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I'm specifically including the opening to this sim - as it segues partway through to a different location and scene, but this first part, inter-cutting between narration and relevant quotations is so unique and striking that I felt it simply had to be appreciated here. Nice work @Nathan Richards! Full sim available here: Lt. JG Nathan Richards - Open and Closed Doors

I was going to post a quote from this shore leave sim by @Dekas in the Denali thread. Then I Saw another that I was going to post. Then another. So I thought I might as well post the whole damn sim! 😂 ((Roof of Anchorage tower, Denali Station)) Dekas had done his best not to think about it too much. The fact that his apparent best friend hadn’t even tried to talk to him since he showed up. Not that it surprised him much. Om-Zora was more than aloof, and while it had certainly gotten worse in the years they hadn’t spoken, he’d always been at least a little like that. He was very good at dropping off the face of the universe and acting like Dekas didn’t exist for whatever reason. He wanted to blame it on the Vulcans, but he knew that wasn’t fair to them considering he was pretty sure they would have at least let him know if they were going to go silent for a while instead of just doing it the way Om-Zora had. So he could only blame it on him. And all of those weird bitter feelings came forth now that they were in visual range of each other. He was mad about a lot of things, and the fact that this Aurelian had picked this time to be on the same roof as him at the same time on accident annoyed him more than he wanted to admit. The tall, gold-feathered Aurelian glanced over at Dekas and gave him a small wave from the other side of the roof. Dekas’ eyes narrowed, and he threw up a hand as though to say, “what? Only a wave? That’s it? After seven years???” Om-Zora had no such need to express an emotion about this beyond a small tilt of his head as though to respond with, “You could just come over here and say hi.” This somehow made Dekas angry, feathers on his face fluffing up with that emotion. There had never been a moment he so deeply wished he had a middle finger to flip him off with. oO What if I went off-kilter and killed him? Oo That wasn’t a great thought. oO Keep it together, Dekas. You’d probably get severely court-martialed for killing him. Even if he for sure had it coming. Oo He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. He still didn’t walk over to him. It wasn’t his responsibility to be the one to make proper contact when he hadn’t been the one to cut contact in the first place. So he crossed his arms and rolled his eyes once, then made direct eye contact after the fact, and they held that eye contact for a solid minute before Om-Zora gave in and walked over to him. Om-Zora: ::in a monotone:: You are as stubborn as ever. All he felt was rage. But he was better than letting that get the best of him, and he held back the amount of profanities he had in his repertoire of known languages. Dekas: You’re so slappable right now it’s almost painful not to. And I don’t consider myself slappy, so don’t say that lightly. Seven years of absolutely nothing, and then weeks of even more nothing, while you have been on the Station. And you expected ME to come to YOU? Entitled. And stupid. You’d think with a medical degree you’d be better at not being an idiot. Om-Zora: I thought you didn’t want to talk to me. Dekas: YOU COULD HAVE ASKED! ::he lowered his voice, despite the fact they were the only two up there. Didn’t need an echo to betray him:: I mean, you could have asked. Om-Zora: You’re right. I could have. I should have. The fact that I didn’t was illogical. But I ended up getting nervous. It’s been so long, I wasn’t sure how to approach you. I am better at handling patients than I am friends, it would seem. I’m sorry. Dekas was still mad, a sorry wasn’t enough to make him not mad. But the fact he was willing to admit to there being an issue from his side did make it easier to not slap him in the moment. Om-Zora: I understand if you’re not ready to forgive it. Or if you would prefer we only be on professional terms. He spoke with that same initial monotone as if he didn’t care either way even though he clearly did care or he wouldn’t have apologized at all. oO You’re not getting out of this friendship that easily. Oo Dekas: Don't get me wrong. I'm mad, and it's extremely tempting to agree and say we go our separate ways and only interact during work hours. It would make things simpler. However, I'm not that person, and I already told you before, there is very little you could actually do that would make me not want you in my life. Even now when I'm feeling like this. Om-Zora simply nodded. Dekas: So I think I can forgive you. On one condition. Om-Zora: ::head tilt:: What condition is that? Dekas stepped close to him and backed him against the edge of the building. Dekas: This. And he shoved him right off Anchorage. Which did startle his friend enough to make a noise. oO Satisfying. Oo (What? He could fly perfectly well. Besides, he jumped off right after. And by that point, Om-Zora had already righted himself into flight.) Om-Zora: A warning would have been nice! Dekas: I thought it was implied! Om-Zora: It was not implied! He laughed and then went full speed ahead of him. Om-Zora was taller and his wingspan much larger, but Dekas had the advantage of speed and a better sense of sharp turns and landings now because of the recent tail feather growth. Dekas: Hope you haven’t gotten a proper tour yet, because I can give you a better one if you can catch up to me! Om-Zora: You could have just asked. Dekas: But then I wouldn’t have gotten to push you off the building. Om-Zora: That is an extremely illogical way to deal with your frustrations, and I hope you know that. Dekas: I do, but thanks for being such a good sport about it! He used that moment to fly upwards and very high. Angry or not, there was nothing better than a good flight with another Aurelian. Truly experience wind underneath and through his feathers and be able to know that another person felt the same. As a bonus, he got some exercise in. Thankfully it seemed Golden Boy wasn’t too bothered by the whole thing because he followed. Would it be enough to ease all the bitterness he had toward his old friend? No. But it was definitely a start. [NT / Just some bird interactions. Gotta get them in there.] — Lt. Commander Dekas Counselor Denali Station J239802D12 Pronouns: They/she (player), He/him (character)

One of the greatest things about our format is the idea that you can release an idea into the wild and, if you're very very lucky, others will take hold of that idea and run with it in ways you never could've imagined. I started the Brew Continuum as an Ensign and somehow, years later, the idea of the little coffee shop that could but probably shouldn't has kept growing and evolving and delighting writers across the fleet. This newest installment is one of my absolute favorites and features a brilliant characterization of one of the hardest species to do well, the Children of Tama/Tamarians. Bravo @Robin Hopper! ====================================================================== ((Brew Continuum, Deck 3 – USS Artemis)) Javaris stood behind the counter of the small caffé, nestled into a nook-like room across from the ship’s Mess Hall, beaming with pride. It was now the second day since his venture had opened its doors, and with much of the crew enjoying their ‘shore leave’, he was sure that business would boom like Kaelor’s forge, its fires never ceasing. It had taken quite some convincing to talk his managers aboard Deep Space 224 into allowing him to open and operate his own franchise aboard the newly-christened USS Artemis-A but, much like Orani, with her eyes on the summit, he had persevered. Now, his hopes and dreams had been made a reality, and it was only a matter of time until his efforts would prove successful – Javaris was sure of it. So, he began puttering about, preparing for the day’s activities – grinding beans, heating steam, and flicking on the aroma dispersal unit which would fill the café with the smell of delicious baked goods. Javaris: ::Sighing contentedly:: Raesh and Jorin, sailing prosperous seas… As he predicted, it was not long before the first customers of the day found their way into his establishment, and his work could begin in earnest. Jibrore, piping hot. Macchiato, its foam extra frothy. Raktajino, its intensity tempered with oat milk… The hours of day sailed along as one, by one, new loyal customers were earned through the crucible of dedicated and studious mastery of the arts of caffeination and customer service. Many of his first customers were, predictably, those already familiar with the Brew Continuum’s outlet aboard the Spacedock… Engineering Crewmen who had been tasked with assisting the Artemis’ crew in their repair efforts whilst the vessel was docked. After several hours, however, a new and altogether unfamiliar face entered – a most auspicious visitor… One of the Artemis’ own complement of Starfleet Officers. The Tamarian barista waved cheerily, greeting the newcomer and inviting them to experience one (or several) of the Brew Continuum’s delightful offerings. Javaris: ::Grinning:: Amara's hearth, its embers glow for all who draw near! Any: Response Javaris nodded, eagerly, happy to attend to the officer’s caffeic needs and desires. He indicated the menu, projected onto a screen above his head so that daily offerings could be customized depending on the availability of fresh ingredients (after all, much like Raesh and Jorin on their journey of trade, once the Artemis ‘set sail’, it could well be some time before they made port again). Javaris: ::Indicating the breadth of available options:: Temba, his arms wide, with pastries abundant... Any: Response Clapping his hands together, Javaris exulted in his customer’s selection. It was a fine choice – and one which he would dearly enjoy preparing as well. Javaris: ::Reacting favourably:: Mirab, receiving nectar from the stars! With the order input into his inventory tracking system, Javaris moved to his devices and began preparing the order. However, customer service neither began nor ended with the preparation of goods. No, no, it began and ended with connection. With that in mind, he attempted to engage his visitor in polite, yet friendly, conversation… Javaris: ::Indicating himself:: Javaris, the huntress’ humble barista. ::Indicating the newcomer:: Lumara's tapestry, woven with shared stories? Any: Response TAG / TBC == PNPC Javaris (he/him) Proprietor & Barista, Brew Continuum USS Artemis-A V239806K11

An amazing sim from @Robin Hopper. This scene is rich with character and as always so well put together. A former Borg drone getting counselling from a Vulcan? You know I'm bound to love it! Lt. JG David Flint & Ensign Ychol: The Disconnect (Part 1) (google.com)

Really enjoyed this little slice of life from @Oddas Aria and @Alex Forsyth. (( Kingsley’s Quarters )) Gwen was not used to so much space, so her wardrobe was still relatively limited - uniforms and a small collection of civilian clothes. For the occasion, she selected a cotton dress that felt modest enough for a second date, but casual enough for the setting. Blue and red, it had been a gift from her family, they meant well but its cut and color was not exactly her favorite. A brush of the hair later, she managed to get out the door and to the bar on time, and found a table near the source of music, but close enough to a wall to afford some privacy. ((Alex’s quarter, Anchorage, Denali station)) Alex stood in front of her tall mirror, Trying out her fourth outfit so far as none of the others suited her. So now she was trying on a simple Jumper, shirt and jeans. It was the best she had, Fashion wasn’t her thing. oO It will have to do….Oo She looked at her clock to see it is nearly time for her and Gwen date. Alex quickly tidied up her room by chucking them into the dresser and beelined towards the door. Once there she stop just before the door to mobius, Forsyth: ::To herself:: Ok, You did this before. It's just a date, It's not as bad as rocks falling from the sky or getting eaten by a space whale….. With one deep, soft breath, Alex steps inside. It was like how she last remembered it, back on her first day with Lt. Commander Stelek. It was surprising to see the bar had received from the harrowing event, The asteroid attack left much of the ring city in a right sorry state. Making her way farther in, She spotted the Dark haired Marine sitting by one of the tables along the wall. She flashed the Marine with an awkward smile as she walked up, trying to look cool but coming off as more goofy. Forsyth: Hey, Gwen. Kingsley: Hey there, how are you? Forsyth::Blushing:: Y-You look great, tonight. Gwen motioned for the seat across from her as Alex sat down, Unsure what to say next. Forsyth: So, How have you been? Kingsley: Good, keeping busy with training and rebuilding - now that the med folks think I’m fully recovered. Forsyth: Cool, I’ve been busy here and there. That was an understatement…. Gwen grinned and cocked her neck to the side - she knew the other woman had been busy off the Ring - and that some things were out of her pay scale. Just then, a waiter came over, Readying his PADD. Waiter: Hello, what are you having? Alex grabbed the drink menu, giving it a look through. Forsyth: I’ll have some scotch with ice, please. Kingsley: ::without looking:: Same, straight up. Waiter: Right, Anything else? Forsyth: Not for me, Gwen? She gave it a thought - Gwen had given working all day, training, running, and then doing her usual recon shift through ten more square blocks of the city. Kingsley: I hope you won’t think less of me, but I haven’t eaten since 0600? Forsyth: Not at all, I’ve been there a few times myself. Kingsley: ::to the waiter:: Whatever passes for a cheeseburger, no tomatoes, medium rare, large order of fries, ketchup on the side. If you have bacon, there’s an extra tip in it for you. The man smiled and made some notes. Waiter: I think we can manage. Forsyth: You know what, I’ll have the same. It has been a while since I had a meal that was…real. Waiter: Ok, we’ll get on that. As he hurried off for their order, Gwen turned back to Alex. Kingsley: Thanks, I needed that. ::beat:: So, what are your plans for shore leave? Forsyth: Oh, Just catch on some art or reading, maybe do some sightseeing. Kingsley: I haven’t made it that far out, I feel like I’ve been cooped up for too long. Forsyth: Same, been working non-stop since I’ve been promoted. Gwen nodded. She had been around long enough to know how promotions worked, the move up from Ensign to Lieutenant was a big one for a lot of the regular officers - one that could test a lot of relationships. Even Marines could struggle with that transition, though they tended to be a little more regimented and that helped make sure the transition was a bit less bumpy, a bit more professional. Kingsley: From what I can tell, you deserved it. Forsyth: Thanks, I’m still surprised by it. Kingsley: Planning to hit anything in particular in the city? Forsyth: Not really, I still don’t know a lot about this area. Kingsley: On patrol I came across a large, I guess you’d call it a park. Green space, with lots of trees and green, and what looked like some sort of tables and things right smack in the middle of a bunch of buildings. It covered easily a dozen blocks, but it also had a large lake in the middle of it. Forsyth: Sounds incredible. The waiter brought their drinks and slid them in front expertly without interrupting them, Gwen nodded ‘thanks’ and picked it up held it in her left hand. Kingsley: Exactly. Forsyth: You must have been thrilled to discover something like that. Kingsley: I was on patrol, it was just one of those things. It was interesting to see a thriving green space in the middle of so much city. Really reminds you sometimes that wherever you go, whatever you see, things stay the same. Alex took a sip of her drink, happy to just listen. Gwen raised her drink, but sat it down. Kingsley: It even had a little waterfall off to one side, flowing from one side of a building. I wonder if it was originally like that or if something broke down, but I haven’t had a chance to go back and find out. Forsyth: I’ll be sure to add that to my list, Might be a good place to do some painting. Kingsley: Painting?. Forsyth: It is not my favourite of hobbies, I do like to just draw or build models mainly. The Waiter returned with their food, placing a plate down in front of each of them. They looked amazing, smelling good as well. Alex took a bite of hers, tasting it a little. Gwen took the moment to taste her drink - good, but not the best she had had. Forsyth: Oh wow, This is good. Kingsley: That’s good to hear. The Marine picked up the burger and looked it over before decided on a line of attack, before finally finding a way that worked and sinking in for a large bite. Forsyth: Good, Isn’t it. Kingsley: ::between chew::Very. ::beat:: Oh, I almost forgot. Forsyth: What? Kingsley: The little park, there were these little paths, like something, had been moving through it, herds of something. Gwen swallowed and held her hand over her face while she sought a napkin. Forsyth: Herd, Like wild animals? How deep were the tracks? Kingsley: Seven or Eight stone? Walking on three or four legs, tracking, is not my best suit. Forsyth: Wow that's incredible.. For the dance floor, the music began a much louder series of beats, and to Gwen’s ear a steadier series of horns, closer to Earth music even if what was passing for words were nothing her vocal cords could reproduce. Forsyth: What were they like, Big or small? Kingsley: ::grinning:: I have no idea. Forsyth: So what happened to this park, Is now being used again or not? Kingsley: Well, like most things we find, it's just cataloged and waiting for us, the crew, to have enough people to matter. Alex continued to listen while eating her food, hearing stories like this were all her favourites. She remembered the ones her dad told her, about alien worlds and lost cities. Gwen tried the fries, which were good, but were not made from potatoes. Forsyth: I would love to explore something like that, Uncovering lost secrets. Alex did get somewhat explore one of the buildings with Kenrick and Fairhug, making sure it was safe for the Mithgiln. Kingsley: To be fair, all you need to do, is step outside ::she gestured outside with her hand, still holding her burger:: get yourself on a duty schedule. The station is kinda brilliant that way. Alex smiled, the music had changed to something different but still with a beat. Forsyth: Get anything for your collection recently? Kingsley: ::perking up::My dad just sent me a great simulation of a steam locomotive, when we get holodecks up and running it will be an excellent immersive workshop. Forsyth: Steam Locomotive, Those used to be my dad's favourite too. Kingsley: Maybe we should introduce them some day. The music picked up and Gwen thought she recognized a beat, even if she didn’t recognize the song itself. It was slower than several of it predecessors, almost danceable, and she took the opportunity set her food down and make the universal sign for “do you want to dance?” Alex: Sure, Although I’m a bit rusty. Getting up and following Kingsley to the dancefloor, A bit of her felt nervous but also a little bit curious by it. oO Now don't step on her foot.... Oo End. _____________________ Lieutenant.Jg Alex Forsyth Tactical Denali Station D239910AF1 Warrant Officer, 2C Gwen Kingsley Cyber Warfare Officer Lightning Aldabrans Written by Fleet Captain Oddas Aria Commanding Officer Denali Station E239305OA0

Gotta give some appreciation to Ensign Raimor for this sim. It's very well written and was nice to learn more about Raimor's relationship dynamics between people in his family through this.

Look, I'm not saying that the Artemis has the ABSOLUTE BEST PNPC in the entire damn fleet... But we SO do. @Jovenan's PNPC, a Trill Engineer with a habit of knocking in officer heads with a spanner and mentally badmouthing the bridge crew at every chance she gets, has taken us by storm, and many of us look forward to Jozial Renirs' appearances with absolute glee. Obviously, you all shouldn't be any different. (Also, if you want to maniacally cackle as you see 'The Hyperspanner Hitman' go ham on Osuna's skull during their first meeting, here you are.)

Founds this when stalking Artemis' IC List by puuuure coincidence. I really like the descriptions here and the way @Hiro Jones conveys his character's feelings and past experiences. Well done ❤️ Best. Shoreleave. Ever. Lieutenant JG Hiro Jones, MD PhD USS Artemis-A, Counselor E239510KD0 "Waste no more time arguing about what a good man should be. Be one." - Marcus Aurelius

I thought this was a cute post from a child's perspective! (Central Mining Office - Viamatellum, Central Tholus - Esh-o Colony)) Nephesh had brought the aliens to the real leader of the mining colony. The big boss was a relation—probably an uncle—he had lots of them—but Nephesh didn’t know him that well. But still, an Esh-o was always preferable to a Zet. Perhaps these new space invaders would be more friendly. Engish-go-ondesh: ::regarding Nephesh:: Who have you dragged into my office this time, nephew? ::looking at the Starfleet officers:: I'm afraid I can't help you all with jobs, I'm rather busy. Aphris seems to have sent a nebula monster to eat my mines. Corelli: Oh, actually we're here to stop the nebula monsters from eating your asteroid and destroying the colony. oO AH HA! Oo Nephesh knew that there had to be some sort of space monsters involved! Kel: ::picking his hat up off his head:: Hello there. Herrick: Nice to meet you, you are Engish-go-ondesh? oO The big cheese here? Oo Nephesh : ::enthusiastically:: He’s the BIGGEST cheese here! Nephesh didn’t understand what “cheese” was, but when it came to size, English-go-ondesh was quite large. Richards: Response Engish-go-ondesh: ::folding his arms and regarding the aliens:: My engineers have been trying to figure out something for days. We've even paid the Zet for consultation. ::sourly:: With nothing to show for it. Why should I believe you can help? Corelli: Starfleet engineers have a way of dealing with such things. By the way, who is this yelling Zet? Something about paying for parking? Engish-go-ondesh: He's simply the Zet handler for the area. We've outsourced some of the cleaning and maintenance activities to the Zet. He reports up the ladder to some higher up. If you ask me he has something stuck in his posterior. Kel: I could take a look at that for him. I'm a doctor. Nephesh: Don’t help the Zet. They don’t help anyone else unless they get money. Richards: Response Engish-go-ondesh: ::looking at Corelli and Herrick:: So engineers (beat) what is your plan? Corelli: Oh the plan! Yes, well we need you to split this asteroid in half. Kel: Obviously we'll need to make sure everyone is safe, but once we split your asteroid we can pull the safe end away from the nebula. Nephesh: “Split the asteroid!?” How would you do that? (beat, then excited) Do you have space lasers!? Richards: Response Engish-go-ondesh: I think you should have brought more doctors along. If you don't do it just right you could do as much damage as the nebula. Herrick: Your concern is valid sir. (beat) That’s why it would be helpful if you were able to share any data you have about the asteroid this colony sits on. Composition, density, how the tunnels are structured. The more precise you are, the better our chances would be. Corelli: Oh yes, see, we don't want to do it for you, we actually need your assistance. It's your mine. Nephesh was getting bored with the conversation. He hoped it would get back to space lasers soon. Maybe he should go see what Keve-ar was up to. Kel / Richards: Response Engish-go-ondesh: The asteroid is full of passages, several of which lead far from here and toward the nebula. We have explosives that would allow for a big bang. ::pausing:: How do you propose to move the colony once the separation has occurred. Assuming we're not all dead. Explosions and big bangs were cool. Nephesh started paying attention again. oO Wait, did he just say “all dead?” Oo Corelli: The 'Oumuamua The alien was making up more words again. Nephesh: What’s an ‘ooh-moo-moo?’ Richards: Response Uncle activated the holo-table. Nephesh loved the holo-table, sometimes he could look at cool spaceships. Unfortunately, Uncle just called up a display of the asteroid. The asteroid was boring and familiar. Maybe he’d take off. But then, they brought up explosions again and Nephesh decided to stick around. Engish-go-ondesh: We can place explosives anywhere in the mining network. There are several sites to choose from. Corelli: I see the problem. We can help you build a solution, but people don't like change. Nephesh: ::hopeful:: Are we going to blow the colony up to smithereens!? Nephesh’s favorite holo-story had an action hero (Captain Play-ent) who was always blowing things to smithereens. It was the best. Richards: Response Kel: ::looking at Engish:: Can I ask how many people are in this colony? More importantly, how many can you evacuate if necessary? Oh right. The people. It was probably a good idea to not blow up the Esh-o to smithereens… But maybe the Zet? Engish-go-ondesh: There are 9,287 souls here. I have transport for 2, maybe 3000. Corelli: That leaves 2,287. That's not going to work. We would need a larger ship. Nephesh: Do you know of a larger ship? The vessel that the aliens had come on seemed kinda small. And it was falling to pieces in the arboretum. But aliens in stories usually had a mother-ship. Richards: Response Kel: We should contact Oumuamua. We need them to come here to rescue these people in case our plan fails. Corelli: The York is down, and with heavy interference I'm not sure it would be powerful enough to reach the ship. Perhaps the colony has a transponder? The grown-ups were talking in worried tones again. It was making Nephesh nervous. Nephesh: I think I should go check-in with my parents. If the aliens were going to blow the place up, Nephesh wanted to be with his mom and dad. Richards / Engish-go-ondesh: Response Herrick: But that leaves a shortfall of 2,000 folks since the ‘Oumuamua can only carry about 4,000 evacuees. There isn’t enough room. Are there any other decently-sized crafts in the vicinity? Ships Nephesh knew. Unfortunately, there weren't many large local ships. Nephesh: ::sullenly:: No. The biggest ships that come through here are Zet carriers, but they’re not scheduled to stop by here again until next week. Kel / Richards / Engish-go-ondesh: Response Corelli: I don't think the Esh-o have large ships? The lights dimmed for a moment, as they had been all over the place recently. Herrick: Is that normal, or something new? Nephesh: It’s been happening a lot lately—more the last couple of days. Kel / Richards: Response Corelli: ::speaking in a lower tone:: =/\= Corelli calling! 'Oumuamua, come in please =/\= The alien with the more normal looking head was using some machine in the corner that Nephesh hadn’t seen used before. Maybe he was calling his mother ship. Kel / Richards / Herrick / Engish-go-ondesh: Response Corelli: You know, if there is a larger ship, that would help. Maybe the Zet have one? Doubt it... ::he pressed the transmit button again:: =/\= Corelli calling 'Oumuamua, come in 'Oumuamua =/\= It seemed everyone was now paying attention to the shiny-headed man talking into a machine, but the machine only played back static. Then, out of the static, a voice: Nilsen: =/\= This is the ‘Oumuamua. We read you =/\= The aliens seemed happy about that and continued their focus on the voice in the box. Corelli / Kel / Richards / Herrick / Engish-go-ondesh: Response Nephesh: Does that mean we’re not going to get blowed up? Corelli / Kel / Richards / Herrick / Engish-go-ondesh: Response That was not at all reassuring. Nephesh: I think I better go home now! Without listening to the reply, Nephesh darted out of the room. Corelli / Kel / Richards / Herrick / Engish-go-ondesh: Response [[end scene for Nephesh, for now]] -- Nephesh Esh-o Wetling Cor-el Ridge Colony O239910AP4

Love to see glimpses into the lives of fellow crew members, like this offering from @Kailar Tod. 🙂👍🏻 ((Personal Log - Starfleet Shuttle, Near Trillius Prime)) It has been a couple of days since the mission concluded, and I find myself on a shuttle headed for Trillius Prime, my home planet. The journey has been quiet, allowing me some time to reflect on the events of the recent mission. I am grateful for the successful outcome and for the camaraderie share with my fellow crewmates on the USS Eagle. As the shuttle glides through the stars, I can't help but think about the mysteries that have been haunting me. Chief among them is te disappearance of Joran, my former bondmate. It has been years since he vanished without a trace, leaving me with unanswered questions and a void in my heart. While I may be on a personal journey to meditate and train, a part of me knows tat I can never truly leave behind the search for him. I hope that in spending time on Trillius Prime, I may find some clarity and closure. The shuttle arrives on Trillius Prime, and I step out onto familiar soil. A sense of tranquility washes over me as I take in the serene surroundings. I am home. The journey to my isolated house is one I have taken countless times, yet it always feels like a new beginning. It is a place where I can strengthen my body and mind, where I can delve deep into the mysteries that have been eluding me for far too long. For now, I take comfort in knowing that I am on the right path. ((End Personal Log)) ((Kailar's House, Trillius Prime)) Nestled amid the serene beauty of Trillius Prime, Kailar's house stood as a testament to his desire for solitude and reflection. The quaint dwelling blended seamlessly with the natural surroundings, its architecture and design harmoniously integrated with the picturesque landscape. It was a place where the Trill found peace and solace, away from the bustling world of starships and intergalactic missions. As Kailar approached the house, he couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity and comfort wash over him. The tall trees swayed gently in the breeze, their leaves rustling softly like a soothing melody. He took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp, clean air, scented with the fragrance of the nearby flowers. Tod: It's good to be back. His steps were measured, deliberate, as he ascended the wooden steps leading to the front porch. The soft creaking of the wood beneath his feet added to the ambiance of the tranquil setting. Unlocking the door, Kailar stepped inside and was greeted by the warmth of his home. The interior was adorned with various artifacts and art pieces, each telling a story of its own. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with volumes of knowledge and wisdom, a testament to Kailar's thirst for understanding the mysteries of the universe. A large window overlooked a small garden, where Kailar had cultivated an assortment of colorful flowers and plants. Gardening had become one of his favorite pastimes, a way to connect with nature and find moments of serenity amidst the complexities of life. Moving further inside, he found his meditation room, a place of silence and tranquility. Here, he could escape the distractions of the outside world and delve deep into his thoughts, seeking answers and insights that often eluded him. As the sun began to set, casting a warm, golden hue over the landscape outside, Kailar found himself drawn to the small study in the house. It was here that he kept his personal logs, detailing his thoughts, emotions, and reflections on life's journey. Seated at the desk, he activated a holographic display and began to transcribe his recent experiences, including his contemplation of joining as a Trill. The idea had been growing in his mind, and he knew that becoming a joined Trill would be a profound and life-changing decision. Lost in thought, he took a moment to look at a holographic image of Joran. It showed a joyful moment they had shared during a trip. The memory was bittersweet, a reminder of the happiness they had once shared, and the uncertainty that had followed Joran's disappearance. Kailar's mind drifted back to the mysteries he sought to unravel—the truth about Joran's vanishing, the enigmatic circumstances surrounding it, and the lingering questions about his own purpose and identity. The journey to self-discovery was far from over, and he was determined to find the answers he sought. As the night fell, Kailar leaned back in his chair, gazing up at the stars through the large window. The vastness of the cosmos reminded him of the infinite possibilities that lay ahead. He knew that his journey was just beginning, and that his time on Trillius Prime was only a stepping stone in the grand tapestry of his life. Kailar closed his eyes, embracing the tranquility of the moment. The mysteries of the universe beckoned to him, and he was ready to embark on whatever path lay ahead, knowing that the pursuit of truth and understanding was a journey that would last a lifetime. NT / TBC ------ Ensign Kailar Tod Tactical Officer Denali Station D240006KT3

This sim by @Wil Ukinix is quite impressive - not only for its breadth and attention to detail, and its seamless blending of Prime and Mirror Universe lore from various Trek series, but also for the fact that it is a solo sim. Kudos for this awesome, engaging, and thrilling read!

Really enjoyed reading @Freck's Gallamite mercenary Captain. Possibly the first villain I've ever felt sorry for? 😅 Looking forward to him possibly popping up again somewhere down the line. 👀 (( Corridors, Mercenary Ship Proficiency )) Delmer was practically chuckling with glee as the doors to the escape bay were finally blasted open and he watched the disruptor rifles of his security team fire through the doorway. It was even more gratifying when they made ground, stepping through the doorway and into the bay specifically. He was in the middle of wishing for some Gramilian sand peas to snack on as he watched the streaks of orange and green rip across his display, when suddenly one of them that had climbed into the pod called out and then, the unthinkable began to happen! The last of them started to retreat into the pod. Delmer: What? They’re getting away, shoot them down! Ah, of course, shooting them down. There was more than one way of accomplishing that, which he’d alluded to in his threats to the Starfleet crew earlier. Time to put his money where his mouth was. With a quick movement, the Gallamite clicked the comms panel. Delmer: =/\= Bridge, this is Delmer. Are sensors good enough for a target lock? =/\= Kutel: =/\= Uhhhh…like…a weapons lock? =/\= He couldn’t help but sigh. He did not have time for this. Delmer: =/\= Yes, Kutel, a weapons lock. I’m not playing around anymore. =/\= He practically ground the words out around his clenched teeth. Kutel: =/\= Uh…I can shoot, sir, no problem there, but…what am I going to be shootin’ at? =/\= Delmer: =/\= In a few seconds, you’re going to— =/\= Suddenly, the whole ship lurched to the side, and Delmer was once again thrown to the ground. He had to blink a couple of times before awareness came back, but it was awareness of rushing wind that brought him back and with a surge of adrenaline. They had ANOTHER hull breach?! What the hell happened in there? He thrust himself to his feet, but before he could even check to see if his team was still alive, a flash of fur and his First Officer was clinging to the panel, punching in the emergency commands to seal the pod bay with a forcefield. Delmer: What do you think you’re doing? We have crew in there! M’Raak turned on him, and Delmer was shocked not at the rage in her eyes, but the sadness. M’Raak: Don’t you think I know that? This ship – Your­ ship – is falling apart at the seams! It was them or the whole lot of us! The Gallamite stumbled back in disbelief. There was no way he’d just sit idly by while those damnable officers murdered his crew and lived to tell the tale. He punched in comms to the bridge again. Delmer: =/\= Kutel, I swear, I better hear about pod debris in the next five seconds, or so help me… =/\= Kutel: =/\= Aye, sir, I figured out what you were askin’ fer. I got the pods. All of ‘em. =/\= All of them? He glanced at M’Raak, who had moved to stare through the shimmering field at whatever damage had been wrought to his ship. She looked back with just sadness now. At least they had vengeance. Kutel: =/\= There is…uh…one thing, though, sir. =/\= Delmer: =/\= What is it, Kutel?! =/\= Kutel: =/\= Now that the sensors are clearin’ up a bit, it does look like there might be some residual transporter activity around the pods? Is that— =/\= The communications were cut short once more, but rather than an explosion, it was just the Captain’s fist literally punching the button to end the call, denting the panel in the process. Delmer: That’s fine, I can…I can still track them. I can still lure them back with…wait… Where was the communicator? The entire foundation of this plan, it was in his pocket, he’d literally just been feeling it in his pocket and now it was gone?! That was it, he couldn’t take it anymore! Delmer: Damn you, Falt! I swear to the stars themselves, I’ll…I’ll…! He was so chocked for words he couldn’t even get the words out. He wanted to swear vengeance, he wanted to curse him, he wanted to…he wanted to scream and cry and get all of the raw emotion out, but he just…couldn’t. Instead, he sank to his knees in the middle of the corridor. Defeated. He was defeated. All of his plans, his machinations, all of it. All of it was for naught. And yet, as Caitian fingers gripped his shoulder, he was reminded that he wasn’t yet alone. She spoke gently, calmly. M’Raak: Come on, Captain. Delmer. We need to get this vessel spaceworthy and get out of this system before Starfleet finishes up and decides to come after us. Delmer: Does…does the cloak work still? M’Raak: I believe so. That would give us the time we need. The Gallamite nodded weakly. Delmer: Then we should activate cloak and effect repairs. M’Raak: Aye, sir. I’ll get our engineers right on that. You go back to your ready room and recover. He shook his head and climbed back to his feet. Delmer: No, no, I’m a member of the crew the same as all of you. I won’t let you have all the fun. M’Raak got a sad smile on her muzzle. M’Raak: Good. Besides, I know you. You’ve still got tricks up your sleeve, and it’ll be good to distract that big thinker of yours. The Gallamite rolled his eyes. She did know him well. And as they set off towards Engineering to hide their ship, he couldn’t help but think that yes, he did still have tricks up his sleeve, and this certainly wouldn’t be the last that Lieutenant Commander Falt, or the Eagle, for that matter, would see of him. NT/END for Delmer's reign of terror...for now ---------------------- MSNPC Delmer Mercenary Captain Written By Lieutenant Junior Grade Freck Science Officer Denali Station D239911F12

@Doz Finch has a gift for dialogue and is such a fantastic storyteller. I can't wait to read more! Fantastic work! 👏

Okay I just posted one quote from this sim in the general appreciations thing for @Kettick, but frankly, it doesn't do justice to the fact that this entire sim is a goldmine of funny things.

The tension, the yearning, the stifling of emotions. A brilliant sim from @Bryce Tagren-Quinn in what has been a fascinating story to read during this shore leave. Also kudos to @Tahna Meru too! I'm hanging on by a thread in every sim. 👏 Ensign Bryce Tagren-Quinn - Of Realities (google.com)

@Alora DeVeau is an excellent writer, this post being just one amazing example out of many, showing how descriptive writing can bring characters, scenes and emotions to life. Definitely a role model! ❤️ ------------ (( The Inkhawmna, Yansamin Anchorage, Outskirts of the Esh-O star system )) Despite being on duty, Peri was not in uniform. In accordance with Commander Etan’s order, she had elected to dress in simple, civilian clothing. A simple shirt with a high v-neck of a medium green was overlain by a laced overs shirt of dark green. Her slacks were of the same green hue. The very Bajoran style matched part of her heritage, but unknowingly punctuated the other part of her heritage. Her earring dangled as usual from her ear, and her hand reached up to check for the pendant which was now missing, in the care of the man who held her heart. Letting it fall, her fingers traced the lines of the brown satchel that hung from her shoulder. Dark eyes fell upon the Commander who had dressed just as casually. He looked every inch the wandering trader, and Tyber? Who would dare to try and hurt them with a man like him around? Peri silently admitted, he cut an impressive figure, and she found relief settling within her breast at the idea that he was with them. Arlill was, perhaps, the most conspicuous of them all, but only due to his own heritage which was quite evident. Even so, his clothes as casual as everyone else’s helped sell the idea that they were certainly not trained Starfleet Officers. Etan: No ranks from this point on. :: he said quietly, affecting the air of somebody talking casually. :: Given names only. :: he looked at Ensign Tyber, remembering a notation in the half-Klingon's personnel file. :: Apart from you. Tyber will do just fine. Tyber: Thank you. :: the Klingons voice rumbled in the lower octaves of hearing :: Arlill: My first name might be ill-advised as well, being so easily translated into a potential hazard? Katsim: Oh…yes, si…Iljor. So Peri she was and Peri she would be. She was not used to being called by her name when on duty, nor was she used to calling others in such an informal fashion. She made a mental note to be certain that she would not let her tongue slip, for by doing so, she could endanger their mission. Glancing over at Toxin, both eyebrows arched upward slightly, uncertain as to whether she should use his last or first name, but Etan himself continued on. Etan: Try not to get distracted. :: his eyes fell upon a slender young man carrying a steaming bag of something that smelled divine. As if to underscore the point, his stomach rumbled. : As difficult as that may be. Remember, we are 'on mission'. Poor Etan looked positively famished, and his stomach’s protest was loud enough just to be heard. Tyber must have had the same temptation, for he had already already approached a vendor and procured four skewers of meat. Turning, he lifted the skewers high as if he had achieved a great victory which, in a sense, he had. Tyber: What? I got enough for all of us Arlill: :: looking at the others :: I could eat. Peri accepted the bit of meat and inclined her head. Katsim: Thank you. She hadn’t expected anything, but offered a tentative smile to the mighty half Klingon before nibbling on his gift. Etan: We're looking for information. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't the place on this station supposed to be the bars? Tyber: :: quickly swallowing and pointing the empty skewer to a seedy looking building :: I think the bars are over there S....so if you want to buy us all a round Etan. Arlill: :: quietly to Tyber, in a low breath :: Smooth. It was smooth. All of them would have to watch themselves and make sure to prevent slip ups. Peri herself didn’t relish drinking, especially while on duty, but she’d sit and nurse a glass if need be. At least now there was something in her stomach. Katsim: Should we? Her eyes traversed upward to fall upon signs that indicated what was in which direction how to get there. Without hesitation, Etan made a choice and beckoned the rest of them. Etan: Come on. :: he said, jerking his head in the correct orientation. :: This way. Everyone followed diligently and without protest. Peri kept her head down in an effort to look as inconspicuous as possible. She wasn’t the only Bardassian in existice, and considering the closeness of the Celestial Temple to Bajor especially, and Cardassia in general, she doubted she was the only one in the quadrant to be seen. With the increase of traffic through the Temple’s portal, people like her wouldn’t necessarily be common, but also not unheard of. Still, the lifestyle she was meant to portray was an antithesis to her personality. For her, it was best to remain simply quiet and compliant, a diligent underling who answered readily to her leadership. Her nose wrinkled as certain scents wafted her way. The pleasantries of food, the sizzling tang of meats, sharp slice of spice accompanied with the sweeter aroma of pastries and confections mingled with the rolling sourness of bodies that hadn’t elected to clean themselves in who knows how long. Her eyes darted upward, taking note of her surroundings, the mass of bodies that flowed like a river two and frow. People jostled each other without apology, a few grunts, and occasionally a shout or a growl before moving on their way. Meanwhile, the cacophony roared unceasingly between the voices of humanoids and non humanoids alike. Should they get separated, they would be hard pressed to find each other without using their hidden communicators, and doing so could still risk detection. Peri’s thoughts continued to run until she heard Tyber casually address Etan, his voice low so only his companions immediately surrounding him could hear. Tyber: Etan. don't look now but we are being followed. Peri wanted to glance back, but refrained from doing so, for that would surely tip the tail to its detection. She noticed Toxin take a glance in a window, but she was in a bad position to catch a glimpse of anything, so simply continued on and remained close to her companions. Under the cover of their bodies clustered fairly close together, Arlilly pulled out a tricorder, then tapped his badge which he must have squirrelled away in one of his pockets. Arlill: And don't look now, but we're also being watched from above. :: casually pointing his eyes down towards the tricorder :: Peri only offered the briefest of glances toward the device, for she didn’t want to draw attention to it, but it was enough for her to see exactly what Toxin did. Katsin: This isn’t good. Tyber / Etan: responses. She could hear him take a slow, deep breath and let it out in a controlled manner, as if trying to prevent himself from doing something impulsively. Arlill: I might be able to disable it remotely, but they'd know we knew. Katsim: I…I don’t think that would be a good idea. From her pouch, a soft chirp could be heard and Peri patted it once, as if to reassure the occupant that everything was all right. While she had managed to train Echo to remain behind on the ship, a feat in of itself, and one only possible if the creature was not actually *alone* but with another trusted person, Peri had elected to bring her along. Echo had proven useful in subtle ways. Although their connection was empathic only, the creature was sensitive enough to understand certain things simply by Peri using those emotions. There was not another peep and the dragonet settled down. Arlill/Etan/Tyber: responses. Katsim: It might be better to continue going as we are. We’d draw more suspicions by acting like we know we’re being watched. And the observation may simply be because we have not been seen before. While it was impossible for even a group of people to keep an eye on the incoming and outgoing visitors to a hub, a computer program with facial recognition software could compile a database and run a continuous watch. If the hub was equipped Arlill/Etan/Tyber: responses. Katsim: From what I have read of the Esh-o, some of their main exports are various metals used in shipbuilding, certain types of cheese…um…various agricultural crops, and a line of liquors they are particularly known for and are quite popular. Nervousness crept up, but Peri managed to keep her voice steady. Her eyes darted from one companion to another before she tried to settle them ahead of her and ignore the tingle that ran up her spine with the knowledge that someone tailed them. Katsim: Si…so…Iljor you mentioned a bar? She motioned ahead where a couple of different establishments offered to quench the thirst of any weary traveller. She had no doubt more lay beyond, sprinkled throughout the hub. It was not the sort of place she wanted to go, but maybe it was the sort of place where they could get some information. Arlill/Etan/Tyber: responses. -- Lt. Katsim Peri Chief Science Officer USS 'Oumuamua M239008AD0

@Vitor S. Silveira is perhaps better known for a bit of humour, but he can write truly heart-breaking stories as well. This was an amazingly and painfully realistic sim; technology and species might be new, but the story, the story never ceases to be relevant. Absolutely great work! Original: Weights on the soul.

Since we’ve been on shore leave, @Vylaa has graced us with many sims where we get a glimpse of the Andorian life and their extended/complicated family life. Like the three-parter where Vylaa met her partners. This one is just another amazing sim with more of that and the usual humorous tone that Andrew always adds in his sims. ((Vylaa’s Rented House, Lortos City, Bajor)) The big house was quiet for once. Vylaa walked down the staircase and paused at the bottom, thinking. Her mates were out; it was still hours before they had planned to meet at a local lake for a family picnic. Vylaa and her sisters were taking the children early for a fun day. And her children were what had given the zhen pause. If the house was quiet, they must be up to something. She checked the large family room, and the kitchen just beyond. But no, she found no tiny blue people. She even looked inside the lower cabinets in the kitchen, and under the couches. She moved on to the houses small library, where her sisters were engrossed in some of the musty old books that lined the shelves. Sataa: ::Looking up.:: Are you ready to go? zh’Tisav: Yeah… Once I find the children. Where are they? They were down here playing. Thyssa: Oh, uh, they said something about the back garden. zh’Tisav: And you just let them go back there? You were supposed to be watching them. They could be doing anything! Sataa shared an awkward look with Thyssa. Sataa: Well… They kind of…. Snuck off. Vylaa grumbled a few words she wouldn’t want her children to hear as she turned and stormed out the back door. The back garden was, well, impressive, and it offered many hiding places for three small Andorians. The huge walled in space was packed with flora from all over Bajor, to the point where one could argue that they weren’t inside a large bustling city. The foliage of the trees even dampened the sounds from beyond the walls, allowing Vylaa to take a moment to listen, her antennae drifting in gentle arcs searching for the mildest chatter, the quietest giggle to tell her were to look. zh’Tisav: Hmmm… The giggling really wasn’t all that quiet. The trio of siblings had yet to learn how to hide effectively, they were simply terrible at the Terran game hide and seek. She turned her head to the right, the densest side of the garden. zh’Tisav: I hear you… Giggles erupted from a clump of ferns. zh’Tisav: Thought so. She made her way down a pebble-lined path, pretending she was looking for them. She even made a show of peeking behind flowerbeds and shrubs, all the while heading directly to the ferns. The zhen stopped beside the big green clump and looked about the garden one last time, all while the fronds of amazing Bajoran Giggling Fern waved gently in the breeze She reached out and pushed the fronds aside. zh’Tisav: Ah… ha? There, in a small open space between the ferns, were her children. Athyn and Sivaa were sitting opposite each other, their hands and clothes covered with a muddied mixture of fingerpaints. Between them stood their little brother, wearing nothing but about 8 hues of paint and a smile. zh’Tisav: Why did you paint your thi?! Sivaa: Um, amdanalnar? zh’Tisav: Try again. The paint’s supposed to be white. Athyn: ::To Siyaa.:: I told you! zh’Tisav: Again, why? Athyn: Becuse he likes it. zh’Tisav: He’s a toddler, he’d laugh if you rubbed dirt in his face. Don’t! She had seen the glint in her daughters’ eyes as tiny blue hands began edging toward the dirt, so much were they like she and her sisters when they’d been that age. Vylaa groaned with frustration. Any other time, she would not have cared. In fact, she probably would have encouraged it. But now the spanner was firmly lodged in the days plans, and made worse when Thyl ran forward and wrapped his arms firmly around her legs in the biggest hug he could give, leaving a child-sized smear of paint all over her clothes. zh’Tisav: ::sighs:: You knew we were going to the lake… You could have done it there, I would have let you go swimming to clean off! Now you’re trading the time you would have had there for the fun you had here. Thyl needs a bath, and all of us need clean clothes. She stepped back and held the ferns aside while pointing to the door. As they filed by, their feet leaving tiny paint prints on the ground, Athyn looked up to her zhavey and asked with a straight face… Athyn: Can we take our paints to the lake? zh’Tisav: Not now you can’t. Go tell your aunts they have to help you get cleaned up. They let you run wild, so they get to help with the clean up while I give Thyl a bath. They entered the cool darkness of the house, eyes blinking to adjust. There they found Vylaa’s sisters, whose own eyes were wide with shock as they drank in the carnage. The twins marched u to their aunts and stopped, arms held out with palms up, and gazed into their eyes. Athyn: Zhavey said… Sivaa: ...clean us up. Sataa and Thysaa each shrugged a shoulder, opposite shoulders, and took a paint smeared hand and lead the girls upstairs. Vylaa, meanwhile, herded Thyl to the bathroom, doing her best to keep him from touching any walls. He jumped straight into the tub as Vylaa peeled off her paint soaked garments before kneeling beside the tub. She turned the water to a comfortable temperature as she upended a bottle of baby soap over Thyl. zh’Tisav: Seriously, and we’re having another? Lt JG Vylaa zh'Tisav Engineering Officer USS Gorkon

Finally, I can send in a proper appreciation for @Alora DeVeau. Who I have admittedly kinda stalked the writing of for a while on Ops. But with her transfer over to Denali, I can now reasonably be someone who gives her the appreciation that she so readily deserves for her beautiful writing. This is beautiful. It's emotional. Outstanding. I'm so excited to have her on the Station with us.

As a newly appointed ensign, it falls to my senior officers to show me the ropes on the ship. And while everyone have been extremely kind and helpful, it must be super hard to both be welcoming and helpful and at the same time exemplify that a good Simmer isn't just good at simming their main character, but also create compelling and entertaining MSNPCs! @LuxaLorana has managed this on my very first mission, with her Suliban terrorist Nirra. Not only is she so amazingly chaotic and unscrupulous, but at the same time, she's managed to make her motivations easily followed and heartbreaking in their own right. A tragic (maybe end?) to a very entertaining villain, who really pulled their weight in making 'Drill' a first mission I'll remember for a long time ❤️

Another Mirror Universe classic, this time from @Rebecca Iko. There so many classic and funny lines and moments in this sim, I decided to post the whole thing. Let's see what happens when a hybrid Human-Klingon Sydneysider from the Prime Universe meets her 100% Klingon counterpart from the Mirror Universe... (along with a blonde Klingon from Hawaii!) (removed flashback at the start for brevity) ((Bridge, USS Independence-B – Kirilow System)) But there was a whole lot to get done before they got home. Bec had had her back to the viewscreen, hiding her face as she tinkered around on the console in front of her. She had needed something to keep her hands busy as the Betazoid Emperor spoke to them, announcing her custody of Richie and Polgonz and using them as leverage to get what she wanted. Bec wasn’t empathic, but she was empathetic, and she felt fear for those two beyond what she had ever felt for herself. Ukinix: ::Staring at screen:: Holy $@^#. Keehani: ::Ignoring Wil:: Madam Ambassador, this could be a trap. Are you certain you trust her? The conversation had steered to talking about the "Mother Eternal" rather than to her, so Bec turned to face the rest of the bridge crew again. Vataix: No, I don't trust her--certainly not completely. But she is holding two of our own and perhaps this summit of hers can buy us some time. Ukinix: Now that the cat’s out of the bag, we may not have much time. There are thousands of patrol ships out there, and long-range scans are telling us that thousands more are coming back. This ship is tough, but we don’t have that kind of defensive firepower. Bec nodded. Truths were truths. Carter: Response Keehani: Then we should attend the summit in good faith. And a prior meeting with… ::sigh:: *her* to discuss matters before the summit may be a proactive de-escalation tactic. ::To Rivi:: Bi-lateral relations of sorts, Madam Ambassador. Iovianus: Response Iko: The people here know nothing of diplomacy. ::looking to Keehani:: but you could teach them. Any: Response Vataix: All right, Keehani, you're coming with me of course. You too, Robin. Keehani: ::nervous swallow:: Yes, Madam Ambassador. Bec was probably going to check up with Wil’s cousin during shore leave. Hopper: Response Vataix: We'll be bringing the prisoner the Resistance caught, the version of Nathan Richards in this universe. I believe I can convince Dro to come with us to see to it that our Tri'lea is returned. I don't know if the same can be said though for the other Betazoids native here, including his actual daughter. Keehani: ::Quietly:: Ergh, they can *have* that Richards. Yes, they could. Take the Initiate away before Bec could lose control again. She was still trying to figure out exactly what it was that had made her tip when they had been on the planet. Perhaps it was a combination of everything that had happened over the last little while. Or perhaps it was that he'd called her "little one" and deserved several punches for that. She at least deserved to give Cara an explanation. Hopper: Response Ukinix: Abassador, we have to be careful. We can’t just hand over the other Tri’lea Polgonz if we know she’s going to get killed. Protocol Parallax says we’re to interfere at a minimum, but I think we’re past that point now. We can’t just stand by and let people die. Really, by simply stepping foot on a planet you interfere with whatever fate it's writing itself. And they'd done far more here than just show up… Carter: Response Wong: I haven’t seen many individuals from this universe. But it seems to be a rough one. There appears to be a survival of the fittest mentality. Definitely a lot more brutal. Iko: This place is merciless. It runs—it thrives on spilt blood, power and hate. "Rough" and "brutal" only begin to describe it. She had kept talking to try and avoid thinking of an answer to her question: oO Who have you met? Oo. There had been the mention of a Klingon ship nearby, and she… Bec didn’t want to know. Any: Response Vataix: Wil, John, I want you to head to the outpost for this summit between the Betazed imperials and the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance. Ukinix: ::nod:: Aye, Ambassador. Carter: Response Vataix: Bec, Ikaia, head with them. It can't hurt to have a couple of Klingons on our side as well. Bec nodded a terse nod. Their stay wasn't over yet, and the only way it would be is by following out these orders. Even if it meant continuing to be seen as a Klingon. Iko: Understood. She looked to Wong and gently placed her hand on his shoulder. Wong: …. Alright. I’ll help the best I can. Vataix: Ensigns Kiani and Esma, go with them as well to observe and assist in whatever way Commander Ukinix sees fit. That was the other thing. While they had been gone, several ensigns had arrived at Amity, roped in to rescue their fellow crewmembers that they hadn't met yet. Kiani: Response Esma: Yes, Madam Ambassador. Vataix: Cassian, I'm leaving you in charge here on the Independence. Iovianus: Aye, ma’am. Vataix: All of you remaining on the ship, it's your job to find us the best plan to get back to our universe. Have a plan ready when I get back. Iovianus: At your request. Moore/Blackwood: Response Reade: Understood, madam Ambassdor. Veers: Response Vataix: All right, let's get to it. As everyone scattered away, Bec turned to Wong. The man was like a brother to her, and the two were going to have to lean on each other if they were going to be able to do this. She tapped him on the shoulder a couple of times and rubbed his upper arm Iko: I'm here. Wong: Response? (Optional) ((Later - Bridge, IKS ngem qul – en route to Outpost Supremacy)) Out of all the Klingons anywhere to have possibly met, the universe had chosen to have a Klingon by the name of “Rebekah” as the commander of the Bird of Prey they were stationed on. It was as if it was messing with her personally at this point. Bec hung back, behind the others, not really caring about the hair that had fallen in her face. Right now she was kind of preferring it that way… Ukinix: Awesome ship, Warrior Iko. ::Turning to others:: Right, gang? Bec managed a small nod. Wong: Ah yeah… it’s ah really… ::He knocks on the side of one of the consoles gently:: rugged. Nalkaji raised her eyebrows to the rugged Klingon, wondering for the tiniest moment how good he was at poetry and ducking. What she had established about this "gang" was quite clear: these Terrans were different to ones she had met before. Most had been either loyal sheep scared out of their minds or fools plotting a weak, defective plan in the hope to see revenge through. But these Terrans… These Terrans carried themselves and their values in a different way, not motivated by blood but the connection between one another. Which was why they had come from their universe in the first place. And the Klingons that joined them held themselves similarly. Carter/Kiani/Esma: Response M-Iko: ::addressing them all, but eyeing Wong:: It is a pleasure to meet your true crew. Their leader took a bottle of something from his bag. Although these Terrans were nice, she still didn't give them the blind trust they asked for. At that moment, Ukinix pulled out something from the bag slung over his shoulder. It looked like a bottle of wine to Wong. He wondered why the Commander had brought that along. Ukinix: Hey, I don’t suppose you’d be up for a trade would you? ::lifting up wine bottle:: Good quality Earth wine, for a bottle of genuine blood wine? M-Iko: Earthen wine is just the juice from a common vine you incorrectly call alcohol. Pathetic, just like you. She took the bottle from Wil anyway. M-Iko: We should be close now. She pointed to a member of her bickering crew, who promptly showed the upcoming outpost on the viewscreen. Bec had guessed Outpost Supremacy would be a knock-off version of Amity, but the closer it got the more Amity felt like a knock-off version of this spiked powerhouse. Ukinix: ::Staring at screen, slightly awed, slightly perturbed:: Well this wasn’t on my mission bingo card. Wong: You know, I’m starting to think that Betazoids took a lot of their design cues from a cactus. Nalkaji shrugged. Carter/Kiani/Esma: Response Wong: Alright. What’s the ah… plan? M-Iko: We find the empress and crush her slowly. Ukinix/Carter/Kiani/Esma: Response Fine. Unusual Terran ideals be damned. M-Iko: Then we go along with the empress's plan and await her next attack as she drags the Alliance into a false sense of security. Wong: Truthfully, I hope it doesn’t come down to that. I’d rather not fight anyone. Nalkaji smiled at the man. He held the Terran's ways higher than she expected. Almost as if he were one of them. She couldn't put his face or ridges to a name that she knew, but there were many in the Alliance she didn't know the faces of. M-Iko: That's quite ambitious. Ukinix/Carter/Kiani/Esma: Response Wong: And ah what is the backup plan if that fails? M-Iko: Then today is a good day to die. Her crew cheered in honour. Ukinix/Carter/Kiani/Esma/Wong: Response Bec spoke up from behind the commotion. Iko: No, it's not. Nalkaji stepped forward and looked into the eyes of the one she had been told about. A version of herself softened and sweetened by both the universe she was from and her impure blood. So soft, the half-Klingon had been hiding. M-Iko: Why? Iko: Today is not a good day to die, otherwise I'd be letting my enemies win. Ukinix/Carter/Kiani/Esma/Wong: Response Nalkaji pulled back slightly, deterring the conversation from that topic and her counterpart's accurate words. M-Iko: What is your plan for this then? Ukinix/Carter/Kiani/Esma/Wong: Response Tag/TBC -- Lt. JG Rebecca Iko Security Officer Amity Outpost + Nalkaji Iko CO, IKS ngem qul Klingon-Cardassian Alliance A239810RI3

This JP is a continuation of an ongoing scene between DeVeau and Foster, and I really enjoyed how much context and history it gives, particularly about Wyn. What makes it particularly interesting is that most, if not all, of this actually occurred in sim within the past eight or so years, and I think it highlights not only the importance of realism but also of IC consequences for IC actions. It was a heavy read but I appreciate the effort that was put into it! Well done @Alora DeVeau and @Sal Taybrim

Amity is currently lucky to be participating in a Mirror Universe mission. Of course, there are mirror version of our characters there, including "Initiate Nathaniel Richards", a inquisitor and torturer for the Betazed Empire, and MU version of the loveable @Nathan Richards. This sim is a really alternate view of the Federation and Starfleet, from a dark madman who wants chaos. (Also credit to @Rebecca Iko for helping to make this scene so tense!) ((Sensor Hub, Resistance Camp)) Veers: Bec, could you put some muscle on this bolt, it seems to be seized. Richards turned again, reaching the end of his pacing path. Veers: Appreciated. M-Richards: Teamwork. How beautiful and quaint. Iko: ::To Cara:: I’ll be right back. The Klingon moved into Richards’ path, stopping him in his tracks. Iko: You wanna be helpful? She grabbed him by his shoulders, shoving him towards the console. He had to quickly adjust his footing to avoid falling directly into the equipment. M-Richards: ::Chuckling:: Oh, you know, I would but…::Holding up bound hands:: I’m a little tied up. Veers: Response Iko: I’m FINE! Richards turned back to look at the Klingon. The rage was apparent on her face. Veers: Response M-Richards: I do believe that one of our friendly escorts said it best. If you are fine, you are fine to keep going. ::Twirling a hand in the air:: Or something to that effect. Iko: ::To M-Richards:: Do you even expect me to be capable of helping? I’m a Klingon. Better: A Klingon-Human mutant, who can’t find a brain small enough to fit behind half-arsed forehead ridges. There it was. The break. A smile grew across the Interrogator’s face. Veers: Response M-Richards: ::Placing bound hands against his chest, sarcastically:: And how does that make you feel? Iko: And you, you are a coward who hides behind a stupid mask and shows up to join whatever group happens to be in power because that’s safer. Richards let his hands fall in front of him, his smile never fading. He knew they couldn’t see behind the mask and wanted them to believe she had just struck a nerve. M-Richards: You would think that, wouldn’t you. Richards slowly walked around the Klingon and back onto his pacing path. M-Richards: United Federation of Planets. Starfleet. Federation Diplomatic Corps. You all hide behind masks in your own universe. ::Turning to look back at Iko:: The Terran Empire had a fairly extensive database on your people. Before it was all destroyed with the fall. Iko: ::Raising eyebrows:: I’m sure they did. Veers: Response M-Richards: You call me a coward, but those who rely on Diplomacy are the cowards. Power is what matters. Negotiation is weakness. He continued to pace, watching the two as he did so. M-Richards: I don’t need this mask. It has become apparent with our little “Chat” here that all I need are words. Iko: I’m not a diplomat. ::beat:: If you don’t need the mask, take it off. Veers: Response Richards ignored the officers as he continued to pace. M-Richards: You hide behind the people who lead you. Their…protocols. Their morals. The Mother Eternal, as well as all others who have risen to power, have relied on pure tactics. Relentless and vicious assaults on those who came before them. Resistance Fighter: I said that’s enough. Iko: And what do you care? The Klingon’s anger seemed to be growing even further. It appeared that she was beginning to lose control. M-Richards: ::Gesturing towards the rebels:: These are cowards. Hiding. Plotting. Never actually taking action…::Chuckling:: No wonder they are so few. So weak. Richards twisted his wrists against the restraints as he had his back turned towards the others during his pacing. There was a faint *pop* as he slid one of his hands from his restraints, followed by another faint *pop* as he fixed what he had done to slip free. M-Richards: It’s no wonder the Betazoid Empire will strike them all down. There is a reason that the Mother…is Eternal. Iko: Just like how the Terran Empire was eternal. Veers: Response He turned around to face the others again, very obviously moving his hands behind his back so they could see he was no longer restrained. One of the rebels raised his rifle and leveled it at the Interrogator, making him laugh. M-Richards: Go ahead. ::Holding hands up:: Add fuel to the fire of this war. ::His tone suddenly dark:: I welcome it. Iko: Well– The Klingon suddenly reached out and grabbed onto the beak of his mask, pulling it downward against the mounting points that lined Richards’ face. While he was hunched forward from the sudden attack, a kick collided with his side that sent him stumbling somewhat. The sudden outburst was what Richards had been hoping for. Opening that door into the innermost depths of his target. He let out a cackling laugh as he stood up straight again. Resistance Fighter: ::Aiming rifle:: Stand down. Veers: Response M-Richards: Perhaps you should listen to them. Wouldn’t want you to go hurting yourself any further, little one. She paid the warnings no mind as she rushed forward again. Richards held his hands out in an attempt to stop the Klingon’s assault but she continued to duck his hands and landed a few small punches into Richards’ body before she slammed him up against a was and hold him there. M-Richards: Well, now you have me here. ::Tilting his head to peer at her through one of the eye holes of his mask:: What’s your next step? What is it that you want to do? Could you hurt a facsimile of one of your friends? Veers: Response She stood there, staring at Richards and weighing her options. He could see it in her eyes as she processed everything in front of her. M-Richards: ::Quietly:: Weakness… Veers: Response Two rifle shots rang out as the rebels finally decided to do something about the confrontation. The Klingon slumped to the ground in front of Richards as he felt a searing pain pass through his abdomen. The edges of his vision grew dark as he himself slumped to the ground and was overcome and slipped unconscious. TAGS/END ACT 2 **************************************************** Initiate Nathaniel Richards Betazoid Imperial Interrogator United House of Betazed A239905NR1

This is our first insight into the situation on the USS Aldrin as told from one of the crew, namely the Captain. It's an amazing piece of writing and I wanted to give a shout out to @Esa_Darkkdust for writing it so well. Great job! -------- ((Jefferies Tube Seven-Alpha, Deck Four, USS Aldrin)) The Jeffries tube echoed as Serena-Marie pulled the small make-shift sled behind her, the sound of metal scraping against metal had been a constant as she’d moved around the ship trying to make whatever repairs she could. The last ten days had been actual hell. Of the fifteen people she’d volunteered to come with her, only eight were left. Seven had succumbed to the madness of the Cloud and had lost their lives. One of them she’d ended herself. She called it self-preservation, but the moment still played out in her mind. Over, and over, and over, and over. She’d been on the bridge with one of the junior officers who worked as a helmsman on one of the late shifts. A good man. Solid worker. He’d managed to pilot the Aldrin far enough away from that station so that they could attempt repairs… Then that crazed Vulcan scientist had snuck their way in and murdered him. Plunged a sharpened piece of duranium into his back before he could react. Then they came for her… Their strength was enough to knock Serena-Marie to the ground, and the two of them subsequently engaged in a struggle. Through some… sheer dumb luck… she’d managed to grab a piece of debris that had fallen from the ceiling and cracked it against the side of the Vulcan’s head, who proceeded to fall down like a sack of lead on top of her. She thought she’d made the right decision, saving the ship and the majority of the crew. She had to assume they were safe. Her First Officer would take care of them… oO Right? Oo Now she was second guessing herself. Seven dead… That left herself, the Operations Chief, two Scientists and four Engineers. She didn’t even know if the others were alive. Internal sensors were temperamental at best, and communications were still down. She had left Lieutenant JG Tenaya and three other engineers down in Engineering behind a forcefield, but that was several hours ago. Hopefully they were still there. She and Ensign Bradshaw were on their way to the bridge. Lieutenant Moore had gone to the Science deck with the other scientist, from the Lighthouse, attempting to clear the gaseous soup that still infested the lower decks so that they could get to the shield emitters… She and Moore hadn’t exactly seen eye to eye over the last ten days. Deep down, she blamed him for the whole situation. From her point of view, if he had just listened to her and secured the research before they’d arrived at Outpost Ceti, then they wouldn’t be in this mess. At last, they reached the ladder. Wallace: Still alive back there, Bradshaw? Bradshaw: ::Breathlessly:: Yes… Captain. Wallace: Nearly there now, Ensign. Just four decks up and we’ll be on Deck One. We can take a break then. She turned at the last moment to see the Ensign nodding, before gathering up the small sled full of tools in one arm and pushing it up the ladder. ((Bridge, Deck One)) A few minutes of climbing later, and the pair emerged into a tube that led to the side of the bridge, just next to the Engineering station. In the distance, she thought she could hear voices? As they got closer, she was more and more sure of that. Unknown: Do we have a crew and body count yet? And any indication for the whereabouts of any crew who may not be accounted for? Body count? They must have found the body of the Helmsman… A few more voices chimed in, before the first voice spoke again. Unknown: Do the logs have anything to say on that? They were accessing the logs… Raiders? Pirates? Were they after the rest of the crew? Serena-Marie waved her hand at Bradshaw to stay back, as she pulled her phaser from her hip. She switched the SIMs beacon on her wrist on, but kept it pressed against her body while she slowly and quietly opened the hatch onto the bridge. When it was opened enough for her to poke the barrel of her phaser and the beacon through, she called out loudly. Wallace: Identify yourselves! She hoped that the darkness, coupled with the bright light from her beacon aimed at their eyes, would be enough to dazzle them slightly, giving her an advantage if they started shooting. Wallace: If you’re here to scavenge, I warn you: This phaser is set to kill! Away team: Responses Serena-Marie scoffed, audibly enough to show her disbelief to the intruders. Wallace: Oh yeah? Prove it! There’s no way Starfleet would send another ship out here to die! Away team: Responses PNPC Captain Serena-Marie Wallace, PhD USS Aldrin Simmed by: Lieutenant Commander Esa Kiax Chief Operations Officer USS Astraeus – NCC 70652 A239511ED0

As CO, Tony's sims are often focused on helping encourage other writers and facilitate teamwork. This scene of his character alone was a nice payoff to a slow burn around a number of things that had been hinted at before, an opportunity to delve into particular character issues, and an excellent climax-builder near the end of our first act.