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This is an incredible debut sim from our newest recruit, @Enzo Solari, who has joined us fresh from the Academy! — Personal log, stardate 240006.18. Dr Enzo Solari, Medical Officer, USS 'Oumuamua reporting. It has been a whirlwind since my arrival on the ‘Oumuamua from Starbase 118. I am excited to have graduated after a final training exercise on Starbase 118. Since my arrival, I have had just enough time to unpack my belongings in my small cabin before checking in with my superior officer Dr Vlen Kel. Unfortunately, I did not have enough time to meet with Dr Kel for more than a quick greeting before he rushed off on preparations for the mission to the E-Sho. Now, I am getting settled into one of the desks in Sickbay, minding the store while Dr Kel runs some errands. I hope to develop a good working relationship with him. ((Deck 7, Sickbay, USS 'Oumuamua)) Solari: Computer, end personal log. Dr Ensign Enzo Solari yawned. He stretched his legs under a pristine white polymer desk attached to the wall. No rest for the wicked, he thought to himself. The courier vessel to the 'Oumuamua followed a different clock that left him space lagged. It feels so nice to have a real sickbay job after so many years of training, he sighed to himself with tired satisfaction. He stared outside the office partition. The Sickbay sparkled with metallic surfaces and glowing state-of-the-art monitoring equipment. Rows of biobeds lined the circular wall as if waiting to welcome any patients. V'Airu: =/\= Bridge to Sickbay. =/\= Enzo started in surprise. He quickly reeled in his limbs and tapped his combadge. Solari: =/\= This is Doctor Solari. Go ahead, Bridge. =/\= V'Airu: =/\= Report to the bridge, please. I have some (beat) unusual symptoms to discuss. =/\= Solari: =/\= On my way. =/\= Enzo stood up and grabbed his plain gray standard issue Medical Kit and hurried out of Sickbay. Alrighty! First day on the job, he thought excitedly. ((Deck 1, Bridge, USS 'Oumuamua)) The turbolift doors whisked open to show the bridge abuzz with voices, computer beeps, and officers moving around. In the center, a viewscreen of swirling blue and gold colors caught his attention. That must be the micro-nebula everyone is talking about, he thought. He glanced away before he got dizzy. He shook his head and walked towards the dais where the Commodore sat with her other bridge officers. He heard the Commodore conversing with them as he stepped up. He suddenly felt his heartbeat pick up, feeling nervous. Solari: ::speaking quickly:: Dr Solari reporting, Commodore. What can I assist with? V’Airu: Response Solari: Please hold still, sir, as I run some quick scans. Enzo opened his gray medical kit case and removed a medical tricorder and scanner. He activated the tricorder and leaned over to wave the scanner slowly around V’Airu’s cranial region. He half-listened in on the conversation between the Commodore and the other officers he hadn’t formally met yet. Herrick: I’m not detecting anything internally; all green signals on my end. If we’re experiencing this here, do you think the away teams are also experiencing it? Katsim: My first assumption would be yes, however we have no empirical evidence to support that hypothesis. Enzo noticed some slightly elevated readings. These readings don’t seem out of the ordinary but who knows the effects of this space phenomena, he thought, nodding to himself. Solari: Sir, if I may, your scans show nothing particularly concerning aside from slightly elevated neural activity in your amygdala. This part of the brain is responsible for emotions. Have you experienced any abrupt shifts of mood? V’Airu: Response Katsim: The readings are not any clearer, but they do seem to spike with those waves. They get stronger, then fade. Enzo suddenly felt excitement and exuberance, flooding his mind, his eyes unfocused for a moment. Then it faded away. Whoa I haven’t felt like that since the day I received my medical school diploma, he thought to himself. Solari: Did anyone else feel that? ::voice cracking:: Herrick/V’Airu: Response Katsim: Commodore, it seems to be coming in steady intervals. Enzo ran to the various bridge officers waving his medical scanner like a wizard casting a spell on his subjects. Herrick/V’Airu: Response Lastly, Enzo awkwardly waved the scanner over his own brain. Solari: We all show signs of elevated neural activity in the amygdala. I would like to see everyone come to sickbay for scans when able, Commodore. Herrick/Katsim/V’Airu: Response --- Ensign Enzo Solari Medical Officer - USS 'Oumuamua Writer ID: O240006ES4

I absolutely loved this sim, @Doz Finch. The dialogue ("All I’ll say is that I’ll be sleeping with my eyes open from now on."), the descriptions, and present events and how they relate to the past. There is so much I adore about this and if I listed them all... I would just end up rewriting your entire piece here, haha. 👏 Nicely done!!

All I did was laugh from start to finish, reading this sim. Cain is so playfully and deliciously satirical, from the narration right through to the dialogue. Just brilliant 👏 Ens. Xandria Cain - The Enthusiastic Diplomat Special (google.com)

I really enjoyed this submission from our newest Ensign, @Josh Herrick. He perfectly captures that undeniable thrill of a first mission! -- (( Herrick’s Quarters, Deck 7, USS-‘Oumuamua )) Josh looked around his new home; it was certainly quieter than the bunk he had been in since boarding the ‘Oumuamua. He had inquired about his room assignment after he noticed that Ensigns Dahlquist and Tyber were assigned to quarters and had a more comfortable living space. It was at that time that the logistics officer realized that an error had been made, mixing him in with the enlisted crew when there were available quarters. Josh had moved in the previous night with what little belongings he had (a poster, a plasma extinguisher shaped magnet, and a few padds). He hadn’t yet seen his roommate, but he suspected that it wouldn’t be long before they bumped into each other. Overall, the young engineer didn’t care whether it was a small bed or a room to himself, but he had found it easier to sleep in the less-tight space. Herrick: (excitedly) oO I’m going to be on the bridge! Oo He did a final once over in the mirror, making sure he looked picture perfect. This would be the third time he’d meet the Commodore, and the first time he’d see the bridge in action; both equally exciting. In the Academy, Herrick had taken the initial command training courses and had been exposed to some bridge operations, but this would be his first real mission as a commissioned officer. He headed to the turbolift, and extra spring in his step and after stepping inside the pod, he called for the bridge. It was perhaps a bit too excitedly, but no one was around to judge the green ensign. After a few moments, the doors slid open to reveal the bridge. (( Bridge, Deck 1, USS 'Oumuamua )) Josh stepped across the threshold and took a moment to let it sink in. Just like his time in the arboretum, meeting Kammus, and seeing everyone at the awards ceremony, he wanted to burn this moment into his mind. He turned his head to each side scanning the room, and while doing so, realized that he wasn’t quite sure where he should be. Herrick: oO Do I ask someone? Oo At that moment, he noticed a lieutenant approaching him. Katsim: Response Herrick: Yes, I am. Ensign Josh Herrick, Engineering. Katsim: Response Herrick: It’s good to meet you, Lieutenant. It’s my first time on the ‘Oumuamua bridge, so bear with me. Katsim: Response The doors of the ready room slid apart and V’Airu stepped on the bridge. As she approached Herrick and Katsim, she invited them to take the co-chairs beside her and asked for the viewscreen to be activated. The blue-gold cloud was beautiful to Josh. The shifts of colour were almost hypnotic in a way; he felt more at ease as he continued to stare at the image. V'Airu: Before we turn to our sensors, which are likely to operate below peak capacity, let us consider. Have either of you seen a phenomenon like this before? Josh racked his brain; he hadn’t focused on interstellar space phenomena in the Academy. His studies had mostly focused on making sure that the ship’s internals worked as expected, something he would need to correct as time progressed. Katsim/V’Airu: Response The newbie was glad that Katsim had spoken first, it had taken some of the bridge jitters away. It appeared that commanding officer wanted more analysis, as she continued to prompt. V'Airu: What do you see? I don't expect a diagnosis, but let's use our own senses, limited though they may be, for a moment. What could this phenomenon be? Herrick: If we’re going on looks sir, forgetting the gold for a moment, it somewhat looks like a cerulean nebula? oO Was that the right name for it? Oo It was a shot in the dark, but Herrick wanted to contribute something to the conversation so that he’d be invited back to the bridge again in the future. He also hadn’t remembered a nebula to be so relaxing when he had seen them on his cadet cruise. It didn't seem very scientific but he didn't want to leave out anything that may be material. V’Airu / Katsim: Responses Herrick: And, to me at least, it seems to have a calming effect. V’Airu / Katsim: Responses Tags! and TBC! --- Ensign Josh Herrick Engineering Officer USS ‘Oumuamua O240005JH3 he/him/his (player/character)

Oh man, I just loved everything about this sim from @Freck. Funny, clever and imaginative. 👏🏻 (( Temple Grounds, Oslau III )) Freck: Wait a second...I'm picking up an anomalous lifesign. There’s someone on temple grounds who doesn’t belong here…and I don’t mean us. Oddas: More details, as in another species? Some other anomoly? Freck looked closer at the data coming in. Essentially, there was a mobile object – a person – that was so bathed in a mixture of tachyon and chroniton radiation that they were practically putting off the same readings as the Orb itself. Fairhug: Someone who survived the time jump like us? Freck: I think you’re right on the money, Commander…if I’m reading this right. Whoever it is, they’re saturated with chroni- A loud laugh, a clap, and some more quiet laughter made Freck and the others pause, ensuring they weren’t being listened upon. Oddas: ::narrowing her eyes:: Can you track it to its source? Freck: Yes, sir, as well as we can the Orb. They’re on the other side of the temple grounds from us. Fairhug: Surely whoever that is knows what the *orb* really is. It’s too much of a coincidence…and I’m willing to bet that’s our Xern. Freck: You’re right, it’s probably the Xern, but they might just be irradiated after carrying it back here. Well, okay, they are still mobile, unlike the people in the village, so the radiation doesn’t appear to have debilitated them, but I can’t get a read on their species, so I can’t tell if they’re native or not. Oddas: Response Fairhug: It does put a crimp in the plan ::he paused, stroking his beard again:: but does it *have* to be a Xern? If we can get our hands on any monk's robes, it should be enough to at least get us inside, right? Freck: Logically? I’m no Vulcan, but with a decent enough distraction, I don’t think anyone’s going to be looking at anyone in robes. The Xern robes would probably be safest, but…well… Freck shrugged. Risk yourself procuring a disguise or risk being detected while in disguse? This was a decision he didn’t have the experience to make. Oddas: Response Fairhug: Then I say we stick to the plan. Freck, you create a distraction, I’ll get the robes…somehow…while the Captain contacts Ton and Raimor. Agreed? Freck nodded. Standing up, he slipped the tricorder back into his pouch, but slipped his phaser into the box in its place. Oddas: Response Fairhug: Response Freck: Aye, sir. The Ferengi turned and broke away from the others, leaving the tent. Walking back in the direction they had arrived in, he pretended to scope out the merchant stalls that had been set up while they were planning, but in actuality, was looking past them. The temple grounds were surrounded by stone walls, so if they did set a fire here, even if it got out of hand, it should hopefully be kept within the complex and not spread to the village itself. Plus, the cleansing fountain would be a very convenient source of water, even if it had to be bucketed. After several minutes of looking at the merchants’ wares, he spotted something that looked promising. A small wooden shack in the corner of the complex. Smiling wordless greetings at the various monks and other members of the crowd, Freck meandered his way as discreetly as he could to the shack. Expressing fake exasperation, Freck set down his box and knelt down to fiddle with his shoes. He didn’t exactly have laces, but he figured having to mess with one’s footwear on occasion might be a universal issue. In actuality, he was using it as an excuse to check out the shack door. It swayed gently in the morning wind, kept shut by a simple latch. Thankfully, there didn’t appear to be any kind of lock. Looking around one last time to see if anyone was eyeing him in particular, Freck casually stood up, unlatched the door, and stepped inside with his box of goodies, shutting the door behind him. Immediately, Freck pulled out his tricorder, and scanned the area behind him through the door to see if anyone was following him. Then, he looked up and realized he should have probably checked to see if anyone was inside the shack before pulling out his futuristic technology. Thankfully, it was empty. Even better, it was filled with simple tools, for farming and cleaning. Things that could be replaced. Besides, if this temple was anything like his culture’s religious centers, they’d have more than enough money to replace a few tools. Still, he kicked himself for not checking, especially after already being in hot water for having to barter his comm badge away…which then reminded him that he didn’t have any means of calling for backup. If he was caught, or worse, there really wasn’t an easy way for him to call for help. Taking a moment to breathe, and calm his nerves, Freck took in the details of the shack. In terms of needing to start a fire, there wasn’t much working against him, thankfully. The shack had a dirt floor, but the entire building was old and dry. There was even some sort of lantern hung from a rope which ran the breadth of the ceiling, but he couldn’t just throw it to the floor and let it consume everything while he was still there. Even if he got out, he wouldn’t make it far before he was grabbed and accused (correctly) of arson. What he needed was a fuse. Something that didn’t start a fire immediately while he was still in the shack, giving him enough time to get away. Something like exactly what was in his box of souvenirs! There were plenty of necklaces and bracelets, made with stone and probably clay beads, but strung on flammable twine of some description. A plan suddenly formed in his mind, he set down his own box, and pulled a larger crate of some unknown supplies from one of the shack’s corners. Next, he grabbed one of the surprisingly numerous brooms lying against the wall, before setting it up on top of the crate so that the wooden handle was leaning against the rope holding up the lantern. After making sure the broom wouldn’t fall over, Freck reached into his box and pulled out two long necklaces, breaking them and letting their attachments scatter, before tying the strings together, which he then tied to the bottom of the broom. Finally, the rest of the brooms in the shack were placed so that their straw was directly under the lantern. He’d use his phaser to light the necklaces, which would burn slowly but steadily up to the broom, which would hopefully light up fairly quickly. The flames would lick up the broom handle, lighting the rope on fire, breaking, then allowing the lantern to fall and set the rest of the brooms on fire. The shack itself would likely follow. Satisfied with his plan, Freck took one final look around the shack, made sure his tricorder was secure in his pouch and his knick-knacks were packed away in their box. Finally, with no other reason to stall, Freck pulled out his phaser, and lit the fuse. TAG/TBC ---------------------- Lieutenant Junior Grade Freck Science Officer Denali Station D239911F12

((Private Quarters, Schtroumpf Residence, Vulcan)) The nice thing about being retired, Schtroumpf thought, is that there was no paperwork. Not that he resented important, if trivial, work, when necessary. But after decades of guiding his people through the minutiae of bureaucratic maneuverings that (eventually) resulted in the rebuilding of their society, it was nice to just… do nothing. And he could actually relax these days. He had left the Grand Papastaship in good hands—a former aide who had come into her own during the Great Pulsar Crisis. She was his own hand-picked successor (he had always had a special ability to pick good talent and good help was hard to find), but she had really blossomed in the years that marked the Great Reconstruction and, later, Federation membership. But as much as he loved his people, the former Grand Papasta felt that he had, well, outgrown them. A weird new religion had taken grip of the population and while Seccna Gpft was a decent enough individual (may they rest in peace) many of their zealotous acolytes were… less so. And they seemed to have an unhealthy obsession with cookware. Furthermore, the Gelf were not, by in-large, interested in exploring the grand beyond of space. Perhaps these younger generations, relatively speaking, were a little weary of it after the space-borne disaster of yesteryear. But Schtroumpf had felt the call. The call of the stars had been spurred by his first encounter with the aliens and then, later, by the process of joining the Federation. After his Papastaship he had joined the diplomatic corps for a spell and traveled to many distant planets, but even that was part of a former career now. In his retirement, he had taken up residence on Vulcan. He didn’t tell many people this, but he still held out hope that he would again meet the captain of that vessel who had first come to save his people. He stopped actively looking decades ago, after his loud inquiries into Starfleet records had earned him a visit from agents of a new group called “the Department of Temporal Investigation.” He gave up actively looking, but still discreetly, made inquiries here and there to friends. Which was how he got his latest tip. Parappa was still (or again) at the embassy on Earth and had just sent him a most intriguing communique. It was almost too good of a lead to be true. But at last there was a Comodore V’Airu that fit the profile of that woman he had met over a century ago (Earth time). Daring to hope again, he drafted a subspace message: To Commodore V’Airu of the Starship ‘Oumuamua, greetings. I am Schtroumpf, formerly Grand Papasta of Gelf. I have searched in vain for the first Vulcan captain whose crew were so instrumental in my people’s salvation, but have been disappointed for many years. The second Vulcan captain of the same ship was of no help in this matter. But if, through some accident of time or twist of fate you are she, I would very much like to convey my lasting gratitude again to you and your first officer Greaves for your role in giving us hope when there was little of it to be found. Because of your example, I pushed my people to join with the Federation. And while Gelf has not made as much of a contribution as I might have wished, I am proud that we are upstanding members of the galactic community. You may be interested to know that Gelf served as a place of refuge during the Dominion War While I doubt we saved as many lives as Starfleet did during the Great Pulsar Crisis, I am grateful that we were able to, in some small part, pay back the contribution and grace that was once so richly extended to us. I hope our people may yet again, prove as instrumental in saving others as we were saved. If possible, I would like to meet you again, in person. If you are who I think you may be, we have much to catch up on. I am retired now and have the luxury of time and space and would be happy to meet you in any location. I have retained my chef and would love to share again some mushroom tea and crumpets. Regards, Schtroumpf of Gelf With eager expectations, Schtroumpf programmed the address his former aide had found for him and hit “send.” [End Scene] -- Schtroumpf Former Grand Papasta of Gelf Vulcan O239910AP4

I have been, and always will be, a Lurys fan. Dammit @Nestira Aristren again you wrote a very powerful and relatable sim that really shook me.

Love the set up and the concept of "Humanoid Resources" come to investigate a little light workplace safety issue. (And this is right after a lot of the crew had to deal with DTI bureaucrats!). Nicely done @Etan Iljor!

((Shared Quarters, Deck 8, USS-’Oumuamua)) Herrick had finished pasting the poster against the top of his bunk. Since he had the bottom bunk, it would only be visible to him… unless someone decided to snoop inside it. His first couple days had been jam-packed. He took off his shirt and looked over his back in the mirror. Tracing the back of his spine was a dark red scar, which he assumed would turn white over time. He knew, without a doubt, that he would never forget his first day on the ‘Oumuamua for better or for worse. Turning the mirror off, he bent over and eased into his cot. Movements were getting easier but there were moments where he could tell his body still wanted him to take it easy. The awards ceremony was going to start shortly, but he had enough time to record a promised message. Herrick: Computer, begin recorded message to my sister and also store a copy as a personal log. Hey, Em. Hope you understand the delay, it wasn’t to build suspense. To say that my commissioned career is off to a great start would probably be the opposite theme to this letter. To give you a peek into how things are going, I may have accidentally put the waste reclamation services out of commission for the good part of a day on the lower half of the ship. I heard the turbolift queues were getting a bit out of hand as folks needed to… go. But aside from blowing up a conduit, landing in Sickbay, and a momento for my efforts, I will say the crew here is super approachable. The Commodore is more approachable than her title suggests, the engineering crew is light and easygoing, and my health is in good hands with the med team. The doctor suggested I speak with the local counsellor about my claustrophobia… At first, I tried to not-so-directly reject the idea. But, it’s been gnawing at me. When I used to get in compact spaces, that memory would come back in an instant. You know, the one where you think it’s going to end, the deck lights flashing in the window as the turbolift free falls and you’re not sure if it's going to stop in time or slam into the final deck. But now, when I close my eyes, all I see is that green plasma fire from the explosion I got caught in during maintenance in a Jefferies tube. So… if I decide to see her, I’ll let you know how it goes. I’ll try to keep my next letter brighter, but we always promised to be open with each other. I need to head out to this ceremony they're doing down on Earth, it will be good to mingle with the crew in a location where I have… limited opportunity to create an explosion. Lots of love sis, and may the gods be gracious with your path. They've had some humor on mine. Herrick: End message and send. With that, Josh pulled his dress uniform out. At that moment, he realized he wasn’t quite sure where his old uniform was. Not that he wanted the singed fabric, which likely had pieces of him still attached to it. He made a mental note to get a new duty uniform when he came back up and proceeded to get ready for the exciting event that awaited. --- Ensign Josh Herrick Engineering Officer USS ‘Oumuamua O240005JH3 he/him/his (player/character)

Really enjoyed this whole sim from @Alex Forsyth. Love the little touches of internal dialogue and insight into the nerves of sitting in the big chair! Not to mention the banter with @Alan Letts. 😉 ((Bridge, Deck 1, USS Eagle)) Forsyth: Eyes on the Road, Ensign. That broke him, after she had just stared longingly at a chair for a solid 15 seconds. He thought it was rich and very entertaining. Letts: Hah :: Sarcastically:: and miss THIS captivating image not a chance. :: He winked before rolling his eyes theatrically and shaking his head:: oO Let hope my family curse doesn't applied to acting captains.....Oo She let out a nervous sigh, Trying to get comfy and relax. oO Huh, I was expecting it to feel a lot nicer.... Oo Letts: Eyes on the Road... That poor chair probably needs counseling after being ogled like that. Forsyth: Letts, Please don't embarrass me. Letts: Sorry Ma'am. I will attempt to remain focused. She smiled, Proud that Letts could hold back the jokes. oO Maybe there hope for him yet?..Oo Letts: So is your Captain's pose more Janeway or Kirk? She ponders for a moment, Wondering if to humor him or focus on the task but her curiosity won out. Forsyth: Not sure, I was going for Rachel Garrett. Alex never really thought about her sitting pose, It wasn't something she was going to need at any point in her early career. She shifted slightly, Feeling bit awkward now but that feeling didn't last as a series of small alerts went off at Letts and tactical stations. Letts: Uhhh okay. Forsyth: What is it, Ensign? Before Letts could reply, Ensign Clara Halloway at tactical spoke up. Halloway: Ma'am, I'm getting a distress call. Forsyth: Clar-Ensign, Can you Identify it? Halloway just shrugs as she works, Alex turns back to Letts. Forsyth: Letts, Stand by to investigate. Letts: Aye Ma'am Alex didn't like this, She had hoped to just keep the ship here until the Commander returned but Ignoring a SoS was against protocol. Forsyth: Have you Identified it, Clara? She curses herself for not addressing her by her rank or last name, Being captain is hard. Halloway: Yes, It....It is one of ours. Forsyth: Another starfleet ship, We weren't informed of other ships in the area. She flipped through her memory, The closest ship was the USS Lockerbie and that was another sector away. Letts: Response Halloway: No, I mean it's one of ours as in it from the Eagle. Forsyth: You mean It from the away team? Letts: Response Forsyth: Hold on, Where is the signal coming from? Halloway: Somewhere in front of us, Where our friends are at. Letts: Response Forsyth: Agreed, We should inform the commander. ::Looking at the door.:: Do I knock or call him? Letts: Response Forsyth: Yeah, I'll call him ::Tapping her combadge and clearing her throat.:: =/\= Bridge to Commander Flat =/\= Falt: =/\= Response. =/\= Forsyth: =/\= We're picking up a distress call, It identifies as Starfleet. =/\= Any: =/\= Response. =/\= Forsyth: =/\= It saids it from the eagle but it was also coming from that ship. =/\= Any: =/\= Response. =/\= Forsyth: =/\= Should I plot a course or wait until we get a better picture? =/\= oO And let you take over....Oo Falt: =/\= Response. =/\= TAG/TBC _____________________ Lieutenant.Jg Alex Forsyth Tactical Denali Station D239910AF1

@Vylaa - absolutely loved this sim! Seeing her reconnect with family after the lovely adventure that was Skarbek, and the news!! I always enjoy how you bring Andorians to life in sim. Great work! 👏

A few days later than I had intended—but I loved this sim, Bryce. There is such a flow to the words that makes it so easy and fun to read. We go from moment to moment with Tagren-Quinn as he tackles with the differences between what is real, and what was a dream, identifying things in his environment, such as the cat that he hadn't even wanted, now an anchor to the real world. Ensign Bryce Tagren-Quinn - Anchored in Reality (google.com)

I found the following a delightful fleshing out of everyone's favorite Bolian/Tellarite hybrid's backstory. I appreciate that it's written well--it has tantalizing elements of potential intrigue but doesn't overdo it and just the right amount of technical details that remind me this is a Star Trek sim! Kudos.

This has been a really engrossing ongoing scene between these two characters and a wonderful read!

(( Clyia's Pleasure Spa, Risa )) The last several weeks were rough. First, he tried posing as a refugee when the Starfleet officers found him fast asleep coming down from his trip. When that didn't work, he posed as a refugee forced to join the pirates under threat of violence. Add in a few batted lashes, some sultry tones, and a wink or two, and they bought his story, at least well enough to not throw him right in the brig. It's so good to be this handsome, he reminded himself. After that, he wandered away from the refugees and sweet talked his way onto a ship. A few hops later, he found himself on Risa. And he had some latinum after all! That sweet widower on the last ship demanded to bestow Yeaban with gifts, and Yeaban was happy to oblige. And now, it was time to indulge. Risa is, of course, post-currency. But throwing around latinum didn't hurt. And he decided to splurge and have it with one big go. And here he was, wedged into a pile of more than willing Risans. Risans loved Yeaban and his looks, and Yeaban loved that about them. With the latinum, he sent out for any and all needs for the party: food, drink, towels, more drink, and ice packs. And they had continued to partake in all of them. In between an ice pack, a liter of water, and a back massage; Yeaban picked up a curious fruit from the table. It looked like a cherry, but with an extra lobe, with two spines sticking out the top. He sniffed it, and watched the Risans pop them into their mouths with glee. Yeaban shrugged and decided to give one a try. It was succulent! It was plump, and sweet, with just the right amount of tart. The texture was compelling, almost erotic. As he reclined in relaxation, he let out a loud sigh of satisfaction as he positioned the ice pack. Suddenly it felt like a singularity formed in the pit of his stomach, and his innards were going through spaghettification on the event horizon. His eyes bulged in fear, and the Risans immediately rushed toward him as the blackness overcame him, and the pain receded. A victim of his own indulgence: Risian orpino cherries are poisonous to Talaxians. He was so focused on throwing his latinum around that he insisted on the caterer sending the most luxurious foods "no matter what." —— MSNPC Yeaban Devastatingly handsome Pirate simmed by: Lt Commander Azura Ada Second Officer? Chief Science Officer? USS Constitution-B IDIC team member ASDB team member C239510LD0 (she/her, character) (she/they, writer)

((Kapitol City, Sannin VII)) There was a distinctly relaxed feel in Kapitol City once the news of the destruction of Terra Prime reached the city’s wary ears. Almost celebratory – almost. But Sannin VII was a bit too jaded to celebrate the defeat of another petty tyrant at the hands of Starfleet. At least openly. That wasn’t to say that mugs were not lifted to Terra Prime’s demise and the opening back up of the tradeways. That was good news for everyone on the planet and it was worth a drink at least. Nacien Rixx, too, was pleased. The drama of the Trinity Sector had played out, with a few highlights along the way. Not in the least was the crossed paths with the time travelers, which was perhaps the catalyst for many things. The brush with the chaotic tachyon energy opened his mind for a moment to the vast realm of possibilities. Futures that could be, would be and would never be. It made him think about the future once again, instead of wallowing in the ennui of a too-long life lived in exile from his people. A life that started to see the people around him like ants in a farm that he could shape and mold for his entertainment. Which was lonely. He had long since disassociated from any meaningful relationships and taken the backseat role of a puppet master. Never really backing one side or the other, merely moving pieces to see how things played out. Sure, with each move someone was hurt. That was the way of things. When something gained, something else lost. But with a future one started to think of personal paths. And a personal path required some sort of connection to others beyond the role of the chess master. It was a terrifying thought. To become connected to someone or something again. But, as in all the things he did – it was go big or go home. And on StarBase 118, he connected, briefly, to the minds of thousands of people. A distraction. A momentary hold. And then he released them and there was chaos. And he rode the wave. It was the most invigorating thing he could remember doing in the past fifty years. All those minds. All those fragile little possibilities and fears and delusions of grandeur. He had expected them to be dull and laughable, and yet they were so full of fire and brightness. And for the first time he realized that these tiny little transient things were not a tiny low pinprick of light that quietly burns out of sight and mind, but instead tiny little transient bonfires, each flaring with hopes and dreams before getting snuffed out by the march of time. It was mere coincidence that me met another exile of his own species soon afterwards. But it reinforced the decision to consider if he had a path for the future, and if so what that path was. And now he craved that presence. He wasn’t ready for a connection yet. But he enjoyed the presence of someone else like him. And so he had left a suggestion, buried in their conversations to come back. He hoped she had unraveled it consciously or unconsciously. And then there she was. He could sense her as she landed and drifted his way towards her. Rixx: ~Well, as the small folks say, fancy meeting you here.~ There was a quick of humor to the thoughts. Familiar thoughts and a familiar presence, even though his appearance had changed from a rugged, muscular human freighter pilot into something that felt more natural for him. A slender man with dark hair, clean shaven, unassuming. Rixx: I wonder, did you come here for a meeting? That sounded like a typical greeting on Sannin VII. Aristren: I will leave that open for your interpretation. Interpretations were vast and varied. There was a heaviness to her thoughts. Clearly what happened on Miranda VII was dangerous. Nacien Rixx had, for a long time, not given much thought to danger. Because he hadn’t given any thought to the future. He had an exceedingly long life, doomed to spend it all cut off from his homeworld and everything he desired. So each new day was just another mark in the endless slog of time. But now that he was starting to think about the future, the concept of danger became more tangible. Rixx: That is always a dangerous prospect. Never let someone else define your actions for you. His dark eyes twinkled a little. Aristren: Perhaps these are my investigative skills. Perhaps it is fate. I am certain it is not the former, so it must be the latter. Fate. A concept Rixx had put very little stock into in the last few hundred years. He believed that his own hand could control worlds – and if applied right it could. But that was a rather selfish point of view that did not take in any sort of wider scope. There were always things that happened outside of one’s machinations or control. Rixx: Perhaps it is a bit of both. Aristren: ? He looked around the busy square – he was sure she could sense the relaxation of the general population. The almost but not quite celebratory nature of the day, the genial feelings resting under the placid pink sky. Rixx: It is hot, you look parched. Perhaps you will join me for a beverage? Or perhaps to go somewhere quieter. With fewer eyes. Aristren: ? Rixx: I do know a place. He started through the crowds, past the embassy district and into the commercial center that was adjacent to the embassies. It was filled with nice, quiet establishments that catered to diplomats and business people. Places where private conversations were the norm. Arsitren: ? Rixx: One of the perks of an independent trade town is that everyone wants to do business in a quiet secluded place. And the businesses want to cater to that, because latinum makes the world turn. Aristren: ? He gestured to a side street and filled in the details telepathically. There was a place that catered to sweets and teas, a place that catered to fine cocktails, a place that catered to bracing breakfast beverages and savory cakes, and a place that was eclectic and just catered to people who wanted an interesting place to be left alone. All of them had private conversation spaces. Rixx: Take your pick. Aristren: ? ~*~ tags/tbc ~*~ pNPC Nacien Alasafor Rixx Rodulan Puppeteer Unaligned

I enjoy writing Liz, but I absolutely adore reading Sill-con in this constellation. This sim is exactly my kind of humour and adds an amazing nuance to a very duty-focussed character. Well done! ❤️

We've had some amazing sims written at the end of our mission. @Doz Finch you already had me with the suspense of who the stranger was but honestly those pyjamas..., imagine the looks Doz will receive when wandering outside her quarters like that. 😁 ((Niu Hotel, Borrel District, Witherington Indre III)) The three of them—Finch, Lark and Seva—had awkwardly began an escape route through the vents of the Niu Hotel, as the communications centre succumbed to fiery oblivion behind them, the guards that had entered it now undoubtedly a melting pot of flesh, metal and incomprehension. Incomprehension for a situation that they had likely believed impossible. That somehow, through some unexpected twist of fate, their deaths had been sealed by three women whose appearance did not resemble anything like that they were taught to worship; grandeur in height, in muscle. Wide shoulders, and even wider necks, painted by mother nature with solid strokes of greyish-white, clad in armour. Instead they had been masterfully hoodwinked by two women and their old grandmother, and left behind to simmer and stew, like a crucible of etiolated losers. Tahna: Just…crawl faster. Finch: Don't you think I am!? ::she barked:: They moved as would a caterpillar, the differing sections of its long body undulating with each movement, connected by a common purpose, to keep on going until the head had reached its target location. In this case, Lark was their head, blocking the view in front, as if she could see much at all anyway through the thickening smoke that threatened to fill and turn their lungs to bags of ash. Then, as they turned a corner, a familiar cold wetness greeted them. It was the end of the vents; Seva: Kick the vent open, Tahna! Now! The woman tried with all her might to do it, but like a mole in foreign tunnels, their “hill” simply would not budge. The idea of this being the way she died sat inside her throat, like a clump of hair, difficult to swallow, teasing at the inner lining of her esophagus. Of all the ways to go out, it had to be through suffocation inside a vent, didn't it? after everything they had gone through. Finch: Use your hands, Lark, ::she choked:: unscrew the— ::coughing:: Moments later, it was opened, and the three of them climbed out of there, the icy breath of the storm reaching down into her throat like an angel sent from heaven, and with a heave, dislodging that which had caused her to nearly suffocate. She tumbled forwards, her eyes bloodshot, everything blurry, her muscles squeezing themselves desperate to inhale the oxygen that her mouth now syphoned with vigour. She could feel Lark beside her also spinning in her own typhoon of pain, the sounds of her feet splashing tempestuously against the floor of the rooftop. Or was it Seva's footsteps? She couldn't make it out in the frenzy. In that moment they had no organised movement, no clarity, just sharp inhales and exhales, as the hammering rain that they had grown to detest fed them with everything that the hotel had tried to steal. Forgiving them for their bitterness towards its plight, bearing no resentment, no judgement, just simply doing what it had been artificially forced to do. And what an irony it was that in her emergence onto that rooftop, away from the fiery pits of the Niu Hotel, she would come to finally appreciate the rain for what good it could do. Tahna: Clear. Let’s get out of here. Finch: Get in the shuttle— As her senses regained themselves, she pointed with a croak to the shuttle that had marvellously gone untouched, ready for them to climb into and soar off, just as she had pictured she would. Only now the picture had two more people in it, who despite her best intentions, she now felt a great deal of care for. But then a figure appeared on her periphery, clad in black, face cold but eyes malefic… his appearance marked by the shooting of his phaser, that soared past Seva’s body and missed her own by a few inches. Seva: Time to go! ::Shouted as she ducks under a phaser blast:: Finch: Get inside! As the other two disappeared behind her, she stopped, her stature small, and her posture weakened by her knees, but her spirit fighting with defiance to be just the opposite. Her beady eyes, the shape of almonds, and the colour of cedar, squinted hard together to get a clearer look at him. He wasn’t firing at her, despite her stillness, yet watched her from his position, the rain crashing hard against the lapels of his coat, and a breeze flicking at its tails. Finch: Who… who is that? Her heart banged violently at the inner walls of her ribs, as if wishing to leave and never come back, made uncomfortable by the space taken up by her heaving lungs, that pulled more air inside of them than they could really hold. Her legs started to tremble first, and then her arms down through to her hands, followed so very quickly by her jaw, clattering the tombstones within them. Everything inside of her screamed, from the tiniest cells to the goosebumps that lifted the pinprick hairs of her skin, along which droplets of rain swerved like miniature racers. Everything except her mouth—whether stubbornness, or shock, or exhaustion, or all of it mixed into one, no scream left her body. And yet everything in her told her she should. Finch: Touch that shuttle and condemn those women and I will kill you— The figure: Oh, Doz. Is that how you greet an old friend? She stumbled. As if she had been putting all of her weight in her tiptoes. A breath fell out of her mouth, its release accompanied by a short sound, like a punctured tire. All of the colour drained from her face, its bumpy surface now a cordillera of distempered white. The voice from the figure in front of her pierced her soul like a rose, its tone tender like its petals, but its arrival sharp like its thorny stem. The only voice in the universe that could turn her own upside down in an instant. But it couldn’t have been… not there. Not now... when she had just started to find purpose again. Finch: No… no it can’t be… She whipped her head around to the shuttle, and through the misty, swirling air, the image of it began to stutter, with harsh thumps. Her breath catching on something, her body now difficult to move, and her clarity tapering away. Like being punched in the face, each head movement felt like a jolt, the vision in front of her snapping between moments like a video tape out of sync, three seconds forwards, three seconds backwards, repeating the man's words back to her. Doz...Old friend... His face flashing before her, zipping forwards and backwards with each blink, revealing more and more of it with each static welt, until she was sure of it. The eyes a shade of stone blue, the hair a wispy cotton. It was him. Finch: M…Mu… Her eyes filled with water, the vision before her zipping in and out of sequence, and then… ((Personal Quarters, USS Gorkon)) …Ensign Doz Finch woke up with a sharp gasp, body flung upwards with a start. Finch: Murphy. She swallowed, her mouth as dry as sandpaper, her lips chapped and split in places. Her hand instinctively reached for her throat, feeling its tough exterior, hard as if it was full of sediments of rock. A bit of sweat dripped down off of her chin and landed on her slightly leathery hand, slowly returning to her that sense of reality, while still stirring within her a bit of disorientation about whether or not she was still on that rooftop, fresh from the sweltering vents that nearly took her life. Finch: Computer ::she said through a gravelly voice:: What time is it, love? The computer’s familiar and factual voice gave her the time, as the lights in her quarters began to slowly increase the visibility of everything around her. Her pyjamas, thick and soft and with the pattern of hundreds of ducks on them, were saturated through to the skin, which explained the dryness of her mouth. She heaved herself to the side, legs dangling below her, and waited just a moment before stepping down and into her slippers. With small and awkward movements, she found her way into her bathroom, eyes squinting, and leaned in to get a look at herself, instantly recoiling at the sight. Her hair wasn’t long, but short and strewn, as if she had been mercilessly beat up through the night. Her eyes were also wet, as if tears had filled them, or sweat. Smacking her dry lips together for a moment, the realisation began to dawn on her that she had been dreaming… and that it wasn’t just any old dream, but a bloody nightmare of epic proportions. Faces and names drifted in her mind like swirls of dust. The girl, Lark… no, Tahna…And Seva… and Mister…Imul? Doz stared at herself in the mirror… in disbelief. Finch: Computer…what date is it? When the computer returned the information, all Doz could do was stand there in shock, looking around at the objects in the bathroom, glancing up at her face in the mirror again, her hands now clasped over half of it. Finch: Computer, love…is this real? Am I alive? Computer: Please restate question. A relieved smile lifted the corners of her mouth, bringing with it a small chortle, and a shake of her head. Finch: Oh, I’m definitely alive. Suppose I should get ready and find out what’s gone on here… but first things first…I need a bloody good cup of tea. fin -- Doz "Gramma" Finch Associate Skarbek Fixer The Maquis & Ensign Doz Finch Engineering Officer USS Gorkon

How @Vylaa let us go through a train of emotions with her latest sim is amazing. ((Stolen Hideki Ship, Indre III High Orbit)) It was all over. The Cardassian ships had been thoroughly smacked down, ripped to shreds by their own exploding ships. For the first time, the Bridge of the stolen Spoon ship was still. Quinn huffed a breath and leaned back into the pilots seat. Vylaa’s sharp eye caught a ghost of a wince pass across the humans face. The pain from her leg must be terrible, and a tiny whiff of necrosis reached her nose and antennae. She stepped back over to the Engineering station as Quinn turned to look at the Vulcan and Andorian. Reynolds: I’ll call that a win. ::She smiled faintly.:: Let’s hope the rest of our lot can say the same about their corner of the liberation. zh’Tisav: I’m restoring full life support to the rest of the ship. Then, I’m going to find the transporter room and beam these dead bodies into space before they really stink up the place. Then I’m going to see if this crate has a med bay. ::She turned to Quinn.:: And see if they have any good painkillers and antibiotics onboard. The zhen turned and walked toward the door they had so recently burst through with guns blazing. Her bruised tuchus made her limp a bit, but she kept her back straight. There would be time to rest and release all of the stress of this mission later, with the aid of lots of alcohol. She raised a hand to wave to the other two. zh’Tisav: ::She raised her hand.:: Failing finding a med bay, I’ll be in the cargo bay having a smoke. T’Lar waved back at her, and… smiled. Vylaa’s eyebrows nearly reached her hairline. Something felt… wrong. Reynolds: ::Quietly,:: There isn’t a med bay. There’s no room for it with all the modifications they did. T'Lar: Where is the music coming from? Vylaa stopped at the door. The most nagging feeling tugged at her gut, like a heavy weight had been dropped into it. Had T’Lar really just said that? And that smile… The only time she’d smiled was when she’d had the concussion, and was ogling Caeden like an animal in heat. Reynolds: ::Quieter still.:: There’s no music. zh’Tisav: T’Lar? Then the strangest thing happened. The Vulcan began to sing. Vylaa shared a glance with Quinn, who pushed herself up. The zhen approached T’Lar cautiously, not wanting to get too close lest she make the wrong move. T'Lar: Street lights... People oh oh ahhhhhhhh... zh’Tisav: Hey, T’Lar. Tell us what’s wrong. Now that she was closer, she could see a dab of green under the Vulcan’s nose. The nagging feeling turned into a vice grip on her soul. T'Lar: Don't— And then, she just dropped. Like a scarf dropped onto the floor, the Vulcan crumpled up into a pile. A very still pile. Too still. The zhen dropped to the floor at almost the same time as Quinn and knelt across from her, T’Lar lying still between them. While the human fished out a tricorder and started a scan, the Andorian grabbed T’Lar’s hand and squeezed, hard. Hard enough to draw a response. But there was none. Reynolds: She’s dead. ::She shook her head.:: Looks like a massive brain bleed. Vylaa couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It couldn’t be true. They had been through too much together, and now, at the very end? They had won. Winners weren’t supposed to die... zh’Tisav: How the hell did that happen?! She was fine! Reynolds: The doctors cleared her back at the clinic, so it must have happened some time after we left. ::She sighed, message sent, and put away the PADD.:: I don’t know. Could have been anything. We’ve had explosions, firefights, space combat... The Andorian waited. That wasn’t a good enough explanation for her. It was half-a**ed at best. They’d all been through the same hell. There was no reason why a Vulcan, even an injured one, would have succumbed and they didn’t. Reynolds: My guess is whatever the Romulans did to her brain made it particularly susceptible to injury. Or—::she frowned, darkly:: —or they’d built in a kill switch. zh’Tisav: What the **** are you talking about? Reynolds: She was a spy for the Romulans, Vylaa. ::Quinn looked up at the Andorian.:: Valesha had reason to be suspicious, and then... well. There were so many things which pointed to it. The V'Kor are police officers on a planet free of violent crime. The V’Shar is Vulcan intelligence, but they’re primarily analysts, and they prefer to leave fieldwork to Starfleet. ::Her gaze fell back onto the fallen woman.:: Her skills didn’t match her background. Parts of her story kept changing. Vylaa couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Had Quinn hit her head? A Romulan spy, here? Vylaa was about to tell the human exactly what she thought of the idea, when she continued. Reynolds: And I’m a touch telepath. I picked up some... things when I was dragging her around in the council building. Suppressed memories, where her handlers talked about a constructed personality to hide the spy, and why she was being sent to the Maquis. That mistake with the shields; my guess is the Vulcan and the Romulan were getting mixed up in her head, and she briefly confused shields with cloaks. Vylaa frowned, tears beginning to drift down her face, a feeling of betrayal creeping across her soul. Not just at T’Lar, or whatever her real name was. Someone she had, reluctantly, begun to consider a friend. But Quinn as well. She hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her that she was working side by side with a potentially dangerous individual. Hell, she’d even been alone with her a couple of times, she could have been killed. She suddenly no longer regretted the words she’d said back in the tunnel. zh’Tisav: Gee, thanks for letting me know… She sat back and scooted away, away from living and dead. Reynolds: She has a daughter. They’re grooming her to infiltrate Starfleet. ::Quinn heaved out a deep sigh.:: I’ve still got some contacts there. I’ll reach out to them, make sure she doesn’t suffer the same fate as her mother. If T'Lar was ever real, I imagine she'd want that more than anything else. zh’Tisav: I suppose… And when we get back, I think I need to take a break. I don’t like being lied to, and I like being kept in the dark even less. I need to figure out where I belong. She stood, and dug the crumpled cigarette pack out of her pocket. Her last smoke in the pack was slightly bowed, but still intact. She lit it as she made for the bridge door, not caring who the smoke bothered. zh’Tisav: Don’t follow me. Reynolds: We should— ((Vylaa’s Quarters, USS Gorkon)) Vylaa’s eyes snapped open. Cobalt irises darted about, trying to sus out her surroundings in the dark. She was in her bed, the air of her quarters refreshing and cool, not the stifling heat of a Cardassian bridge. Cardassian bridge…? The blanket slid off her bare shoulder as she bolted upright, her bare feet landing on soft carpet, not booted feet on hard deck plates. zh’Tisav: oO Was that a dream? Oo It had felt so real. She rose, confusion ruling her mind, and cast a foot about the floor to find where she’d dropped her robe when going to bed. Upon finding it, she slid into it, and shivered when the soft fabric touched her bare neck. Hadn’t her hair just been long? She wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t. Was this the dream? She shuffled across the floor, trying to remember more of the dream. She seemed to remember a tunnel, and being terrified to be underground. She’d never felt that way before… The deep dark had always been a friend. She stopped at the bathroom door and turned on the light. She stared at her face in the mirror. zh’Tisav: oO Has my hair always been this short? Oo And black. She could have sworn it had just been her natural white, and much longer, down to her shoulder blades. She leaned closer, trying to see beyond the edges of the mirrored glass, half expecting another version of herself to peek around the edge. The motion sent her shapla swinging out the open front of her robe. She reached for the lucite pendant, glanced at the four twisted hairs buried in the acrylic. She smiled at the soft warmth radiating from the material.. It was as if a knife suddenly cut through the confusion. Her mates were her anchor, the dream feeling less real now. And her… She spun and ran across the dark bedroom, to the front room, stopped at her sofa and grabbed at two photo frames on the end table. There they were, her mates. And in the other, her children. She sighed in relief, feeling guilty for not remembering them. And her sisters... She grabbed a third frame, one of the three of them together at her bonding ceremony. Sataa was alive. Alive and well on Andoria. Happy at her forge, turning Tharan blade steel into weapons. The tall Andorian collapsed into a chair, the relief washing over her like a wave, the pictures clutched close. It hadn’t been a dream. It had been a nightmare. Vylaa "Cable" zh'Tisav Computer Specialist Skarbek Simmed By Lt JG Vylaa zh'Tisav Engineering Officer USS Gorkon

This was a joy to read from @Alan Letts. Exemplary HCO (pilot) simming. 👏🏻 ((USS Eagle, Deck 1, Bridge)) Letts was furiously tapping away at the controls in front of him making micro adjustments by the second to keep the ship on the best path ahead. Watching the suggested path on the side of his console he brought the ship into a turn up and to starboard before tipping the ship forward into a port side spiral. The last quarter hour had been hell, —or heaven, depended on if you were a pilot or not— the tight turns and bends got his blood pumping. The quick movements and split second adjustments were the lifeblood of pilots and he was loving it. As he pulled out of the spiral he glanced to the display and saw a long open stretch ahead of them. Settling the ship on its course he practically melted back into his seat letting out a sigh of relief. His moment of relief ended not to soon when the XO called to him. Falt: How’s it going, Mister Letts? Letts spun his chair around with all the nonchalance he could manage grinning at the Commander. Letts: Smooth sailing sir, not a PADD out of place. ::now concerned:: Why is something wrong, :: grinning again:: did I hit a bump? Falt: You’re doing great. Just keep us at this distance and use the data their sending to plot the best course you can. The look the XO gave him was certainly not one he had seen before, not a glare but almost an eyeroll. Were he not flying he'd have been confused and terrified, but being at the helm piloting a starship, nothing could phase him. It was a feeling near universal to pilots, he revled in it. Letts: Aye Sir. Just keep sending me the good stuff. Letts saluted and kicked his chair back around just in time to BARELY not miss a maneuver. oO Oops Oo He recovered settling back into position to keep his charge steady. As he flew he let the conversation of the rest of the bridge flow by him. Falt: That’s where you come in, Mister Elonat. Is the data feed stable? Elonat: Response. Falt: Let me know if that changes. We’ll be flying blind if we lose that data feed. Elonat: Response. Falt: Lieutenant Forsyth, let me know if you see anything strange on sensors. Anything at all. It may be my imagination but I feel really exposed like this. Ensign König, For the same reason I want to know the second we’re in transporter range. Forsyth: Will do, Sir. König: Response. Falt: =/\= Falt to Neshala, how’s it going over there? =/\= If Letts was being honest he was glad to be in the Eagle and not the shuttle. From what he had learned during his briefing by Neshala and the others the shuttle must have been truly hellish. While the shuttle didn't have to worry as much about tight spaces and quick turns it was almost certainly made up for by being constantly buffeted by spacial eddies. He would bet Latium to Lollipops the inertial dampeners weren't doing anything to help Neshala pilot. Neshala: =/\= Fantastic, Commander. Every pilot’s dream. Couldn’t be happier right now. =/\= oO Shoot yeah, who am I kidding that sound like way more fun. Tight corridors and turbulence? Count me in. Oo Kettick: =/\= Kettick here, can confirm. =/\= König: Response Falt: =/\= Response =/\= Neshala: =/\= Don’t you worry, Commander. You have one of the finest engineers over here to keep things together, and you have one of the two best pilots in Starfleet over here to keep her pointed in the right direction. =/\= Letts: ::To himself:: It's me I'm the other cool pilot. Falt: Response Letts's eyes widened for a second, he hadn't thought he had spoken loud enough to be heard. He kicked himself remembering the teachings of his flight instructors. oO Sterile cockpit Mr.Letts Oo Letts: Nothing sir, just uh... a close maneuver. He glanced to his left and saw Elonat at the science station staring back at him. He hoped they hadn't heard him but had a feeling... He grinned facing his console again. oO Definitely gonna catch flak for that one. Oo Kettick: =/\= Power rerouted from the kinetic shields to the inertial dampeners, Lieutenant. I trust your increased ease of piloting to avoid impacts accordingly. =/\= Letts flinched hearing that the briefing had been spot on, they must have been being kicked around in that shuttle like a canoe in the rapids. The Eagle must have caught up to whatever had caused the shuttle trouble as the entire ship gave a lurch and shudder as though it had struck a rock. Consoles across the bridge let out some very not-so-pleased chirps and beeps. The unpleased sounds were followed by some very concerned speaking. Forsyth: Sorry to cut in, Sir but I'm having trouble compensating with temporal interference. Falt: Response. König: Response. Forsyth: Trying that now, Better but not great. Falt: Response. König: Response. Forsyth: Wait, I think I'm through. Falt: Response As those behind him attempted to fix their own issues Letts was forced to focus on his own task. The path ahead of the ship had just gotten very tight very quick and the fluctuations were about to become a proper nuisance Letts: =/\= ::In his best pilot voice:: Uhh... Ladies and Gentlemen, we are about to experience some turbulence. =/\= As he said it the ship began to shudder slightly growing in intensity until it felt like they were riding a wagon over a gravel road. Vibrating in his seat Letts was still impressed by the dampeners, they had definitely mitigated much of the buffering the ship was experiencing. oO Yeesh that means... Oo Neshala: =/\= I’ll see if I can find a clearer path to head through, Commander. But things are kind of rough over here as well. =/\= Letts could hear the strain in his fellow pilots voice. He felt pang of sympathy at the thought of what she must be dealing with. Sympathy turned into empathy as the eagle suddenly lurched downward making the gravity seem suddenly lighter for a moment. Kettick =/\= Eagle, do you expect us to run into more chroniton or tachyon pulses? =/\= Falt: =/\= Response =/\= Any Eagle Bridge: =/\= Letts blocked out as much as he could focusing in on the suggested path keeping an eye on the fluctuations and avoiding them as best he could. Kettick: =/\= Lieutenant Neshala, are there any parts of the ship that are only useful during atmospheric flight, for instance? =/\= Neshala: =/\= Response =/\= Falt/Any: =/\= Response =/\= Kettick: =/\= At our current shield levels, I can't pull enough power from anywhere without disabling something. I'd rather sacrifice parts of the shuttle that are not immediately necessary to our survival. =/\= Neshala: =/\= Response =/\= Falt/Any: =/\= Response =/\= Letts was watching like a hawk tapping away instantly at his console and was barely managing to stay ahead of the fluctuations. If he hadn't known better he'd have thought the distortions were purposefully trying to cut off their path through this spacial knot. Just as he had that thought a massive spacial eddy opened up in front of the ship right behind where the shuttle had just been. He couldn't avoid it. Letts: Ah Hell, ::Loudly:: BRACE!! The Eagle suddenly jolted HARD backwards as if smacking a wall then upward forcing Letts into his seat. He managed to level off and keep them heading forward. Neshala must have been keeping up her side of the clearer area bargain as the path ahead on Letts display suddenly opened up and the rumbling of the eddies dropped off not long after. A silence permeated the bridge for a moment before Letts felt the need to speak up. Letts: =/\= Wow =/\= Neshala/Falt: Response Any: Response. Letts: I have no clue sir, I couldn't avoid it. Speedbump maybe? Falt: Response Any: Response Letts nodded and faced forward again his hands deftly returning to his, now surprisingly calm Piloting. Any: Response TAGS/TBC ===== Ensign Alan Letts Operations Officer Denali Station D240003AL2 GSS

@Genkos Adea - I absolutely adored this sim. Very moving, and beautifully written!

((Risian Sundown Resort, above Stardust City)) It had taken longer than he had ever expected it to take. Still, after several calls with employees of the Slipka Resort Consortium, he had finally managed to book a bigger room for Ayemet and him to stay in together as part of their provided all-expense stay at the Risian Sundown Resort. He had talked to several people on Risa to secure a proper room on Freecloud - what an odyssey. ((Flashback)) Connor had looked up the commlink they were about to contact for their reservation at the Risian Sundown Resort for the all-expenses covered weekend. As he opened the communications line, a popup appeared on his screen. Please enter your customer number... On a second window Connor opened the confirmation message they had gotten to check for the asked information. But none had been supplied. He frowned as he skipped through the text a second time. Nothing... With a quiet sigh, he just confirmed the empty input field. The next text prompt on his screen did not improve his mood significantly. You are 33rd in the queue. He leaned back and let himself fall into the cushions. Reconfiguring the EPS grid in sickbay had exhausted him over the day. He had taken off three days to enjoy them at the Risian resort with Ayemet. And the only thing he wanted to do before falling into bed was to rearrange their bookings to combine them for a better room for two people. You are 29th in the queue. Another sigh as he let his head fall back into the cushions and thought of his last time visiting a resort like this. It had been on earth, a resort on the coast of the Mediterranean sea. It had not been as luxurious as the Sundown Resort promised to be. But he remembered how relaxed he had gotten while being there. And he looked forward to that. You are 27th in the queue. His mind started to wander off as he imagined what their time together could be like. A white-sanded beach appeared before his inner eyes; the surge of waves surrounded his feet. He felt his eyes closing slowly... Support Agent: Slipka Resort Consortium, my name is Taya. How may I assist you? Connor woke with a start and took a second to orient himself. Seconds ago, he had been at a sunny beach. The darkness of his quarters engulfed him as the attractive support agent appeared on his screen. Dewitt: I... Yes... I want to rebook a room... Two rooms. Support Agent: Why certainly, Sir! May I have your customer number, please. Dewitt: I am afraid I have not been provided one. Support Agent: Of course, Sir. In that case, may I have your name, please? Dewitt: It's Connor Dewitt. Support Agent: Thank you, Mr. Dewitt. Let me check our system for available rooms. ::typing on the keyboard:: Ah, it seems we still have rooms available for the dates you requested. Perfect! Dewitt: Great! So, how do I proceed with the rebooking? Support Agent: I'm glad you asked, Mr. Dewitt. I will transfer you to our dedicated rebooking department, where they will guide you through the process. Please hold the line. The logo of Slipka Resort Consortium appeared on the screen. A small sun in the lower left with a bis smile was dancing on the beach. Another time to frown. Together with Nolen and two other crewmen, they had updated the full sickbay EPS grid in only a single day. He felt played out but satisfied with their progress. And after such an achievement, he was stuck in an ordinary customer service line. Support Agent #2: Hello, this is Grace speaking from the rebooking department. How can I assist you today? Dewitt: Hi, Grace. I need to rebook two rooms at Sundown Resort for a different date. Support Agent #2: Certainly, Mr. Dewitt. Before we proceed, may I kindly ask for your customer number? Dewitt: I already mentioned to the previous agent that I don't have one. Support Agent #2: My apologies, Mr. Dewitt. Let me see if I can find your original reservation using your name. Please hold while I check our system. Dewitt: Of cou... But before Connor could finish his approval, the Slipka Ressort Consortium logo appeared again. He felt an uncomfortable rage at the situation rise and got up. He took the terminal he was using to move it over to the small dining table in his quarters and tried to breath calmly. The clock on the wall showed the local ship time. 03:21. They had worked after hours to get things done and make sickbay ready again as fast as they could. And his next shift was about to start in 5 hours. Support Agent #2: Thank you for your patience, Mr. Dewitt. I'm afraid I couldn't locate your original reservation. However, I can transfer you to our reservations department, and they should be able to assist you further. Please hold. Dewitt: Wait, another transfer? Can't you help me here? Support Agent #2: I apologize for the inconvenience, Mr. Dewitt. The reservations department has the expertise required to handle these matters. I assure you, they will be able to assist you. Connor hated the little sun. Why would a sun dance on the beach? He started to walk around the table to stay awake. He started to count the laps to distract his mind from the situation that seemed infuriating to his sleep-deprived mind. Dewitt: ::mumbling:: look forward to that weekend, Connor! Support Agent #3: Hello, this is Payo from the reservations department. How can I help you today? Dewitt: Finally, Payo! I've been transferred twice already. My name is Connor Dewitt, and I just want to rebook two rooms at Sundown Resort. Support Agent #3: I apologize for the inconvenience, Mr. Dewitt. I'm here to assist you. Can you please provide me with your customer number? Connor took a deep breath to stay calm. Dewitt: I don't have one! I've already mentioned that to the previous agents. Support Agent #3: My apologies, Mr. Dewitt. Let me check if I can locate your original reservation using your name. Please bear with me for a moment. ::typing something:: Ah, yes... Here it is. Your reservation is under the number SR-1244421-2331-23. Dewitt: Finally, I'd like to change that reservation to a bigger room for two people. Support Agent #3: Of course, Mr. Dewitt. Let me transfer you to our rebooking department. The sun... again. Connor went over to the replicator. Dewitt: Vulcan Highland Reserve, on the rocks. Make it a double. The replicator played a confirming noise as another support agent appeared on the screen... ((End Flashback)) But now they were here. With a small overnight bag over his left shoulder and Ayemet's hand in his right hand, he went for the reception desk in an entrance hall that was lush and abundant in size and decoration. The sun was filling the big hall, and all kinds of employees were going their ways. Dewitt: I am not even sure if I've ever been in a room this... luxurious... Jacin: Response As they approached the reception, a tall woman smiled warmly. Connor put a PADD on the wooden desk. Dewitt: We've booked one of your suites for two nights. Receptionist: ::Taking the PADD, looking into computer:: Ah, yes, the Dewitts! Dewitt: I... We... ::looking to Ayemet:: Jacin: Response The receptionist handed them small keycards and smiled warmly. Receptionist: We have you in Room 410, one of our honeymoon suites with beach views. All your expenses are covered. Enjoy your stay! Connor took the two keycards and felt like a little boy as he felt the heat rise to his cheeks when he heard the word honeymoon. As he turned around, he felt Ayemet at his side again. Dewitt: So the Dewitts now... In the honeymoon suite... Did I miss something? Jacin: Response TAG/TBC -- Lt. Connor Dewitt Engineer USS Arrow A239901CD3

@Samira Neathler ...so I'm never gonna emotionally recover from this.

Ops has dealt with Terra Prime for more than one and a half years, and it's incredibly satisfying to see that storyline brought to a conclusion. I loved seeing Sal in this capacity and I absolutely adore the very fitting end for Naystrim. This was a great mission and I am excited to see what's next!

((Starboard Nacelle control, USS Oumuamua)) Once more V’Len turned to look at the PADD lying quietly on the control console. He thought once more about picking it up, throwing it into the engine nacelle and heading back down to sickbay. He took another drink instead. He had opened the bottle of Saurian Brandy that his friend Ulasso had given him as a parting gift. He took another drink and then another and lay back on the floor of the room. It was quite apart from the gentle “thrumping” of the engines. They gave an occasional hiss and V’Len had turned to look at the door each time the sound came. He expected to see Millie standing there, ready to work on the nacelle. She never was. Since the crew had returned from 2265 V’Len had been having the same trouble everywhere on the Oumuamua. When the doors to sickbay opened he expected to see Millie. When awoke, his heart sank when he found she was not lying next to him. He’d never met the woman, but somehow her memory was not going away on its own. Worse, he had started to see Millie around the ship. Usually just ahead of him and out of reach. Sometimes there was no one there at all. Other times it was simply another member of the crew. So he’d devised a plan that he hoped would help. As he sat up he felt his head swimming. He took several more drinks and regarded the bottle. It was about a quarter empty. He slapped his chest several times before finally finding his com badge Kel: =/\= V’Len to Jack =/\= The torpedo launchers on deck 17 were only accessible by ladder from deck 16 and during maintenance this room was one of the quietest Jack had found. He lay on his back underneath the port launcher. The main control housing open, exposing a myriad of isolinear chips that provide the control interface matrix to the launchers. Jack was deep in thought when his Trilldorian friend's voice broke the silence in the room. Jack nearly jumped off the floor slamming his head into the torpedo launcher. Either Jack hit his head harder than he thought or V’Len sounded funny. Kessler: =/\= V’Len, are you ok? =/\= Kel: ::slurring his words:: =/\= Jack? Hey, will you come to starboard nacelle control? I need your assistance with a (beat) thing. =/\= He closed the channel and took another drink. By the time Jack arrived the bottle was now half empty and V’Len’s face alternated between smiles and frowns in a way that must have been quite eerie to his friend. Entering the room Jack half expected to find V’Len trapped or pinned to the wall based on his request. Instead the doctor sat, or rather lay on the floor next to a console with a bottle of what Jack assumed was actual liqueur in his hands. Kessler: ::kneeling down beside V’Len:: Hey buddy, you ok? Kel: Oh no man I’m great. ::holding up the bottle:: Want some? It’s from Ulasso’s region. ::looking around:: I forgot glasses, but trust me the alcohol level in this is so high there are no germs alive. ::laughing:: Jack took the bottle and sniffed it. A smile curled Jack’s lips. oO Saurian brandy. Girls have to be involved. Oo Kessler: ::sitting the bottle aside:: Dipping into Ulasso’s private stock again? ::beat:: You were here to work right, not just drown your memories away. V’Len stuck his finger up in the air as Jack reminded him that they were not just there to drink. He slowly tried to make his way to his feet only to flop back down to the ground. He pointed to the PADD wiggling his finger up and down. Kel: That PADD has the Starfleet file on my wife. I need to know what happened to her. Jack followed the invisible path V’Len’s finger made as it pointed up to the console and to the PADD that apparently had the information V’Len did not want to face. Jack reached up slowly and took the PADD from the console and pulled it down to him and pursued the first few lines of information. Jack’s thumb depressed the screen off function and he lowered the PADD and looked back to V’Len. The Trilldorian was in no condition to deal with this information and Jack honestly was not sure he wanted to read it. V’Len was a close friend and Jack would honestly do anything for him but this mentally deeper than anything he thought V’Len had faced and the recent trip to the past had dug up some very powerful emotions. Kessler: I don’t know buddy. ::looking around the room:: Not sure this room or your condition are the best to crack this egg open in. Kel: ::waving his finger in front of him:: Nope. Nope this is the right place. Millie could never get the starboard nacelle on the Exeter to work the way she wanted it to. We spent more time in that nacelle control room than we did in our quarters. ::taking another drink:: This is where her ghost is. He placed the bottle intentionally next to him. And lay back on the deck. Kessler: ::pushing the bottle a little further out of his reach:: Now, Doc you know the ghosts you seek are not in the bottom of that. ::beat:: What do you say we head back to your quarters and we can talk there? It was a good idea, maybe he would sleep this off and Jack could reason with him when he woke up. Or then again, this guy was very stubborn. Kel: No! ::slowly getting up to a sitting position and motioning Jack closer, whispering:: The worm is asleep now. It doesn’t want to know what happened to Millie, but I do. V’Len began to chuckle. He didn’t know what was funny, but it could also have been that he was starting to cry and it just sounded like a chuckle. It was hard to say for sure. Kessler: ::putting on e hand of V’Len’s shoulder to steady him:: Which part of the symbiont doesn’t want to know. Kel: See Xam Kel doesn’t want to know the answer and no other Kel host has ever tried to look her up. I had to get tipsy just to get up here with the PADD and not throw it down the nacelle. Kessler: I really don’t think this is the best idea considering your state of mind. V’Len looked up at Jack, his brow furrowed and his eyes glazed over. Kel: I need to know what happened to her, Jack. I need closure. Good or bad. I need to know. Kessler: ::looking at the PADD and feeling a sense of loss of his own:: I understand the need for closure. I really do. Jack slid to a seated position next to V’Len, his thoughts turning to his parents. Alive or dead no one could answer. The attack on the Caboto had left so many questions and Jack had no closure when it came to his parents so he felt for his friend and knew what he himself would do to get that closure for himself. V’Len lay back down on the floor. He could feel his antenna twitching and the room around him seemed to list and spin oddly. Kel: I see her everywhere. When a door opens I see her walking into the room out of the corner of my eye. Walking down the hall I see her just ahead and I turn a corner and she’s gone. When I wake up in the morning I expect to see her there. I’m haunted, Jack. I’m a haunted house. ::snickers:: Jack patted V’Len on the chest and smiled a small sympathetic smile. He then grabbed the bottle of Saurian Brandy and took a drink. Then he lifted the PADD and keyed it on. Thumbing through the data Jack got to the incident at hand. He read the report and then re-read it again. The report was short and although an investigation was launched the data that was collected seemed miniscule to what he would have hoped to find from what he read. Kessler: ::sitting forward a little:: Are you absolutely sure you want to know? V’Len stared up at the ceiling. There were really two main outcomes that he had thought of. V’Len’s preferred outcome was that Millie met someone and found love again. Xam’s preferred outcome was that Millie locked herself away in a Vulcan monastery never to set eyes on another man again. Xam was very full of himself. Either way, V’Len felt sure that knowing what happened might help the symbiote move past their latest experience. Kel: Yeah. Yeah I wanna know. Go for it. Kessler: ::nodding slightly:: Well, you were right about where she would be. V’Len, Millie died while on duty and at her post. It appears the Exeter encountered some sort of temporal anomaly and while attempting to rectify the effects of the anomaly the ship suffered a systems malfunction. One that caused a feedback and explosion in parts of Engineering and in the nacelle control room. Millie and two other engineers died instantly. Jack looked over to V’Len who laid on the floor. Death was hard to deal with anyway you looked at it. Knowing she died doing something she loved, did that bring any closure to V’Len? Would it have brought comfort to him if he knew his parents died doing what they loved? Jack honestly could not answer that question. V’Len stomach began to churn. Millie had died? That was not an outcome he had even thought of. On the one hand it very much should have, but somehow it was unthinkable. It was like every pain receptor in his body had fired simultaneously. Kel: Dead? ::sitting up and looking at Jack through glazed eyes:: What kind of temporal anomaly? How did the explosion take place? Kessler: ::looking back at the PADD and let out a low sigh:: The investigation was closed. The cause of the explosion was deemed to have been a result of the temporal anomaly. That’s all that is here buddy. Kel: ::agitated:: Thank doesn’t make any sense she was on starbase 12 when we were in 2265. What year did the explosion take place? Kessler: ::looking at the PADD:: 2267, two years after we were there. Jack looked over at V’Len and the Trilldorian was getting worked up at the news. Obviously the alcohol was not helping the situation inside that complex skull of his. V’Len struggled to get to his feet, but failed and flopped down on the floor. Kessler: ::placing a hand on V’Lens shoulder:: Easy buddy, don’t get agitated. Of course as soon as the words came out of his mouth Jack knew that was the wrong thing to say and immediately regretted it. Kel: ::overly agitated:: Well hell yes I’m agitated. There’s no analysis of what happened,no root cause investigation? Did they find a body? For V’Len the last question would have been standard, but the thought of Millie's dead body turned his stomach again. He turned away from Jack and covered his mouth trying to keep himself from vomiting. Kessler: ::popping up onto one knee:: Hey, easy buddy. ::beat:: take a deep breath, nice and slow. The feeling of nausea had passed an V’Len began to slowly pull himself to his feet. He did not make it far before he slumped back down next to Jack. He looked over at his friend. Kel: ::sadly:: I mean I knew she’d be dead it’s been 150 years. I just didn’t think she would have been killed with no explanation. Was she actually in the Starboard nacelle when the explosion occurred? Kessler: ::leaning back against the bulkhead and in a softer voice:: Yeah ::beat:: yeah she was in the nacelle. V’Len crawled over to the bulkhead and leaned against it. Kel: ::chuckling:: Maybe you were right. Maybe this was a bad idea. Kessler: ::sitting the PADD face down on the floor:: Doesn’t matter now if it was or wasn’t. You’ve let the genie out of the bottle. ::beat:: Does it help at all? Kel: Maybe it helps to know. It’s not the good news that I wanted, but it is closure in a way. And I suppose there’s a certain symmetry to it. They both died working to carry out Starfleet’s mission, that’s something. Kessler: ::looking over to V’Len:: That’s got to be worth something. Kel: ::laughing:: You want to know another funny secret? V’Len was not sure why he could not control his laughter. He also wondered why he was bringing this up. Telling Jack about this was probably not a good idea, but V’Len was too drunk to stop. Perhaps it was the guilt he felt for breaking the rules. Kessler: ::smiling at V’Len’s uncontrolled laughter:: I love a good secret. Kel: ::laughter slowing to a giggle:: I violated the Temporal Prime directive. ::chortling:: Kessler: ::chuckling along with V’Len:: You know V’Len, that does not surprise me in the least. ::beat:: hand me that bottle. As V’Len passed Jack the Saurian Brandy, Jack thought about the past and how hard it would be not to try and manipulate it to save a loved one. He would not have blamed V’Len for trying as he was sure he probably would have to save his parents. It would have been wrong and against protocols and directives but how could you not try. The will power involved in that instance is huge and Jack did not think he could have stopped from doing the samething his friend most likely did. Jack took a drink of the brandy and handed the bottle over to V’Len who certainly didn’t need it but now was the time to drown out the nerves of pain. Kessler: What did you do? Call her? Kel: ::looking off dreamily:: Wouldn't that have been great? Something inside Kel was elated with the idea of hearing MIllie say just one word. Kel: Sadly no. Something much more…cringy. I found a guitar and recorded her a song. A song we danced to on our wedding day. Then I sent it off. Kessler: Well, that I would probably have done too. Since you did not actually talk to her ::smirking at the thought:: I’d say you bent the Temporal directive. ::beat:: to be honest, based on what you have told me. I would have done the same thing. Kel: Let’s hope TI doesn't come to ask about it . ::snickering:: Kessler: ::taking the bottle back and taking another drink:: Love will make you do all kinds of things. Good or bad. Jack thought about Michele and his parents. He would certainly do anything to protect them but he had other people on his mind too. One in particular that he was not going to name in front of V’Len. That had already proven a complicated situation for them both. V’Len sat for a moment. He took the bottle from between him and Jack, took a drink and then replaced it between the pair. Kel: Hey Jack. Since I’m drunk and everything? What is the story with you and Michelle? Kessler: There’s no story. Kel: Oh come on. I’m so lit I won’t remember tomorrow. I told you about my ex. Kessler: We dated at the academy. Upon graduation we went our separate ways. Kel: Well she seems very into you. You must have history if not current events. Come on unburden yourself. They did have history. Actually more of a complicated history and one that Jack had not talked to anyone really about. V’Len was his closest friend on the ship and Jack trusted him not to say anything even if he was able to remember it in the morning. Maybe this was a good time to face up to his internal struggles with this situation. At least the Saurian brandy made it easier to face. Kessler: ::leaning back against the wall:: We do have a history. I asked her to marry me during our final year at the academy. I was head of heels for her but she had the more sensible head on her shoulders. She knew that would affect both of our plans. I wanted to command a ship and she wanted to go into medicine. Marriage would have seriously complicated things for us both right out of the academy. Wow that was history. V’Len picked up the bottle and handed it to Jack. It was challenging to think what to say. In some ways it struck him much like the story of Captain Riker and Troi. They had separated to pursue careers only to find themselves back together on the Enterprise D. Jack paused and accepted the bottle from V’Len and took a drink of it. Kel: So you chose not to go through with it. You might have been posted to the same vessel. Kessler: We knew that on the same posting we would not be able to focus on our careers. I loved her and she loves me but we agreed to achieve our goals first and then see where things took us. We made a promise not to get posted to the same assignment so that we would not interfere with each other's goals. V’Len let the idea sink in. It was an interesting arrangement, and it made a certain degree of sense. For his part V’Len only had the experience of his past hosts when it came to marriage. Xam and Millie had a bond that would not be put aside for anything, including time it seemed. Yllom Kel was different. She was a painter and she and her poet husband spent years apart promoting their own work. Her’s was an almost Denobulan style relationship. Eventually they had settled down together and had a small family, but their passions always came first. Artists. Kel: So what does it mean that she’s back? V’Len took another drink and again replaced the bottle. Kessler: Let’s just say her being here complicates things a bit for me. Jack’s mind darted to Nesre and his growing feelings for her but he also knew V’Len had feelings for the councilor and did not want to cause anything that would get between his friendship with V’Len. Things felt too complicated already with Michele being aboard and Jack really did not know what to do with it all. Complicated. That was certainly one word to describe Lt. Winters. She was an excellent medic and had been instrumental in helping him keep up in sickbay. She and Rox seemed equally mischievous. He hoped they never had a drink together. Kel: So what do you think? Could you see yourself spending your life with her? Jack looked over at V’Len. The soberness of the question made Jack think the Trilldorian was not as drunk as he thought but then one good look at the doctor said otherwise. It was a great question and a year and a half earlier Jack would have had a resounding ‘yes’ to that question without hesitation. He still had feelings for her but so many things had happened in the past year and a half that had changed Jack. If he were to be honest with himself then the answer was yes but he was developing feelings for Nesre as well. He shook his head slightly trying to figure his own mental state out. Kessler: ::letting out a soft sigh:: I could, I just have stumbled into something different here on the ‘Oumuamua that I was not expecting. For his part V’Len could think of only a few people he would consider spending the rest of his entire life with. The first to come to mind was Nesre. She was always pleasant to be around whether eating, talking or walking. Heck even when she was stopping him from taking over a starship she was a delight. Rox came to mind too. Outside of work they didn’t do a lot together, but they had a great working relationship and she was always pleasant to be around despite her antics. Kel: Based on my previous host’s experience, marriage is great. For my part I think I’d risk it. Kessler: My parents have a great relationship and marriage for them has been a strong bond. It’s a tough commitment and I don’t want to hurt her or anyone else. Kel: I mean there’s always some risk of getting hurt, but my Trill and Andorian parents were all very committed to each other. Stuff came up and they worked it out. Kessler: I just don’t know what to do at this point. Michele is a perfect match for me in many ways and my mother loves her but in the time I have been here I have feelings growing for another and that complicates things. V’Len picked up the bottle. The volume remaining was low so he tried not to take too much. He had had plenty. He passed the bottle over to Jack. Taking the bottle, Jack raised it to his lips but stopped. Staring at the bulkhead opposite where they sat, Jack lowered the bottle to the deck and sat it down. Kel: We’re both thinking about Nesre right now aren’t we? Jack did not look over to V’Len. Instead he just kept a blank stare at the far wall thinking about all the pieces of this puzzle and how they all affected his mindset and his reality. Kessler: Yep ::the word escaped his mouth softly:: Kel: Valentines day was a bit of a debacle. Sorry, not sorry. Jack looked over to the man and started to chuckle. Kessler: A debacle? ::laughing:: You took off running down the corridor to beat me to her quarters. ::still chuckling:: I could barely keep up cause I was laughing so hard. Thinking back on it, the entire scene as it played out had to have been pretty funny from the point of view of a bystander. V’Len let out a hearty laugh. Kessler: ::leaning his head back on the bulkhead:: Buddy, I would not have had it anyother way. She’s incredible and I am happy you think so as well. Jack looked over at his friend and thought about what the Trilldorian had lost, found and lost again. The emotional strain and rollercoaster that he was going through had to be more than Jack could ever understand. Kel: ::chuckling:: We’re awful chummy for two guys competing for the same girl. Kessler: Look, you are the closest person to a best friend I have and I would do anything for you. ::beat, taking a long slow breath:: You need someone in your life that can give you more than a memory can. V’Len knew he was right. He glanced around the room again. It was much cleaner and more modern than the Intrepid's counterpart. He needed to stop coming here. He’d already been several times since their return to 2400 and it had to stop. Jack eyed his friend and then looked blankly back to the bulkhead. Kessler: I have things to work out with Michele and I do not want anything, especially Nesre to come between you and I. Kel: Not giving are you? Frankly Jack, I can’t imagine Nesre with a nicer fellow. ::shaking his head:: Gosh that’s weird to say. Jack smiled but shook his head from side to side. Kessler: No. I am going to back off. You go after her. Enjoy life again my friend. ::beat, thinking deeply:: I need to stay focused on my true goal and right now I am getting sidetracked. There was a rub. V’Len cared for Nesre very much and the fact was he enjoyed being her friend. What would happen if he messed up the friendship in some ham fisted attempt at romance. Could they be friends if a romance didn’t last? Worse too was the way he was concerned Nesre might see him. As a project, as a broken thing needing fixed. His transporter accident, his cardiac inducer and now his past lives. Nesre always seemed so well put together. How could he be more than a burden? Kel: ::hesitantly:: If you say so. Jack knew half of this conversation would be lost to the drunken state of his friend and come morning much of the brotherly sentiment he felt for V’Len would not translate over but it was the right thing to do. Both for V’Len and Nesre. Jack had gotten sidetracked from his mindset to become a Captain and that was not a life that was shared with family very easily. Yes, his father was a starship Captain and his mother went everywhere his posting took them and although they made it work and seemingly easily, Jack knew it was a tougher life on both. It had been the reason Jack and Michele had made the promises to each other that they had. Only now with his parents missing in action Michele had taken a new course of action to be at his side. One that Jack had found fault with but now maybe he needed to embrace the decision she had made. Kessler: ::handing the bottle to V’Len:: I mean it plus I have seen the way she looks at you. You two would be great together. Just treat her right. Kel: You have my word of course. Jack started to stand and felt the weight of the Saurian brandy hit him. oO Oh boy this is going to be fun. Oo He thought as the room started to spin. Looking down at V’Len he knew getting this guy back to his quarters was going to be a bit more work. Kessler: ::picking V’Len up to his feet:: Come buddy, to your feet and then to your quarters. You need to sleep this stuff off. V’Len stood shakily and leaned against Jack. The pair wobbled out of the control room, leaving only the silence, a PADD and an empty bottle of Saurian brandy. Lieutenant Jack Kessler Chief Tactical Officer USS Oumuamua T239901JK1 & Lieutenant V’Len Kel Chief Medical Officer USS Oumuamua NCC-81226 T239811VK2 He/Him (character and player)