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((Personal Quarters, Deck 5, USS Intrepid)) The quarters Avander had been assigned were private (a positive), but windowless (a negative). Looking out at the vastness of space never got old, and he liked to record his personal and duty logs while staring out a window. Instead, he found himself staring at a painting of geometric shapes, a circle and a triangle. He thought it might be something meaningful to Vulcans—what was it called—ID-eye-see? That sounded about right. He would have preferred a window. The crew had already received a briefing on how to file their official duty logs. There would be a copy for the ship’s records of their specific actions, but another, more detailed copy (with notes about the temporal shenanigans) forwarded to the Department of Temporal Investigations. Their protocols would keep certain details under wraps for at least the next 135 years. Still in discussions with the counseling staff, Avander realized that many of the staff were concerned about the stress their loved ones would have in the future when they suddenly blinked out of time in the year 2400. While they hoped to get back to the very time they left (or thereabouts), some of the crew were (justifiably) concerned that that was easier said than done. So the solution they had come up with was, in Avander’s humble opinion, quite clever. They would encode personal messages with a codex that would be indecipherable until 2400 and send personal messages to friends and family along nonrelativistic, old-fashioned radio transmissions. To most observers, they would look like background radiation, but if they had made accurate calculations, Starfleet would be able to intercept their signals, decode them, and pass along messages to those left behind in 2400. Avander pressed the record button on the old-timey data pad, stared at the painting, and began to dictate. Personal message Saturn Delphi Codex I don’t know when, or if, I will return to my own time. I want my family to know that I am well enough. I’ve taken a detour to the past and the crew and I have helped to save a planet’s population in the 2260’s. More alarmingly, there are transhumanistic beings aboard, including a Q. I’ve made contact with Auntie Elmond and have been reassured that things will all work out. Avander paused the recorder. He didn’t feel that this would end up being his “last message” home and it felt off to try and force any finality to the message. Still, in case something unexpected did happen to them, it might be better to add a few more words. The past isn’t as fun as I was led to believe—at least it’s a lot more inconvenient than Grandpa Endic always made it out to be. Our Starfleet delta’s aren’t even combages! He could go on about the technology limitations of this age, but didn’t want to come off whiny. Avander struggled to think of an appropriate topic for this awkward cross-time communication. Without technology and endless access to information libraries, I’m gaining a better appreciation of analog listening. I think I’m getting better at it, but there are always so many different ways to interpret the same data… Shoot—what had started as a good personal observation had turned into a philosophical reflection within two sentences. His mother would chide him for being too abstract in his messages. Perhaps it would be best to wrap this up and get ready for his shift. One way or another, I’m sure I’ll see you all again “soon.” I am grateful for the opportunity for a truly novel adventure—after all, that’s what I signed up for! I just didn’t expect my assignments to take me quite so far from home. All my love, Avander. That would have to do. Time to get back to work. -- Lt JG Avander Promontory Intelligence Officer USS Oumuamua O239910AP4

I absolutely loved reading this - our normally delightfully cheerful CEO getting to tear things up. And a Blondie reference, what's not to love? @Hallia Yellir, great work as always!

I adore reading well-written solo sims that give an insight into the character, and highlight history and personality traits that aren't emphasised on in other interaction. I liked this one in particular for choosing the style of a Captain's personal log - I hope we get to read more of this!

Really enjoyed this whole scene between @Oddas Aria and @N. Aristren aka Trovek and this final sim wraps it up nicely. ((Upper Operations, Anchorage, Denali Station)) The last conversation between Arys and Tito hadn’t exactly gone well. He had told her of his involvement in Aaron’s death, and she had told him that she was about ready to stab him but didn’t want to ruin the new carpet. The snarky comment and kicking him out had, at the time, seemed better than yelling or crying or any other emotional outburst. She had handled Lukin in a similar manner - by writing him an equally strongly worded note - after all he had KNOWN and not told her - and wordlessly leaving with the USS Braveheart. All of this had, in the heat of the moment, seemed like a good approach. A mature approach even. For hours she had been beyond pleased with herself - after all, she was stepping away from the conversation rather than escalating the matter further, right? … Wrong. Somewhere halfway through the journey to Denali, Arys had realised that two wrongs didn’t make one right, and that she had effectively abandoned her family. Now she surprised herself by how sure she was that the enjoinment was still happening. She was even inviting people to it. Trovek: I am getting married. He is a Cardassian Ambassador and it will be... somewhat of a big deal I suppose. I would be delighted for you to come. Which, admittedly, isn't a good reason to travel to Ops, but I do have a colleague who is trying to interface a Xindi-Insectoid build ship with something that doesn't require compound eyes to pilot it - which seems infinitely more interesting. Cardassian enjoinment ceremonies were very private, but the celebration around it was meant to showcase a families wealth and anything but. Due to Lukin’s status as Ambassador, it was expected of him to invite whoever was politically relevant enough, and it was still a matter of discussion who would actually be facilitating the wedding ceremony. Probably Taybrim. Which was awkward because Arys and Sal didn’t have the best relationship. In other words, while playing around with a Xindi-Insectoid build trade ship wasn’t entirely Arys’ cup of tea, it was a lot less terrifying. Oddas stood and placed her mug in the Replicator, then motioned to Arys, who gave a non-verbal “yes, please”. While she hadn’t planned on taking up so much of the woman’s time, she actually found herself positively surprised by the conversation. It wasn’t oppressively personal. It didn’t make her feel like there was something wrong with her because she didn’t have the inclination to make friends with every new Ensign. With the happy shiny people that made up Ops’ CO and FO, she always felt … inadequate. Oddas: Congratulations, of course - I hope you are very happy. I haven't been to 118 more than a dozen times, generally to teach a class, and the last time was because I was tricked into it. ::sitting the replicated items on the desk:: Why are we retrofitting a Xindi ship? The thrill? Good question. Because Nestira had taken a liking to the ship she had… apparently… found… on Miranda VII. Because Arys, while not an Engineer, appreciated challenges and passion projects, and had offered her help. Arys reached for the coffee and for a moment simply observed the wisps of steam carried the familiar aroma through the room. Trovek: .. Yeah, pretty much. ::beat:: I realise that’s probably not a good reason. Not a good reason to have someone like Oddas travel to Ops. Oddas: ::smiling:: I have an entire building out there ::she motioned with her thumb to the city:: just dedicated to weird engineering projects, so that seems perfectly reasonable to me. Or precisely the reason to have someone like Oddas travel to Ops. Trovek: I am sure the other Engineers involved would love to meet you. She was thinking of Velix and Egil in particular. Velix was pretty much excited about everything, and Ensign Egil (who was actually Lieutenant JG Renot, but that didn’t alliterate, so Arys continued thinking of him a Ensign Egil and was actually proud of herself for not saying it to his face) would likely be appreciative of an assignment that didn’t involve handling explosives. Oddas: I'll definitely try, could be a fun adventure. Arys gave a nod, and for a brief moment she remembered what she had actually meant to ask Oddas about - her transfer. For the past year and a half she had mentally crewed on her perceived failure as counsellor. Even though she loved being back in medical and was, by all measures, fairly successful. Had she not spent those five years at different academy campuses and interning on different vessels, she would have been home to spent time with her grandfather before he passed away. But as she sipped from her coffee, she wondered if it really mattered. There were really just two possible answers - a yes and a no. If Oddas hadn’t kicked Arys off the Juneau for her questionable hallucinations, it meant that Arys had been agonising about something pointless for a year and a half. Which wasn’t exactly a good investment of her time. And if Oddas had kicked Arys off her ship, then there was probably a good reason for it, and it had been done in the best interest of the crew. And as Arys was figuring out what kind of leader she wanted to be, she decided that this was an approach she too would take. [End Scene] PNPC Lt. Trovek Arys Chief Medical Officer Starbase 118 Ops J239809TA4 “Paths are made by walking” -- Franz Kafka

I will admit I was surprised by how this JP played out - I guess I expected Tito's cold stare and DeVeau to be lenient I very much love that this wasn't the case, and that Tito gets to retake Diplomacy 101 AGAIN. I'm looking forward to seeing him in Science, and I enjoy that slightly stricter side to our beloved FO

I love seeing players step outside their comfort zone and try something new! This is a really well-written sim by @Solaris that gave a nice ending to MSNPC Richard Barlowe and served as a great way to re-introduce McLaren as Director of Intel (Congrats btw!) ❤️

This first mission for the Artemis has been an absolutely wild ride. This post by @Hiro Jones (from an MSPNPC driven mad by airborn particles and telepathic rage) is truly unique and inspiring. Original: https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-artemis/c/p798zgyRgtI/m/CrJfnPeRGAAJ

I thought this one was really well done by @Yalu. Due to an encounter with a telepathic hivemind entity a year or so ago, Yogan and Talos swapped bodies for a few days. As a result, the Yalu symbiont has a snapshot of Talos' consciousness as it was at that time as a "host' of sorts. I really appreciated the call back to a long-running plot thread between the two characters in this scene where Talos is afflicted by an unknown contaminant that's causing the locals and those with extra-sensory abilities to lose control and be driven to destroy anything and everything. ================SIM================ (( Turyon Planet Hopper, Tecra, Da’al )) With the up-and-down escape underway, Yogan overheard Jones enlisting Hallia in his plan to test the stasis field theory. Occasionally, when he was certain they wouldn’t be fired upon, he glanced back over his shoulder to watch what they were doing. If this method worked, they’d need to implement it on a citywide scale, so Yogan tried to at least grasp the underlying scientific principles. Jones: ::consulting his tricorder:: Right, so the frequency we'll need is an oscillation between 34.8 MHz and 22.2 MHz. Is there broadcast transmitter array on this vessel, or will we need to go somewhere else? Dakora: How far away is this place? ::He grimaced.:: I'm doing... I'm doing real bad back here. The interruption was uncharacteristic. Talos wasn’t usually a complainer. The Betazoid’s pained expression masked a roiling emotional state just beneath the surface. Yalu: What can we do for him? MacKenzie: I can’t recommend another dose of Lexorin – he’s already agitated and I think at this point additional drugs might only make it worse… Jones: ::quietly to Yellir:: If he's willing to cooperate and hold still, we can do a short-range test on him. Yellir: Respectfully doctor, I don’t think he’s in a cooperative mood. I’d feel safer if Lieutenant Osuna held him down and we tried the device on him. But that’s not exactly an ethical solution. The thought of restraining Talos struck Yogan unexpectedly hard. He’d heard some of what Talos and MacKenzie went through as Klingon prisoners. It was grim and it was hard to listen to, but it wasn’t personal. This felt different. Yogan had never figured out what to do with the memories of “Talos Yalu” that existed inside his symbiont. Only recently had he started thinking of Talos as more similar to his other hosts than different. His first step toward reconciling the effects of a terrible accident of Cytarian technology had yielded some positive results. But now, as everyone discussed experimenting on Talos and holding him down, Yogan regretted blurring that boundary. He felt like they were talking about him, Yogan, and it was too weird. Yalu: No. Let’s not do that if we can avoid it. Osuna: Lieutenant? Talk us through it – what are you experiencing? Do you have control? Thankfully, Osuna stepped up and got Talos’ attention. But not in a good way. Talos eyed Osuna’s phaser. Dakora: Give it to me. Yogan’s hand shook as his thumb slid over the trigger of his sidearm. Osuna: Sit down, Lieutenant. MacKenzie rose from her seat and addressed Dakora directly. Given their strong professional relationship, and their awkward personal one, MacKenzie had the greatest odds of getting Talos to remain focused. MacKenzie: Lieutenant Dakora, I order you to stand down. Jones: Nearly there… Yellir: I’m improving the power distribution systems so the device doesn’t burn out halfway through using it. Hopefully it doesn’t erupt into sparks when we use it. Osuna: ::To MacKenzie:: Captain, permission to restrain Lieutenant Dakora? MacKenzie: I think that would be wi- Dakora lunged forward and grabbed at Osuna's phaser. Osuna stepped backwards but, given the craft’s small size, there was nowhere else for him to retreat. Dakora's hands closed around Osuna’s wrist. Dakora: It's MINE! MacKenzie: Stand down! Yogan hesitated. He’d never fully given himself permission to process the slush of memories, and this was the consequence. He couldn’t shoot Talos, because it felt too much like shooting a part of himself. Time slowed and Yogan’s vision grew narrow. This wasn’t good. If not dereliction of duty, it was at the very least a “referral to the counselor”-level of unprofessionalism. Osuna butted the side of Talos’ face with his elbow. Yogan winced as if he felt the blow land on his own cheek. Osuna: I said– Dakora: I NEED IT. Using his free hand, Osuna grabbed Talos’ wrist and twisted it backwards to free his phaser. The two stumbled sideways, knocking over a small crate, which clattered to the ground. Everything happened so quickly. Yogan watched numbly as Osuna tussled with Talos. The sound of Yogan’s heartbeat drowned out the sound of smashing crates and bodies being flung over seat backs. Osuna: Last chance, Lieutenant. Sit down. Dakora: Do... It... The blur cleared instantly when the weapons fire charged the air with energy. Yogan felt like he’d just emerged from a bad dream. Talos lay unconscious on the floor of the craft and Osuna immediately checked on him. Osuna: Dammit… ::To Jones:: Make sure he’s alright. Yogan didn’t notice—or maybe he purposely ignored—a tear running from the corner of his eye down his cheek and into his muddy, cakey beard. MacKenzie: Well, I don’t know about all of you, but I’ve had enough excitement for one day. Jones: Took the words from my mouth, sir. Yellir: I’m looking forward to a long sonic shower when we’re back. Erbil: Not much more hopping left. ::to Teolin:: Grandpapa used to fly these old birbs during my conscripted service days. ::beat:: That’s when I met your grandmama. TBC

Not only was this well played out, @N. Aristren aka Trovek's writer won't even take it easy on her own other characters, but the format, the splitting the scene. I love to see creative ways of simming that really do give a feel as if you're reading a script from the show.

((Chief Security Officer's Office, StarBase 118)) Mason: I don’t know why I brought that up. :: He shifts in his chair.:: I’m taking up too much of your time, Lieutenant. I should maybe go... Aine stood and set her glass down on the desk then reached out to shake Mason's hand. Sherlock: Well, Ensign, I'm available to talk whenever you need. It's no bother. Mason: :: stands up when she did, holding his glass in his left hand, and after shaking her hand with the other hand, he finishes the drink. He does not ask for one for the road but looks at her. :: Thanks for seeing me. I appreciate it. Take care, Sherlock: You too, have a good rest of your evening. She stood for a few moments more as Mason set his glass down on the coaster on the desk, and then made his way out of her office. Mason left her office and stood for a moment two steps outside the door. He had a simple choice to make in the moment. To go left - a more direct route to his quarters, or to go right and walk a bit. All sorts of destinations presented themselves in both directions, including a less direct route to his quarters if he went to the right. He was in no real hurry to go back to his quarters, so he went right. As he walked he compartmentalized his thoughts. Aware of his surroundings, walking, avoided bumping people standing around talking, nodding his head to those he passed who made eye contact and nodded at him, saying ‘hello’ to those who saw him walking by and said hello as they went their way. That was the surface-level thought. Below that level, his guard was up. He was attentive not only to his immediate space but the visible and audible space ahead and behind him and in open areas, all around him. His father had coached him as a child. He didn’t like to explain it and rarely did. But when he had, he explained it as nothing more than having learned techniques to improve his situational awareness. Situational awareness was being aware of one’s surroundings and any potential hazards or threats. That fairly summed it up. It wasn’t a special power, it wasn’t something exciting like being able to read minds or project thoughts. It was a learnable skill; to be observant, to be oriented, and to be decisive in weighing options and realistic in looking for the best possible outcome knowing his capabilities and limitations. And being willing to act using the information obtained through observation, orientation, and decision-making to protect him and get to safety. In familiar locations, when he was alert, awake, and sober, this compartmentalization allowed him to access another level of thought at the same time. Familiar locations did not always mean safe locations. Anyone who grew up in places like the south side of Chicago knew well that familiar locations did not always mean safe and sometimes, rarely meant safe. But walking here through this part of 118, more or less in the direction that would lead him towards several districts, after enjoying a couple of drinks with the Chief of Security this was not one of those times. Here right now, he was maybe 70% surface, 30% guard up, and 0% thinking about the past, present, or future. And that suited him right now. Sometimes thinking about all that crap was overrated. End Scene Mike Ensign Jackie Mason SN 118 OPS Counselor O239911JM3

It's Friday evening and you're a little sad because you've read all your ships sims already? Read THIS. Honestly. It's awesome. Well done! ❤️

I really love this farmer turned resistance fighter character that @Samira Neathler has so wonderfully written. Throughout his journey, with meeting the Marquis, and wrestling with fighting for his home, but feeling very much like a farmer... it really has been subtle, powerful, and incredible to read. ❤️

I promise this time I properly looked through the forums to confirm nobody else had already posted this one! @Talos Dakora, writing from the perspective of a man whose mind is being overthrown by a telepathy-infused rare-mineral-induced rage did a great job capturing the swing and balance between his lingering 'humanity' and the turbulent and uncontrollable desire to destroy growing within him. A fun read! Original Here: https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-artemis/c/s3jHzML-vig/m/tWRrSCprFwAJ

There are several reasons why I enjoyed reading this scene between @Lt Aine Olive Sherlock and Ensign Mason. It gave wonderful insights into Sherlock's past and the things she struggles with, then turned around and described what joining Starfleet on a second career path is like for Mason. I also really like how Sherlock integrates the fallout of the last mission, and her obligations as department chief. Well done!

(( Egil's quarters - StarBase 118)) Egil had invited Rue over post mission to check in with her. This was the second high stress mission he'd worked alongside with her in a very short span of time. He had been spending more time dancing and work, burning himself down into the ground to deal with his own stress and emotions. His recent collapse on shift prompted him to check in on Rue. Or… try to. Blackwell: Well ::wryly:: I’m not collapsing at work if that is what you mean? I’m going to assume that Sickbay and Doctor Foster gave you some rest orders. Renot: Doctor Zumagi has seen to me. I haven't told Wyn yet. I probably should, before he finds out other ways. Egil grimaced at that thought. Wyn would definitely not be impressed if he found out of Egil's collapse through Zumagi. Blackwell:: I remember my starting days when I could just keep working until I fell over. ::she gave a smile that was without judgement or condescension, but empathy:: I lived for it. And after a mission like that...it’s easy to get caught up in the whirlwind. Renot: I need to remember me and my body aren't as young as they used to be. Blackwell: So since you are on a bit of involuntary relaxing - ::she grinned:: did you make plans for something fun? Egil emitted a small snort, shaking his head. He definitely noticed Rue deflecting the topic back onto him. He had a plan… Renot: If you call dance practice and plant shopping fun, sure. Oh and gardening. Blackwell: ? He leaned forward and snagged the pot of the little bonsai with the tips of his fingers and dragged it closer. Renot: I can't neglect this little guy. He studied the tree. Maybe he should give some seeds from it to Alora. He was sure she would like some Al-Leyan plants. Blackwell: ? Renot: It's a little bonsai that's from a tree from my native planet. Trees are an integral part of our culture. Still not entirely sure why to be honest. Blackwell: ? Renot: The limbs of the tree are what people see on the outside of us; who we hang out with, our jobs, who we present to the world. The tree is only as strong and stable as its roots. And then, a catastrophic windstorm or the constant eroding trickle of water weaken the soil and roots and knock it down. Egil slid his fingers in the soil around the edge of the pot, lifting the little tree out to show the roots. They had seen better days. They were horribly cramped and tangled, a big mass of roots Blackwell: ? Renot: And our roots are our grounding forces that keep us… well… rooted. Loved ones, connections, mental health and so on. If we neglect our roots, our tree will fall over. These roots are overwhelmingly cramped. The tree is stressed. I need to thin them out and move it to a bigger pot. Egil gave Rue a very pointed look, slipping the bonsai gently back in the pot. Renot: So… how are your roots holding up? Egil dusted his hands off and picked up his tea, sipping it as he observed Rue with a concerned and caring expression. Blackwell: ? Tags/TBC Lt. JG Egil Renot Engineering Officer StarBase 118 Ops O239905ER3

Another beautifully written sim by Bryce. I really enjoyed how you threaded together Bryce's inner thoughts with the things happening around him (and to him, psychologically) by mentioning other members of the Skarbek, It was done in such a subtle and nuanced way, and I could picture it so clearly and cinematically. I imagined the camera panning slowly away from Bryce and dissolving into other scenes, showing each character as they are mentioned, before going back to him. Amazingly done! ✍️🎥 Bryce "Croaker" Tagren-Quinn - Life, uh, Finds a Way (google.com)

Daaaang, you two, this was gripping... Excellent writing @Vitor S. Silveira and @N. Aristren aka Trovek

There has been a deluge of spectacular simming the last few days aboard the Artemis and, while I could have easily posted an appreciation for any of the sims in this scene, I think that this bit of introspective writing from Ensign @Jovenan is truly spectacular -- and the initiative shown in how her character has responded to this 'crisis' was wonderful to read. You can find the original here: https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-artemis/c/fL_RwJxJzp0/m/G8CFRu3LBAAJ

I have loved to see how our Science Officer @Jovenan has been dealing with this mission. But this bada... This "attitude" really got to me. Very well done. I am loving it.

You know a sim is exciting when you verbally go "yes!" while reading it. In this continuation of an interrogation scene with three Skarbek Maquis and a Cardassian Glinn, we watch through Nkai's eyes as things are suddenly switched up, and a new tactic is introduced. As always, being a Rodulan, the way Nkai perceives events is often through his telepathy, and I am constantly amazed and take inspiration from the style in which Quinn writes him. Caedan "Groove" Nkai - Lots of Pain, No Gain (google.com)

Another great shore leave sim on Denali Station, courtesy of @John Kendrick 👏🏻 ((Bridge, Deck 1, USS EAGLE)) Falt: Helm, lay in a course for home. The ship's red alert status cast a crimson glow across John's face as he stared up at the viewscreen, where the remnants of the Reaver ship drifted silently in space. His breathing grew more rapid and the rhythm of his heart throbbed in his ears. Tomas's voice sounded distant, like an echo from a different world. Kendrick: Home. The word seemed to leave his mouth in slow motion, as if time had slowed down around him. Raimor: =/\= Commander Dekas suffered a breakage in his left wing. Please advise the Eagle’s medical staff- =/\= Suddenly, Dekas appeared in front of his tactical station, cradling his left wing in his hands. As he opened his beak to speak, John was surprised to hear Katrina's voice coming from the Aurelian’s officer's beak, instead of Dekas's. Dekas/Pelley: Look what you did to me, John. Startled by the sudden appearance of his friend, John stumbled backwards. Instead of landing on the console behind him, he fell to the ground and found himself staring up at a blood-red sky, with asteroids piercing through the atmosphere. As he got back up on his feet and looked around, he realized he was standing in the heart of the Administrative Area of the City - or at least what remained of it. The devastating bombardment of asteroids had left the vast majority of the area in ruins. Only one building still stood, Soldotna, but even it was slowly crumbling away. Pelley: You never liked it here anyway. I guess you’re happy now. He turned around and faced a heart-wrenching scene: Katrina was encompassed by flames, and behind her stood the charred bodies of Dekas, Falt, and T’Lea. He reached out his hands to pull Katrina from the flames, but she started laughing frantically as the bodies of Dekas, Falt, and T’Lea turned to ashes before his eyes. Kendrick: ::shouting:: No!!!! ((Pelley’s Quarters, level 21, Anchorage)) John's eyes snapped open as he found himself staring at the ceiling, with a hand resting on his sweat-covered chest. His heart was pounding so hard, it felt like it wanted to jump straight out of his body. Kendrick: ::slightly disorientated:: What happened? Where am I? Pelley: It’s okay, baby. It was just a bad dream. He looked to his side and smiled as he recognized the contours of Katrina’s face in the dark, her features illuminated by the faint glow of the city lights outside. He felt his pulse slowly returning to normal and reached out to place his hand on hers, comforted by her presence. Pelley: Was it the same dream as last night? John closed his eyes again and placed the back of his hand on his forehead. Kendrick: Yeah. He felt her fingers gently drawing circles on his chest. Pelley: Maybe you should talk to Counsellor Yael? He opened his eyes again. Kendrick: Talking to a Counsellor won’t keep this Station safe from an asteroid rain. He threw off the sheets, rolled to his side, and swung his legs over the edge and stepped out of bed. Pelley: Maybe not, but it's clear that the attack on the Station is weighing heavily on you. Speaking to a counsellor might help you put things into perspective. He walked over to the window, leaned with his arm against the glass, and rested his forehead on his arm as he gazed across the City. Kendrick: Everything looks so small from up here. So ::pauses:: vulnerable. He observed workbees still flying criss-cross across the City, despite that it was already after midnight. The repairs continued around the clock, 26 hours a day. Kendrick: I was trained to protect a starship. How the hell am I supposed to protect an entire City? Katrina stepped out of bed and walked towards him. Pelley: Don’t be so hard on yourself. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against him. Pelley: You’ll figure it out. ::gently giving him a kiss in the neck:: Just like you always do. John continued to stare into the distance, longing to be anywhere but here right now. END === Lieutenant Commander John Kendrick Chief Security and Tactical DENALI STATION J239801JK3

Okay, but I'd like to appreciate @Freck for unwittingly being such a good sport about the prank his Aurelian friend just pulled on him by telling him to sing his greeting and then actually doing it. In tears laughing. But also the writing here is top-quality, and it's an enjoyable read overall as well. We're extremely lucky to have Freck on Denali Station with us, tbh.

((Kel’s Quarters, Deck 5, USS Intrepid)) Seeing her image on a screen was a strange experience. It was so sterile and far away and yet the woman pictured, Millie seemed to be closer to him than even a friend as good as Nesre. Hundreds of memories had paraded back into his mind. Breakfasts, coffees, hikes, dancing. He remembered their long conversations in starboard nacelle control on the Exeter. The nacelle was temperamental and Millie was constantly trying to get it to work properly. He would sit and read to her or chat while she pounded away and ran diagnostics. Even now it seemed she was right behind him, looking over his shoulder. Nesre's arrival had been something of a relief, bringing him back to the present, even if the present was the past. Now they sat in Dr. Sevrik's quarters, which were both familiar and different. Kel: I shouldn’t even be here. The Trill have very specific rules about being involved with "previous lives". I think I've already broken a half dozen. Salo: You make it sound as if you’re at fault. It wasn't of course and V'Len knew that. Rox had blown some kind of fuse and tried to give V'Airu the "best birthday gift ever". Frankly, V'Len felt a simple chocolate sundae would have sufficed. V'Len followed her gaze and quickly jumped up to shut off the monitor where the image of Millie was still visible. With the flick of a switch her image disappeared from the screen. Getting it out of his mind was more difficult. Kel: That. ::gesturing toward the screen:: That's just a ghost. She hadn't asked for an explanation, but he had felt compelled to give one. Salo: Really? She was a lovely ghost Setting back down, V'Len wished Nesre had not said that. He let out a slow controlled breath. He tried to stay focused on the conversation. Kel: She was one of the crew of the Exeter. I guess I was checking up on the old gang. I'm throwing the whole rule book out today it seems. I should get a nice long lecture from the Symbiote Commission when we get back. oO If we get back. Oo Salo: I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for you. Kel: It is hard. The more I need Xam Kel's knowledge, the more I pull out his personality. It's a balancing act being a joined Trill. Trying to keep yourself and still use the resources of past lives. Salo: Tell me about this. If we weren’t here, in this time, how would you keep that all straight? Kel considered for a moment and then gave the best analogy he could think of. Kel: Think of it like a faucet. If you want knowledge from the symbiote you open it to a tiny drip and you can pull out what you need. In our time I only ever open it a crack. Play the guitar, maybe fly, but those are things I learned myself and used the symbiote to give me more insight. So I just open and close the faucet as needed. Salo: And you’re finding that harder here? Kel: I…V'Len has never run a ship like this, so the faucet is open much wider because I need a lot of Xam Kel's help. And with it comes a lot of Xam Kel and his past. Her grey eyes glanced back over to the monitor ever so briefly before they flicked back to V’Len. Salo: And even harder when you know someone you are back in a time where someone you loved is still alive. V'Len was ever impressed with the woman's ability to piece together what was really going on. He'd not mentioned that he cared about the woman on the screen or that she was alive and even nearby. Nesre had pieced that together on her own. He wished they'd shared more holodeck mysteries. Salo: Would you share with me about her? It felt like the question itself somehow pierced him. Kel: ::firmly:: No. No I will not. Firstly, how could he express what Millie was to him? She was like a balm for his soul, effervescent and gentle and at the same time she was a force to be reckoned with, insightful, determined and resourceful. He was not sure he could summon the right words to his lips. Second, the more he thought about her, the more he thought about how to get back to her, to be with her again. Salo: Response V'Len stood up and walked to the other side of the room. He leaned against the wall and looked at the floor. Kel: The more I talk about Millie ::wincing:: oO why did I say her name? Oo the more I lose myself. No ::breathing deeply:: I can't tell you about her now. Salo: Response Kel: What else can I do? I have to keep the faucet open until the crew is safe. Even if it means losing V'Len, it's my duty as CMO to make sure the crew are safe. (beat) If it helps Xam is, by all accounts, a great guy. ::smiling:: Salo: Response Tags Lieutenant V’Len "Xam" Kel Chief Medical Officer/Helmsman USS Oumuamua NCC-81226/ USS Intrepid T239811VK2 He/Him (character and player)

I love @Dekas' family! ((Anchorage Tower, Dekas & Kettick’s Apartment, Floor 35/36, Denali Station)) ((Early afternoon on Denali, Late night Aurelia time. Interplanetary Timezones, euf.)) It was that time again. Time to talk to his family. But this time he felt less awkward about it. It wasn’t going to be a short hour and then a while before it happened again. No. This one was to let them know they’d be seeing him in person soon, if not a few friends. Still, he maybe thought a little too hard about whether his feathers looked all right before he made the call. And the few seconds it took for them to answer felt far longer than it actually was. Daf: Dekas! Dekas: Shav’aa! (Aurelian for: “Dad!”) You know I expected it would be mom. It usually is, though it is nice for you both to mix it up a little. Daf: Zuka will be around in a few minutes. She always loves talking to you. But Keso and his family stopped by and are staying the night. It’s never just a quick goodnight when there are six grandchildren to say goodnight to with your mom around. They all just want to stay up and keep chatting, and she almost can’t refuse the conversation. ::a pause to shake his head:: Did you know he and Serri are planning on having more soon? Getting close to making it a family tradition to hatch a huge nest of fledglings over there. Dekas: Do you think they’ll beat your record of thirteen? Daf: They just might. ::he clicked his beak in amusement:: How are you? Hearing an Aurelian ask that question, and knowing for a fact he could be honest about it relieved him instantly of one layer of stress. Dekas: ::sighing:: I could be better. I hurt my wing recently, and I’ve been extremely stressed and feeling a bit like I could pull my feathers out, and I feel like I haven’t given myself a break. I feel like I can’t. It’s like I can’t stop. And now I almost have to. But on the bright side, I can make it into a visit home? The physical therapy would be nice, I’ll even see if I can’t convince a few others to come along with me. I think a few of them would really enjoy it. And the emotional support would be nice. Daf: Well you know we have more than enough space for some people in this house if they want an easy place to stay. :::he looked over his shoulder as a door opened quietly behind him and sighed fondly.:: Hello, my love. Zuka sat down and leaned her head affectionately on the top of Daf’s to acknowledge and return the adoration, but otherwise spoke to Dekas. Zuka: Keso and company say a very enthusiastic hello. As if on cue, there seemed to echo the sound of a few of those hellos from somewhere in the background of the audio. Zuka: ::looking back toward the door:: I don't know if they managed to hear me, or if that was just really good timing. But any friend of yours is welcome to be a temporary baby bird in our nest. Dekas: ::with a quiet laugh:: I don’t know how they’d feel about you calling them that. Zuka: They don’t have to immediately know that’s what’s happening. Just that they’re being cared for while they’re here. It breaks the tension between new people to treat them like family outright. Dekas: But you’d tell them. Zuka: It’s true, I don’t like my intentions to be confused. I don’t know why people get so funny about it. But I can try to refrain for you if it would make you more comfortable. Dekas was quiet for a second, he was tempted to thank her for saving some sort of “embarrassment” adjacent feeling. And then he shook his head out of it. Dekas: You know, I actually think it’s best they meet an Aurelian on their grounds. You can be as honest and open as you like. Zuka: Oh good, I probably would have said it anyway. ::a wink:: I'm happy we'll get to see you, more than anything. Daf: Agreed. We miss having you over here. Dekas: Well, then consider it a plan, because I miss being there. ::a beat:: Actually, can I ask a favor if anyone comes with me? Zuka: Absolutely. If it was possible for him to smirk with a beak, he did. Dekas: Marvelous. NT, but TBC… — (OOC: I plan on starting up the Aurelian Vacation thread of things in the next day or so, tagging two people specifically in that to start, but also leaving an open “any” tag just in case others want to also be in on the Aurelian trip, too. But that ending bit does indicate he’s going to try to cause just a little bit of harmless Avian mischief on the way.) Lt. Commander Dekas Chief Engineer Denali Station J239802D12 Pronouns: They/she (player), He/him (character)

Each and every one of @Tahna Meru's sims are elegantly written, infused with the character's personality but also bringing forth such a scene that is beautifully, masterfully described. In this piece in particular, we see the Skarbek version of her character moving forward with completing the mission, showing internal processing of the events, and glorious, seamless inclusion of her fellow writers/characters honoring them. And, the ending of this piece, wow! It's incredibly nuanced, brilliant, subtle, powerful. Wonderful work!