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I'd like to highlight @Alora DeVeau and @Etan Iljor; 2 outstanding simmers: They have a great ability to write out descriptive and immersive scenes that get me 'perpetually refreshing' my inbox waiting for the next one They advance the plot line and leave enough room for any simmer to take it in the next step Masters of 'yes, and' Excellent canon use I also think in general, the arc I think also nicely highlights how we can interweave 2 separate story lines, while keeping them distinct. Without further ado: &

In this sim, @Alessandro Ferrucci treats us to a wonderful blend of narration and dialogue as the USS Kahnrah makes its tricky descent down onto Sargasso V. All in all, really enjoying Ensign Ferrucci's contributions to his away team so far 👏 Ensign Alessandro Ferrucci - Dive into the unknown (google.com)

This one from @Gogigobo Fairhug made me cringe and laugh in all the right ways - Ross trying to hint that the game is rigged and Gogi being the absolute best. That's why it's important to learn your vocabs, kids! 🤓

((Interior. Deep Space 33, The Arboretum.)) Quentin Collins felt a stabbing sensation. Something he had never experienced before this very second, seeing the bright and vibrant faces of his Arrow family directly after their latest awards ceremony (where they all had been richly and deservedly rewarded for their recent honourable works across the Alpha Isles). He felt cowardice. The people he loved the most, the people he wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with were just across the way. They were talking and laughing and drinking and living. And Quentin couldn't bear to make himself a part of it. Because he knew, he knew deeper than anything he had never known in his life, that he would ruin it. That his life and existence with these beautiful, talented, kind, and loving people he had served and bled and toiled and gained a place in the universe with would come back around full circle and he would be the dark cloud over them all that he always secretly knew he was. It was total tripe, of course, and had Quentin the fortitude (and surety in his own ability to not immediately burst into tears as soon as anyone talked to him) to ask any one of them...they would tell him the same. But something else Quentin Collins knew was that self-loathing and doubt were some helluva things and better people than him have succumbed to it. That didn't stop him not-so-secretly hating himself for not simply walking the few feet it would take to actually TELL them goodbye. To tell them face to face just how much they all meant to him. How much they will continue to mean to him even back in Maine. How much he will think about them and worry after them and take a burning heart in the fact that they will still be out here in the Alpha Isles, fighting the good fight and continuing to bear the standard of the United Federation of Planets in a way that only they and they alone could. He could certainly say all these things. He had the words, the ability. The deep well of pathos and near idolization of his crew and superiors to back it further. And yet...still he stood back. A scared little boy in a too-big suit strapped with a bag of books that he thought of as his REAL friends. It was almost horrifying to him in the moment how cyclical life sometimes was. How cruelly recursive. He had come to space to find himself and then, for his sins, he had... Now it was throwing him backwards through time. Back to that red-headed scarecrow he was before Starfleet. With all the insecurities and self-doubts of that man-child to boot. The million-watt energy from the crew in the compartment beyond pulled him back from the dangerous brink. He took in their faces, their smiles, their anima in turn as he gazed longingly at their faces through a veil of gathering tears. Trying to store it like a battery in his soul for the long, tedious journey back home. Thinking their names like a litany as he gripped the strap of his knapsack for dear life. Shayne. Ash. Chloe. Ayemet and Connor. Serinus. Zabi and Zenno and Dr. Ohnari and Nol. Lana Morgenstern. Cassie. Reba Kester. Starrana and Stelok and the wonderful minds of the Science Departments of three ships. Captain Oddas. Irina Pavlova, Hal Mika, Professor Sotia Dano, Kayla Drex. An alert chimed on his comm. His shuttle was ready. Of course it was. He gave the crew...his real family one last look. A rueful, nearly cracking smile on his lips. oO Don't forget me, Arrow. Because I certainly won't forget you...Oo His smile widened. Thinking momentarily of the last thing he would leave them with, sitting comfortably in the Living History Annex. Then...Quentin Jaimson Collins, Third of his Name, turned and walked into the next phase of his life. Hopeful in the possibility that he could one day return to them all, once everything was done... ((U.S.S. Arrow, The Living History Annex.)) Standing, carefully placed and fully extended, was the sword of Chief Science Officer Quentin Collins. A note pinned to the top of the blade, addressed to the whole of the Arrow crew. "I love you all. Be extraordinary. -Q.C.III" -- Never The End. ((OOC: Thank you all for everything. My experience with the 118 has been so much richer and fuller having known and worked with you all. It's been...everything, really.)) -- Lieutenant Commander Quentin Collins III Chief Science Officer -- U.S.S. ARROW NCC-69829 ID: E239512QC0

I really enjoyed this comparison between life on the Santa Maria with Christopher Columbus and life on a starship. Well written!! ((Holodeck, USS Astraeus)) Shore leave is coming to an end, which means that life is returning to the rhythm Slav is used to. After organising the cooking competition, he was completely exhausted mentally and spiritually. He needed to rest. On the bright side, he got to know many of the crew members and made himself known in such a good way. Along with the return of his regular watch schedule, the need for rest has also increased. This is exactly what he was doing now. The holodeck again. Today, he doesn't have much free time, so he chose the shortest and most interesting programme available to him (after all, service comes first). Shewytch: Computer. Run the programme HistoryShewytch020 It immediately became dark and cloudy. The ground began to sway to one side and then to the other. Well, how to say the ground, the wooden floor. And if you look around, you can see that Slav was on a ship, an old Earth ship. oO I don't really like the app because of this wobble. Oo That's why he didn't run this programme often, or to be more precise, he ran it only once, before he was sent to the ship. Maybe he was superstitious then? After all, he was also going to new worlds, new territories, just like Columbus' Santa Maria. Yes, this programme was a programme about the "great" geographical discoveries, well, they cannot be compared to the discoveries made after breaking the speed of light, but it nevertheless had a great impact on history. Slav walked around the deck and turned to the man who seemed to be the most important of all the people around him. He had spoken to him only once before he had come here to Astraeus. He needed to hear some words of encouragement, or just what he wanted to hear. Because it was not a real person, but just a set of algorithms. Shewytch: Captain, I'm leaving soon on a research vessel. :: pause :: As part of your squadron. And I'd like to ask you a question, if you don't mind. How can you go to a place where you're not even sure if the land exists or not? NPC hologram of Columbus: ::Turning away from the map table:: Well, young man. The only thing you need to understand is that the land is ::he jumped up:: where the ship is. oO That time, he said the same thing. Oo At this point, it finished playing the programme for the last time. But today he was in the mood to continue. Shewytch: But this ship ::he nodded towards the water:: floats. That is, there is still something under the ship, and it is a hulk of water. What if there is nothing, not even water, beyond the horizon? The sailor was thinking. Columbus: Hmm, an interesting thought. Will the ship be able to sail in this "nothing"? Because if you pick up water in your hands, it is also nothing. He demonstrated how water flows out through his fingers if you pour it into your hands. Columbus: Do you see? But if there is a lot of water, then even my carrack holds on, does not sink. Maybe "nothing" will be enough? oO The ships that travel through the void of space do the same. Oo Shewytch: You're right, I agree. Everyone must believe in their ship and in the crew that will take it through everything. That was enough for him. He heard everything he wanted to hear. Indeed, he was on a spaceship precisely to go somewhere where there were no other ships, and to explore it all. At some points, you forget about it, the routine. But at such moments, the thirst to see something new increases. But before he left, he decided to see what would happen next, and of course he skipped it. The weather changed, the air changed, it was noticeable. The ships were in a line. And he was on one of them. And suddenly he heard a shout. Stranger: Land! oO They have found their destination. Now it's my turn. Oo After closing the program, he left the holodeck in the direction of the scientific laboratories. Now he needs somewhere to put his great reserves of enthusiasm. ----- Ensign Slav Shewytch, Junior Science Officer USS Astraeus, NCC-70652 A240008SS2

Loving this scene from @Ksivi-Sava and @Corey Wethern. So much fun! ((Maintenance Airlock 17 - Starbase 118)) A tinge of nervousness crept in on Ksivi-Sava as the EVA suit sealed itself with an audible hiss. Not that he had reason to assume anything might be wrong with his suit—or Corey’s, for that matter. Those were likely meticulously maintained and perfectly safe. There wasn’t anything terribly unsettling about the idea of stepping out into the near-perfect vacuum of interstellar space, either. In fact, Ksivi-Sava appreciated any opportunity to experience free fall—if only in scientific terms, as the magnetic boots would reliably prevent anything remotely resembling a layperson’s conception of a “fall”. The everyday experiences of a Starfleet officer, pilot or not, were virtually sanitized by artificial gravity and inertial dampeners. Opportunities to bodily experience classical physics in all their beauty were rare, and usually limited the EVA training. But this was no EVA training, and therein lay the gist of Ksivi-Sava’s flurry. It was the sheer audacity of their project that worried him. Sure, the slim chance of getting caught doing something moderately unwise (and having lied about it) was unsettling enough. Yet, that wasn’t the worst thing. What Ksivi-Sava found himself most seriously brooding over was the notion that he might be losing his focus on the essential. Losing himself in frivolous petty indulgences with no regard for their net utility… and possibly enjoying it. Wethern: Ksivi-Sava can you hear me? comm check. Ksivi-Sava: Reading you loud and clear. I suppose this would be our last chance to reconsider. Corey dismissed the concern with a vivid wave of his hand before he picked up their case of decidedly non-regulation equipment. Wethern: Relax this is a rite of passage and if anyone asks I've logged this as part of our EVA hours competency. While no serious reconsideration had been expected, Ksivi-Sava still raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. It wasn’t readily apparent to him why viewing this as a juvenile rite of passage would be preferable to viewing it as a juvenile petty indulgence. Then again, his contact with human cultural sensibilities had been as high-intensity as it had been brief, so there were still plenty of blind spots left to uncover. Well, as far as Ksivi-Sava was concerned, leaving it at a petty indulgence and the mildest suggestion of a shrug was perfectly fine for now. When Corey opened the outer bulkheads, the view certainly reimbursed Ksivi-Sava for suffering through that minor intercultural headache. Barely noticeably did the hull of Starbase 118 curve away from them in the distance, reflecting the pitch-blackness of interstellar space as if physically soaked in it. Rhythmic flashes of navigation lights broke up the darkness over a timidly gleaming artificial horizon. Out here, light years from the nearest sun, it took a keen eye to reveal the faint hulls of all the different craft and starships between their blinking beacons, glowing engines and sprinklings of windows. Ksivi-Sava’s steps along the metallic ground were weightless and inert. A lack of external forces, not contaminated by the flurry of sensory stimuli that humanoid bodies had evolved to suffer through and make sense of. Very much an artificial environment, and yet so close to the being the most natural of them all; a visceral experience of raw nature that not even the sound of their breaths and the clanking of their boots could truly spoil. Wethern: Here we are this is the right point we can get to work. Ksivi-Sava: ::faintly smiling at the horizon:: This is very much the right point to be, indeed. But alas, they weren’t here to enjoy the experience. In a way, it was with rather admirable efficiency that Corey turned his attention to the matter at hand and revealed the 10 bowling pins out of the equipment case. Wethern: Aren't they beautiful? Ksivi-Sava: Not to be a… how might one say… “party pooper”, if you pardon my Terran, there, but this environment feels almost inappropriate for something as trivially indulgent as this. Wethern: Relax they all have short range transported chips, at the push of a button they lock onto the suit wearer and beam back. Well, as a medic, Corey had never made any secret of his hands-on approach to problem-solving, so he very much seemed his proper self as he walked out to set up the bowling pins right away. Wethern: I think you should be the one to kick start our Ensigns Bingo. First to 30 points? Ksivi-Sava accepted the bowling ball presented to him in a rather significant-looking gesture. It also didn’t escape his attention how eagerly Corey seemed to cross an item off the list he had brought. Ksivi-Sava: It shall be my pleasure. Judging by the hull plates, Ksivi-Sava positioned himself at an appropriate distance before he wound up ever so slightly and took aim at the arrow formation of pins in the distance. He kept taking aim for a while longer, before inquiring: Ksivi-Sava: Does it say anything about having to actually hit any of the pins? It still qualifies as a successful Bingo activity either way, correct? Wethern: Response Ksivi-Sava: Well, that goes without saying. Once again, Ksivi-Sava focussed his attention on the pins, wound up to feel the inertia of the projectile, then focussed his attention back on the pins. Wethern: Response Ksivi-Sava: I am. I very much am. Finally, Ksivi-Sava swung his arm forward in slow motion, releasing the ball at what he felt would be an appropriate moment for launch. Inertia carried it onward on a trajectory subject to such little gravity from the Starbase below their feet, it was indistinguishable from a straight line. Beyond that, it was also very slow. Ksivi-Sava: ::shifting his position and squinting at the slowly drifting ball:: I predict it will hit at least some of the pins. Wethern: Response Ksivi-Sava: Nonsense, we are looking at no more than a few seconds, now. With no inertia or gravity to worry about, precision should certainly be prioritized over velocity. See, there it is, closing in on the targets. Any moment now… Aaany moment. A few moments later, the ball grazed and dislodged two pins just insistently enough to knock a third one off its miniscule magnetic link with the hull. Once clear from the target area, both the projectile and its triplet of targets were beamed back into the their case, leaving a total of seven pins unscathed. Ksivi-Sava: ::arms crossed, rather pleased:: See? So, one pin is equivalent to… how many points, again? tags/tbc -- ============== Ensign Ksivi-Sava Helm Officer Starbase 118 Ops O240007KS4 ==============

This was beautifully and elegantly written @Lt Aine Olive Sherlock. A stunning piece of prose! -- ((Sherlock's Quarters, Deck 4, USS 'Oumuamua)) How many times in the last few years did she say to herself, "This is home now?" Although just a handful, there was no point in counting anymore. Nonetheless, each time, it was the truth. And the 'Oumuamua was home now. After the awards ceremony Aine had made her way back to her quarters. It wasn't an event for her so much as the crew that was there before her. She'd done her part to show her support, but she left before there was any further celebration. Coming back to her barren quarters, it appeared that Operations had received a crate of her belongings that was deposited into the center of the room. When she left 118 it was on fairly short notice. She'd had less than 24 hours to get her affairs in order. And there were many. She'd seen Talar to tell him that their...arrangement...had to change. But she wasn't even sure what they were at that point. She had to set a plan in motion for her sister, Shevon. Currently an enlisted technician in Engineering who was taking classes at the remote campus on 118 to become an officer, but now choosing to test out and take her credits to work on becoming a Warrant Officer. She wasn't sure when she'd get to see Shevon again, but she left her the apartment and everything in it, only asking her to pack up some personal things of Aine's and send it to her. And now here it was. She reached behind her and unzipped the small zipper on the back of the neck of her uniform's jacket so she could pull it over her head. She tossed it to the nearest chair before going over to the crate. When she popped the top she looked down and it was as if the past was looking up at her. A couple holo-photos lay there in their frames. Both of her as a cadet, one with Madison and the other of her and Mel. She picked them up and set them on the table. Next was one of her old uniforms. Though it was only weeks ago, the grey shouldered uniform seemed old already. A past that was now just images in her mind like a video-holo she'd once watched. And packed between the uniform and some of her civvies, a pair of knives. One was an antique ceremonial knife from Cardassia that Sil had given her shortly after he'd arrived on the Resolution. That and a Bajoran earring were what he had given her after the crew vacationed on Bajor during the Gratitude Festival. The knife was the only possession of hers that had survived the destruction of the Resolution. Her friend, Meidra, had been running past Aine's office during the evacuation and ran in to see if there was anything she could save, and that was it. The other was a traditional Romulan honor blade. One that had been in Talar's family for countless generations, as he told it anyways. He had gifted it to her shortly after they had moved their friendship to a level just above being friends. As she looked down on them, she got almost a sinking feeling. One she'd felt before. That feeling was one she hated. It was more the idea of living in the past. Ever since she'd left home, she always wanted to be moving forward, but sometimes the past sunk its claws in, dragging itself along for the ride. She snapped out of that frozen moment and put the top back on the crate. Picking up her PADD from the nearby table which lay next to the pictures she'd setup, she searched the database for her playlist of music, mostly traditionals, and queued it up. The one thing she did like about deep space explorers was the creature comforts, especially the fact that senior officers quarters had the most luxurious of those comforts, a water bath. Sherlock: Computer, illumination to thirty percent. The lights dimmed. The crate could wait. And a nice hot soak seemed the perfect first step forward into her new future. fin Lieutenant Aine Sherlock Security Officer U.S.S. Oumuamua R239712AS0

I've been a massive fan of @Alieth for a while and hope to keep learning and growing from her! This sim brilliantly showcases her ability to truly embody her character, even when a lot is going on! I am humbled!

This is it, guys, gals and pals. This is how you make a girl feel like a princess (both the character and the writer)! I knew where we were going and agreed to it, but it still surprised me positively! Thank you, @Vitor S. Silveira For the context, a ship from an alternate universe suddenly appears in front of the Artemis, including the counterparts of the crew. Alternate universe Jovenan tries to spy on the Artemis by "convincing" the Prime universe Silveira to give her information on their weapons, but it backfires gloriously.

((Promontory’s Quarters, Deck 4, ‘Oumuamua)) Avander hadn’t stayed too long at the awards ceremony. It was just all too much. And it was still too soon since they had lost Jack. No one had talked much on the return trip from the failed mission to find Jack’s parents. They hadn’t been pursued, but it might have been a nice distraction if they had been. No, instead, everyone just sat in numbed silence. The debrief hadn’t offered much relief either—they reported their experiences to the Commodore, who, as always, took things in stride. The recovered FO from the Caboto had been taken in for more interviews, but Avander had given up hope that that would be a profitable avenue of inquiry. And then there was tonight's awards ceremony. For a minute or two he had been able to forget about the loss of Jack as they celebrated the accomplishments of the rest of the crew. But Avander didn’t want to forget. It was like a betrayal to Jack for everyone to be celebrating while he was… What? MIA? Dead? As much as Avander didn’t want to think about it, the pain felt right—like the only appropriate way to honor Jack and his sacrifice was to be miserable. It’s not like Avander didn’t know that there would be risks, even losses, with missions. Intellectually, he knew that. Expected it even. If you had asked the fresh-faced cadet if he might lose colleagues—friends—over his Starfleet career, he would have answered all too quickly, “Of course.” But that was in theory. Experiencing it was another thing altogether. Avander was suddenly very hot. He ripped his jacket off violently and threw it with all his might—without bothering to take off his combage or awards or anything—against the nearest bulkhead where it gave a soft, unsatisfying *flop*. He sank to the floor, eyes aflame. Promontory: Computer, play “See You Again” by Wiz Khalifa. It was the song that his mom used to play when she was thinking about her dead husband. He fell asleep, crying softly, as it continued to play on repeat. -- Lt Avander Promontory Intelligence Officer USS Oumuamua O239910AP4

Just want to show my appreciation to @Alora DeVeau and Lt. Stendhal for a couple of additional Halloween Avatars that I am unable to check in with. The first being 2PC Lt. Jerra Dagaz of Denali Station and the second being PNPC Ensign Nagazi of Starbase 118 Ops. Thank you both for these amazing images! 😊👏🏻

@Madison Marsh I just have to give a huge shout out to a writer and character that has been making me and my PC feel the feels since day one. We are now able to write in a scene together and it the fluffiest thing in the whole entire world. ❤️ I am so glad to have the writer of Madison Marsh as a friend. ((Main Sickbay, Deck 505, Family and General Practice Care, Starbase 118)) Madison had been working on building up her patient base. This process took time, but would happen quicker due to her assignment on a station. There are thousands that live and work on the station every day. She met Ensign Willow's apparent requirements and therefore she would not hesitate to add her to her client base. The medical field always was chaotic in the past centuries and it still was not perfect in the twenty fifth century, but much improved over the course of time. Her goal was to make it as simple as possible on patients so that they can get the quality care that they require if she had anything to do with it. Marsh: It sounds like I meet your specifications. If you are not opposed then I will list myself as your primary care Doctor. Willow: You?! I mean….I’m not opposed. You do have a great bedside manner. ::Haukea blushed:: She squinted her eyes in response to Willow's compliment. Did she really have great bedside manner? She would accept the compliment and continued onward with the medical business considering she had a patient to treat. Willow likely had a broken nose and Doctor Marsh was going to resolve the issue immediately. Marsh: Before I move on to the medical procedure, did you have any concerns? Willow: No other concerns. I’m usually healthy, don’t get sick often. No chronic concerns. She walked to another station to pick up a medical tricorder. All of the biobeds, medical tools, consoles, and equipment were in immaculate condition. Starbase 118 Medical definitely kept their brand standards for Sick Bays high. It was a privilege to be stationed at a state of the art facility like this one. Marsh: You stay there and relax while I grab a few supplies. Willow: Sure…Sure. You want me sitting or laying down? She turned to meet Willow's gaze and she appeared to be a little bit confused which was understandable. Most folks visit the Doctor once every couple of years and do not do procedures every day like Madison. Marsh: Lay down and relax. I will patch you up in no time. Willow: ? Madison returned over to the biobed where Willow was laying back. She began a scan of Willow's nose, read the feedback, and saw the imagery of a broken nose to mend. She thought that the nose was broken all along, but it was crucial for a Doctor to never assume a diagnosis. After a few moments, she set her medical tricorder down and filled her Hypospray tool with 10cc of Terakine. Before administering the Terakine she wanted to present the diagnosis and present the procedure to her patient. Marsh: You have a broken nose that requires minor surgery to repair the bone and cartilage. I will be able to remove all of the cuts on your face and the burning sensation will cease to be there. I will inject you with Terakine which will allow this procedure to be pain free. How does that sound? Willow: ? Madison nodded her head once in agreement with her. She tilted her head slightly looking down at Willow and a slight smile spread across her lips. Marsh: Did you have any additional questions before I start the procedure? Willow:?

I cannot This joint post...AMAZING. I must tell all...READ THIS NOW!!!!!!! Part 1 https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-oumuamua/c/R-aKoVFbRa4/m/otfXi5qpAQAJ Part 2 https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-oumuamua/c/XKrW6D5bJkE/m/Gu0n_mFQAAAJ Part 3 https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-oumuamua/c/lEhwYn2sSM8/m/lkBGdzQuAgAJ Part 4 https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-oumuamua/c/GLY_jOu4p7k/m/ytbNy96wAgAJ Part 5 https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-oumuamua/c/qdRjN9JXbls/m/pf0WPwW_BAAJ @Jack Kessler @Tony, aka VAiru @Etan Iljor @DrPsyPhi @VLen Kel

I'm also a sucker for some good old-fashioned backstory, like this from @Korras. 🙂👍🏻 ((Outside FO’s Office, Deck 7, Command Center, Starbase 118 Ops)) His meeting with commander fairhug over, Korras decided his next stop would be the medical center. After all, it was on his way to his new quarters, and he was fairly close to the medical center right now already, relatively speaking. Of course, on a station this size, any distance that was less than the size of a small city was considered close. As he walked to the nearest turbolift, he spent some time thinking. Mere days before, he was waiting for his final exam to begin, in this very station. At that time, he was still a Cadet. Now, he was one of the freshest ensigns in the station. The small amount of personal belongings he had he had already packed, not expecting to be assigned to the same station he had spent the last couple of months in. Either way, it made the move into his own living space all that more simple. For now, this would be home. A small pang of melancholy. He knew he would probably never see his real home anymore. Nor did he expect to ever see his family again. He shook his head. Years ago, he had made the choice to take the blame for something not of his doing, but by doing so had prevented his family from being unjustly branded a traitorous family. While in the epic sagas, most klingons would have fought tooth and nail against such things, no matter the cost, the truth of the matter was far different on the backwater planets. There, there were no great houses with fabled histories. There, while honor was still considered a virtue, there was much more of a grey area. There, the one claim to fame his homeworld, Kerret'raa, had was that Kahless had once visited it. There was a shrine to him, and some from Qo'nos visited there occasionally, which led to a slight amount of trade, but otherwise, most of the planet was as backwater as it could be in this time and age. There was no unlimited energy to replicate everything they would want. Not everything was as bright as it was on a Starfleet starship. They had learned to make do with what they had for the most part. He did what he had to do for his family to make it through. Maybe that was what had made him a decent hand on the freighter that had hired him in. If it had not been for a pirate attack, he probably would have made a life for himself in space. Instead, fate had taken him to the federation, and eventually into Starfleet. His arrival at the turbolift station shook him from his reverie. He stepped in with the others waiting, and gave his destination. Korras: main entrance, medical station. While in the lift, he decided to look forward as opposed to backward. He had made it this far, and he would be successful at it. First things first, to see the doctor. ((brief timeskip, to deck 505, Medical lobby)) Korras walked in, and headed to the nearest nurse station. Once it was his turn, he spoke up. Korras: Hello. I’ve been newly assigned to the station, and have been instructed to schedule a visit with doctor Shar'Wyn Foster to go over my medical record. When does he have time for this? Nurse: Response ***** Ensign Korras Ops Officer Starbase 118 Ops O240010K12

I'm a sucker for a "slice of life" sim and here's one I particularly enjoyed from @Vitor S. Silveira. 🙂👍🏻 ((Starbase118, Habitat Ring, Tito’s apartment)) Tito swept slowly the brush, in a meticulous sequenced gesture finishing the miniature outer wall. In an unusual change of theme he had decided to start a new project, stalling the other two he already began. Instead of the more bellicose minis he usually painted, or the ones belonging to the board game he already replicated, he decided for something more… Simple. Truth be told it had a deeper meaning, perhaps it was his way to avoid the new Counselor. All things considered the future looked… Difficult. Too many things had changed. But he had found that he wasn't so easily dropping down as before. There was something that, despite the loneliness, still kept him moving forward. And more importantly, safe, comfortable. That was why he began this new model. It was a little bigger than he was used to. The base was 70 by 50 cm. The house itself was 40 by 30 in width and length, being 50 cm tall. It was a Terran country house, two floors high with red roof, and filled with details both inside and out. He dropped the brush down looking at the several pieces he had worked on. Tito smiled and he tipped the tiny rocking chair, making it swing slightly. He raised his head and looked around his place. The thought made him smile. “His” place. So for once Sil was right when he gave him his former place. It was becoming his home. Tito stretched and slowly stood up. Looking at the outside view he chose to take a little break. Cleaning up the brushes, but keeping his paraphernalia on the dinner table he decided to go for a run, and headed to the bedroom to change. ((Timeskip, about an hour later)) ((Starbase118, Little Risa)) Tito walked alongside the beach line. With full jogging gear, t-shirt, trunks and trainers, he adjusted the little backpack filled with water bottles and small energy bars. He recalled the first time he was there before sharing a meal with Commander DeVeau, Alora. She had also moved and although they had clashed a bit, he still had a good impression of her. A family with a little toddler passed by him. He kept walking. Unlike before he wasn’t troubled by it. Tito frowned before smiling. That was new. And pleasant. Still smiling he started quickening his pace, until it turned into proper jogging. No TAGs/TBC Lt. Vitor R.S.Tito Science Officer Starbase 118 O238907VS0

This sim broke me. When the simmer behind Maxwell messaged me to say that he has picked up my tags and rounded off the scene, I thought it would a nice fun ending to the party. I didn't think I'd be emotionally wrecked. To give some extra context, this sim is all about remembering all those friends we have lost along the way, and a big reason why this sim so damn epic, is that it stands opposite a sim where Nilsen, Tyber, Dahlquist and Arlill go on a spacewalk to sign their names on the hull, tick off an item on Oumuamua bingo and in someway, seal their friendship as a group. That spacewalk was a fun one and full off joy. The two big tough guys holding onto each other for dear life wanting to go back inside was so funny. Then we fast forward through the party thst happens a day or so later to this endont scene. Nilsen had no idea that Maxwell knew about their little space walk and at the end, as you can read, he asked how he knew and almost begged Maxwell to not tell Sherlock. And then we get this sim which is the perfect ending to this little story where Joy and grief can often be two sides of the same coin.

It's poket size vulcan, sir, even tin-can size even. But GREAT sim anyway

((Ensign's Joyride - Denali Invitational - Entering the Asteroid Ring)) The boxy shuttle took on a shimmer in the refection of the asteroid field making it actually like a streamlined fighter that it had actually been designed to be rapidly converting current models of ships ready for a defensive action. The crew of the Ensign's Joyride had worked hard building together the team and the freighter up from scratch to the fighting machine it currently was. Despite its age it was keeping up with the crowd. There were several ships entering the field at different vectors and various flakes of paint coming off them as they had near misses or actual collisions with smaller asteroids, not enough to take them down however would slow them whilst they made repairs. Inside the cockpit there were only two of the crew and both of them were staying away from the emergency transport system. Corey checked the harness wrapping around the chair. Wethern: This is going to be a challenging bit of flying Madison, strap in. I'm going to divert the power from gravity to inertial dampeners and thruster control to give you the most flexibility. Whoa! Did you see that ship clip that asteroid. Time to concentrate. Marsh: ? Corey watched his colleague clip the harness around her and he felt the adrenaline kick in, the buzz and attentiveness that kicks in with the risk of danger. The thrum of power flicked into the engines as he went through the warning alerts of switching off gravity. He flicked another switch and the cockpit darkened and the computer thrummed and alert "Tactical Overlay Engaged" as a red overlay engaged across the viewports highlighting the ships in front of them in green and the asteroids with trajectory plotting of incoming asteroids. Wethern: I'm glad we didn't take out all of the experimental systems this shuttle was equipped with, although we never did get out of Zel why this project was abandoned? Marsh: ? The shuttle clipped past another vessel so fast Corey couldn't make out its designation however it was an impressive barrel roll by Madison. Wethern: Nice flying Madison. Marsh: ? Computer: Warning Collision Imminent An alarm blared bringing the two ensigns back to where they were as an asteroid rapidly filled the screen growing larger and larger. Wethern: Madison, look out..... Marsh: ? Corey looked at his console as the his pilot tried to route around preventing an impact that even the shuttles shields at maximum would taken them out of race if not put them on the medical evac shuttle....which would be more than embarrassing being two medics. Wethern: No wait head straight for the bearing I've sent to your console and rotate 65 degrees port and floor it. Corey tapped his console and there was a sensation of your stomach flipping much like when you went on a roller-coaster. What in reality was happening was power was distributing away from the support systems to the shuttles minimal defensive systems. A bright beam from the Phasers blasted the corner of the huge asteroid making a shuttle shaped hole full of debris as they rolled through it harmlessly bouncing off the shields however the pull on the harness would leave a mark. Wethern: Woohoo! That is some fancy flying! Marsh: ? Corey ran his hand through his hair in relief. Not only had they managed to avoid dying they had also managed to get a step up towards the front just not the very front. Wethern: All I'm saying is Ksivi-Sava would not have approved of that manoeuvre and if we win we need to trademark it. Marsh: ? Tags/TBC -- Ensign Corey Wethern Medical Officer Starbase 118 Ops O240007CW4

Is there something called ‘Love at Seventh Sim’? @Talia Ohnari has got me completely head over heels with her CMO after this latest Sim, which just is so filled with personality, its just MARVELOUS! 😍

Everything about this sim makes me jump for joy. @Alexander Brodie has a wonderful way with words. I just want to highlight a few lines before I share the whole thing. Suddenly, every ops simmer is Brodie's biggest fan. He just got it. *chefs kiss* The simmer behind brodie knows what I am going for with this little arc and has set me up PERFECTLY for what I want to write next. An absolute gift he has given me Here is the full sim, I have been inspired to up my game. LOVE LOVE LOVE this

@LuxaLorana is GREAT at describing places and it's great to see all the work and time he has put into describing the Ronin's stellar cartography. Add to that all the insight and great storytelling and you have a sim I've been wanting to throw in your face for days. Enjoy! Great work! ((Stellar Cartography, Deck 10, USS Ronin)) Three days had passed quickly on the Ronin. Luxa doubted that she'd ever been as busy in her whole life. They’d spent entire days reconfiguring the science lab databases and updating various systems. Of course, this required more data processors to be installed and almost delayed the lab's completion. Yet, somehow, the engineers had managed to get them installed and they’d completed the refurbishment with an hour to spare before launch. She'd barely gotten any of her naps, which had led to her nerves being more than a little frayed. It had helped that she had gotten a pleasant and friendly roommate. Yet, in some strange way, she found herself missing the imposing presence of Zoyara. If Luxa was a counselor, she'd misdiagnose herself with Stockholm Syndrome. A smile began to form on Luxa's face, wondering how her new roommate was adjusting to her. Grayson: Did you feel that? Luxa had felt a slight rumbling beneath them. An explosion? ((OOC - Crewman 2nd Class Gregor Grayson, is an Astronomer and Science Lab Assistant and a General NPC, meaning anyone can include him in sims, he's the science teams Nurse Ogawa hah)) Lorana: The docking clamps maybe? It’s been a while? :: Luxa stretches :: You think we're ready to fire this up? Grayson: :: shrugs :: The engineers seem confident that the ship won't blow up. Luxa's attention fell across the strange Stellar Cartography suite that was shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the control panels that lined the walls, flanking either side of the entryway. She had never seen one that spanned one deck before, and found that she wasn't very certain about it. It didn’t feel right to have the large and expansive space taking up several decks. Lorana: Okay. I think now is as good a time as any. Grayson moved to one of the panels, and she heard the whole room buzz with energy as consoles blinked into life and the mapping grid appeared, blinking several times before a map circled around and settled on to the current sector they were in. It took up the entirety of the curvature of the far wall, which was three times wider than the working area they were stood in by the entrance. Holo emitters had been installed meaning that you could pull sections forward onto a raised platform, with a singular console to operate this particular part. Grayson: I kind of like it. Lorana: :: scrunching her face :: It'll take getting used too. They had fought and lost the argument to extend Stellar Cartography into the deck above or below. The drawback of an older vessel that was never designed for exploration or scientific missions. All things considered, she was proud of the work they had done utilising the limited space they had. The trill of a boatswain's whistle startled Luxa momentarily. Niac: =/\= Attention all hands, we are about to get underway. You have performed admirably in getting our ship ready for this mission and I'm confident we can face whatever is waiting for us out there. Secure your stations and standby for warp speed. Remember...a ship may be safe in harbor but that is not what ships are for. Niac..out.=/\= Grayson: Starting to feel real now? Lorana: :: nervously :: I just wish we weren’t heading straight towards the Sheliak. Luxa stepped a few metres in front and took the steps on to the raised platform, there was enough room for several scientists to work and confer if required. Grayson remained at the consoles behind, she could see that he was beginning to run diagnostics on the Cartography systems. Lorana: :: keying in telemetry, then hits her combadge :: =/\= Lorana to Alieth, Stellar Cartography is online =/\= Alieth: =/\= Response =/\= Lorana: =/\= Yes, commander. Lorana out. =/\= Grayson moved up the platform, taking a position beside Luxa, as she brought up the limited information of the Olidra System. Grayson: What now? Lorana: We do what we’re here to do :: nods towards the map :: we learn everything we can about this section of space. Every warp trail, rock, and line of record. Grayson inhaled a breath. Grayson: It’s a lot of space. Lorana: Which means we don’t have a lot of time :: nods to the console to his right :: You can begin by cross-referencing the databases on that system. We need to populate this map as best as we can with everything of note within the Alpha Isles. There might be something that can hint towards what’s going on out there. Grayson: I can pull some of the reports from the transport ships, you know the ones they send to Starfleet? Lorana: Most of them make them up, unless they know the Federation will audit them, which they never do. Check for warp signatures and energy readings, anything that can tell us what’s been happening out there. Start with the major powers - the Breen, Tzenkethi, the Ferengi and the Kzinti Patriarchy. Focus on any changes, routes that have been altered, unusual reports, distress calls and any new science vessels operating in that area. Maybe we can provide the Captain with something a little bit more than guesswork? As Grayson went to work, Luxa took a moment to look ahead, watching the Olidra System. In her mind’s eye she could feel it come alive. It was a mystery at the moment, a stranger in a crowded sky. oO not for long, Olidra Oo -- Ensign Luxa Lorana Science Officer USS Ronin A240004LL2

slice of life are my jam, and @Marty Tuckernails one here. Also, 100% that dinner is going to happen next shoreleave, @LuxaLoranaincluded ((Deck 14, Engineering Lounge, USS Ronin)) When one works double shifts, three days go by quite quickly. And Ensign Marty Tucker was running on less than zero sleep. He had a minute to himself, so he went into the engineer's lounge and got himself a raktajino, his third one of the shift. It was surprising that he hadn’t spontaneously combusted yet. But with all the repairs, the caffeine was needed; from readjusting the reflector dish to refitting the structural integrity generators on decks two, five, and seven, one had to be awake to repair them. He sat and pulled out his padd to review his forever-long to-do list. He could pass off some of it, but much needed his direct attention. Tuck figured after he finished his raktajino, he’d pop his head into Chief Corelli’s office and see where we stood. Then he’d need to meet with Chief Kiran about those generators. ((OOC: Andy Dahl is a Engineering free use NPC)) He looked up from his padd to see Crewman Andrew Dahl approaching him. Dahl came to a stop and came to attention. Tucker spied him over the lip of the cup of his raktajino; he waved him off. Tucker: ::he smiled:: It’s all good, Andy; you don’t have to do that every time.::he set his cup of coffee down next to his padd:: Dahl: ::shrugging:: Habit Tuck, habit. ::he sat down:: Tuck chuckled at this as he took another sip of his Klingon coffee. While he loved it, it didn’t compare to the stuff he got back home. The Pacific Northwest was known for its coffee and the shops dedicated to the beverage. Tucker: We’ve worked together for a little bit now; I can’t believe I haven’t asked where you transferred in from. Denali Station here. ::he sipped his raktajino:: Dahl: ::finishing a sip of his coffee:: I’ve been here since day one. You should have seen how all this looked before you arrived. This space:: arm sweeps out:: wasn’t even built out. It was a shell and now look at her. Tuck choked back a laugh. Tucker: ::hoping raktajino wasn’t coming out his nose:: Dude, it was pulled out of dry dock early. There are unfinished labs and the like. It’s a Starfleet cluster..::with a gulp, he finished his raktajino:: Dahl just nodded in agreement. There was one thing he couldn’t get out of his brain, no matter how hard he worked or buried his head in projects: that cute Bajoran quartermaster Ico. He still needed to get in touch about dinner. Tuck wondered if she had informed her roommate. He also needed to tell Mav about it; he was going to have to play wingman. Dahl: ::snapping his fingers in front of Tuck's face:: Hello? Anyone home? Tuck took a second before reacting to Dahl. Tuck: Yeah, I’m here. Sorry, I was lost in thought. I’ve got a ton of things to do, and sitting on my ass in the engineering lounge isn't getting things done. And he needed to stay on the good side of Lieutenant Corelli. Happy Chief, happy Tuck. They both laughed at that. Tuck picked up his padd and stood. Tucker: Alright, Andy, time to get back to work. ------- Ensign Marty Tucker Engineering USS Ronin - NCC-34523 D240008MT1

Most of us know that the last sim we write on a ship is always a tough one. @LuxaLorana has already said her goodbyes to the crew, but our mission that as taken us to another universe, with different characters, have give us such great scenes. And here we have the final scene from Lux, Lorana's alter ego, in one of the most heartbreaking goodbyes I have read. And I have read quite a few. I know you will enjoy the Ronin as much as you enjoyed the Artemis, but allow me the selfishness to say that I am sorry to see you go.

There were so many quotes from this that I wanted to post, so in the end, I decided to post the whole sim! ((Little Risa - Near Beach - Starbase 118)) Being aboard Starbase 118 once more, walking through those large man-made spaces, the people, the wonders, the lights, the fragrances, and the perfumes all flooded her senses. The sounds, conversations, and whispers echoed near and far. This sensory and empathic stimulation suddenly overwhelmed her with a cascade of emotions. All those people at once, and the telepathic shouting, it was something she wasn't accustomed to anymore. She almost laughed, almost cried, letting herself fully immerse in it once more. She deeply appreciated it, absorbing it with her entire being. Wow! How beautiful! Karen was happy. She strolled through the bustling commercial sector of the starbase, weaving in and out of numerous shops, each offering its own unique allure. Amid her exploration, she came upon a charming café adorned with a profusion of vibrant flowers—an enchanting spot that, in all likelihood, hadn't even existed three years ago. After some time, she reached her intended destination: Little Risa. Her desire was simple—to relax and take a leisurely walk along the tranquil beach. She was attired in a lovely and casual, yet vividly colorful dress, perfectly suited for the vibrant ambiance of Risa. It resembled a pareo, with its pink fabric adorned by graceful white wavy stripes. Completing her look was a broad, feminine straw hat and heart-shaped sunglasses, which added a touch of eccentricity—much like her own charming personality. Beneath her colorful dress, she sported an equally stylish bikini, perfectly complementing her figure. It was adorned in the same delightful colors, accentuating her beach-ready look. Who knew? She might just decide to take a refreshing dip in the water later on. As she wandered aimlessly, she suddenly sensed the presence of a familiar and friendly Betazoid mind, none other than the remarkable Sal Taybrim. A warm smile graced her lips, and her heart swelled with delight at the unexpected encounter. Taybrim: Counselor Stendhal? Stendhal: In the flash and bones, Captain... oh wait, is it Commodore now, isn't it? Congratulations on the promotion! She smiled, she smiled a lot! Taybrim: By the rings, it’s been ages! And you’re back here on StarBase 118! Stendhal: It's definitely been a while! I'm absolutely thrilled to see you again, Commodore Sal. You know that, don't you? Taybrim: Come. I’d like you to meet the amazing Haukea-Willow. Willow, meet Counselor Karen Stendhal. She felt an empathic tickle, a connection that went beyond words. She first looked at Sal, then her gaze shifted to Haukea, and in their presence, she sensed an empathic embrace of friendship enveloping her. What beautiful souls they were, and how fortunate she felt to be in their company. With a broad smile, she offered a graceful bow, genuinely delighted to meet and get acquainted with Haukea. It was evident that Haukea exuded a captivating beauty. Her presence was marked by both a lively, effervescent spark coupled with a profound, discerning and intelligent gaze. Karen immediately felt at ease in her presence, experiencing a strange sense of déjà vu, as if they had crossed paths before in some other time or place. Stendhal: Nice to meet you both, and please, especially in a place like this, just call me Karen. She said warmly and with a friendly demeanor. Karen couldn't help but appreciate the pleasant atmosphere and the genuine connection she was forming with Sal and Haukea. Willow/Taybrim: ? Stendhal: Oh I have to tell you that this is one of the best place in the Galaxy where to be in service... And of course one of the reasons is the Crew and the awesome commanding chain. Willow/Taybrim: ? Stendhal: Oh, I must share with you that this is truly one of the finest places in the entire Galaxy to serve. Of course, one of the reasons for that is the exceptional crew and the awesome chain of command. Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. Willow/Taybrim: ? Stendhal: Commodore Sal would a hug be too out of place? Rustyy's had his share, and when it comes to my hug list, you and Foster are high on it. She spoke theatrically, her hand tracing an imaginary list in the air. ~*~ tags/tbc ~*~ -- ================================= Lt Jg Karen Trisha Stendhal Counselor SB 118 ID: C239604KS0

((OOC: Just a small vignette for Remembrance Day. For those that don't know the background, you can read about it here: https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Starfleet_Remembrance_Day) ((Personal Quarter, USS Oumuamua)) The timing was poor. The night before, the party in 7 Forward would take some toll the next morning. Moreso because she had set her alarm to awaken her an hour earlier than she'd normally get up before a shift. It was a ritual she'd done only once before. But it wouldn't be the last. Really the day would be like any other. She went through her normal morning routine. A quick run around the corridors. When she got back, she had breakfast. Simple eggs and bacon this morning. Following that a shower. Maybe a little longer than normal, just some time to think. She laid out one of her new uniforms on her bed, flat so there wasn't a wrinkle to be seen. Knowing the night would be short on sleep, she'd skipped polishing her boots the night before. She pulled out the small box that contained a tin of polish, brush, and a couple rags. Sitting at the edge of the bed, one at a time, she gave them a once over with one of the soft cloths to buff the toes to a decent shine. Standing in front of the mirror in her bathroom, she brushed out her hair. Looking into her own eyes in the reflection she thought to herself that those eyes weren't the same as she used to see. In such a few short years, they'd changed. She took her time putting her hair into a tight braid against her scalp, bringing it all together in the back before tying it off as she normally did. Her hand slid down the back of her neck. The tips of her fingers ran over the tattoo she couldn't see but knew was still there. She donned her uniform one piece at a time. She fidgeted with the jacket like she always did. She always replicated them slightly too big. Just a little loose. The downside being that it never quite sat right. Today she wished she hadn't. She walked over to her nightstand and picked up the two solid silver pips and snapped them onto the chest of her uniform. Taking an extra couple seconds to make sure they were in line with the seam that divided the gold shoulders from the black body, centering them between the shoulder seam and the small square of gold that jutted down from the divide in the collar. The silver and bronze communicator went on the opposite side and just below the seam. She never felt she could get its placement just right. Pulling out the drawer of the nightstand, she reached in and picked up a small pin, one she only wore once a year. Back in front of the mirror, she looked down at the small round pin. The brushed gold inlaid with a deep blue enamel which in turn had white letters rising from it. Her thoughts went back. She could hear herself screaming "No!" as if it was happening again. When she closed her eyes, it felt like they were flooded with fiery light once more. As much pain as she still felt, she didn't cry anymore when she thought about it. She didn't even get angry like she used to. Sometimes she wondered if it meant she was forgetting. But those memories would never fade. She took in a slow deep breath and opened her eyes. Looking into the mirror, she clipped the pin onto her jacket, just above her communicator. Rotating it back and forth until the words U.S.S. Resolution looked centered. She ran her hands down the sides of her uniform to smooth it out as she let out the breath she'd been holding. Her right hand paused over the spot on her abdomen where there was still a scar. She pressed into it. The slight physical pain she felt was still there. A reminder...remembrance. End Lieutenant Aine Sherlock Security Officer U.S.S. Oumuamua R239712AS0