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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)

Okay, I both love and hate this guy already. @Tomas Falt, if you need any help dealing with your new assistant, I know another First Officer who has a classic way of dealing with these types. 😁😂 Of course, she did lose her job as Chief TacSec and was ordered to attend mandatory counseling, but hey.... ===== ((Space Port, Denali Station, Ring 42)) Crewman First Class Tersus stepped off the supply shuttle and took in his first view of Ring 42. His trip to Denali Station had been arranged at such short notice he’d only been able to secure a cramped, confined berth aboard a supply shuttle. He hadn’t even had a window, so he’d missed the apparently spectacular sight of ring from space and had been looking forward to taking it all in on landing. Unfortunately, the scene now in front of him was… unimpressive... He appeared to have disembarked in a space dock area, which certainly didn't look like anything special. He’d describe it as functional at best. He really hoped he hadn't taken such an uncomfortable trip all the way to the frontier for this! He took a deep breath of air from his breathing apparatus, the atmosphere of the Ring was not compatible with Benzite physiology after all, and centred himself. Whilst mildly disappointed about missing the view, it was not the reason he’d come to Denali station. He needed to find the Executive Officer - one Lieutenant Commander Falt - and introduce himself. The man was to be his new superior, even if he didn't know it yet. He spotted a grubby looking engineering crewman and asked them for directions to station operations, where he assumed the Commander would be. He found himself directed to a corner of the port facility, where on arrival he was surprised to find a transport arch. oO Perhaps they aren't so backwards here after all. Oo ((XO’s Office, Level 15, Anchorage, Denali Station)) The transporter arch had whisked him to what he’d assumed was the command district. After accosting someone else for directions to the operations centre he’d quickly made his way there, only to be informed Commander Falt was actually in his office four floors up... Since he’d been sitting in a shuttle for hours he’d hurried up the stairs, keen to meet his new beneficiary; even if they didn’t know they were yet… Arriving at the office door he took a moment to straighten his uniform before pressing the door chime. Falt: ::from inside the office:: It’s open. He stepped forward, the doors swishing open in front of him, and marched straight to the XO’s desk. Tersus: Lieutenant Commander Falt, I am Crewman First Class Tersus. The Commander, a youngish human with blue eyes and blonde hair looked up at him from behind a truly enormous stack of PADD’s. Falt: Mister Tersus. I don’t believe we’ve met. What can I do for you? He paused before answering, and took a gulp of air from his rebreather. It was a tactic he adopted when he was trying to have a conversation on his terms. Tersus: ::deliberately:: Crewman First Class, sir. I have been told you are in need of an assistant. I have arrived, your need is fulfilled. Falt looked puzzled. Tersus hoped it was due to his unexpected arrival. The alternative was that he looked that gormless all the time. Falt: ::holding up a hand:: Slow down, crewman. I’ve received a number of applications for the post. I take it yours is amongst them? Tersus: Crewman First Class, sir. No, sir. I did not complete an application. Now I’m here I’m confident you’ll agree the application process is redundant. He watched as the Commander lent back in his chair and put his boots on the desk. Knocking a couple of waiting PADDs off onto the floor as he did so. oO Oh no, this won’t do at all. Oo Falt: And what makes you think that, crewman… first class? Tersus was sure he detected a hint of sarcasm as the man said his rank, although it was possible it was just his ridiculous accent. He took another deliberate breath and ignored it. Tersus: Simply because I am Tersus. The best administrator in the fleet. For example, I’ve already determined twenty-six ways to improve your already excellent filing system. The latter statement was a lie of course, but experience told him it was best to take things slow in a situation like this. The Commander looked at the pile of PADDs and then back at him, eyebrow raised. Falt: Excellent filing system? If you think this is excellent then I can’t see how you could be an administrator in the fleet, let alone the best. Tersus: Forgive me, sir. I didn’t want to insult you the first time we met. I can actually see at least fifty-one ways to improve it… And you are correct your filing system is atrocious, the worst I’ve ever encountered. oO Like, really, truly, the worst… Oo Falt: Well at least your being honest about that. However, I’m afraid you’ll need to put in a late application, which I’ll consider if I don’t find a suitable candidate in the meantime. I’d also suggest you speak to your current team leader about raising your clearance level. Dismissed. Tersus took a deep breath from his apparatus but otherwise didn’t move. Tersus: With respect, sir. I already have Level 9 clearance due to my role in the Judge Advocate General’s Office. He took a breath as he watched the man react. Level 9 clearance was only one down from “Captain’s eyes only.” He could see the man pause, likely wondering how a Crewman First Class got such a high clearance level? Falt: It sounds like you’re all set, which begs the question why are you here? Tersus: Simply put, the Ring sir. I find the possibility of cataloguing the discoveries we will make here really quiet intoxicating. It’s why I boarded the transport when I heard about the opening in the first place, I wouldn’t normally work for a mere Lieutenant Commander otherwise. For the first time since they’d met a flash of annoyance crossed the Commanders face. Falt: A mere Lieutenant Commander, I thought you weren’t trying to insult me? Tersus: Forgive me, sir. I’m used to working for Captain’s and Admirals. Falt: ::still annoyed:: And what do they think about you coming to ask for a job on the ring? Tersus: Whilst all my performance reviews have been exemplary my mannerisms haven’t won me too many friends, sir. Falt’s annoyed expression was pushed aside by a snort of amusement. Falt: Indeed. Regardless, my decision hasn’t changed. Tersus paused. He’d expected his argument to have worked by now. What he needed was a chance to show the man how much help he could really be. And judging by the administrative chaos on the desk in front of him he really needed it. Tersus: A suggestion, sir. You’re about to go on a mission so you won’t be interviewing candidates until you return anyway. Allow me to stay on a trial basis, if nothing else I could sort out your filing system whilst your away. It would be an afront to my profession to leave without at least doing that. Falt considered his offer for a moment. He could tell the man knew it was a win-won scenario. He relaxed slightly. Falt: Very well Crewman First Class Tersus. I’ll validate your credentials and if everything checks out I’ll authorize a secondment for the length of the next mission. You have one chance to impress me. Anything less than perfection and you’ll be on the next transport off the ring. Are we clear? Tersus smiled for the first time. One chance was all he would need. Tersus: Aye, sir. You won’t regret this. Falt: We’ll see. Now, you are dismissed crewman; and I’d really go this time if I were you. Tersus gave him a nod and strode out of his office as purposefully as he’d entered, although this time he wasn’t looking for a job, he was looking for the view of the ring he’d missed on the way in. NT / END Crewman First Class Tersus Administrative Assistant Denali Station as simmed by Lieutenant Commander Tomas Falt Executive Officer Denali Station J239807TF2

Exploring the Skarbek world has been exciting and a great way to explore different facets of our characters, taking them to places we haven't thought of before, and scrambling maybe existing parts of their "regular" versions. @Doz Finch - I have truly enjoyed reading about SkarDoz ("Gramma"), and seeing the world through her eyes, and the transformation she's undergone along the way. I love the introspection, particularly at the beginning of this sim, and how she relates to her companions. Very well done! Kudos to all of you, @SevaReeshe, and @Tahna Meru for bringing forth such an enjoyable and amazing scene!

The Arrow's CO has done a lot of self-reflection this leave and I think this sim deserves special recognition for the delicate balance it manages to strike with a complex, emotional topic and not at all because it implies the benefits of listening to his XO. That had absolutely nothing to do with this post. At all. Bravo, Skip. ================================= ((Deck 1, Captain’s Ready Room, USS Arrow)) Dewitt: Permission to speak freely, Sir? Shayne: We’re alone. That was as good as permission, as far as Shayne was concerned. From day one, his policy had been that the formality of command largely ceased in the confines of a singular, private conversation. He knew that his love of the chain of command could be a noose as easily as it was a guide, and he was determined to not be hanged by his dedication to protocol like some sort of stuffy, intransigent bureaucrat. Thus, anyone- from the lowliest crewmen to the most senior of his officers- held his attention and his confidence while alone in the environs of the ready room. It was a sacred trust, one Shayne was pleased to know he’d never had reason or need to break. Dewitt: I have talked a lot to one of the Cadets from the Libris, Ginny Lacy. I guess she is the brain behind the automation of the ship. She's holding the belief that an AI has a more complete and deterministic picture of heated situations and how to solve them. ::pause and taking another sip:: I can think of a million reasons why I believe an automated AI-based ship is a bad idea... But I cannot put off the thought that there is some truth to what she said. Shayne heard the Lieutenant’s words, and secretly, inwardly began to build defenses around himself. It was natural, second nature, to be exact, and it was a method of maintaining his emotional equilibrium without sacrificing awareness of the moment. But Niac’s words gruffly scampered up his brain stem like a vertical Jefferies Tube, wagged a vaguely hircine finger in disapproval, and then vanished back through the hatch. No, this time he would be better. This time he’d trust his crew. Shayne: There is. Before it had become a topic of personal contention for the captain, he’d often wrestled with the idea of AI ships himself. It seemed that ninety percent of the personnel aboard a given starship were there specifically to attend to the personnel aboard the starship. Doctors, counselors, environmental engineers, communications officers, that one schmuck saddled with corralling the various pets that escaped quarters during crises and took the opportunity to mate, leading to callico-targ hybrids that no one was qualified to look after… wow, his mind flew off the track. The point was that it was an old argument, and even without the normal recrimination that would accompany the notion, Shayne had to admit that the cold logic of steel and circuits would be a comforting distance for the fleet to maintain. But it was too cold for him. Sometimes when he looked at ships in space, he’d think about their beauty or their power. And yet, when they occasionally emerged from the eclipse of a moon, or left the native sun far behind, he couldn’t help but think how impossibly cold they must be. Shivering duranium and frost-encrusted nacelles and… just cold. Dewitt: As I'm collecting those pips on my collar... I'm just wondering how you deal with that... Heated decisions will always be made with an incomplete set of information... Part of it seems like a mixture of a gut feeling and hope. Shayne kept his bearing stern and thoughtful, but inside, it was like a long-forgotten sun had risen from behind a cloud bank. So much of what he’d felt was being spelled out better than he’d ever been able to consolidate it, and it seemed that he was being rewarded for listening to Niac’s words, if only in the form of validation. It hadn’t been just him. It was reasonable. It was feared, and difficult, and challenging, and there was no easy solution, and now his place in all this- in all this- was becoming, if not clearer, then more trustworthy. Shayne: You couldn’t be more correct. In my experience, every officer contends in a different way. That’s where you’ll find your sense of style, of leadership. But for me? I think like an Ops officer, and a pilot. Aviate, navigate, communicate… and do the best you can. It wasn’t much of a response, but it was the truth, and he held close to the validity of these approaches, even if they weren’t for everyone. Dewitt: How do you make those decisions without doubt and without charging yourself if things go south? Shayne stared at Dewitt for a moment, nonplussed. Before, the relevance these questions had to Shayne was something of a novelty, an enjoyable detail in an otherwise rapidly changing life. But now, it was almost like the young lieutenant was reading Shayne’s mind. How very much like the captain Dewitt was starting to become, and for the life of him, Shayne could not determine whether that was bad or good. Shayne: “When I was a child I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child, but when I became a man I put away childish things…” Randal Shayne held much of religion in great contempt, and made it more dangerously clear than most in his position. Tolerance and respect were still possible, but he would not be satisfied with the bludgeon that faith had become so often on his homeworld in the past. One must live it, embody it, and serve it as much as it served them, and in the pursuit of this agenda, Shayne had taken to skimming the holy texts of many faiths around the Alpha Quadrant. It was such a pity he couldn’t believe; the churches were beautiful, the stained glass telling stories that words might have mangled, and the words… twisted to evil so often, and yet… Shayne: You are asking the right questions, but the wrong person. Only you can answer them, in time, and with much deliberation, and much error. And the permission to make those errors, those choices… starts with your leader, and slowly, you find conviction sufficient to supply your own. And then you decide, and learn, and if you are right more often than you are wrong, they make you a captain. It was not the fountain of wisdom Shayne wished to provide, nor the simple answer he himself so desperately craved as a nascent lieutenant, looking with awe and anxiety at the ever-increasing obligations and possibilities open to him. Shayne knew the willingness to dive in, even without knowing, despite the desire to know as much as possible, was part of what made a good leader, or at least a good star service captain. It sounded so reckless, so self-serving, and yet, no ship was safe in port. No soul would blossom in confinement. And no words could convey a truth they weren’t designed to bear. Dewitt: Response Shayne: Our success is built on failure. And so long as you are ready to learn, and answer for the consequences, and accept the burden that is the metal at your collar, I give you permission to fail, Mr. Dewitt. And perhaps together we will find the answers you so keenly seek. For a moment, the uniforms didn’t matter. The ranks didn’t matter. They were but two men; one freshly proven and looking towards the future, and the other watching from farther down the road, at the storms and the rockslides and the many dead canaries, and trying to shout in a hoarse whisper… “awake!” Dewitt: Response Tag/TBC (END?)

This is such a fun read! I love the descriptions. Nefaria is a force to be reckoned with in this exciting holodeck adventure, written by @Robin Hopper! Thank you for sharing it with me—you know me too well. NPC Nefaria: The Scales of Justice (google.com)

(( OOC - We’ve done our best to be mindful of our descriptions and keeping to the PG-13 guideline, but the scene is intrinsically violent. Please be good to yourself, and if this is troubling to you, simply skip Part One!)) ((ISS Koh'la'Shamuu)) Activating the laser scalpel held to her throat was all he had to do - and after witnessing what he had done to the Ensign who had tried to come to her aid, Arys didn’t doubt for one moment that Boucher would kill her. To say that she had a plan wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t entirely correct either. Part of her was still hoping for rescue, but knowing the situation she was in, another part of her had accepted that it would be unlikely. And that allowed a certain freedom. She was still terrified, but forced herself to concentrate on what she could do right now. And, for the moment, all she could do was to get LeVesque out of here and have him help Foster and Zumagi to evacuate. Perhaps she had wanted to give them enough time to do that as she gave the computer to seal the doors to the cockpit, locking herself and Boucher inside, and wedging away from him a split second before he activated the scalpel. Yavir glared at the woman. She had tipped from annoyingly necessary to a genuine obstacle. He no longer needed her, and now she had the gall to stand in his way. He cast about, looking for a weapon with more range than a laser scalpel. Finding nothing, he tightened his grip on the medical implement and waited to see what her next move would be. Boucher: ::flinging away the fistful of hair:: What do you think is going to happen here? Trovek: I don’t know. It was a sober and genuine response. She had managed to bring the slightest bit of distance between herself and Boucher, but with the doors sealed, there was no escape. Trovek: I know what will not happen. Boucher: Oh? Trovek: You will not be able to pilot the ship. You will not be able to escape. Boucher: Do you really think I’d have you bring me here if I was incapable of handling a ship? Federation arrogance that you know best. Trovek: LeVesque locked in a course and you have no way to change that. She was guessing. She hoped that she was guessing right. Boucher: No, I’ll bypass your little override, shut off life support to the rest of the ship, purging it of all the filth hiding in the corners, then I’ll continue on my way. YOU are the only obstacle - one I plan to eliminate. Now. He lunged at her, scalpel hand leading the charge like a desperate fencing thrust. If he could end this quickly, the damage she’d done to his timeline could still be mitigated. Arys raised her arms in front of her face and upper body in a defensive gesture, and the surgical device sliced through the flesh of her forearm, leaving no blood but a gaping cut. The muscle hadn’t been completely severed, but the scalpel had performed its task admirably. Yavir wanted to take advantage of the contact and her distraction while he was close-up. His free hand shot toward her throat, grasping and lifting her momentarily from the decking. He wasn’t strong enough to keep her suspended, but he could squeeze. He pressed the button on the scalpel again, but the tiny blue light failed to ignite. Boucher: Damn. He cast the now-useless device away, making a tight fist, and buried it in her midsection with a vitriol he’d never felt before. He struck out blindly, feeling his fists make contact. At one point, a jolt of pain went through his little finger at the same time he heard a crack. He wasn’t sure if the source had been his finger or a rib. With the oxygen in her lungs slowly running out, she clawed at the hand around her throat, and when she failed to free herself from his grasp, she raked her fingernails across his face. Yavir felt a warm trickle down the side of his face. He was pretty sure she hadn’t gotten his eye, but the blood was running into it, and he couldn’t see clearly as a result. Annoyed, he shoved her hard against a jutting work surface. As she fell to her knees, he wiped furiously at his face, clearing his vision. The momentary opportunity was all she needed though. He felt her entire weight launch into his stomach as she plowed into him. The air was knocked from his lungs in an unintelligible but somehow still profane outburst. He brought his fists down on her back, hammering her shoulder blades. Then the entire room flashed bright white, went black, and then blurred to normal in an instant as her knee connected with his groin. He lost control of his limbs, falling limply to the decking. He had to keep fighting, but his body wasn’t obeying him any more. It was terrifying how satisfying that was, and how okay Arys was with the sudden shift into survival mode rather than conduct befitting a Starfleet Officer and someone who had dedicated themselves to being a healer. Her whole body hurt, and for the lack of having any kind of plan, she kicked him in the face as he began speaking. Boucher: You – What epithet he’d intended, she didn’t give him a chance to make known. Yavir felt his nose break against the toe of her boot, ending the sentence with a crunching punctuation. Trovek: SHUT UP! She hissed, just about managing to not accentuate the command with another kick. His mind was a blur of pain. The lightning emanating from between his legs, the searing pain in his face and head - they mingled with swirling emotions. He hated this half-breed woman. He hated Nyra. He loved Kat. He hated Naystrim and her sanctimonious vision. All these feelings mingled together, gnawing at him like a dog with a bone. At some point, these thoughts must have spilled from him audibly. Boucher: Nyra … Trovek: What? She didn’t know who he meant, but she knew for a fact that she wasn’t Nyra. Still, it snapped her out of her fight or flight response, and for a moment, she hesitated. Boucher: ::not hearing the question:: Nyra … Trovek: ::coldly:: No one of that name is here. His mental fog was beginning to lift. Yavir remained on the floor. It still hurt too much to move, but he was at least becoming more aware of his surroundings again. What did she say? What name? Vaguely, he heard himself say Nyra’s name. But that wasn’t her name. He’d been told her real name. His brain was still hazy, and he spoke: Boucher: Nestira Aristren. That was a whole different story. Arys knew Nestira, even if not well. She knew that the woman had been sent to Miranda VII on an undercover mission, and that she had returned only days before they had laid siege to Terra Prime. The question was… how did he know her name? Trovek: What about her? Boucher: She hurt my sister. I have to find her. Trovek: She isn’t here. And she wouldn’t hurt anyone. Because Nestira was very… gentle. Arys had a hard time imagining that she would hurt anyone - but then again, she hadn’t pictured herself hurting anyone either. Those kind of morals changed very quickly when your life was on the line. Boucher: Then you do know her. And I assure you - she did hurt my sister. Arys needed a plan. Now that her chances for survival had increased, she needed an actual plan. Some way to detain Boucher, or get Sherlock and additional security here… But he didn’t shut up and let her think, and Arys regretted instantly what she said next. Trovek: She was part of Terra Prime. She probably deserved it. It was as though the balance scales of pain had just had a black hole dropped onto one of the trays. The physical pain which held Yavir to the deck was outweighed by the resurgence and redoubling hatred toward this woman. Still, he knew he lacked the strength for another fight. A new plan began taking shape in his mind. He shifted slowly - non-threateningly - to a seated position, just a few inches closer to the shield and comms controls. Boucher: Don’t you dare talk about my sister. You know nothing of her. She didn’t deserve what Nyra- Nestira did to her. Trovek: ::hissing:: It’s always different when it's your own family, isn’t it? It didn’t matter to you when you murdered the hybrids of Utopia Colony. Have you ever seen your compound in action? Did you see what it did to the people there? She was thinking of Meryle Harris, who had watched her two hybrid children bleed out in front of her, unable to do anything about it. How ten thousand people - sisters, daughters, mothers - brothers, sons, fathers - had been killed in the most painful way imaginable. Boucher: Kat and I didn’t have anything to do with that. It was only true in the letter of the statements. He’d been a pilot, enabling those who did handle the “wet work” get to and from the targeted locations. He’d acted the pirate on several occasions, stealing supplies and ships for the cause, but he’d never killed anyone … until today. Kat had certainly never killed anyone. Her job was to save human lives, and she’d done it well. Trovek: Sure. He had to try … Boucher: I need to talk with Nestira. Can you make that happen? She had to remind herself that she was meant to de-escalate the situation. To avoid further violence and loss of life. Even when her internal voice (or external voice?) was screaming at her to bash his skull in while she still had the upper hand. But did she? Did she still have the upper hand? Something wasn’t right. Trovek: I.. can make that happen, yes. Yavir shifted his weight, inching closer to the controls panel. Speaking with Nestira would be a huge win, but he wasn’t willing to submit to capture for the sake of one conversation. He started pulling himself up, using the workstation as a ledge, and tapping a control to pull up the shield controls in the process. Still in a half crouch, he tried to look unthreatening. Boucher: I need to stand for this. Trovek: I-... That was when he leapt to his feet and once more tackled her. And Arys, caught entirely off-guard with this attack, had no means to defend herself. She was slammed against the wall and lost her footing, and she was sure that Boucher would kill her. Only that he didn’t. Yavir had hit with the outside of his shoulder, sending her careening away from the console behind her rather than tackling her into it. Boucher: You said you can get a message to Nestira? Trovek: Y-yes… Boucher/Moray: Tell her Yavir Moray is alive. Tell her I know what she did to Kat, and she will pay for it. That’s a promise. You deliver that message, and you’re worth leaving alive. He punched in a string of commands that opened up a secure communications link. Moray: =/\= Moray to the Dolorem =/\= Alvarez: =/\= Holy crap, you’re still alive!? =/\= Moray: =/\= I won’t be for much longer if you don’t get me out of here. =/\= Alvarez: =/\= One sec. ::beat:: yeah, I see you. =/\= Moray: ::to Trovek:: Deliver the message. And then he was nothing but shimmering light. Arys was alone. END(?) for Yavir Moray PNPC Lt. Trovek Arys Chief Medical Officer Starbase 118 Ops J239809TA4 ~and~ MNPC Yavir Moray (aka Elias Boucher) Simmed by Hiro Jones E239510KD0

This was a great read from Denali's very own Ensign Sasus Raimor. 👌🏻 (( Raimor’s Room, Anchorage, Denali Station - After The Party )) Raimor sat in front of the blank monitor unsure of what to do. He’d resolved himself to call his father and tell him everything that had been going on over the last few weeks, but that was twenty unproductive and silent filled minutes ago. Now he wasn’t so sure. He looked at his own reflection for an excuse to walk away or any form of advice. It looked back at him without offering either and the betazoid officer let out a deep sigh. oO You know, you could be a bit more helpful here. It’s your family too. Oo Raimor pushed back from his desk and walked over to a box of things he’d been meaning to put away since he moved to the station. Reaching in, he pulled out an old, dusty binder. He clutched the volume to his chest and walked over to the couch. He flopped down, kicking his feet up and wiping the layer of dust that had accumulated over time on the front cover of the little family heirloom. Thinking back, he wasn’t sure why his family had decided to keep most of the photos in a physical book. That had always just been the way they’d done things. A PADD could have kept many more photos in a safer manner, but there was something nostalgic about having these old memories in an actual book. He inhaled deeply, letting out a long sigh before tentatively opening himself up to everything he’d been avoiding for years now. He only recognized a few of the figures in the older photos. Great-great-grandmothers that had kept the family respectable hundreds of years ago and whatnot. With each page Raimor turned, a low rumbling sense of dread started to churn in his stomach. Black and white pictures with crumbled, yellowed edges turned into crisper color ones with more and more folks he recognized. He knew what was coming, but still let out a gasp when he saw it. He’d taken a photo the day he got accepted to Starfleet Medical. Proudest day of his life. He looked down at his own, younger face as it smiled back at him. The younger Raimor had his hands clenched tightly around a small disk-like object that contained a video detailing his acceptance to school and an arm wrapped tightly around his younger sister Heria. She was only a few years younger than him, but she had always looked half his age. His father stood behind the two of them in the dark uniform he always wore. Raimor couldn’t think back to a time where his father wasn’t wearing that same uniform. He remembered that he had to actually have mom take his father’s phone away just so they could get this picture. It was always that way back then. He smiled slightly and grabbed a box of tissue off of the coffee table to wipe his nose. He looked back at his own face and sighed. oO I know. I’ve avoided it all for too long. Oo He hesitated one last time before bringing his gaze back down to the book. He saw his older sister Alessa standing next to him, looking down at him and smiling. She looked so genuinely happy for him there. He knew how hard it was for her to show her teeth in photos; Mom had always had to bribe her to let them show, but here they were shining brilliantly in the sunshine. Raimor sighed and wiped his face again. He hadn’t been able to talk to Alessa for over two years now. He wondered how she was doing with her new husband. oO Father was so mad when she said she’d changed her last name. Oo That was the last time he’d seen his elder sister. He’d begged her not to leave, but she was always so headstrong. He’d never seen an Earth goat, but what he understood was a fairly apt description for his sister. She didn’t change her mind, but she’d slipped a piece of paper into his pocket with her contact information. He still hadn’t used it. His eyes had been avoiding the last ghostly form in the family picture, but he finally forced them onto it. His mother stood behind Alessa, hands on her shoulders, eyes firmly ahead at the camera. Raimor let out a shuddering, sniffling gasp. It was all too normal. There wasn’t any hint of the disease that would take her life two years later. No clue that the strong woman he was looking at was just dust now. He reached his hand out shakily to touch his mother’s face, but instead of the warmth he always associated with her, it was cold and plastic. It was wrong. Raimor closed the book and put it aside, not wanting to look at it anymore. He wiped himself clean with another tissue before wheeling back to his desk. His reflection was waiting for him, slightly more red now, but unhelpful as always. oO I guess nobody is going to save me, huh? Oo With a resolving breath, the Betazoid officer clicked to life, causing the monitor to flicker and force his reflection away. He waited anxiously for a few moments before a ringing tone echoed too loudly around his apartment. Raimor quickly turned the sound down to a more reasonable volume, hoping that nobody had been woken up by his call. He looked around for any signs that he’d trespassed on somebody's sleep, but snapped back when he saw a stern face on the monitor. Eloy: Sasus. It’s late. Raimor blinked at his father for a moment before responding. Raimor: Yeah, I thought… Well it’s been a while. I just wanted to check in with you. His father raised an eyebrow. Eloy: Are you well? Raimor: Uh, yeah. I just got done with an awards ceremony with the rest of the officers. Eloy: I see. There was an awkward silence between the two men. Raimor waited for his father to ask him something, anything, but he didn’t. They just stared at each other silently. Raimor: ::fumbling:: Umm, I graduated. I’m sure you figured that out though. I’m out on a station called Denali now. It’s a really fascinating place. W-We aren’t sure who built it yet, but it's a ring of sorts with a sun in the middle. ::pause:: It’s massive. Eloy: Yes, I heard. I heard that there was some sort of disturbance there as well. A pirate attack if I remember correctly. Raimor: ::excitedly:: Yeah! It actually was happening when I got here and I had to- Wait. You’ve been keeping up with me? Eloy: Not specifically. One of my associates was loosely linked with the shipment company who managed to lose the weapons your pirate queen lady stole. I had to prove that the company wasn’t involved. Raimor: Oh… I see. Eloy: Is that all you had to tell me, son? Raimor gripped the ribbon he’d just been awarded earlier in the evening tightly in his hands, feeling a familiar ache in the back of his throat. Raimor: No, that’s all. Eloy: Then have a nice night Sasus. The monitor flickered again and Raimor was left alone in his apartment. The young man finally let out the deep sob that he had been choking back. After all of this time his father truly hadn’t changed at all. NT, END Ensign Raimor Medical Officer Denali Station D240001SR3

((Interior, Main Engineering, Deck 3, USS Arrow)) Despite the recent progress he made with Lieutenant Commander R'Ariel, and even before Lieutenant Dewitt shared the good news about their long-hoped EPS overhaul, Ensign Nolen Hobart planned to avoid the “fun.” He knew that, as wave after wave of Arrow crew beamed down to “Space Vegas,” as some of the humans had taken to calling it, the ship would grow ever more still. The buzz of excitement had been building steadily since they set toward Deep Space 33, known ahead of time to be but a waypoint for bolder and brighter destinations, but it hadn’t grown in Nolen. As impressionable as his own mind could be by the press of others’ feelings upon him, his own, personally-cultivated dread at what he might sense even from orbit served as a robust levy against the rising tide. As high as the crests of anticipation seemed to be reaching, Ensign Hobart knew that down on Freecloud itself, if the lights wouldn’t blind him and the sounds wouldn’t deafen him, he would find himself struggling to keep his head above water. But there, as he made preparations for the upcoming overhaul, amidst the emotional buzz of the crew, an entirely different kind of buzz caught Nolen's attention. The power feed along the wall to the subspace transceiver was vibrating. Hobart: ::curiosity:: Huh. Vibrating equipment was generally not a great sign. Some equipment was meant to vibrate, but usually not for very long, and not without some kind of readout about what it was doing. Some equipment vibrated because some of its moving parts had come loose or required lubrication. But a power feed had no moving parts. Or, it wasn't supposed to. Nolen ran a system diagnostic. While he waited, he looked around the compartment. Empty again. He could get used to this, so long as the work was interesting. Connor had been there not that long ago, but he’d run off to Shuttlebay 1 to meet Ensign Slipka. Gripping the loop of a ceramic mug—a family gift, painted on its exterior a dubious declaration of Nolen's rank among and above the galaxy’s engineers—he brought it up under his nose, and gave the contents a long, satisfying sniff. The computer gave him a cheerful chirp and Nolen took a sip of his coffee. The results of the diagnostic were unsatisfying. No significant power fluctuations. No indication of any interruptions or irregularities at all. The computer thought this was great news. Nolen knew it was not. Hobart: ::concern:: Huh. He tried to recall who was on the bridge for this shift. Connor had mentioned who, but Nolen was too busy looking forward to the EPS overhaul that had finally been approved—and on a ship that had emptied its personnel, no less!—to pay that much attention to minor details like names and command structure. He tapped his combadge, expecting to open a channel to the Bridge and… whomever was there. He was surprised, not by the identity of the Officer of the Deck, but by the fact that his combadge started talking at him. Gott (recorded): =/\= …problems? Gott stuck? Have no fear, ‘cause I've Gott you! For a limited— =/\= Ensign Hobart had never before slapped his hand against his combadge with such determination or force. He ran a hand through his soft, wavy brown hair and grabbed a fistful. A sharp tug confirmed that he was not, in fact, in the midst of a nightmare. He gave it two more sharp tugs, just in case, before returning his attention to the console. ((Timeskip, Interior, Shuttlebay 2)) As the doors to the shuttlebay swished apart for him, Nolen threw up a hand to shield his eyes. The lights of the Billable Hours were blinding, and the noise—was that music, or sehlats mating?—was deafening. Nolen had found his own little chunk of Freecloud, already, right here on the Arrow. He wasn’t pleased. Hobart: ::yelling:: Computer, shut down all external device interfaces in Shuttlebay 2! If the Computer chirped its acquiescence in response, Nolen couldn’t hear it. But as the Billable Hours was cut off from the ship’s power feed, the lights dimmed and the noise faded to a tolerable whisper. It was then that Nolen got a good look at what exactly was going on in the shuttlebay, and shifted from “not” pleased to “dis-.” Hobart: ::mild horror, to self:: That is ten pounds of ship in a five pound bay… It was enormous. The sight of it inside the shuttlebay was nearly incomprehensible, and Nolen imagined that even the thought of it would have driven the engineers at the Starfleet Design Bureau babbling mad. He could make out three decks underneath a whole host of features that didn’t seem to make any sense or serve any purpose except to be there and look fancy. He tried not to be distracted by his reflection in the polished gold hull plating as he dared to creep closer. He crouched down to see that it was, in fact, resting on the deck, metal-to-metal, and, in order to avoid crushing its uppermost bits against the ceiling of the Arrow’s hangar, was actually listing at a disturbing twenty-five degree (or so) angle. He heard the hiss of an airlock equalizing from somewhere out of sight, and walked over to investigate just who had crammed this golden lump into the Arrow’s cavity. As he approached, he heard the whine of an embarkation ramp as it was interrupted halfway along its programmed travel by the deck of the Arrow, angled up from its perspective. As Nolen rounded the corner slowly, he was startled by an intense tap on his shoulder. Spinning around, he came face to face with an upset-looking Ferengi. Gott: Response? Hobart: This is your ship? Gott: Response? Nolen’s eyes narrowed. Hobart: Right now, I’m the guy who decides whether your ship gets to plug back into our EPS grid. Gott: Response? Nolen smiled. He hadn’t met very many, but he’d always heard that Ferengi were very pleasant, so long as you had something of value to give them. TAG/TBC ——— Ensign Nolen Hobart Engineering Officer USS Arrow (NCC-69829) A240001NH3 --

Absolutely cracking sim from @Jovenan here. Multiple plot and character elements from the ensign's short but eventful Starfleet career were expertly woven together in this dream sequence. What a delight this was to read, and the greatness continues in Part 2. Fantastic sim, Jo.

This sim by @Rebecca Iko really had me mentally fist-pumping in enthusiasm for her transformation into an action movie badass.

Usually when I am busy I just read rather quickly my comrades sims, if my characters aren't in the action. This last week was such an example and as I read in a few minutes the lines of the many stories they write only one got my full attention and was worth reading it with time. A luxury I lacked this week.

This was a great scene and I am very much eager to read more about Antonova Well done! @Talos Dakora

I loved this sim from our newest recruit @SevaReeshe! It's so witty, she had me giggling throughout while still maintaining the seriousness of the characters' situation. And the way she carefully incorporated Seva's backstory and skill set, comparing their situation to a final exam and referencing her father's stories, it's all so well done. Fabulous work, keep it up!

((Ferengi Yacht 'Billable Hours', on Approach to the USS Arrow)) Teeth scraping and gnashing together as he worked through the last of his second dinners imported tube grubs, Gott sighed with culinary contentment as he sipped a glass of Sluggo Premium Latinum Reserve and considered how he'd ended up aboard his newly purchased vessel and the purpose for his impromptu trip. Word had reached him in his small but gradually expanding counseling suites aboard Deep Space Thirty Three that the USS Arrow, home to many of his current roster of patients, had experienced grave trauma during the course of their last mission. It had concerned him to learn that many people had died and many more had been injured, mostly because he wasn't immediately able to book them for urgent crisis care for which he charged a significant premium. He'd been horrified at the thought of all that trauma and the associated anecdotes he could use to flesh out his next book going to waste so he'd decided to make his inaugural journey aboard the Billable, a spacious and luxurious yacht built to his exacting specifications and paid for with a small portion of the latinum he was making via his Interspecies Medical Exchange consultancy fee. Although it had taken far longer to complete then originally planned, largely due to his constant need to augment and improve the interior design features, Gott had to admit to finally being satisfied in a vessel that could serve as both home and office quite literally anywhere. The craft's overlong and tall body contained three decks and an observation dome, decorated in a style some would call 'ostentatiously garish' and which those same opinionated observers would silently envy. The lower deck, where the various engine bits and...pipes, he assumed....held little interest for him aside from containing the lobby to his office, where a tranquil fountain and soothing bogs created the gateway to his mid-deck, which contained a palatial end to end counseling suite that even the Nagus would be hard pressed to improve upon. The living carpet, bioengineered to give warmth and tactile feedback via his delicate feet, stretched from wall to wall and his 'listening couch,' upon which he could recline for maximum psychological insight, created a soothing liquid filled crescent around half the interior wall. Soothing lights, a robust media and sound system and a sumptuous bedchamber that would make terrestrial kings and emperors green with envy made up the top deck and extended all the way forward, where wrap around viewports provided a spectacular backdrop for his...personal entertaining. Although his invitations to the stations Commanding officer, a ravishing woman named Agatha, had so far been rejected with increasing amounts of hostility, Gott knew it wouldn't be long before his obvious charms won her over. All of this passed through his mind as Atraxia, his digital assistant, handled the mundane details of piloting the green and gold warp capable vessel on it's final approach towards the Arrow. Her synthetic and sultry voice called to him as he splayed out on the couch, his iridescent Tholian silk robe hanging open around his shoulders. Atraxia: Doctor Gott, we're on final approach to the Arrow but they're a little confused about our presence here. Gott clucked and straightened up slightly, brushing back his earhair into a well kempt mane. His voice was sharp and shrill when he answered. Gott: Put me on the radio with them then! I won't have my clients go unserviced...or worse...stuck with only Starfleet counselors to treat them. Or steal away his client list, he failed to add out loud. Atraxia dutifully opened a channel and Gott loudly cleared his throat. Gott: =/\= HaAcCGgGGGnGGGcchh =/\= Wilkenbean: =/\= Uhh....This is...Arrow flight operations. Please state your identification and purpose for approach. =/\= Gott finished clearing his throat and responded to the confused but officious sounding voice. Gott: =/\= Hello? Hello?! Is this thing even on?! =/\= Gott thumped on the comm pickup as his yacht drew closer to the Arrow, handily killing time as they approached. Wilkenbean: =/\= This is the Arrow, we are receiving your transmission....are you in...some form of distress? =/\= Gott clapped his hands together at the sudden opportunity and siezed upon it. Gott: =/\= Distress! Yes, very distressed Mister...Mister? =/\= The voice on the other end of the comm didn't seem to quite know what to do and fumbled out an reply. Wilkenbean: =/\= Petty Officer Wilkenbean...and you are? =/\= Gott stood at the sheer nerve of the question. Gott: =/\= Well of course you know who I am, Mr. Winkenbreen! I'm Doctor Gott...famed author, esteemed practioner of the therapeutic arts, noted interior designer. And I desperately need to come aboard your little vessel right this instant! =/\= The voice on the other end of the comm sounded taken aback and the distance to the Arrow dropped to less than a hundred kilometers. Wilkenbean: =/\= Well I'm sorry, Doctor, but I don't have you on the flight schedule and I don't have authorization to bring a civilian vessel aboard. Please discontinue your approach or you risk being fined under Starfleet regulation...=/\= Gott cut the man off with a terse cackle. Gott: =/\= This is a medical emergency, Lieutenant Franksandbeans, and I'm using my special authority as a medical practioner working for Starfleet and the Interspecies Medical Exchange! Your crew is in desperate need of psychological aid and I'm coming aboard! Clear the landing pad or...whatever it is you need to do...we're landing. =/\= Gott closed the channel and watched with a smile as Atraxia competed the approach and, with only a bit of hesitation, the Arrow's forward facing shuttlebay doors slid open and allowed his vessel to park up, consuming most of the interior volume of the tiny bay. Now all he had to do was wait for the patients to come to him. [To Be Continued!] ((OOC: Gott is now available for shoreleave counseling services for anyone who wants to visit!)) ====================================== Gott Ferengi Commerce Authority Bonded Psychotherapist Noted Author Ships Counselor, Interspecies Medical Exchange V239509GT0

Great stuff, Doctor @Seesh! ((USS Arrow, Deck 3, Sickbay, Surgical Bay 2)) “Doctor Seesh, that's not the S.O.P, even I know that.” Those words decided to ring through his mind now. Could that not wait? Seesh bristled in irritation as that sunk in. Not at Commander Serinus, but at himself. He was in Starfleet, there was a procedure to things, he knew that. He had a reason, Jacin and MacKenna's injuries were more pressing matters. It wasn't just him prioritizing the Arrow crew. However, he knew there was a procedure for a reason, he wasn't in his ship-hopping days anymore. He should have picked his words better. oO Not that anything has been standard about this mission from moment one. Oo He quickly, even somewhat violently shook his head, as if to rattle those thoughts out. Live and learn, and carry on, that's how he got this far. That and persistence. Heaps of persistence. His focus turned fully to Lieutenant Jacin as preparations were finished, osteotractors set to make sure Jacin's spine didn't move a micron. No risking any more damage. A full suite of tools and an error-free sensor cluster before him provided some reassurance as he pieced together what he was working with. That was an exposed spine and burns from what was meant to be a lethal phaser blast. Thankfully, it had barely managed not to be. Adjusting the holoscreen, he could see this was going to be a process. Singed nerves and cartilidge, parts down to the bone vaporized. While it looked bad, his probings gave him more and more hope, everything was still mostly functional. A combination of neuro-synaptic shock from the phaser and muscular detachment was what caused Jacin's immobility. Routine sterilization had taken care of any incidental debris, and the spinal cord itself was, as far as he could tell, untouched, so everything laid out in front of him was relatively simple. oO Did I just see that and think 'simple'? Simple by spinal surgery standards, maybe. Oo The noise and bustle of the rest of Sickbay, of Doctor Ohnari's nearby procedure in progress faded away. It was all still there, but pushed out of the way in his mind, the drones and beeps of his own readings at the forefront. 'Simple' or not, there was bone to restore, muscle and ligament to regrow and reattach, burns to treat, skin to heal. This initial surgery was going to be the backbone of Jacin's recovery. Figuratively and literally. With a careful mix of nanosurgeons to start the process of regrowing the bone outward into the desired shape and his own diligent supervision of the tissues between with a sonic separator and protoplaser, repairs shaped along nicely, until erratic beeps from Jacin's readings started, interrupted by one quick defibrillation cycle, bringing things back to normal. Seesh could feel his own heart racing, though he hadn't flinched at all. Working with the nervous system, complications were always right around the corner. After a pause to make sure his heart didn't affect his hands, he double-checked for burns and damaged tissue around the site, along with making triply certain everything was sterile. She would be bed-bound until the follow-up surgery and it would take a bit of rehabilitation, but the Lieutenant should be back to her old self soon. He couldn't help but reflect that if they were in another place or another time, maybe not even all that long ago, Jacin's prognosis might be much different, much more uncertain. After updating Jacin's charts, making certain she was being carefully monitored, and that he was on-call if anything at all happened, he retreated to his quarters for a mental breather. Talking to patients was always a difficult piece of medical work for him, and hours of surgical work wouldn't do him any favors there. He couldn't help but smile to himself once he was alone. Sure, he'd probably have to get a formatting refresher from Ohnari for a research paper, and he'd never have the same way with people R'Ariel did. Surgeries, though? Give him a few more minutes, and he could go for round two if he needed to. ((Timeskip, Sickbay Recovery Suites)) It had seemed all three doctors had some impeccable timing, though Seesh lagged slightly behind, but close enough that the doors didn't give off another hiss. He was surprisingly quiet sometimes, whether he meant to be or not. R'Ariel: How are we all doing? MacKenna: We're here, we've survived. You tell us the rest of the story. Jacin: Well, we’re in sickbay so… Taking a look at the Commander's foot for the first time in hours, it was already a massive improvement. He actually hadn't been sure if getting MacKenna's real limb back was doable, but he was glad that it was. Ohnari had done some impressive work. Ohnari: Looking good here, Commander. Although you'll have to stay with us a few days, I am decidedly confident you will have full range of motion available to you. MacKenna: Sounds like a vacation. The look on the Commander's face was, this time, visible to him. There was some sort of distaste or sarcasm to it. Understandable, who liked being confined to a biobed? Something was said between MacKenna and Zabi, but he didn't quite pick it up. R'Ariel: Lt Ayemet, I dare say you had us all very worried. What have I told you about ending up on the casualty list? Jacin :trying to sound casual: Sorry to have let you down sir. Ohnari: ::softly:: No one is let down, we're happy you returned, and are working on recovering. She gave a soft smile, but Seesh picked up a bit of worry behind it. So, he wasn't the only one, then. He'd been around his fellow doctor long enough, he started to pick up on her subtleties. R'Ariel: I think you and I are going to have a really good talk about what you sensed over there. He was curious about that, too, though he wasn't sure it was his place. That was much more in R'Ariel's wheelhouse. Jacin: Yes sir. It seems like I won’t be going anywhere. R'Ariel: Looks like you got this. Ensign Zabi, have you been looked at yet? Zabi: Well, I'm not bleeding anymore but I'll need a new shirt...and probably new pants. How's the commander here? They were going to be replicating a lot of new uniforms after this one, that was for sure. It seemed that Talia had only now noticed him, but then, he had been awfully quiet. There was still a bit of 'everything should be fine' he was trying to think how to voice without being too blunt about it. Ohnari: Commander is stable, once the osteo-generators finish, I'll be able to begin the dermal grafting. Seesh: Lieutenant Jacin is going to need a follow-up, but after that, I'm confident she'll be back to her old self soon enough. I apologize if being unable to move scared you, Lieutenant, but you'll be mobile next time you wake. Though, there was a slight bit of uncertainty to his voice he hoped didn't bleed through. She should be fine. Ohnari: ::lowering her voice:: I hadn't had a chance to check the chart yet, how extensive was the damage? Any impact to the spinal column? Seesh: ::quieter:: Spinal column, yes, spinal cord, no. Soon as the nanosurgeons finish filling the gaps, which will be quite soon, she'll need a follow-up for muscular reattachment, dermal regeneration, and possibly physical therapy afterward. ::pause:: You might say she's unlucky, but I say otherwise, if that phaser had hit a few millimeters lower... He trailed off, not needing to say much more than that. He didn't really want to say more than that, thinking about it turned his stomachs. There was a fair bit of work ahead of them yet, but it seemed the worst was behind them. They were, as the saying went, out of the woods. Perhaps more accurately, out of The Swamp. NT/END Ensign Seesh Medical Officer USS Arrow, NCC-69829 A240002S11

I was trying to think of a clever text to describe how much I love this scene, but instead I'll just stand over here, hold up my 'I ❤️ Foster'-sign, and let y'all read the sim

In this, @Talia Ohnari has landed upon the formula to winning me over in a sim. Plausible technobabble? Self doubt overcome by abject professionalism? RELEVANT BACKSTORY?! Love it!

Utterly thrilling to read from start to finish, and @Jo Marshall properly sets the tone for the final act of "Fight the Power", our current trip into all things Skarbek. Glinn Corbin Terek - A Swift Solution Supplied (google.com)

(( Outside counselling offices, USS Constitution-B, alternate quantum reality )) As the doors swished closed behind him, Lazarus broke his stride and paused now standing in the corridors full of people going about their day. He watched them for a moment, his eyes full of a dull fear. It was the kind of fear that eats a man from the inside out. He felt hollow. A small child's voice cut through his mental haze, as the child asked their parent if they could go see one of their friends on deck 8. He glanced left and right, and then joined into the flow of people moving about as he headed back to his quarters. When people spoke of Azura, she sounded better than him. A better leader, a better scientist, a better friend, and a better partner. It made him feel small, like he hadn't been living up to his full potential. As he walked, he mostly avoided eye contact, or if he accidentally met the eyes of someone else passing by he offered a terse simulacra of a smile. He had crossed through to a different-same reality, only to learn that the version of himself that departed here was his better. He was living in his own shadow... or was it her shadow? He still couldn't make sense of this change. Who was he? Were he and Azura the same? And if she was the more confident, more composed, happier version of themselves, then should he become her? In some ways it felt compelling to do so, but he was held by fear each time he thought about it. What if he transitioned, only to find out he was still the lesser of the two? What if he was transitioning to try and fix something and it was the wrong choice? What if he transitioned and did it wrong? It should make sense, all of this, but it doesn't. After extensive paperwork and meetings, he was granted access to her personal logs. He wanted to understand her and her life, in hopes that it would help him make sense of things. It wasn't just that she transitioned. She was also, apparently, autistic and queer as well. He found a few mentions in her logs of Kovar. He remembered Kovar well, and the book they gave him on neurodivergence. Lazarus had never read it, but it seemed that Azura did. He didn't have extensive personal logs of her time before joining Starfleet, but the mention of reading Kovar's book stood out to him. Maybe she read the book and figured out she was autistic. Or maybe she allowed herself to feel the queer yearning that he knew he repressed about Kovar. Or maybe it was both. Could he recreate the process if he read the book? Or would his journey need to be different because he knew the ending already? He sighed and noticed the intersection he was at, and took a turn toward the arboretum and abandoned his plan to go back to his quarters. (( Arboretum )) He spotted an empty bench and sat down. Plenty of people milled about, including another senior officer. They waved at each other. Sure, he had his title and his position back, but he was a ghost of who he used to be. Too afraid to connect, too overshadowed by Azura. It was hard for everyone to lose her, and to gain such a vague shadow of her. Lazarus decided that he was probably autistic, too, but still hadn't read the book. And he knew he was queer. He was still getting used to admitting it to himself, but those things were true. And it felt good to know those things, and to find peace about them. He was able to make sense of his experiences, especially growing up, when he reconsidered himself as an undiagnosed autistic and closeted queer kid. But was he transgrender? He scratched at his beard in contemplation, and noting for the umpteenth time that his beard didn't make him uncomfortable. He sort of liked it, it covered up a lot of his face and was very masculine. But then it struck him, an idea. The holodeck! He got up and hurried himself to whatever Holodeck was open. (( Holodeck 2 )) As he stepped into the black and gold grid, he ordered up a simple program. Davis: Computer, officer's quarters from the USS Constitution, just like the ones I'm staying in. The computer chirped in affirmation and the quarters materialized around him. Davis: Computer... He felt a cold sweat immediately forming all over his body. Part of him was thrilled, but most of him was terrified about what happened next, and how it would feel. Davis: Computer, change my appearance to match that of Azura Ada's. And give me a body-length mirror. The computer again affirmed the order, but seemed to hesitate for an iota of a second before complying. Maybe he just imagined it. He felt something odd as the computer projected a hologram onto his own body. He knew it was possible, but he'd never done it before. But when he looked down, he saw hands that responded to every movement, but they were slender and... lady-like. Gone were the fingers he'd written off as "sausage fingers." And suddenly there was hair surrounding his face and weighing his head down. Over the years, he'd tried to grow his hair out more than once but never got very far. This was full, and long, and moved when he moved. A strange sensation. He looked down and saw his chest. He gasped, and quickly stepped in front of the three panel body-length mirror. As soon as he saw the reflection, a shock ran down his spine and a deep sense of dread filled him, mixed with an overwhelming joy. Lazarus tried to study the reflection in the mirror, but every time he looked at it–at her–he started getting choked up. It was her, yes, but it was also him. He was her, she was him. It was all there. He'd seen this face plenty of times but to live in it, even as a hologram, was something entirely different. He touched his face, and watched the delicate hand caress his-her cheek as tears rolled down his face. Her face. Their face? He turned and posed and studied the form from all angles. As the shock wore off, so too did the dread. The dread, he was able to identify, was born out of fear that he'd like it. And that meant lots and lots of change. And change was hard. But he didn't like it–it was more than that. He stopped posing and was suddenly very still in front of the mirror. He felt a roiling inside himself, a conflict: fear and fact, battling inside. It could have been seconds, minutes, or maybe more. But suddenly it clicked. He opened his mouth and declared to the empty holodeck... Davis: I'm a woman. And she wept tears of relief and joy and fear in front of the simulated mirror. —— Lt Commander Lazarus Davis Second Officer Chief Science Officer USS Constitution-B IDIC team member ASDB team member C239510LD0 (she/her?, character) (she/they, writer)