reply, still trying to discern what it was. An enemy? A friend? Something else? It was coming from behind the hatch to their left. Using hand signs, he indicated where it was and signaled a left/right approach. The sounds from the space beyond struck Zenno as plaintive, but he wasn’t sure. Giving the go signal, he and Torado made a dynamic entry into the space only to find a diminutive girl, sitting on the floor and crying. He wasn’t sure, but perhaps she was a Denobulan, certainly not in her adulthood. And she was most distraught, hugging a stuffed animal. Evaluating the situation, clearing the space was the priority, which was done. Nothing being found, Zenno put down his weapons and got down on his knees to the girl’s height. Gesturing to Torado, she kept a look out, but was still close by. Zenno: ::softly, with kindness:: What’s this now? How did you get here? ::Wiping tears, but careful not get any blood on her:: Girl: My… my.. ::sniffs:: my Mother owns a store. She didn’t want to leave. Zenno looked about and Torado did the same but there was no one else here. Zenno: Where is Mother now? Girl: She told me to wait here. She said she would come back for me. He felt a pain right behind his left eye. It was safe to assume she wasn’t coming back. But now wasn’t the time to adjudicate that issue. They had to get to Ops. But more importantly, here was a Federation Citizen… a youth. What was the Starfleet for if not to protect ones such as this? He wondered if Torado would object. Zenno: We…. We have instructions. We’re going to get you somewhere safer than here. He looked up at Torado and she had an expression that Zenno couldn’t quite classify. Torado: Responses? Zenno: ::To Torado:: It’s fine. ::To the Girl:: Are you hurt? Can you climb? We have to go up the turbo lift shaft. Girl: Where is my Mother? Torado: Responses? Zenno: Right. ::softly:: But you should come with us now. We can handle all the other things later. Would that be OK? Hold onto my arm. ::offers:: His arm complained in the most urgent manner that he wasn’t at full power, but he paid it no mind. The flesh obeyed. Girl: It’s scary out there. Zenno: You are in luck, young one. You happen to be with the two most scariest of all. ::Looking at the 1LT:: Isn’t that right? Torado: Responses? Zenno: And what’s your name? Girl: Sabira. And ::holds up stuffed animal:: Mister Quirkle-Burkle. Zenno: Well I think the team of Zenno ::points to self::, Torado ::points::, Sabira, and Mister Quirkle-Burkle will be unstoppable. TAG/TBC LT Zenno Security Chief USS Khitomer A240006Z13

((The Many-Doored Room)) The space was quiet, wide, and open. Squarish. Like an interior common area of a large administrative building. The floors were wood-planked, and the walls were painted green a third of the way up, and white the rest. The ceiling was lined with tiles, ventilation grates, and incandescent lights, but despite this there was no sense of claustrophobia. It wasn’t overly warm or stuffy, even though there were no windows. At each corner, there was a hallway that extended out and away. And every four or five feet along every wall that was, there was a door, brown, weathered, and heavy, upon which a small brass plaque announced its purpose. Except one door, which was unlike all the others, and sat on a stretch of wall without any neighbors. It was a different door, one of the plain ones, that opened. With a creak, Nolen Hobart poked his head out. Or, it looked like Nolen Hobart. It was, in fact, his mind’s Accountant, with neatly combed hair, slick with gel, and kept firmly tucked behind a translucent green visor atop his forehead. Accountant: Hello? Anyone else here? Muffled shuffling and scraping of chair legs against floors behind other closed doors could be heard, and footsteps. One door, and then another, creaked open, and a pair of other “Nolen Hobarts” appeared. The first to join him wore a grease-covered apron, and his hair was violently unkempt. Atop his forehead rested a set of welder’s goggles, held in place by the strap wrapped around his head. The second (or, at total count: third) wore a casual smile and flowing collared shirt, seemingly unbothered by purpose. These facts were all that the Accountant needed to know them each: the Inventor and Archivist, respectively. They had the same face, but then, everybody seemed to, so context clues were key to him. Inventor: Pencil broke? Accountant: You didn’t notice? The inventor looked down in thought, before looking back to the Accountant. Inventor: …my pencil broke? The third just stood and smiled. He folded his arms and watched the other two Nolens converse. This, eventually, drew the Accountant’s attention away from the Inventor, who then pointed at the third Nolen. Accountant: ::disbelief:: He noticed! How did you not notice? This took the third by surprise. He wasn’t expecting to be part of the conversation. Archivist: Oh! I wasn’t paying attention, I didn’t notice anything. I’m just jazzed to see you guys. The Accountant pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. Accountant: The doors unlocked. That’s how come we’re here. That's why you're seeing us. They never unlock but from the outside. Inventor: Oh, you’re right. Archivist: Number-Guy is always right. This is nice. Should we play a game? The, um, red and black square thing. I like that one. It's relaxing. The Accountant shook his head. “Number-Guy” was not his title, and “red and black square thing” was a pretty poor way of describing the game of Checkers, but the Archivist didn’t need to know the names. That wasn’t his job. And so he didn’t. Also, them being there wasn’t nice. It was a sign of trouble. Inventor: You want me to lock them? Accountant: Yes, but not yet. The Accountant pointed at the Other Door. It was the Bad Door, and it looked the part. It was an ugly gray, marked by pink-purple splotches. It was weathered and old, and the latch and doorknob were gone from it. It shifted and clunked from a wind that couldn’t be felt. It had some other formal name, but that was long-forgotten. Or, if not forgotten, the name was never uttered. The three Nolens gathered around, and examined the planks of wood and nails that had fallen off the molding around it. Archivist: ::whispering:: Do you think they got out? He looked around, nervously, and suddenly desired very much to be back in his room, with the doors locked. That they could be unlocked from the outside meant that it wasn’t terribly safe, but it felt safe. Hiding in one’s work often had that effect. Accountant: ::softly:: If we’re lucky, they were only as observant as the two of you. ::looking to the Inventor:: I’ll hold it shut, you get your tools. The Inventor nodded, and darted off towards his room. He was careful not to let the door slam behind, lest to draw more attention to the lobby. The Accountant held his hands to the door, and leaned into it, holding it firmly in place. The Archivist watched on, fearfully. Archivist: I’m not so jazzed anymore. Accountant: ::sternly:: By right you shouldn’t be. Once they’re out, they’re almost impossible to put back in. Archivist: Yeah, I know. The Archivist looked around, this time sheepishly. The Accountant eyed him with suspicion. Accountant: What did you do? Archivist: Nothing! Maybe a week ago, I was just looking at my picture-books— Accountant: ::annoyed:: “Albums.” Picture-books are for children. Archivist: ::nodding:: And there was one. Not in the picture-book, but in the room. I didn’t go out, I swear. I threw a picture-book at it, I think I startled it. It seemed angry, and tore Tammy’s photo, and then left. The Archivist’s eyes narrowed. The monsters didn’t startle. Not that he knew, anyway. And he could recall no balance with any “Tammy.” But then again, it wasn’t the Archivist’s job to know names. It was his. Accountant: Tammy? Archivist: ::straining:: Ehh. Tonya? Taloola? Anyway, I taped it back together, but it’s not the same. The Accountant looked back at the door he was holding shut. Perhaps the boards had come off all the way back then. Or perhaps the monsters had found another way to get around. They were deviously clever. That was a terrifying thought, and he was glad that the Inventor returned just then to interrupt it, carrying an antique power tool and a transparent zipper bag full of assorted screws. The Accountant knew better than to question his methods. Strange as they were, they invariably worked. Inventor: Okay! This should do it. A voice from somewhere else echoed faintly through the ventilation ducts, and the Accountant strained to hear it over the whir of the tool as the Inventor set to work boarding up the Bad Door again. Matthews: …sensors show that the last ship with evacuees just launched. We’ll be getting you out on one of the ones still in the hanger. Inventor: Done! Archivist: I think we need to go back. The Accountant nodded. Noise from outside meant that the doors would soon lock again, and if one wasn’t back in one’s room when that happened, then one’s work wouldn’t be done. And that could throw the whole system off. He had to hurry; his ledger was waiting. ((Transporter Room, Deck 8, Main Module, Deep Space 33)) Nolen’s eyes didn’t want to open. He was laying on a hard surface, in a room that must have been small because it felt stuffy. He could sense the emotions of the minds around him swirl into a pungent stew. A lot of the fear was gone, or at least less prominent than it once had been. There was a hard, stony determination in the mix, familiar to him from all of the times he’d had to problem-solve with a team. El’Heem: Response Nibar: Last I saw there’s a medical team set up on Deck 2. Weyler and I will take the Caitian up there. We’ll get onto a transport from there once she’s stable. We’ll take all the wounded with us. Matthews: ::Without looking up from the controls:: Weyler, how’s the Commander looking? Any sign of waking up? Nolen tried to turn his head towards the voice of Ensign Matthews, and felt a pair of cold hands attempt to keep him from moving. Weyler: Think so! Hobart: ::eyes fluttering:: I’m back, I think. He attempted to sit up and felt a sharp stabbing pain in his side. He hissed out a curse and coughed, just as he saw Ensign Matthews glance his way. Matthews: Depending on the doctor’s orders, I do have a shuttle ready for us to use – personal ship, not a Starfleet—issued one. Sorry. We’re going to be roughing it with our escape. The ship’s specs shows she can handle up to ten passengers plus pilot and co-pilot. I hope the owner at least has their first aid stocked. Hobart: Oy gevalt. ::gripping his side, painful sigh:: Did Stergis give the “abandon ship” order? Nibar: Not yet, sir. Hobart: ::sharp breath:: Then we don’t go. Take the wounded to Medical. It felt like a broken rib or three. He’d suffered them before, on the away mission to Naz, after the planet had swallowed them up. He engaged in a series of slight and painful twists and stretches to determine the extent of his mobility, and eventually (and awkwardly) rose to his feet, with no shortage of help from DS33's paralegal. El’Heem: Response Nibar and Weyler helped load the stretcher-bound Caitian and the limping Bobbart to the transporter pad. Matthews: Standing by to transport, Doc, what’s the word? Are our patients safe to transfer together? Or should I send you all first to be ready for them? El’Heem: Response Hobart: Hang on a second, Ensign. Let me get my bearings. You, me, Doc, and Jones will hang back here while I figure out where we’re needed. Check the Caitian one more time, El’Heem, make sure she’s OK for transport, then send them all up. Matthews / El’Heem: Response Hobart looked around the small room, leaning against the transporter control console to take the burden off of his abdominal muscles. He shifted until he found a relatively comfortable position. It was still exceedingly uncomfortable, and the pain threatened to consume all of his attention if he didn’t focus hard on other things. Like finding a medkit. He spied one across the room, meant for emergency care if someone didn’t (or couldn’t) get beamed directly to sickbay, and pointed. Hobart: Should be a regenerator in there, Doc. Think you can do something about my ribs? Matthews / El’Heem: Response Nibar: Good luck. Energize. As El’Heem left the pad and Matthews initiated transport, leaving the compartment with only four occupants, Nolen gently tapped his combadge. Hobart: =/\= Hobart to Ops. How are we doing? =/\= MacKenna / Stergis / Matthews / El’Heem: =/\= Response =/\= He winced and resisted the urge to smack El’Heem as the doctor began to tend to him. Hobart: =/\= That bad, huh? We’ve secured the transporter room on Deck 8, and it’s operational. Where do you need us? =/\= MacKenna / Stergis / Matthews / El’Heem: =/\= Response =/\= Tags/TBC ——— Lt. Commander Nolen Hobart Executive Officer USS Khitomer (NCC-62400) A240001NH3

Oh the drama @Quentin Beck! really nice starter for a side development and absolutely lovely way to engage with a fellow writer. good job! Lieutenant JG Quentin Beck Acting Chief Medical Officer USS Ronin NCC-34523 A238810SA0

((Drex’s Quarter - 38th Floor - Soldotna - Denali Station)) As he moved from Anchorage tower to Soldotna tower Vahin was once again taken aback by how similar the towers were to the ones they had raced through on Melale. He wondered how much of that water-logged city matched the one he now called home. What strange parts of Denali could be found mirrored in that other city? In his hand he carried a bottle of Bolian wine his brother had sent him as a gift a few months ago. He had never gotten around to drinking it and hoped it would make up for a mistake he had made a few months ago. He approached Drex’s apartment’s door and pressed the PADD next to it in order to alert the occupant inside. Like almost every time he was at home off-duty, Drex found himself in the small room he had transformed into his art studio. Standing in front of a medium-sized canvas, he delighted in experimenting with a new painting style after seeing the picture of a work by a French artist sent to him by Dominique. The painting was far from finished, as a large part of the upper area was still missing, but through the many dots, some humanoid figures near a lake with turquoise waters were unidentifiable. Drex took a step back, observing the effect of the last brushstrokes applied and at that moment he heard the doorknob ring. He put the brush on the nearby table and grabbed the rag he used to clean his hands before reaching the living room and the entrance door. As the door slid open to reveal the friendly Denobulan scientist ,Vahin smiled and waved with his free hand. Drex was not expecting any visitors and his clothes were a mess of colors and stains, but it was with pleasant surprise that he smiled at the guest he found in front of him. Vahin: I’m sorry to disturb you Lieutenant Drex but I just wanted to give this to you. He held the bottle of wine out for Drex to take. Drex: You never disturb me Doctor and, please, stop calling me that. I’m Drex and that’s enough. To what do I owe the pleasure of having you here? Drex lowered his eyes on the bottle offered and took it before moving from the door allowing the Bolian to enter the apartment. Vahin: It’s for two reasons. One to congratulate you for your promotion and, two, because I forgot to bring it to the wonderful potluck you held. ::lowers his head in shame:: I hope you can forgive me for the second one. Drex: There’s nothing to be forgiven for, Araxxu. Please come in. Vahin raises his head and smiles at Drex’s response. Vahin: Thank you for saying that. So… ::he cranes his neck to try and see past Drex:: how are your paintings coming along? I remember that one you had made of the girl from the story book your mother used to read to you. Drex moved into the living room and put the bottle on the table. Drex: The one behind you… :: He nodded as he took a couple of glasses from the cupboard :: My painting activity is going well, I’m experimenting with new techniques. Do you paint or maybe are you a sculptor? Vahin turned to look back at the entrance he had come through and saw the beautiful mural painted around the door. More seemed to have been done on it since he was last in Drex’s apartment and it had only enhanced the painting. Vahin: Beautiful. ::turns back to Drex:: I’m afraid the Vahin family isn’t known for its artistic ability. One of my older brothers sings a bit but that’s as close as we’ve come to having an artist in the family. While listening to the Doctor, he left the glasses near the bottle and walked to the kitchen area, from where he could still see and talk with Vahin. Drex: We’re better off eating something, what do you prefer? Salted or sweet? Maybe both… Vahin gave the question more thought than it was probably needed, both sounded good, so he said so. Vahin: I’m happy with either though salted probably wins out by a hair. Like they say back home, “You can take the Bolian out of the ocean but you can’t take the ocean out of the Bolian.” In other words, salt is in our blood. ::he chuckles:: I mean obviously sodium is in our blood and in higher levels than a lot of species but I think we’re meant to take in a more metaphorical sense. The Denobulan smiled at Vahin’s explanation. Drex: Please, have a seat :: Pointing to the sofa and armchairs near the large glass wall. :: And let’s get all the time we need to enjoy this bottle in good company. He gave Drex a large smile as he watched the friendly Denobulan place food down on the table. He took the offered seat and relaxed back into one of the comfortable armchairs. Vahin: Once again you’re an excellent host. You and my sister would get along well. She throws the most amazing parties, every guest leaves with a smile on their face and a full belly. Vahin patted his belly as he spoke. Vahin: It probably came from having a twin who loves to eat. What about you Drex, what’s your family like? Drex uncorked the bottle and poured a generous amount of the Bolian wine in each glass, before taking a seat on the other side of the low table, facing the Bolian. Drex: My family… is a large family, not as big as many on Denobula. I have a twin sister and four, well almost five, half siblings and two official step mothers and I think three step fathers. I’m not sure if my mother is married or not at the moment. As Drex spoke about his family Vahin’s mind drifted to his mother, she had spent a few days in bed recently as her sickness flared up. When not in the clinic Vahin had spent as much time speaking to her over the vid-screen as possible. It had been hard seeing his one strong and energetic mother looking frail and bedridden. But he had come to visit Drex, in part, to get his mind off of things back home and he decided then he needed to push away some of the darker thoughts that crowded his mind and focus on the conversation at hand. Vahin: It can be hard being away from family, can’t it. But I can never seem to find the time to get back home to visit. The Denobulan pushed one of the glasses towards Vahin. Vahin takes the offered glass with a thankful nod and holds it in his hand. Drex: I didn’t go home this shore leave, but it’s not the time that I’m missing. Yet I know doctors duties are way heavier than mine. Unfortunately the moment we choose to serve in Starfleet changed our priorities and our responsibilities. Vahin: ::sighs:: So true Mr Drex. We did sign up for this life and I don’t regret it most days. Drex lifted his glass, studying the liquid against the light. Its color was dark ruby red with garnet reflection. Even though he was not a connoisseur, he was able to recognize it as an aged bottle. Drex: But some days you do… What's going on, Araxxu? Do you have a fiancé who is tired of waiting for you? Vahin: ::chuckles but then frowns:: If only it was that. Drex: I can be a good listener, if you need, and I'm good at keeping a secret. The science officer raised the glass to his nose: it smelled of red fruits and pepper and tomato leaves. Vahin watches as Drex smells the newly poured glass of wine. His uncorked thoughts float through his mind, his issues back home, his issues on Denali. He tries to put them into words but finds it so difficult. Vahin: Things back home aren’t good…they are…my mother is..I’m sorry. I’m not usually at such a loss for words. ::he takes a moment then just blurts it out:: My mother is dying. As he said the words it’s as if a damn breaks in his mind. For so long he had been trying to keep his personal and work life separate. As much as he knew the issues back home were affecting his work on Denali he had been trying to compartmentalise everything. But now, he had finally told someone and he could feel some of the stress he had been holding wash away. A few tears begin to pool at the corner of his eyes and he tries to blink them away. Vahin: I’m sorry. I shouldn’t bother you with this. I’ve been trying not to let things back home carry over to Denali. But I think I’m failing in that. He takes a deep breath before he continues and tries to settle himself before continuing. Vahin: She…my mother..she’s always been the one who ran the family. I don’t know what will happen when she’s gone. ::frowns:: And knowing she won’t be..won’t be here much longer. ::another deep breath:: I just wish I could spend more time with her now. Drex listened in silence. Those were no news people like to hear. Vahin was a good doctor, so it did not seem respectful to Drex to reassure the Bolian with probably false hopes. Words could be useful, but Vahin needed something else. Drex: On Denobula we said that wine makes everything better. Let's drink to our friendship, then. :: He lifted his glass a little while looking at Vahin :: And if you agree, I will accompany you home, when the times require it. I will make sure you'll find the time. Drex’s kind words begin to lift Vahin from some of the dark thoughts he was lost in. It felt good not to have to go through this alone. Vahin: ::tries to smile:: I hope the wine is to your liking. My brother sent it to me from Bolarus and he knows more about these things than I do. Drex: I am not an expert :: He smiled :: But it tastes good. Vahin takes a long sniff of the wine inside the glass, at first it smells much like any wine, but there are some lingering notes that for a brief moment remind him of happier days on Bolarus; of he and his family sharing a bottle over dinner, and nights staring up at the starry sky surrounded by loved ones. Vahin: Are you close with your family? Drex: Yes, I am. To my sister and one of my half brothers, mainly. We grew up together. And I worked several years with my brother and his father. He took another sip of his wine as Drex talked about his family. It felt nice to sit back and talk with one of his Denali crewmates. So often their interactions were during the hectic moments of a mission, and although he knew Drex had formidable science skills, he knew little of him personally. Vahin: Ah, the family business. Most of my family works together as well. I’m..what’s that human expression, the black sheep of the family. ::chuckles:: What is it you did with your father? Drex: My step father has an architecture studio. We did design together. I’m older than I looked! Vahin’s eyes move to look at the painting Drex has done in his apartment. Vahin: Well that explains your artistic nature. Drex nodded and smiled, then I took another sip from his glass. Drex: Tell me about your experience with the sea on Bolarus. I wasn't kidding about taking a boat and explore this Ocean Vahin smiles at the mention of the waters of his homeworld. It had been quite some time since he’d last been out on the open seas of Bolarus but the memories of a youth spent enjoying them were always close at hand. Vahin: Well! As I’m sure you’re aware, Bolarus is more sea than land. I grew up in an undersea mining colony and was swimming before I could even walk. Once I got older I had my own catamaran. Nothing too fancy of course but I sailed it everywhere I could, I was braver back then of course, now I can’t imagine sailing rough seas in a cabinless boat. He took a long deep drink from his glass and let the Bolian wine warm his stomach. Drex: A catamaran! Cool! :: He did not have much experience in such a boat, as he always preferred to sail on single hulls, but he remembered trying them a couple of times when he was a teenager :: You must promise me we’ll go sailing on Bolarus sooner or later. Vahin: And yourself? You mentioned this boat was a gift. Drex: At home I have a skiff for fun and a small cabin cruiser for exploration. I haven’t seen the boat my father sent me yet. But if I know him well enough :: A sly smile appeared on his face :: And trust me, I know him enough… The boat will be beautiful outside and totally uncomfortable inside. The Denobulan reached out and grabbed some pretzels. He chewed slowly, thinking of his father and the events that had led the old man to his generous gesture. Drex: He knows how much I love to sail, but I’m quite sure I’ll find some unexpected surprise in that boat. Vahin: ::raises his glass:: Well here’s to good surprises. Drex: Well :: He finished chewing another snack :: The last boat he took was completely without bunks and a kitchen. He had everything emptied and installed holographic projectors that rendered the seabed detected by the sensors. Vahin: ::laughs:: I think I enjoy sleeping and eating too much to go without bunks and a kitchen. I hope we find both in your new ship. Drex: If it’s the case, I’ll ask Kettick for some to reprogram the projectors and have them render the inside of a luxury yacht :: He chuckled :: Would it work? Vahin: ::chuckles along with Drex:: Knowing Kettick, I’m sure they could make it work. He takes another long sip of the wine and leans back in his chair. It felt good to be relaxed, laughing with a friend, he needed to get out of the clinic and do this more often. Vahin: Have I ever told you about the time I took my catamaran out and got caught in a storm? No? Well it all started on what seemed like a calm, sunny day, I had heard that a storm front was coming but thought I had more time…. And with that Vahin and Drex drank wine and shared stories of their past adventures. By the time Vahin stumbled home a few hours later he was happy in the knowledge that he found a friend. <><><><><><><><><><>=/\=<><><><><><><><><><> Lieutenant Drex Science Officer Denali Station D240011D14 & Lt Jg Araxxu Vahin Medical Denali Station D240006AV3

All across the fleet, crews are grappling with the aftermath of frontier day. I've especially enjoyed watching how it has made real changes to previously planned stories and lead to character growth. This sim from Charles Matthews is a funny, topically relevant example of a ending story that had been planned before the events of Frontier Day. It highlights how the characters just aren't easily picking up where they left off like they might have been able to after a regular mission. [sb118-astraeus] Lieutenant Charles Matthews - We All Need To Heal... Part One ((Pagrati Lounge, Deck 10, USS Astraeus)) ((OOC – All views are IC and do not represent my own views or my thoughts on anyone as a writer)) Lieutenant Matthews nodded along, somewhat absentmindedly. He by no means found his fellow Officers boring but he had been in this discussion for a little while and it had seemed to be progressing without him needing to add much to the subject at hand. The tiny tidbits that he had offered had been skimmed past so quickly that he was starting to wonder if he should use his invisibility to fight crime or for some sort of nefarious scheme. As he took a mouthful of his water, his mind shifted from contemplating being able to sheath himself in invisibility to the holodeck scenario that the others were trying to cook up. From what he could gather, it was starting to become a little too difficult to finalise the plans. After what had happened with Frontier Day, and the efforts being made to put the ship, the crew and Starfleet back together again, he’d just wanted the chance for a bit of fun and maybe the opportunity to punch and kick some things. After discussions with Commander Peters and now Commander Alentonis, the only thing that he knew for certain was that he was meant to be the Pink Ranger; an acrobatic member of the team that could summon the Pterodactyl zord. His knowledge didn’t go much further than that. Tasen: So...archetype...background...name? Anything else we need to plot for this? Shewytch: The ability to swing your legs? ::He smiled:: But I'm serious. This show was an action film, and you mentioned martial arts earlier. But I don't think many of us can master them to the level where we can show some kind of magic. At least I've only taken a basic course. Will there be any difficulties associated with this? Charlie glanced at Slav as he took another sip from his glass, hiding a slight smirk as he looked at the Science Officer. oO “Don’t think many of us can master them to the level where we can show some kind of magic”? Speak for yourself… Oo Alentonis: Not a problem. While in the suits, your jump distance is tripled. Other than that, the program follows basic physics laws. If you are capable of gymnastics and want to adapt that into your fighting style, you can. You’d be surprised how realistic martial arts classes in a fictional universe can enhance your real-world combat abilities. Caldwell: Guess we're all lucky it's just the holodeck, right? Saa: So, some of it is style over substance… He nodded slowly. Matthews: From what I remember, there were a lot of over-the-top punches, kicks and leaps; and even more over-the-top noises that went along with it all! Tasen: Response Shewytch: So, I don't have to do all those stunt tricks? Is the programme already adapted to our realities? ::breathed a sigh of relief:: By the way, what is the playing time in the program? Is it long? Alentonis: Unclear. Each episode was usually forty-three or so minutes long, not including credits or commercial breaks. Since we’re adapting it into a holodeck program, I haven’t figured that out. Charlie felt his eyebrows twitch. oO Why are we playing this episodically? We’re not, right? Just set us up and let us go; we have one story; we go until it finishes, and we can save the programme as and when it’s needed… Oo Caldwell: OK, well I'm sure we're good to let you figure it out, Tim. So, what's next on the agenda? Matthews was continuing to listen when he noticed Sevantha slowly trail off with what she was saying, and then suddenly shoot a look towards himself and Lieutenant Tasen. Saa: I am not sure what else unless… ::briefly looking to both Tasen and Matthews:: ~Does Caldwell seem off to you?~ After their recent telepathic conversation, him hearing Saa in his head didn’t feel as quite as jarring as it once did, and the look she had given him had provided him with some sort of warning first. Shifting the direction of his brown eyes, he glanced at Caldwell in an attempt to try and figure out what Sevan was referring to. He knew the woman from Betazoid must have heard something that had alarmed her and based on appearances, maybe she was right to be. He seemed to be fidgeting, breathing a little heavily; he looked nervous. Anxious, even. It wasn’t an emotional state that the helmsman had ever displayed in front of him before. Matthews: ~I mean, he does seem to be acting a little out of character…~ Tasen: Response Shewytch: :: to Alentonis :: Sir, a question about the story. Will it be similar in structure to the series? Like, at first, a quiet life, we play our roles somewhere in a holographic school, and then all the interesting stuff will happen? Or will we be thrown into a battlefield somewhere right away? Alentonis: It wouldn’t be any fun to have the heroes start in the middle of the story, would it? It will probably be very similar in nature to Day of the Dumpster where we start out with a typical after school day at the juice bar and have something happen that will undoubtedly cause us to wind up at the command center. I’m still working on that part. After turning his gaze away from Chris, the continued conversation finally started to sink in, and Charles had to really fight the urge to roll his eyes. oO OK, this is going on for way too long. Yes, a little bit of a backstory or a brief character bio wouldn’t hurt, but I’m not messing around in the holodeck playing a teenager that’s studying trigonometry or the breakup of the supercontinent of Pangaea before I even get to kick the hell out of something. No. This needs to be happening faster. Even in shore leave, I’ve still got things to be doing. Reports, replacement crew members to run the rule over, trying to come up with some new Tactical and Security strategies and upgrades… Oo To Be Continued... [sb118-astraeus] Lieutenant Charles Matthews - We All Need To Heal... Part Two ((Pagrati Lounge, Deck 10, USS Astraeus)) Caldwell: Well, we'll leave you to work on that bit. So, anything else that requires us to discuss it? Shewytch / Tasen: Responses Matthews: I mean, are we… Is this becoming more complicated than it needs to be? Saa: About being the leader… Alentonis: You don’t have to be the leader if you don’t want to. We can have a different ranger color step up to the plate if you’d rather. Thoughts about invisibility rushed back to Matthews with a vengeance. oO Great(!) I am starting to lean towards evil… Oo Saa: I just don’t have a lot of experience in it… Caldwell and Matt- Caldwell: I don't mind who ends up being the leader. He turned his attention back to Chris, and he was very much feeling that Saa was right about her previous concerns. Caldwell: In fact, I don't mind about any of the details, look it's been nice to catch up, but I've got work I really need to get back to. Charles felt an expression of worry spread across his face as he saw Sevantha shoot another look his way. Matthews: Chris, everything alright? Tasen: Response Alentonis: Are you sure, Chris? Caldwell: No, it's fine. You all just work out whatever it is you want, and I'll just play along. Shewytch: Response Caldwell: No, honestly, just figure out what it is you want to do, let me know what homework I need for it, and I'll be there. I'll catch you all later on. Lieutenant Matthews watched, somewhat wide-eyed, as Caldwell got up from his chair and made his way out of the Pagrati Lounge. Despite what he had said, he was definitely not fine. Clearly, far from it. After a second, he heard Sevantha talking out loud to the group, then he heard her within his head too. Saa: I… am concerned. ::to Matthews and Tasen:: ~He’s spiraling.~ Alentonis: Me too. If you want to follow him, doc, I won’t stop ya. He darted his eyes from Sevantha and towards Tim, feeling them narrow slightly as they came to a stop on the experienced Science Officer. Alentonis was a superior Officer, he’d always respect him and the chain of command, but the concern he admitted to apparently have for Caldwell’s wellbeing just didn’t come across as sincere. oO Wait… You’re not going to follow him? Shouldn’t someone of his rank be checking on an Officer that clearly isn’t doing well? I know it’s shore leave but he should be, right? Oo Charlie suddenly felt a little nervous and unsure of himself, which seemed a common occurrence since he’d been assigned to the Astraeus. oO We’ve just been through hell, so many people died, so many people that didn’t were blown to hell and we’re here talking about which colour spandex we want to prance around in on the holodeck. It isn’t right… I’m the same rank as Caldwell but I’m a Chief, I should do something, right? It doesn’t matter if he isn’t a Tactical & Security Officer; he’s my friend… I think… Oo Shewytch / Tasen: Response Matthews: ::looking towards Saa:: ~If you’re going to check on him, I’m coming with you.~ Saa: …If I am going to play a believable leader, I have to make sure the team is alright… which means him. Please continue planning, I’m going to check on him. Alentonis: If any of you want to bow out in favor of other activities, let me know. I mean, it’s just a game and I’m not as hyped about it as Cadfael. I’ll keep working on it if you all are still in. He quickly finished the rest of his water, placing the empty glass back onto the table, and stood from his chair. In all honesty, the reactions from Lieutenant Commander Alentonis had surprised him. He and Caldwell went onto Probert Station together but yet, to Charlie at least, he seemed content to let Chris go off and struggle with whatever he was dealing with alone. Perhaps what had happened since this Power Rangers scenario was first mentioned had changed people; and not necessarily changed them for the better. People were deflated, trying to deal with things in whatever way they felt was best, and it just felt wrong. Matthews glanced to the others before letting his eyes stop at Alentonis. Matthews: It’s not necessarily in favour of other activities, Commander, but I’m stepping back. ::sighs, gestures:: Look at Chris. What’s he had? A panic attack? He stopped for a second, looking at Gwen and thinking of when he found her breaking down in the Arboretum. He wasn’t going to mention it, not in front of everyone else, but the sadness she showed on her face that night would stay with him for quite a while. Her face was so expressive. He thought of his conversation with Sevantha in Sickbay, and the one with Divya in the Security Complex. The one with Kris and Esa too. People just weren’t doing well. Matthews: Look at all of us. Frontier Day… it’s drained us to the point of collapse. Personally, I’ve got plenty to do, and that’s before I even try to get my head around what has gone on and attempt to move on from all of this. People died. Colleagues. Friends. We all need to mourn, and we all need to heal. ::shaking his head:: I don’t do that by playing Power Rangers. I’m sorry. You guys carry it on. Replace me or something. ::smiling weakly:: Give Rita what for... I’ll see you around. Matthews turned on his heels and went off after Chris and Sevantha, grabbing the glass he’d just placed on the table and power walked towards the counter to quickly return it. Shewytch / Tasen: Responses Alentonis: I’ll try to get at least the call to power programmed before we leave Earth. Shewytch / Tasen: Responses As he continued, he could just about hear the others continue to talk, and almost broke out into a jog as he neared the large wooden doors. As they whooshed open and he stepped through them, he tried to reach out to Doctor Saa, wondering if there was a limited range on the cell signal of her brain. Matthews: ~Sevantha, wait!~ End Scene for Matthews…

There's a lot of ways that an action-heavy scene can drown the reader in minutiae, and stifle their engagement, but Shawn paints a raw, rich and heroic picture that holds you for the duration. Awesome job from the Khitomer's resident Kressari!

This is another stunning character piece, set in the wake of the Battle of Frontier Day. I was engrossed from start to finish @Sasch Kreshkova ❤️

This was an excellently written character study that I actually snook off from my desk at work to read! ❤️ @Solaris

I just spent some twenty minutes dissecting this Sim as only an English teacher can, but I'll do the same here 🤣 @Vitor S. Silveira consistently sims everyone's favorite Tactical Chief as a wise and emotionally intelligent character, always ready to brighten everyone's spirits with a witty quip and a crooked smile. As one of the few truly deeply emotional characters on the USS Artemis-A, it's no surprise that he's also one of the most romantic, and we've been treated to a wonderful storyline of Vitor having a whirlwind romance with an alternate universe's version of Jovenan, only to lose her soon after. Vitor is still an incredibly flawed character this long into his run, with a history for impulsive and spontaneous decisions, and doesn't always stop to think what repercussions his actions might have on those around him. In this SIM, Bruno perfectly maneuvers Vitor into a negative spiral as he struggles to overcome that flaw, and as a result, falls right back into it in the most emotional and impulsive way possible. I think, as writers, we tend to think of our characters' flaws as boxes on a checklist: there until a significant character event has occurred, and then it's cleared. Bruno's writing of Vitor Silveira, however, is an excellent case study in how - even when you're aware of a mistake and actively work to address it - you'll usually end up doing the exact thing you were trying to avoid. Excellent SIM, Bruno! ❤️

To me one of the most fascinating things about 118 is the way a small idea can be contributed by one writer and then built upon by others until it sprawls into something incredible and unexpected. @Alieth's most recent sim, and this whole arc from our current mission, is an absolutely brilliant example of it and it is adding immeasurably to my PC's backstory while creating some fantastic drama and worldbuilding. And it all started with a one line gag I wrote into my characters backstory years ago. My sincere thanks to both @Alieth and @Rahman and Rivi Vataix, who helped to make this part of Karrod's background so central to our current antagonist. ================================================================= [[Computer Core Tank’s Chamber, 50th level, Lattice Alliance Unknown Structure]] The small group of officers had followed the two Sencha holograms through a tessellation of corridors and hallways, moving deeper and deeper into the structure, in search of information and a solution to the problems the USS Ronin and USS Khitomer were experiencing as they tried to rescue DS33. And, why not, to discover the mystery that constituted the structure itself, as different as it was from the other Lattice Alliance facilities and vessels they had observed so far. At one point, the corridor took a downward direction, before the holograms turned towards a large portal on one side. As the group approached this entrance, they soon found themselves sloshing through a sort of light-coloured liquid. Alieth wasted little time in directing her tricorder towards the liquid, as the rookie put voice to what was on her mind. Syrex: Speaking of up ahead, does that look like liquid on the floor to you? The Vulcan's slanted brows furrowed softly in the secure atmosphere of her helmet. Alieth: It looks like some kind of saline biological fluid. It has traces of proteins and some simple carbohydrates… The commander stood up again, and looked at her two companions. Lorana's tail, sleeved in an adapted section of her EVA suit, moved from side to side, in something Alieth had learned to recognize as a mixture of excitement and determination. Lorana: I think it’s time to get some answers. And before any of them could start moving, all their combadges chirped in unison. Raedai: =/\= Rhine to away team. The Gormangander's target is Alpha particles. Consuming them diminishes the Sencha radiation, but does not eliminate it and does not seem to be affected by it at any time. =/\= The Romulan's voice came through at a good volume, but somehow with a slight distortion, as if somehow as he moved deeper into the bowels of the structure something got in the way of clear communication. It was, so far, a subtle quality, a crackle of static at the end of the words, but noticeable to a Vulcan's keen ears. Lorana: =/\= Thank you, lieutenant =/\= Syrex: =/\= Can you take some scans for us, Lieutenant? =/\= Alieth: =/\= Have you drawn any conclusions from your observations so far? =/\= The mist swirled around the group's boots, concealing the water they were treading in for the most part, which made the soft splashing sounds all the more ominous. Raedai: =/\= In the long run, watching the Gormangander interact with the radiation is fascinating and useful. But the section they are approaching is shielded with a subspace field, which is more than likely at the right frequency to contain the radiation and prevent problems for the station. We need to run an active scanner that doesn't necessarily give us the necessary information, but can certainly warn them of our presence. But this subspace frequency must be in the systems of this complex. =/\= Lorana: =/\= So, in other words, we need to hurry things up? =/\= Alieth: =/\=Give us a few more minutes before performing this scan: if we cannot access the core or an incident occurs, proceed to a secure transport and perform an active scan immediately.=/\= The Romulan had a response ready, as usual, but this time, remarkably, it didn't seem to come with an ulterior motive or a bias. Something that did not fail to surprise the Vulcan, but which she refused to show. Raedai: =/\= If it does not cooperate, we can connect the Rhine's computer to the complex's systems, pull up all the information while the active scan is running and run away. =/\= Lorana: =/\= We’ll do our best, we don’t know what it is we’re dealing with yet. In any case, prepare for a quick getaway :: playful :: don’t get too comfortable in the pilot’s chair, Raedai. I’ll be expecting it back. Away team out. =/\= Raedai: =/\= Response =/\= Communication broke off, once again, with a cheerful chirp, that sounded utterly out of place in the oppressive, dark atmosphere of the station, far too light for the thick, dense air on the other side of their EVA suits. Soon only the faint sounds of their suits moving, their filtered breaths, the splash of their footsteps and the low, deep, desolate growl of the station were all that could be heard. Without needing to utter a word, the group resumed their march, their holographic guides having vanished a few minutes before. Syrex: At the very least, if we can find that frequency, we’ll come away with something for our troubles. The petite Vulcan nodded, appraising where the young rookie's mind was. Alieth: Indeed, and with knowledge of the subspace domain with which Sencha Radiation interacts, we could find an effective way to shield against it and derived weapons. Or even counter the very weapons that emit it. The three of them moved forward into a chamber of sorts. There was a walkway that crossed above a large pooling of the substance. The pool of sorts glowed softly, a faint white glow, like that of an ossuary in the darkest night. A vision that nearly made the Vulcan shudder, not because of death itself, a natural destiny of all living beings, but because of the little desire she had to reach that destiny at the tender age of 47. As they made their way to the cylindrical pool, they could see more details of the room and the pool: the pool occupied the very centre of the room, framed between the pylons that seemed to support the ceiling, and which ascended in graceful arcs, lost in the darkness of the ceiling. The tank itself was filled with a dark substance, despite the faint whitish light it emitted, and when they peered over the edge, they could actually see that there were flashing lights beneath the surface, dim and flickering. Alieth wondered if what she saw as a white light might actually be of a particular colour to other humanoids who, unlike Vulcans, didn't have a vision range that veered slightly more towards the reds. However, it appeared that the core was submerged in the centre of the pool, with four access panels placed around its outer cylinder. These were clearly not designed for humanoid appendages, and had a series of holes and sliders too large for any of their hands. === The three of them moved forward into a chamber of sorts. There was a walkway that crossed above a large pooling of the substance. The pool of sorts glowed softly, a faint white glow, like that of an ossuary in the darkest night. A vision that nearly made the Vulcan shudder, not because of death itself, a natural destiny of all living beings, but because of the little desire she had to reach that destiny at the tender age of 47.As they made their way to the cylindrical pool, they could see more details of the room and the pool: the pool occupied the very centre of the room, framed between the pylons that seemed to support the ceiling, and which ascended in graceful arcs, lost in the darkness of the ceiling. The tank itself was filled with a dark substance, despite the faint whitish light it emitted, and when they peered over the edge, they could actually see that there were flashing lights beneath the surface, dim and flickering. Alieth wondered if what she saw as a white light might actually be of a particular colour to other humanoids who, unlike Vulcans, didn't have a vision range that veered slightly more towards the reds. However, it appeared that the core was submerged in the centre of the pool, with four access panels placed around its outer cylinder. These were clearly not designed for humanoid appendages, and had a series of holes and sliders too large for any of their hands. Lorana: Ensign, any life signs? Syrex: ::handling tricorder:: What th.. Sorry, yes, one life sign. It’s.. a symbiont. The Vulcan's slanted eyebrows furrowed a little more as her short-sighted eyes scanned the dark liquid in search of the symbiote. After a time, she saw it, a non-foaming trail across the pool, and the slug's pale, thin back. Alieth hadn't had to deal with too many joined trills in her time as a doctor, but she remembered well the diagrams she had studied at the Academy, thanks to a near-perfect memory. That creature did not look healthy. Not at all. Lorana: A symbiont? Without a host? Syrex: A symbiont can survive in environments that meet their needs; they don’t necessarily need to be in a host. Unlike a host without a symbiont, that’s always fatal after a few hours. Alieth: The composition of the liquid we saw outside is consistent with an environment suitable for a symbiote. :: Scanning the black surface of the tank :: In addition, there appear to be a number of neurotransmitter chemicals in this pool, :: Pointing to the flashing lights under the surface :: These are electrical pulse feedback nodules, the symbiote cannot move or rest without touching one so that the computer has access to its mind at all times. The three women spread out around the pool, with Syrex scanning the creature swimming pitifully beneath the surface, Lorana occupying one of the access points and Alieth moving to the opposite side of the entrance to try to study the core itself and how it connected to the pool. Lorana: Gaining access. The security protocols haven't been updated… from what I can gather this is an old facility… mostly abandoned. Syrex: oO Hopefully abandoned, that likely means not defended Oo Alieth: The core seems to maintain the subroutines to keep the station running, as well as compile information and send it to ..... :: The commander paused, analysing the various data streams:: ... to the system's communications hub, as well as to five other facilities in nearby systems. It was as if that place had been a research node that had fulfilled its purpose a long time ago, and, at that moment, it served as a kind of back-up and problem-solving centre. But what did the symbiote have to do with all that? Lorana: Look :: points to a file :: It's Sencha Niac's original experiment. A power source… it's been adapted as a shield generator … by Roda Salix, Sencha’s lab assistant. Syrex: Salix… Salix… Salix! I remember hearing about that symbiont going missing, the commission assumed it was dead when they could only find the Niac symbiont after the accident with Sencha radiation. Alieth: That explains how the Alliance acquired Sencha's knowledge: they used her former assistant to dig up the information. :: She observed the electronic villi that moved like algae with the creature's slow movement :: And they probably extracted more data and prototypes from it to develop their current technology… The commander added nothing more, but she clearly remembered the reports of Gra'vel's abduction, and it didn't take her long to conclude that the creature in the tank hadn't cooperated of its own volition. The chances that it had been manipulated or otherwise tortured to help the LA were just too high. Was it sane, after all that time? How long had that creature been in their hands? 60-70 years? And how had they been able to abduct it and keep it alive all that time? By the access panel, Lorana seemed to have found something of importance, and made it known. Lorana: These configurations explain everything. It works as a converter, it transforms the S-Wave blast into an energy source … this could be why the Gormaganders are attracted to this area of space. Alieth: Download everything on a PADD, as well as all the information you can find on how they are implementing it right now. Search to see if you can find the subspace field that Lieutenant Raedai spoke of earlier, if we identify it, we will have accomplished a good part of our mission here. The Caitian gave a tiny nod of her head, but seemed to remain focused on the information unrolling on her screen, golden eyes glittering in the dim light as they moved rapidly back and forth, reading at lightning speed. Lorana: This index here … the host for the Salix symbiont died … and LA put the symbiont in here, as their prisoner and forced it to change Sencha's work. Just then the substance appeared to glow as the symbiont swam around the tank at their level. On every screen of the terminals appeared letters written in Trill. Syrex: Just in case either of you don’t know how to read Trill, it says “I long for home and the freedom it brings” Lorana: It wants to be free? Return to Trill. Syrex: It seems that way, the loneliness it felt must have been excruciating. I would be surprised if it didn’t want to return to our homeworld. It likely knows what we need to know. Alieth: We should rescue them, they are a Federation citizen, after all :: She made a pregnant pause before resuming:: I am concerned about their mental state, though. So many years of captivity can break most people. As she spoke, the petite commander had pulled out the PADD strapped to her leg, and connected it to the Core, making a rough copy of all the available raw data. She would let Lorana make a specific copy of the important documents she had found, while she gathered as much information as possible to analyse later on the Ronin... if there was a Ronin to return to. Lorana/Raedai (Optional): Response Syrex: I am sure I can look after it, if we beam it some of the fluid back to the Rhine, I can keep it in a tank until we can hand it over to the appropriate authorities. The Vulcan nodded and looked around her. Alieth: We can create a small container with the wall panels to catch some of the liquid in the pool, just enough to survive in the Rhine long enough until we replicate something more suitable. :: raising a hand:: but that will likely activate the defence protocols, and no doubt we will need to get out of the star system as soon as possible. :: glancing at her own PADD before checking on Lorana:: Do we have all the relevant information we need? Syrex/Lorana/Raedai (Optional): Response Alieth: Ok, I will leave this downloading until the last possible moment, when you finish your download, Miss Lorana, we will begin the process. :: Pressing her combadge:: =/\= Lieutenant Raedai, can you lock our signals and beam us up as soon as we give you the signal? We are going to do something that will set off the alarms. =/\= The word ‘something’ sounded exactly like ‘ something crazy’ even to the Vulcan's ears. Lorana/Raedai: Response The Vulcan nodded decisively, before turning to the young Trill. She observed her for a moment in silence, before asking the question she had in mind. Alieth: Ensign Syrex, are you sure you can keep this symbiote alive by any means in your hands until we can get it to the Ronin? Even if that means you host it if there is no other alternative? It was not a possibility she relished, even less so if, as she suspected, the symbiote was not entirely sane, but it was something she had to ask. A sacrifice she couldn't force, just ask, because if they took too long and needed to extract the symbiote, it would put Syrex's life at risk. It wasn't something he wanted to do, but it was a very real possibility if they couldn't keep the slug stable in the Rhine. Syrex: Response Alieth:Very well, we will do our best to ensure that this is not necessary. The short vulcan finally disconnected his PADD from the core: he had managed to download about 60% of the information it contained, not all of it, but enough to have an approximation of what the LA had been researching for the last few decades. She glanced at Lorana, looking for her to finish, before heading towards one of the curved walls of the room. He replaced the PADD, back in its holster on her leg, with her phaser and looked at her two companions. Alieth: Lorana, you and I will cut two panels and weld them into a hemisphere to hold the liquid from the pool. Ensign Syrex, capture the symbiote as soon as possible to deposit it in the container. :: Activating the helmet's inner communicator with her cheek:: =/\= Lieutenant, have you got us locked? =/\= Syrex/Lorana/Raedai (Optional): Response The Vulcan took a deep breath, shoulder to shoulder with Luxa, as they had been so often since they both joined the Ronin crew. Then she looked back at Syrex, alone at the edge of the pool. Alieth: On my mark: one, two, three... NOW! She activated her phaser and began to detach one of the panels from the wall. The circuits that seemed to run through it sizzled and let off small purple flares as she pulled each side of the wall apart. Halfway through the cutting process (and when she expected Lorana to be at a similar point) the entire room lit up a dark purple colour and a low, grim alarm began to rumble through the room. Syrex/Lorana/Raedai (Optional): Response === [[Tags! /TBC]] ================================= Lieutenant Commander Alieth Chief Science Officer & 2O USS Ronin USS-34523 E239702A10 =================================

In the wake of Frontier Day, we are all exploring how our characters were affected by this momentous and devastating event. This has led, already, to myriad interesting stories and approaches to describing the impacts of F-Day -- one that caught me particularly by surprise was that of @Torvi Ylvor, who explored not only how the events have shaken their PC, Torvi, but also a PNPC from her past and the unique way in which 'her presence' tied into his experience of F-Day... Part 1: https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-amity/c/0LcfrdZShEY/m/GWkrMi-wAwAJ Part 2: https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-amity/c/_p8qKBIFqwk/m/zzfST4pKBAAJ

Here's an engrossing, descriptive and yet sombre sim from @Vylaa. Lt Vylaa zh'Tisav: The Sending (google.com)

Sherlock's worst nightmare...this is pure perfection. I can't think of a better place than the Nilsen Alternative Universe. @Karen Stendhal smashing that 4th wall down like a wrecking ball.

If people couldn't figure out from my previous appreciations posts, I REALLY like reading about people ruminating on the aftermath of Frontier Day. I really love @Niev Galanis's take on their character's mental state immediately following Frontier Day - right in the middle of their recovery at Starfleet Medical.

((Juliet's sim of Rol'Q one of the kids on board captures well how the ship at the edge of the Federation is dealing with the news from Earth, that reached them delayed. To them the conflict is still going on, because they only hear about it through the news)) ((Corridor - Deck 13, USS Constitution-B)) Rol’Q had been in the arboretum with his uncle when the attack happened. All the red alert lights when on, which was normal. The sirens really hurt his ears, but he was getting used to those alert noises from living on a starship. So he kept working on his science project about plants. Then the ship started shaking. Something exploded. Rol’Q fell into the little pond in the middle of the arboretum. It was something they’d always talked about, that the ship might be attacked while he was living there. But he hadn’t been afraid. He was a Klingon! He wasn’t going to be afraid of battle. And that was wrong. He hated the ship shaking. He was scared. He told Uncle Savok that he wanted to go somewhere else. But Savok was busy helping someone who got hurt and yelled at him to be quiet and stay put. Well, not yell. But raise his voice, how Vulcans yelled. Rol’Q had wanted to go somewhere else, somewhere where the ship wouldn’t get hit and shake as bad. So he’d slipped out of the arboretum and asked the computer to take him to a safe place. But that just took him to the security center. Rol’Q had been gone for a while now. His uncle (and probably his aunt too) would be looking for him and would be really mad that he’d run away in the middle of a battle. Rather than go back right away and get in trouble he’d been exploring the ship a bit. He never got to do that. Nobody ever told him that the Conny was so big! But exploring didn’t feel as great as he thought it would. Maybe it was just the battle. But everybody seemed so unhappy and scared. People had been whispering to each other and talking about something bad that happened on Earth. Most of them were so worried about whatever was going on that they didn’t even notice him looking around. He had thought that maybe he would see Sarek through the little windows in the corridor looking into the Sitach- whatever they called the dolphin labs and that might cheer him up. But no. Not even the ship’s smartest dolphin could cheer him up today. As he passed by the door to one of the dolphin rooms, two Starfleet officers were arguing about something while working on repairing something. Aleskee: President Chekov was all about standing strong. He’ll see us through it. Moya: You see that snippet of telemetry they keep playing on the FNS? I wouldn’t be surprised if the president was vaporized or has already been turned into a Borg himself. The President? He kept hearing people talk about some big event on Earth. He was going to watch it with Aunt Ana later. But the President was on Earth. They’d just talked about the President and the capital on Earth and how that was the biggest person in charge of the Federation in school. He was going to give a speech they would all see for Frontier Day. Scarier was the idea of the Borg. He knew about the Borg. They were so scary even the kids on Vulcan didn’t like to talk about them. What were they doing on Earth? He thought about that as he continued wandering down the hall. He passed a different lab, where a Bolian woman was comforting a crying Human guy in what looked like the science lab gear Savok wore while working in the lab. Licasin: There there. Nerayo: My first ship was the Excelsior. A good one. Good people! They can’t just be gone. Licasin: Ayene, I’m sorry. But I can’t deny what that looked like. A ship was gone? Like destroyed? Near the shuttlebay, he saw two engineers so focused on replacing a wall monitor they didn’t notice him. One of them was going on some crazy rant about the Borg and a whole bunch of other stuff. Nichols: No way the Borg just waltz into Sector 001 and take our entire fleet over. It’s gotta be an inside job. Another admiral gone mad making some kind of crazy power play. Not to mention the Tholians are clearly in on it. I heard Davis say that he heard one of the engineers say that was definitely a Tholian web. I’m telling you, it’s all connected! The other guy didn’t seem to like what his friend was saying. Rol’Q still wasn’t sure what everyone was talking about. Nobody was explaining it how he could understand it. Everywhere he had gone, people were talking about something bad. But since everybody already knew about it, they said things like “attack” or “what’s happening at Earth”. Or people were just staring at their PADDs looking sad and not really talking. Nobody ever told him and the other kids anything about what the ship was doing. But it seemed even worse now. It felt like everybody on the whole stupid ship knew what was happening but him. He heard three people talking inside a crew lounge. Something about an attack. Curious if he could finally hear what happened, he snuck up to the door frame and listened through the open door. Jeni: I don’t want to be a pessimist, but if the fleet’s been assimilated everyone on Earth is as good as dead. Rol’Q’s eyes widened and he peeked into the room. A Bajoran woman in red, a Vulcan man in blue, and an Andoria in gold with their back to him were all talking. He quickly leaned back behind the doorframe and thought about what he’d just heard. Rol’Q: oO Everyone’s dead?! That’s close to home. What about Vulcan? Oo Vulcan was a boring planet. Nobody there knew how to have fun. But he still liked the people there. His teachers and the people around town, and especially his grandparents. He really didn’t want them to be dead. Sylok: That’s an exaggeration. We know there’s been scattered reports of violence but the only confirmed casualties seem to be the Excelsior. Zh'Rha: There’s planetary defenses, the spacedock, any ships that didn’t get assimilated. They’ll pull through. Figure out a way to get- The Bajoran interrupted her. Jeni: We saw the same broadcast, right? That fleet of ships looming over Earth in perfect formation? Sylok: They were demonstrating Fleet Formation Mode. Jeni: And then they BLEW UP another Starfleet ship! Starfleet blew up another Starfleet ship? That didn’t sound possible. Maybe Klingons would do that if another Klingon ship was behaving dishonorably. His dad had told him about the Klingon civil wars. But Starfleet didn’t do that. They were about stunning people and following rules. She had to be wrong about that. Zh'Rha: …we’re not saying it isn’t bad, but you have no idea what they plan to do next. Maybe they want something somewhere else in the Federation and this just keeps the majority of the fleet bottled up. Jeni: Yeah, right, the Borg have a phaser to the head of the Federation but its just a distraction. Earth. Is. Doomed. Between each of those last three words she slammed her hand on the table to add to the point. Sylok: Not every ship is at the Frontier Day celebration. There are many like the Constitution that could mount a rescue if Starfleet feels it is a sound strategy. Jeni: It’s still a massive fleet. And you all should both be more concerned, because this is gonna take down all of your homeworlds. Sylok: That is quite the leap in logic. Zh'Rha: I’m sure the top brass are reaching out to everyone to formulate a plan to battle the fleet if it comes to that. Rol’Q smiled a bit, agreeing with her on that. That’s what always happened. Whether it was the Borg or the Dominion or something else entirely the good guys would fly in and save the day. It was how things worked in Starfleet. The people on the Conny always saved the day. At least according to his aunt. Jeni: And how long is that gonna take? You think we can just gather up what’s left our fleet, the Klingons, anyone else we can get in on this fight like that? Once the fleet gets through Earth’s planetary defenses and gets done turning Earth to glass ::Pointing to the Vulcan crewman:: Vulcan is gone. ::Pointing to the Andorian chief:: Your homeworld is go- He got a bit worried when she talked about Vulcan getting destroyed too. Her predictions were interrupted by the sound of a chair quickly scraping across the floor from someone standing up very fast. The Andorian lady sounded very angry. Zh'Rha: Look, you better stop all this doomsday stuff right now or I swear I will- Curious, he peeked around the door to see what was going on. The Andorian woman had stood up and looked like she was about to jump across the table while the Vulcan man in the science uniform held an arm out. Rol’Q thought the Vulcan might have seen him and hurriedly ducked back out of sight while continuing to listen. Sylok: Everyone calm down. There’s no need for a fight in h… ::He trailed off, having seen something.:: Uh-oh, he wasn’t fast enough. He’d been caught spying on a grown up conversation. Zh’Rha: What’s wrong? Sylok: I thought I saw… Rol’Q didn’t stick around to hear the rest of it. He ran off further down the hall. He had hoped that hearing them talk would help him understand what was going on. But now he only had more questions. Was Earth okay? What about Vulcan? He ducked into a supply closet and sat down on the floor to think. Maybe he should go back to their quarters or to sickbay and just get yelled at for running away. He was going to get in trouble for it eventually. Right now all he really wanted was to know that everything was going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay, right? Rol’Q, Son of Kolrriq Civilian USS Constitution-B ===as simmed by=== Lieutenant Commander Laria Herren Mission Specialist/Second Officer USS Constitution-B A239402AG0