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((USS ‘Oumuamua - deck 8 - cargo bay 2)) Rows of round containers stacked upon one another. Several one meter flat boxes piled at least 4 meters high. The young lady, ivory skin a pleasant contrast with black hair piled into a loose bun was clad in the gold of her position. She pulled her tunic down over her rounded hips and grimaced. Losing weight was high on her to-do list but that hadn’t worked out well. She really liked those banana splits the mess hall made for her… every day. Low to no calorie, but she still kept the weight on. Jean stood in the doorway keeping the opening from closing. She silently and slowly slid her phaser from its holster. A simple glance down to check the setting was all she needed. Set at stun, she keyed the control to heavy stun. One never knew what would pop out from between those containers. Her only clue as to why she was here was the vague order to “search number 2, apprehend whoever was there and transport them (or it) to the brig”. According to the tricorder, what she was looking for was four containers away. Slipping along the orderly rows of essential goods, the ensign watched the little red blip. It wasn’t moving. Was that a good thing? Hearing the sliding doors moving when they shouldn’t be, Ensign Bratton’s hearing perked up. She spun around, phaser at the ready. Doors closed, no one visible. A whisper of cloth against cloth was her only warning. A hand came down on her wrist; the phaser clanked against the floor and skittered across the grey decking. Jean’s knee came up quickly, slamming into her opponent’s thigh. Not where she was hoping, but that was where she landed. It was enough to cause the intruder to grunt and lean to the left. The edge of Jean’s hand came up swift and hard against the exposed neck. Her opponent collapsed. Not bothering to ask questions - that would happen once they were in the brig and had more time. Ensign Bratton slapped her comm badge. Bratton: =/\= Two to beam directly to the brig =/\= Brig Officer: =/\= Energising. =/\= ((Deck 7 - Brig)) Jean stared at her adversary. Human, dishwater blond, and cute in a pixie way. Obviously a woman, she wasn’t wearing a uniform but that could be because she was off-duty. Or she shouldn’t be on the ‘Oumuamua in the first place. Bratton: Who are you? The brig attendant had beamed her into the cell behind the force field that would hold her until Jean’s superior arrived. The intruder stood still with no expression. To Bratton’s inexperienced eyes, it looked like she was waiting. She didn’t seem alarmed at her predicament. Nor did she appear nervous. And just as Jean was going to ask another question (that probably would never be answered anyway) the woman was gone. No shimmering beam, no warning. Placing a finger to her lips, the ensign wondered if she should contact the chief - Kessler? Or maybe the XO. This would be his purview. While pondering, the brig officer was making his own report. Brig officer Alton: ::to jean as his fingers sailed over his console:: She stole an engineering toolbox. ::pause:: That could explain why we’re missing one. Jean relaxed, leaning against the brig controls. Shore leave was almost over and they'd be starting a new mission. That was when she could return to her normal activities: relaxing. —————————— Ensign Jean Bratton Security officer Lt. (jg) Toz Medical Officer USS ‘Oumuamua T239811T14

A wonderful and fascinating introduction to a critical side plot - bravo!! ((Medical Facility, Miranda VII)) /// Stardate 2400.02.11 /// Supplies are running low, Moray reports friction in Naystrims ranks. While he is attempting to de-escalate the situation, both Kravis and Bellamy are attempting to push project “El-Nar”. The embargo has caused a delay, but the project is still underway and treated with priority, implying that an escalation within the next few weeks is to be expected. Strict curfew and rationing are still enforced. /// Awaiting orders and urging to act as soon as possible. ‌ An access code and the press of a button sent the message out into the universe, and from here on Nestira Aristren could do nothing else than to naively believe that her contact received it, was able to forward it to Taybrim at Starbase 118, and that the Commodore would take action before it was too late. She was painfully aware of what would happen to her if she got caught, but she banished those thoughts quickly as she sensed Katalina approach her workstation. She needed to remain focussed on what she *could* influenced, not get stuck on matters outside her control. Katalina: Nyra, are you still not done with that file? I would like to get home *before* 2300 hours for a change. Aristren: Sorry. I’m hurrying. The woman sighed in annoyance and turned away from Nestira and the console. She walked to her own desk and began sorting through a number of PADDs that lay strewn across it. Aristren: You can go without me. Katalina: And explain Yavin why you’re late? I don’t think so. Just stop being slow. The Humans voice was harsh and her words not exactly comforting, but over the past weeks Nestira had learned that Katalina simply struggled to permit others to see that she cared about them. Upon her arrival as ‘Nyra’, Doctor Moray had clothed her, fed her, given her work and a place to stay. And then, when her younger brother Yavir had taken a romantic interest to the undercover Rodulan, Katalina had all but adopted her. Not that Nestira was particularly thrilled about any of this, but she could see the purpose it served. As much as Katalina’s poisoned thoughts and her involvement in Project El-Nar strained Nestira’s own mental health, spending so much time with the Doctor allowed her insights in no one else would get. As much as Yavir’s touch disgusted her, the physical closeness allowed him to not only provide Nestira with information, but allowed Nestira to influence his views and opinions when they spoke. Aristren: Done! Katalina offered a somewhat disdainful glance and a ‘then let’s get going’ before leading the way out of the medical facility. ‌ Even before the doors hissed open, Nestira knew which of the guards stood ready to escort them. She knew that one of them was considering to flee Miranda VII with his pregnant wife, while the other was itching for a chance to blow a hole into someone’s head. Luckily both of them were somewhat intimidated by Katalina. Nestira had to admit that part of her was pleased to see how quickly her telepathy had developed in the past weeks alone. As she had once explained to her then-partner Sa’sara, who wasn’t a telepath herself, that it was like looking up into the night sky. With the naked eye, only the biggest, brightest, and closest of stars were visible, and while one acknowledged their existence, one rarely truly looked at them and paid attention to the way they shone. In a usual setting, Nestira would perhaps hear the surface thoughts of those nearby, but chooe to ignore them like conversations not meant for her ears. It was what was considered ‘polite’. But now that her life and the success of her mission depended on actively paying attention, she found that her ‘universe’ was quickly expanding beyond what she could see before - And that was fascinating and empowering and terrifying all at once. Fascinating because she hadn’t thought that she could develop her telepathy into this direction, and how easy it truly was to listen in on the little worries and victories of those around her. Empowering because it made her feel in control. Safe. If someone came for her, she would sense them from miles away. And if she knew their thoughts she knew how to settle their concerns and remain undetected. Terrified because, sometimes, she was almost sure that there was something beyond the minds of the humans around her. Something brighter than anything she had seen before, beautiful and blinding at the same time. Part of her was curious about whatever the thing was- and the rest of her was wondering if the *thing* could see her too. Katalina: You are daydreaming. Aristren: I am. Sorry. Katalina offered one of those rare, almost maternal smiles. Katalina: I know it’s difficult to come to terms with. It’s not supposed to be easy. Nestira nodded slowly. The Doctor was, of course, speaking about project “El-Nar”. Named after a Betazed landmark, the Rodulan assumed that the place held some significance for Naystrim. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was that it would mean the death of thousands of civilians aboard Miranda VII, whether they were part of Terra Prime or not. A massacre blamed on Starfleet, and an escape plan for Naystrim and those close to her. That included Katalina and Yavir Moray. And it would include Nestira. Aristren: I know. But Nestira had no intention to let this happen, and she was still coming to terms with not being entirely sure where she would stop in order to protect the innocents Terra Prime would sacrifice. ‌ ‌ The rest of the evening passed quickly. Dinner was sparse as usual - even Naystrim’s closest advisors were not exempt from the rationing - and under the pretext of a headache, Nestira avoided Yavir’s room for tonight. She could hear his dismay concerning the ‘ruined evening’ but credited him for not letting it show as he bid her goodnight. Slowly, the minds around her dimmed, allowing the Rodulan to relax. It wasn’t entirely impossible that someone would take this very moment to figure out that Nestira wasn’t as Human as she claimed to be, but it was very *very* unlikely, and the constant vigilance was beyond draining. It was soothing to close herself off telepathically, to be *alone*, even if it was only for a few moments. But she wasn’t alone. Nestira frowned. She had grown almost familiar with that strange, blinding presence, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t still curious about it. It was tempting to try and figure it out. Which was a bad idea. Retrospectively she wasn’t sure what made her deviate from her usual strategy of ignoring the presence, but that evening she turned towards it instead, tilting her head as she tried to figure out what exactly it was, and settled on the telepathic equivalent of a nudge. What could possibly happen? TBC…. ***************** Lt. J.G. Nestira Aristren Intelligence Officer Starbase 118 Ops J239809TA4

((Kessler’s Quarters - Deck 4 - USS ‘Oumuamua)) The day seemed to pass by very quickly for Jack and he was looking forward to seeing Krystal and Lilou. The trip from the bridge to his quarters had been un-interrupted but when he arrived at their quarters he discovered both Krystal and Lilou were not there. Glancing around the living area Jack spied a white card folded in half and standing on it’s two ends on the dining table. He stepped over and retrieved the card from the table and opened it. “Taking Lilou to the arboretum to play - Krystal” Jack smiled. He was happy that Krystal and Lilou were getting along so well and that they were actually here for each other. Jack turned and walked over to his favorite chair and unzipping his tunic he slid down into the chair and picked up a PADD out of habit looking for a message from his parents. He paused and almost tossed the PADD across the room for the thought but stopped and leaned forward. He did have a message, but not from his parents. He tapped on the letter and it opened to the screen. He took in a long deep breath and then let it out slowly as he sat back and read the letter. USS Io - Stardate 240001.30 “Hello Jack. I know you are hurting and the lack of response tells me it is worse than you are letting on. Since you have decided to avoid this conversation I am forcing your hand. By the time you get this message I will be arriving on the ‘Oumuamua. See you in a bit. Love Michele” Jack sat up and tapped the message closed. Kessler: Computer (beat) Are there any personnel scheduled to arrive aboard the ‘Oumuamua today? Computer: Affirmative. Kessler: Who is the individual arriving? Computer: 1st Lieutenant Michele Winters Jack’s eyelids slowly closed and he tapped his combadge. Kessler: =/\= Kessler to sickbay. We have a medical officer coming aboard. Can someone meet me in the shuttle bay to welcome the shuttle? =/\= Hunched over his desk reviewing several articles from the starfleet medical database V’Len looked up when his combadge chirped. Kel: =/\= Kel here. I can head down now =/\= Rox: =/\= Is that Jack? Don’t go anywhere off the ship with him. He’s bad luck. I almost turned into a wrinkly space wizard. =/\= Kel: =/\= Thank you Nurse, I think I can handle it. Kel and Rox out. =/\= Kessler: =/\= Thank you. I am headed there now. =/\= Jack stood from his chair and headed out of his quarters rezipping up his tunic. It wasn’t that he was not happy to hear from or even to see Michele. The issue Jack was having was that he had created somewhat of a situation by not responding to any of her communications since his parents ship had been lost. Michele was not one to take no for an answer and she was not one to be ignored. V’Len toyed with the idea of taking Rox with him so she could learn how to properly greet a new member of the crew. Ensign Tyber had not only been tricked into doing Rox’s work, but had also taken an unplanned sim in the Cetacean ops pool. However, V’Len had barely seen Jack during shore leave. Typically, they would have been on the holodeck solving a mystery, but with the attempted murder of Jack, V’Len Nesre and Wes by the EMH and the loss of Jack’s parents, it seemed like the holodeck was off the table this time around. V’Len told Rox to watch the sickbay and then told Toz to watch Rox. ((Main Shuttlebay - Deck 10 - USS ‘Oumuamua)) Jack arrived just outside the main shuttlebay as did his counterpart from sickbay. Smiling he tilted his head towards the main doors and chuckled. Kessler: You’re in for a treat. Kel: Am I? ::looking around in mock nervousness:: Do I need a helmet? Jack smiled and almost laughed. He was not sure how Michele was going to come off that shuttle. If she was concerned he hoped for a warm welcome and things would go smoothly. If she was mad, he might need a security team to help out. Kessler: Let’s just say (beat) I know a little about this officer. Kel: Another relative? ::chuckling, then serious:: Are you and Krystal doing ok? You know if you need anything at all, you can always call on me. The two stepped in and up to the forward safety area. The bay doors were already open, and the vacuum of space kept out by the forcefield that would allow the shuttle to enter and land while the two waited. The shuttle was visible from outside as it approached and Jack’s anticipation grew. He felt his heart rate quicked, fear or nerves, he was not sure but the sensation of excitement also back filled the feelings he was having. V’Len waited and glanced over at Jack. He seemed somehow apprehensive and V’Len wondered who really was in that shuttle. Perhaps it was another of Jack’s relations after all. The type-14 shuttle entered the bay and slowly came down to the deck with a light thud. The boarding ramp lowered at the rear and Jack led the way towards the rear of the shuttle with V’Len in tow. Jack halted his approach as Michele exited the shuttle and stepped around to face Jack and his companion. His eyes locked with hers and for a moment so many questions seemed to bounce back and forth between them silently. V’Len glanced between the pair. He was clearly missing some context, but it was clear that this woman was more than just an acquaintance or someone Jack had met at the academy. Kessler: (slightly smiling) This is an ambush. The five foot, four inch tall human female smiled a deviant smile and lowered her gear to the deck and then stepped up to Jack, brushing her dirty blond hair back past her ears she placed both hands on Jack's head. One on either side of his temples and stood to her toes, pulling his face closer to hers until their lips almost met, then pausing with a tease she lowered herself back down to her heels. There was nothing more in her heart than love for this man but he had been avoiding her since his parents disappearance. He needed rescuing and this was why she was here. Jack’s heart leapt to his throat as she grabbed his head and pulled him down towards her as she stood on her toes to meet him. Her slim frame had remained the same in the year plus since they had last seen each other and his gaze fell into her green eyes. She knew how to completely take him off his feet in one movement and yet she paused just as their lips were about to touch, held for a breathless second and then slowly leaned back and away. Jack did not know what to feel at this exact moment but he knew that he wanted to kiss her and then throw her back on the shuttle before things became more complicated. V’Len raised his eyebrows. He was glad he had left Rox behind. Whatever was going on between Jack and this new officer V’Len was apparently being given a front row seat. Winters: It’s good to see you too Jack. (turning to the other officer standing beside Jack and holding out a hand to shake) Michele Winters. Kel: Ah yes (shaking the woman’s hand) Lt. V’Len Kel, I’m the Oumuamua’s chief medical officer. Winters: (smiling gracefully at Kel) Yes you are. Andorian and Trill. An extremely rare combination, of course if I read your bio correctly (beat) yours was via a transporter accident. An amazing story, I do hope we can talk about it sometime? (beat) From a medical standpoint of course. On the one hand it would save V’Len a lot of time explaining what happened, on the other hand it meant he needed to find something else to talk to the new lieutenant about. He suspected she was not going to be entranced by fungus quite the way Salo always seemed to be. Kessler: (looking between the two and finally resting back on Michele’s eyes) We need to talk about this visit. V’Len struggled to think of something to ask besides the obvious “how exactly do you and Jack know each other”? Were they a couple, engaged, married? V’Len had never heard Jack talk about a wife, not that Kel made a habit of talking about his personal life. He looked back at Michelle Winters. She wore a green shouldered uniform, so she was a marine of some sort apparently. Kel: So Lieutenant Winters, you’re a new addition to our marine contingent then? Kessler: (to V’Len) No, she’s just visiting for a little while. V’Len was surprised to see Jack scramble to collect Winters’ gear as they began to cross the shuttlebay. Winters: (brow furrowed) Not visiting Jack. (to V’Len) I have officially transferred to the ‘Oumuamua. I am a Combat Medic. Graduated Starfleet Academy with Jack and am a fully trained nurse as well as a trained Marine. (glancing back to Jack and smiling) We will remember that won’t we? V’Len was always glad for more help in the sickbay. Jack on the other hand seemed somehow less enthused. Michele walked past Jack who had as he always done grabbed her bag for her. His father had trained him well and Michele admired that in him even if he was not happy to see her. Of course this was his doing but she knew how much he internalized things and getting him to talk was something she had experience with. Kel: Well, all I can say is thank goodness. I often end up following Colonel Greaves into risky situations. He’ll have someone more qualified to assist him than a bumbling doctor who likes to study fungus. ::Chuckling:: Winters: Let’s not go racing into danger here doctor. I would prefer to get settled into Sickbay before having to patch anyone up in the field. Jack felt speechless and for the moment V’Len was taking the heat off of him. That at least gave him a moment to collect his thoughts and then pursue the two as they departed the shuttle bay. Kessler: Ok, so you are here for more than a visit. We still need to talk about this Michele. They exited into the corridor and the door to the shuttlebay hissed shut behind them. Jack smiled to himself as Michele continued walking alongside V’Len. She was totally ignoring him now. He wanted to laugh, he had just missed a kiss and had been demoted to bag boy all in less than five minutes. Kel: Well welcome, officially to the Oumuamau. I’m not sure where you’re heading off to, but I’d be happy to show you our sickbay. I’ve worked to make it an excellent facility. My colleague Dr. Toz is an amazing physician and our nursing staff (pause) well they’re mostly sane. Winters:(with a smile and a tilt of the head) Why thank you Doctor. I’m glad someone is happy I am here. Kessler: I never said I wasn't happy to see you. Jack might as well have been talking to the bulkhead. She had totally turned on the cold shoulder routine and now he was going to have to work to get her to respond. Oh he hated it when she did this, not because she knew she could torture him but because she was so good at it. Michele heard Jack but did not glance back or respond. He had avoided her and made her change duty posts just to get to talk to him. She knew what they had agreed to and why he wanted to talk about this transfer but she wasn’t going to change her mind. Not now, not after everything that had happened to him. Kel: At the risk of sounding indelicate, how exactly are Mr. Kessler and yourself acquainted? ::gesturing toward Jack:: Michele looked up at the Trilldorian and smiled and then allowed a disappointed look to cross her face. Had Jack really not mentioned her to anyone or maybe the Doctor just wasn’t close to Jack. Well, this was time for a change and Jack needed to come out of his shell. Winters: (smiling) Well, I can see that nearly three years of dating didn’t earn a mention to your crewmates Jack? And here I thought I was the one to melt your heart (grasping her chest with both hands in a dramatic tone) Well, maybe there’s another girl out here who has your attention? Michele smiled devilishly and looked over to the Doctor. V’Len for his part was beginning to understand the terms “third wheel” and “stepped in it”. Jack had never mentioned Michelle to him though V’Len regarded him as a close friend. The two options before him were that Jack did not regard him as closely or that things between Michelle and Jack were complicated. Given all the evidence V’Len tended to believe the latter rather than the former. Winters: So does he have a girlfriend aboard I should be jealous over? (smirking and almost laughing) They continued their journey through the Oumuamua. Entering the turbolift V’Len headed for deck 7 almost without thinking. Perhaps he subconsciously wanted to get back to the safety of his sickbay. In any event Michele’s question was not one V’Len wanted to answer. He was reluctant to bring up Jack’s relationship with Nesre. Firstly because he was not sure how Michele would react. Secondly because, after their dinner on Seytoxal, V’Len could not seem to get Nesre out of his mind. It had been difficult before, it was near impossible now. He decided to punt. Kel: Jack and the ladies. It's a legend that tells itself. Just ask the Delaney sisters. Jack threw a look at his friend. What was he saying? Not the best of ideas V’Len buddy. Kel: ::seeing Jack’s look, raising hands:: Kidding, of course. (beat) When I first met Jack I thought he was part of some celibate religious order. Kessler: Ok, ok. Enough is enough. (beat) V’Len, we were very serious towards one another but we both had career goals and knew post graduation that those career goals and a relationship was not going to work as we might like. Jack paused and turned to face both of them. Kessler: I think maybe she should report to Greaves and let him know she is aboard. It was more of a question to change the direction of the conversation away from the two of them. Although it seemed V’Len was enjoying himself in this conversation a little more than Jack would like. Winters: Nonsense Jack. I don't have to check in with the Colonel until 2100 hours. He’s in a meeting and I certainly do not want to interrupt that. The doors of the turbolift opened. Kel: I seem to have brought us to deck 7. This is where you’ll find sickbay. Gator deck, where our marines reside, is on Deck 4. There are no actual gators of course. ::nervous chuckle:: Michele shot the Trilldorian a smile at the joke and winked as she then looked back to Jack who stood quietly, reserving his comments. Winters: Oh there are plenty of Gators on that deck Doctor. Isn’t that right Jack? Jack found himself holding back. He did not want to get into a discussion here, in front of V’Len. Although his friend would probably find it humorous as Jack never found himself on the winning end of a conversation with Michele when she put her feet down. She came from a family of very strong willed individuals and having met her brother and sister knew why she did not back down and why she was who she was. In many ways Michele was the first person that he could say he truly loved but at the same time they had an agreement about their relationship and their careers. She had clearly violated that agreement and this needed to be dealt with but again Jack did not see the need to have it discussed in front of V’Len. Kessler: ::smiling at V’Len:: And they all have teeth buddy. ::looking back to Michele:: and claws. Michele grinned knowing Jack was prodding but she too had taught him this game and was ready to play. V’Len spoke next and made a suggestion but it did not play into her next move with Jack. Kel: I mean the sickbay is just around the corner if you’re interested. Winters: ::looking back to V’Len:: I am sure I will be spending more than enough time there. How about somewhere a little more fun? Kessler: ::looking to V’Len:: Don’t look at me buddy. I’m just the bag boy today. There was really only one place V’Len could think of, but Jack seemed keen to extricate himself from the bags and Michele. V’Len decided not to allow this to happen, he wanted to see how this played out. Kel: We could grab a drink in 7-Forward. (beat) You two could get a drink in 7-Forward. oO Did he really suggest that? Oo Jack knew V’Len had to have been holding back a laugh by the look on his face as he reacted to the look coming from Jack. He should have known V’Len was going to try and enjoy as much of this as he could. Winters: Sounds perfect ::looking at Jack and then back to V’Len:: and of course you should join us. I doubt he is going to talk much right now anyways. She shot Jack a grin that told him she was very much enjoying this little torture episode and she was not lettign him off the hook. All Jack wanted to do at that moment was simply lean in and kiss her, take her off her agenda and throw a monkey wrench into her little scheme but that would be giving in to her and right now he was not too happy with her. Kessler: 7-Forward is this way ::gesturing:: I could use a drink. Jack tossed her duffle up on his shoulder and walked past both V’Len and Michele leading the way to the forward lounge and letting them follow behind. They could enjoy their teasing at his expense together. He could wait out her game, he knew he had more patience than she did plus he knew exactly how to throw her off her game once they got to 7-Forward. They ordered refreshments and found a table along the wall. V’Len took a seat facing out into the room, while Jack and Michele sat at triangle points facing the wall. Kel: So, Lt. Winters, what’s your family like? You remind me a bit of my younger sister Rosro, so I’m guessing you’re not an only child. Rosro, V’Len’s younger sister, had always been tenacious. While she hadn’t quite settled on a course of study, Rosro was taking the Academy head on. She was strong willed and firm once she set her mind on a goal, much like Michele seemed to be. At this point Michele’s goal seemed to be Jack. Winters: Two other siblings, an older brother and a younger sister. ::beat:: You learn how to defend yourself when you are the middle child. The fact that Michelle was a middle child went a long way to explain many things that V’Len had observed about her. Kel: Indeed, and where did you say you grew up? Winters: I grew up in Austin, Texas on Earth but actually spent most of my time just outside Austin on my family's horse ranch. Kessler: ::looking from Michele to V’Len:: They own and run the largest equestrian ranch in North America. It’s actually very beautiful and they have some magnificent horses. V’Len paid no attention to the answer as he suddenly felt a shiver run down his spine. Across 7-Forward, Hurricane Rox coming toward them. In her hand she held her signature “blue squale” concoction. She was walking quickly toward them wearing a broad smile. V’Len tried not to change his facial expression and reveal how much danger he and Jack could potentially be in. By his reckoning Michele and Rox were fairly similar. If they got along Jack and V’len would be in deep trouble. If they did not get along…they could mutually annihilate each other, likely taking the ship with them. Rox: Eh,what’s up Doc? V’Len looked down and rubbed his forehead. They’d talked about this so many times. Jack had not noticed Rox’s approach but the look on V’Lens face was ever so priceless. Rox had that way with many people. You either loved her or she was all over your nerves. Jack found Rox a commercial relief and enjoyed her presence although there were times, such as now, that her presence might be a little more disruptive than fun. Rox: ::patting Jack on the head:: Hey Jackie! ::looking at Winters:; Hey new girl. I’m Rox, one of the nurses. ::glancing at Jack:: Don’t let this guy take you on any dates. Last time we went out he crashed us on an alien planet and I nearly got turned into a space frog. V’Len tried not to chuckle at Jack’s very flush face. It seemed that Rox had mischaracterized whatever had happened. Kessler: ::holding up a hand:: Wait, wait, that was not a date. Winters: ::eyeing Jack suspiciously:: Really? ::she drew the word out and in a questioning tone:: Rox: :: winking at Jack:: Sure keep telling yourself that. ::pulling up a stool to sit between Jack and Michele:: So what’s your story, new girl? New member of Greave’s angels? V’Len threw a panicked glance at Jack who seemed to be like him trapped. Jack merely smiled, a devilishly wicked smile back at V’Len and sat back. Titling up his drink he took a long draw of the Samarian Sunset. Kessler: Rox ::gesturing to Michele:: this is Michele Winters. ::beat:: Michele, this is Rox, one of the ship's nurses. Winters: ::extending a hand to Rox:: Happy to meet you. I am not sure I am an angel but I am a Combat Medic so I’ll be seeing you a lot in sickbay from the sounds of it. ::she threw a wicked fun grin to Rox and then one at Jack:: Rox: How fun we can be sisters in science! ::turning to V’Len:: You’re going to outnumbered sir. Jack did not know if she should be afraid for his friend or simply happy that he did not have to spend as much time in the same room as V’Len was going to have to deal with. Kel: I was already outnumbered. ::sigh:: Kessler: ::winking at V’Len:: You could just assign them to Charlie shift. Kel: ::quietly:: Tempting. Michele smiled, pressing her lips together and without moving her torso, reached her leg out under the table and kicked Jack in the shin. She must have nailed the perfect spot as he jerked back and almost poured his drink on himself. Winters: Guys vs girls? Really, Jackie? ::she used Rox’s pet name for Jack and then looked from Jack to V’Len to rox:: So Rox, tell me about this date? ::beat:: Does he take many girls off ship to strange new worlds? Rox: ::pouting and feigning hurt:: I thought…I thought I was the only one. Jack threw both hands up and looked between the two women. Kessler: It was not a date. There were others there too. ::beat:: Not a date. Winters: ::still smirking at his sudden defense:: What’s wrong Jack? She looks and sounds like your type. Now she was just baiting him and Jack threw a look to V’Len that might have very well yelled run. Michele and Rox were more likely to hit it off and be friends than mortal enemies which for Jack could have been useful. Rox for her part very much liked Michele. She stood up and waved wildly at Koryan to get his attention. She pointed at her half empty glass and then made a “V” with her fingers. Rox: You have to try one of these, they're my favorite. Kel: :: looking at Jack, concerned:: I think we have a problem. Kessler: ::looking at V'Len and shaking his head:: I think we’re both outnumbered. Winters: ::smiling and then drinking down the last swallow off her glass of Oberon:: Of course you are and the sooner you surrender, the easier your lives will be. ::leaning back in her chair and looking out the forward windows at the planet below:: Do they have horses down there? Kel: I’m not sure, I just went down to the mountains to practice a hobby of mine. Rox: What hobby? You don’t have any hobbies, unless you were collecting fungus. V’Len decided not to respond and was grateful when Jack spoke up. Kessler: After my last excursion ::beat:: I am not leaving the ship anytime soon. The last trip off the ship had seen Rox almost turned into a rainbow colored oompa loompa, accompanied by dart slinging primates and a temporal something or other that he still had not figured out was more than enough to keep him aboard the ship for a while. Michele on the other hand was still playing with Jack and now that Rox was here, the two of them seemed all too willing to tag team on both him and V’Len. Winters: ::to Rox while grinning at V’Len:: So does the Doctor here and Jack have their own boys club? Seems like they are better friends than they are letting onto. The waiter arrived with two tall glasses of blue liquid, each with a small shot glass of brown liquid floating on the surface. The waiter gracefully slid the try onto the table, looked to each patron, and beat a hasty retreat. Rox: They spend a lot of time in the holodeck together. Not sure what’s going on there. Kel: ::exasperated:: We’re solving mysteries. I told you that. Winters: ::smiling and throwing looks between V’Len and Jack:: A boys holodeck mystery club, interesting. ::she drew that last word out implying suspicion:: Jack grinned at Michele and Rox. They were having fun and as much as Jack hated the idea of Michele being assigned to the ‘Oumuamua he enjoyed seeing her and seeing her happy. Kessler: ::grinning and shaking his head:: We solve mysteries, ::beat:: it’s not a mystery club. Rox: What you guys do in your freetime is none of my business. ::gesturing at the drinks:: Try this new girl. It’s my own invention, Romulan Ale, Andorian Ale and syrup of squill. The shot is Saurian brandy. I call it a blue squale with a rowboat. Winters: ::reaching for the glass:: That sounds like a fun drink. Kessler: ::looking to V’Len and simply shaking his head and smiling:: V’Len watched in fascination as both women took long drinks and then sat the glasses down on the table with a snap. Rox: Good right? You should try one V’Len. Winters: ::setting the glass down and looking at Rox, making an O expression with her lips:: That is devine. A wonderful balance too. ::looking to Jack:: Have you tried this? Kessler: No ::holding up his dram:: I like this. Michele eyed Jack and narrowed her eyebrows at him. He was someone who didn’t always like trying new things but she had broken that shell once and would break it again. Before she could start in on Jack though V’Len spoke up. Kel: I don’t drink Saurnian Brandy. Rox: That’s right, ::smiling at Michele:; There was an incident at the academy. Something with noodles right? Kel: ::moodily:: There was NO incident and we’re changing the subject. ::Turning to Jack:: That guy you brought back from your date with Rox is recovering nicely. Winters: ::smiling at Rox:: Noodles? Oh, I have to hear about this. Kessler: ::looking away from the girls:: Any new information on what happened? A mischievous smile began to fill Rox’s face. V’Len was immediately concerned. Jack noticed the look on V’Len’s face just as Rox’s voice rose up in excitement. Rox: Come with me, new girl. Jack grab her things. Rox rose and began to head out of seven forward. V’Len, feeling a bit sorry for Jack, picked up a few of Michele’s items. They were heavier than V’Len would have expected. Perhaps Michele had a brick collection she’d brought along. They made their way down the corridor and back into the turbolift, taking it down to deck 9j and cargo bay area. The group soon found themselves in a quiet area of the deck near cargo bay 3. ((Outside Cargo Bay 3, Deck 9, USS Oumuamua)) Kel: Why are we here? Rox: To make sure people remember us. Winters: This sounds fun. Michele shot a look over to Rox and then to Jack who looked a bit confused as to why they had come down to the cargo bay. Michele had no clue herself but this Rox seemed to enjoy having fun and even poking jabs at Jack and he didn’t bite back. Jack must consider her a friend since he played along with her suggestions. He had always been a good sport but some people did get on his nerves and Michele knew a couple back at the academy that had done so. Rox opened the small utility closet near the airlock and handed out the EVA suits. She began putting one on. Winters: Are we going on a walkabout? ::Michele said in her best Australian accent:: Kessler: ::smirking:: Knowing Rox, this is a costume party. Rox: ::teasingly:: Yeah, Jack, we’re getting ready for a costume party. Yes, we’re going outside. Put your suit on. Jack threw a look over to V’Len and then to Rox. It made sense now, and he allowed a smile to crease his lips. Jack had not partaken in this ritual as of yet and had actually dismissed it as something he felt he needed to do. On the other hand this would be fun but Rox was forgetting something very important. V’Len for his part was unsure what to do, but obediently followed the others. He’d not spent a lot of time in EVA situations, but he’d had the training and was confident he would not embarrass himself too badly. Kessler: ::stepping into his suite:: So Rox, how are you bypassing the security lock outs on the airlock? ::beat:: You know that the bridge will be alerted the minute you try to open those doors? Winters: ::looking at the others:: don’t look at me. I am so new here I am sure I am not even in the computer yet with access codes to open that door. Rox smacked her head in mock concern. The last time she had been here Basilla had been with her and had simply overridden the airlock controls. Michele finished securing her EVA suit and waited to secure her helmet in place as the others finished suiting up. Kel: Jack may have a point. I don't think there’s a medical override for the airlock. At least no one that doesn’t let the system know exactly who opened the door. Rox: Oh come on Jack, don’t be silly. The last time I was here Basillia used her security access to override the controls and anonymously opened the airlock. ::gesturing at the door:: Show us your stuff. Jack looked at Rox and shook his head in a manner indicating she would get them busted for sure. He then looked at V’Len and shook his head again in a manner indicating that too was not going to work. Kessler: There are newer protocols in place in the internal sensors that those ideas would trigger. You might be able to get away with them a few months ago but the Colonel had these new protocols instated that prevent those bypasses. ::stepping over to the control interface and pulling the panel open, he removed two isolinear chips and rearranged them:: Now we just need to tell the bridge that this airlock is running a diagnostic mode and sensors are offline. Rox: Show off. Michele watched Jack from behind and listened to his voice. She had missed the sound of his voice more that she had realized and it was refreshing and intoxicating to hear it now, even if they were doing something against the rules. V’Len was impressed at Jack’s quick thinking. He suspected they would need to do a lot of hacking, but instead this seemed like something anyone could do. Winters: How are you going to do that without tipping your hand to the bridge crew? Jack glanced back to Michele and then to the others and smiled. Rox: Who cares as long as he gets it open. Kel: What are we doing once we’re outside again? Kessler: ::tapping a few sequences into the interface:: Like this. Jack tapped the last sequence in and the lights in the room turned red and the “Secured” message that appeared on the control interface disappeared. Smiling and knowing he was not going to give up his secret he lifted his helmet and slid it on over his head and locked it in place. As the others did the same he opened the weapons locker and retrieved and phaser and handed it to Rox. Kessler: I’m assuming you’ll need this to accomplish this next task? ::winking at Rox:: Winters: ::securing her helmet:: Are we going to shoot something? Rox snatched the phaser out of Jack’s hand and brought the visor of her helmet down with a snap. She marched into the airlock and looked back to see that the other followed. Rox: Let’s go people. Michelle, you’re going to love this. The airlock cycle was not slow, but it still took a bit and V’Len found his mind wandering. When Rox mentioned Michele’s name it triggered something inside his mind. Kel: ::singing:: Michelle, ma belle, Sont des mots qui vont très bien ensemble, Très bien ensemble. Winter: ::smiling at V’Len and then looking to Jack:: You never sang to me. I think I like this guy. Kessler: Then consider yourself fortunate. Jack was not a person who could carry a tune to save his life and he would not subjugate anyone to that level of torture unless absolutely necessary or insanely intoxicated, which had only happened once. Rox: ::stomping a foot:: V’Len cut that out! V’Len stopped singing immediately. He’d not even noticed that he started, but it was a habit that particularly annoyed Rox. Rox: ::Looking at Michele:: He does that all the time in Sickbay. He thinks he was a musician in a past life. Kel: I WAS a musician in a past life. Remember, ::pointing to his head:: symbiote. Winters: ::looking to V’Len:: That has to be amazing ::Beat:: I mean being able to experience all of those life times. The memories must be incredible. Kessler: ::chuckling:: Were you a detective in one of those past lives? Maybe from Toronto? The airlock cycle could not conclude fast enough and when it finally did Rox hurried out onto the underside of the saucer. Above them, or maybe below, the planet of Sexyatol glowed as the sunset fell on the area below them. Toward the northern part of the hemisphere it appeared that a storm was imminent. Arching lighting could be seen flashing between black clouds. Kel: ::looking up at the sunset and the storm:: That’s something we don’t see everyday. Jack looked away from V’Len and lost his train of thought as he looked at the wondrous sight before them. Kessler: Sure isn’t. ::beat:: It’s mesmerizing isn’t it? Winters: ::turning to Rox:: This was worth the trip out here for sure. This is so beautiful. The others looked up in awe but Rox headed straight for the nearby panel where she and Basillia had come previously. It appeared no one else had visited to add their name. She handed the phaser to Michele and nodded to the panel. Michele looked down and away from the wondrous sight they were viewing which she now guessed was not the reason Rox had brought them outside of the ship. A panel on the ship, worn from time and encounters the ‘Oumuamua had experienced was laden with initials inscribed by others who had come before them. Michele smiled and looked back to Rox. Rox: Ladies first. Winters: ::taking the phaser and slowly engraving her initials:: This should be a tradition on every starfleet vessel. Kessler: ::taking the phaser next, he looked to Michele and smiled:: How do you know it is not? V’Len watched as Michelle and then Jack added their initials. V’Len wondered what to write. Rox had written RQX which was a neat trick to get her last name in there. Kel would be easy enough to write, but then it wasn’t the symbiote that was here, it was him, V’Len the doctor. Maybe he should just put Doctor. Kel: My turn eh? V’Len accepted the phaser from Jack and aimed it at the hull. The V seemed o.k, writing with a phaser was tougher than he expected. He used a dot for the apostrophe for fear it would look like an ‘S’. The rest went reasonably well. Kel: Well, Let’s hope the Zet don’t fire at this exact panel in the future. Winters: Maybe this panel should be preserved during our next resupply? Kessler: ::looking at the panel and then back at the storm and the sunset over the planet:: Take it all in guys. We won’t get to see this again for a long time. Rox: Welcome aboard Michele. You’ve got 2 down on your Oumuamau bingo card and you’ve only been here 2 hours. ****** Lieutenant V’Len Kel Chief Medical Officer USS Oumuamua NCC-81226 T239811VK2 He/Him (character and player) & Rox Nurse USS Oumuamua NCC-81226 T239811VK2 He/Him (player) She/Her (character) & Lt.jg Jack Kessler Asst. Chief Tactical Officer USS ‘Oumuamua T239901JK1 & 1st. Lt. Michele Winters Combat Medic USS 'Oumuamua T239901JK1

Love the atmospheric vibe, the ambience (the bringing in of midnight, the nostalgia and the stories, with the descriptions and fantastic details, warm light and fireflies). Nicely done! @Alieth & @Quinn Reynolds

Well well well, if it isn't a glorious JP from our resident lovelys @Hiro Jones and @Trovek and Sydin - a great example of counselling on leave

The continuing adventures of Wyla Avae and the Twibbles.... (( Bay of Sickness )) The black sand beaches of the Bay of Sickness seemed to span on forever as the small troupe of theirs traversed it still, Wyla had lost track of any semblance of the passage of time. Since Nibble joined their group, they’d had it a bit easier, despite there being more fights. Almost a dozen since they had first set furry paws onto the beach and more of those formidable skeleton mages had accosted them. Or maybe it was the same one coming back, she couldn’t say for certain. The tallies for Swibble and Ribble was in the hundreds at this point and the two were quietly bickering with one another as they walked, eyes focused on the sands ahead and around them for any signs of movement. Swibble: It doesn’t matter how many zombies were on that walking pile of fish bones. That still only counts as one! Ribble: Methinks thou dost protest much because thou knowest thou art losing! The pair nudged one another, which annoyed Sylara enough to hoot while Pibble kept them on course. She was grateful they were so skilled otherwise she knew they’d have gotten lost a long time ago and that thought terrified her as much as any of the monsters that were trying to get her. Libble now stuck closer to Twibble, who’s massive paws left deep imprints in the soft sand and made the loudest squeaks. Both Twibble and Wyla were looking worse for wear. As everything seemed intent on getting to her, which meant Twibble had been fighting the hardest. Kwibble and Nibble covered their rear, quietly conversing from time to time. Wyla looked the worst of them all. Bags under her eyes had started to appear on her face and the more of those monsters that got to her and drained her life force, the weaker she felt. Libble’s healing seemed to have diminishing returns the longer they journeyed. Pibble called out from ahead of them anxiously. Pibble: This isn’t good. The group quickly joined Pibble who stood in front of a towering cliff that rose up above them. There was a slender path barely wide enough for a normal sized twibble, with solid, jagged rock on one side and a drop, who knew how deep on the other. Wyla groaned seeing it as there was no way that poor Twibble was going to be able to cross that, with or without her on his back. Avae: Hnn..what do we do? ::She murmured and squeezed his fur:: Ribble: We climb up! Verily! ::he looked around at everyone and deflated a little:: No? Fine. Twibble: We’ll fiigure something out. Maybe Nibble has some magic that caan help us? Nibble: I can certainly try. Let me think for a moment. The sage moved up to the narrow path and surveyed it for a moment while Twibble laid on the sand to rest a moment. The others took up watch around them. Kwibble: Be wary everyone, last time we stopped those things came at us. She said confidently, sword in hand, whilst looking back the way they’d come from. Swibble and Ribble stood at the ready to their left while Pibble and Libble covered the right. A few minutes or moments at least passed and Ribble seemed to be staring at a spot on the mountainside further away from where they rested and the lone, precarious path. Avae: Ribble? Ribble: I dost believe I see something. There. ::He gestured with one of his climbing axes:: After a brief discussion the group decided to investigate Ribble’s finding and Nibble studied it for several moments. Nibble: I believe, yes, there’s a passage behind this portion of stone. Nibble took a moment and gestured, a soft glow formed around her hand before it illuminated a faint crease in the stone that eventually flared and rumbled as the stone door shifted back and to the side to reveal a dark passage. Swibble and Ribble exchanged glances, grins and both tilted their heads back and proclaimed. Both: Secret tunnel!! Wyla couldn’t help but giggle softly at their silly outburst, as the passage was revealed and noted the not so subtle head shake from Twibble, followed by a lengthy feline sigh. Twibble: And theey’re my second aand thiird in command because? She giggled and nuzzled against his mane. Wyla’s light filled the passage, for several meters, to give them a view ahead. The ground was solid stone, which was something at least. Zombies and skeletons couldn’t come at them from below. She hoped. But she remembered the last time they were in tight spaces. She hoped there wouldn’t be anymore fighting. But part of her knew better. Twibble: If you’d be so kiind, Pibble? Pibble took the lead once more and they all followed, with just enough room to walk in their usual formation but much closer than before. It was almost uncomfortable. So Ribble and Swibble moved to the front with Pibble. While Libble went to the back with Kwibble and Nibble. Nibble: We’re getting close. Up ahead should be the ruins where the Spine of Paralysis Removal is located. It was made long ago by the Replicator of Gen’tronic. An old kingdom that used to exist here. The Replicator was their greatest smith. It is logical to assume that the great smith may have created defenses that may still be functional. We should proceed with caution. Wyla nodded as Nibble spoke of the ancient ruins they headed towards and possible dangers. There was a loud rumbling behind them as the stone moved to once more cover the entrance to their little passageway that started to ascend slightly. A final echo of Ribble and Swibble’s voices emanated from the closing stone door before being silenced completely. Secret Tunnellllllllll!!!! To be continued…. ================================== Lieutenant JG Wyla Avae Chief Nurse Keeper of Twibbles as unconsciously simmed by Lieutenant Commander Toryn Raga Second Officer/Chief Tactical & Security Officer USS Astraeus NCC-70652 Astraeus Staff Member Writer ID: A239410TR0 https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Toryn_Raga

Another one of those sims I had delayed putting here! @Tahna Meru is a marvel at writing her character, deep, thoughtful, she is able to go back to details from months ago creating a delightful continuity in the story and a wonderful sense of progression and growth. Watching her develop as a writer and an officer has been a privilege, and I think she's going PLACES. Even more so if she continues to write with @Bryce Tagren-Quinn , a rising star for me too, meticulous and beautifully described. These two girls have worked a great scene together, give us more of these two together! ((Cyrithra Forest, Palanon)) A quiet hush fell over the campsite as the Admiral and First Officer took the makeshift stage. Reynolds: Midnight approaches, so if I can steal your attention for a short while before we ring in the new year. Neathler: Don’t worry, there will still be plenty of drinks after we’re done. Reynolds: Those of you who’ve been with the Gorkon for a while know I like to start my presentations with one of the hardest ribbons to receive… Ribbons, medals, and promotions were passed around to the gathered officers, accompanied by words of praise for their actions. Meru always found awards ceremonies awkward, no matter how they were dressed up (or, in this case, dressed down). She understood them; it was important to recognize the work of the crew, and the ribbons could be encouraging reminders of what you’d done and survived. But it was kind of like getting a souvenir from the trauma gift shop. She cheered anyway, for her friends and comrades, because strange as the whole thing was, they earned this celebration. Ena’s award brought a particular swell of pride, though the younger Bajoran wasn’t there to receive it, and Meru made a mental note to congratulate her friend as soon as the night was over. A lightshow lit up the sky as the presentation drew to a close, marking midnight and the changing of the year. “Happy 2400” blazed across the night, accompanied by the joyous cheers of her shipmates, and she raised her nearly-empty cider in a toast, as she saw others doing. Loxley slipped away in the aftermath, probably going after the fresh desserts, and Meru turned back to Bryce. Tagren-Quinn: I suppose—I guess there’s no question if it’s Binch or Finch now. He smirked, teasing, and Meru made a face of awkward discomfort that further scrunched up her nose, before giggling. Tahna: Guess not. Tagren-Quinn: Have–have you heard of a New Year’s resolution? Do Bajorans have a tradition something like that? She shook her head. Tahna: No, I don’t think so. I’m not super familiar with the tradition—it’s a Human thing, right? Tagren-Quinn: On Earth, some will commit to goals like weight loss or being more devout in their religions. A personal goal, a behavioral adjustment deemed important enough to focus on, to improve upon. It’s not something that I’ve historically done but I think—I think this year, it should change. He seemed conflicted, almost pained. After a moment’s pause, the expression faded, turning to sturdy resolve. The light from the campfire made his eyes look that familiar, bright, youthful green once more. Tagren-Quinn: Never been good about opening up with folks and that’s worked against me. For a time, I felt much like my El-Aurian ancestors, though—aimlessly drifting, nomadic, not really belonging anywhere—but after tonight… I am—thankful for the community here, gathered around this camp, and for your friendship. I am not sure how that really rolls into a resolution but it’s a thought I just now had. Meru nodded. It was a rare moment of openness, and she wasn’t quite sure how to react. No witty remarks sprung to mind, all the encouragement she could offer seemed shallow compared to the genuine honesty he’d just expressed. So she smiled, and nodded, and before she could think of something appropriate to say he continued. Tagren-Quinn: Any–anyway, the mug’s getting a little empty and that cider's calling. Can never have just one mug. What do you say? Another trip to the tables, maybe congratulate some of our comrades along the way? She smiled, grateful to bring some levity back to the conversation—and regretful. She wasn’t the best at handling big emotions like this, she never had been. Just because it was easier to switch to something lighter didn’t mean that was the right solution, and at some point compartmentalizing could turn into flat-out ignoring. Tahna: Yes, we can’t let the cider run out! That would be a tragedy. Congratulations to you, by the way. First Contact is big! Tagren-Quinn: Response Her free hand fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve as they walked back toward the tables, and her mind drifted back to the idea of resolutions. Tahna: We don’t have New Years resolutions, but I guess it’s kind of like a renewal scroll. Tagren-Quinn: Response Tahna: Yeah, I mean, it’s a completely different holiday, but it’s the same idea. You’re burning your past problems, making yourself and the world a better place in the days ahead. And they did have a campfire, though it was entirely the wrong holiday and culture. She could imagine throwing her troubles onto the fire, walking into the new century a better woman. There was no reason, beyond the calendar, that you couldn’t toss your problems on a fire multiple times a year if it made you feel better. Tagren-Quinn: Response Tahna: For my New Years renewal scroll… She cracked a grin at the newly hybridized tradition, though it faded as she considered. There were plenty of things she regretted about the past year, and most came from a place of defensiveness and fear of getting hurt. She wasn’t sure she was ready to share that tonight, but…he’d been honest, hadn’t he? Risked vulnerability? So it was only fair. Meru took a deep breath before continuing, her eyes fixed on the tables ahead. Tahna: I tend to avoid things just because they might end badly. Like– like my mom. We haven’t spoken in… ::She stifled the urge to end there and change the subject.:: We don’t see eye to eye, or get along, but I wish we could try to. I’ve just been too scared to even begin fixing that relationship. So, I’d burn that unnecessary defensiveness. She mimed tossing something into the fire, and laughed lightly to break the tension. Tagren-Quinn/Any: Response

These last few weeks have been a bit of a mess and I haven't been able to upload as many sims here as I wanted to, but this one was reserved to post here for a good reason. Firstly, it's @Jo Marshall 's delightful prose, as always, gorgeous, deep and beautiful. Secondly, the wonderful way in which the dialogue fits @Quinn Reynolds 's characters, seamlessly. Simming goals. ((Cyrithra Forest, Palanon)) Across the campsite from them, past the rows of delightful lantern-lit cabins already warm for the night ahead, Jo caught sight of Alieth and their newest transfers, Finch and T'Lar, chatting the evening away. That's what they'd always used those evenings for. Getting to know the crew, getting to know one another. Talk, drink, eat, and celebrate together in the eventuality that one day, one of them might not be there to see it. Ever aware, her blue eyes combed over the campsite. Marshall: You'd think, doing what we do, he'd want to be a Marine Biologist on Deluvia IV, instead. At least the weather would be better for most of the year. Reynolds: He did want to be a marine biologist, for a little while. After the Eagle crashed, he was fascinated with the oceans and sea life for a long while. Brunsig: I remember the lectures. Trying to catch up on PADDwork and suddenly a hand-drawn picture of a Bolian sugarshark in front of your eyeballs. ::A hint, only a hint, of a smile creased the corners of his blue eyes as he looked toward Jo.:: Live in the equatorial seas of Bolarus, entirely vegetarian, and feed on sweetkelp—in case you were wondering. Marshall: That's the life. ::Her smile twitched at the edges of her lips as she folded her arms, sealing in the warmth.:: I remember his sugarsharks. Still got one in the Operations office on the hall of doodle fame. Has it really been that long? He was knee-high to a grasshopper last week. Coming on board the ship felt simultaneously like a glacial age and a week ago, when Dylan had run around the ship with the energetic exuberance of his young age, when the lithe Fleet Captain of the Gorkon had seen them all safely back home to their actual reality. He'd grown so quickly, and with such an old head on his shoulders, it felt like a Q had erased the years between. He could ride on his own now, she didn't need to show him as much anymore, and aside from small course corrections, he'd soon be speeding on his own bike. Reynolds: I suppose I’d fret whatever he’s doing. ::She exhaled through a rueful sigh.:: In the end, it just comes down to what you’re worrying about, rather than whether you are. Marshall: He's a smart kid. The only one I know that can run rings around you when it comes to dismantling a replicator at speed. ::She tongued her cheek as a small idea bloomed in blue.:: We should make that a challenge. Line you up in the Cargo Bay and time it. A daft idea, presented for the amusement of her friend, whose worry lines would one day represent a relief map of Bajor riverbeds. Stretching her boots out in front of her, Jo crossed them over, feeling the thickness of the socks inside, the woolly scratch on her skin and the delight in just… being outside in the natural world again. Flanked by trees on all sides, breathing in their expelled oxygen, feeling the stress slip away from her brain stem. Retiring to a quiet colony seemed like a good idea. Somewhere they could go on hikes, cultivate a garden, read and relax and do not much else. Reynolds: Anyway. Walter and I were talking; he thinks we should organise a reunion for everyone who was on the Gorkon during our time Over There. Brunsig: Dominion War vets do it all the time. ::He sipped from his brandy flask, and held it out to Jo once more.:: Gives people permission to talk about what happened, pay their respects to the dead, reminisce about the non-soul-crushing moments, eat vast amounts of cake, gently weep in each other’s arms, yadda yadda. Marshall: It's those yadda yadda moments that really give it the flavour. Taking the proffered hipflask, Jo knocked back a swig from it with all the burning sensation to go with it. Strong wasn't the word; smooth was probably nearer, with a post-swallow sensation of liquid lava. Knowing better than to offer it in the semi-circle she would if Erin were with them, Jo passed the flask back to Walter and nodded, approvingly. Marshall: I like the idea of it, though. ::Her mouth mulled around the thought.:: Tell me more. And as the party continued, the celebrations winding into the evening, the three friends sat, drink, and talked about a future that seemed perpetually on the horizon, just waiting for them to explore it. fin -- Commander Jo Marshall Chief of Operations USS Gorkon, NCC-82293 G239304JM0

I really enjoy how @Sal Taybrim's writer allows us a peek into Sal's family dynamics, and it was great to see Commodore Taybrim in the role of a younger sibling. Those little things are what makes the character so alive and I can't wait to read more. Because there is more... right?

Justin / @Yalu reasserts himself as a tugger of heartstrings with this beautiful slice of family life.

The subtelty of the writing, Nkai's inner thoughts, the brushing of Cheesecake's wet nose against his hand 🐕 just a lovely read! @Quinn Reynolds Lt. Commander Caedan Nkai - A Cheesecake and Her Muffin Are Not Easily Parted

Part 3 of the Twibble Saga ... ============= (( Shattered Halls of Cata Maran )) The halls seemed to go on forever, like a labyrinth of the same stone worked to resemble the familiar corridors of the ship she’d called home for so many years. Except, as they progressed the stone was more cracked, more sparks showered them as they passed, more passages that had collapsed entirely. Wyla was finding it harder to focus on everything. They had been in so many fights. The darkness all around them just outside her protective light had repeatedly managed to send shades through. Harming themselves in the process just to get to her. Her brave, wonderful protectors through all of that were still with her. Even after they’d nearly lost Ribble to a swarm of shades because he stood between her and them, tearing the shadows apart while they reciprocated. Libble had healed him as she did, only for Swibble to smack him, then hug him, then tell him that she still had a higher total of vanquished shades than him by two. These protectors didn’t lose their joy and hope. It helped her to keep on, even though all she could do was lay there on Twibble back. Her poor Twibble. Even his beautiful fur was showing signs of the battles fought. Some of the shades had started to manifest magic during their last battle, they hurled orbs or beams of darkness that oddly burned when they hit you. A few patches of fur were singed slightly but the powerful lion still carried her on. Pwibble: There! The exit of the Halls! The navigating twibble proclaimed, their anchor pointed in the direction ahead where a faint light bloomed still. Wyla smiled a bit and looked up at the exit. Maybe they were close to the artifact now! Avae: Good news! Thank you Pibble, you did so well to get us through all of that. The twibble beamed a smile at her and the others rushed with vigor out of the open doorway. The light grew brighter for a moment so she shielded her eyes and when her vision cleared again she looked about. Where she had hoped to see a bright open sky was that ever present and oppressive darkness. Only her own light showed the terrain around them. Sand? She heard the crunch of sand beneath Twibble’s claws as the troupe continued onward a few meters from the exit to the Halls. Wyla looked back, seeing an oddly Akira shaped mountain side, with several peaks broken and piled like hills of rubble. Swibble: Finally! Warmth! Ribble: Thou art nary going to letteth that rest, are thee? Swibble slowly turned back to Ribble and blepped ever so slightly, their tongue stuck out just enough to get the point across before the pair exchange childish gestures with one another. Wyla couldn’t help but giggle. The sound must have been odd, or something because she felt all of their eyes on her and she blushed a little. Avae: W..what did I do? Twibble: You laaughed Wyla. The fiirst time since we found you. Libble: He’s right. It’s a great sound. And see, the light is brighter! She was right. As Wyla looked up she noticed her illuminatory bubble had extended a little bit. Letting them see more of the terrain. They were indeed on a beach. The sound of heavy rolling waves filled the air, and she could smell the sea. But it was otherwise eerily quiet. There were no birds. And the sand looked black, but it squeaked when they walked. For a moment, it reminded her of the party on the caldera. With sand so soft it squeaked too. She missed being able to feel the sand under her feet. To be able to curl her toes into it. The light flickered. Twibble: Wyla…Wyla…aare you alriight? Sickly groans echoed around them as the sand shifted, bubbling up or rising as figures, dozens of them emerged from beneath. Bodies. Glowing red eyes. Corpses. Libble: Oh no…I know where we are. Swibble: Well, tell us!! She demanded while holding her blade in hand. All of the twibbles readied themselves and moved to defensive positions around Wyla and Twibble. Libble: The Bay of Sickness. (( Bay of Sickness )) The horde of risen corpses shambled towards them all, their clothes tattered mixes of gold and red and blue and teal. Ribble, Sylara and Swibble covered the left flank, fighting with blade and fist, claw and beak. As each zombie fell, four more rose up. Ribble had started using the pair of climbing axes that, to this point, had just hung from his belt. The incorrigible pair called out each felled enemy, adding to their tallies. Pwibble swept aside several in front of them with each swing of that anchor, but more just rose up behind them. Libble bolstered them all with her medkit and patched up wounds. While Kwibble fought hard to cover the right flank, that sword cleaved several. While Twibble spun in place, slapping, clawing, biting and roaring at each zombie in turn. They moved down the beach, a constant slog of a battle but they were moving forward. Not losing ground. A bright burst of dark fire erupted suddenly in between Ribble and Swibble that sent both of them into the air a few meters before they hit the sand again. Singed. All eyes shifted ahead to a tall figure, skeletal, eyes glowing bright red but more crisp than the zombies. Wyla squinted to see them and could swear that they were made of metal bones. The right arm was a large crossbow, with bolts that seemed to magically replenish and burned with a dark green fire at the tips. The left hand glowed with an orb of darkness, more magic. Skeleton: Fools. If we fall, we will always rise again. They gestured and the dark orb burst dozens and dozen of black tendrils that struck the already defeated corpses. Each one touched was enveloped in the tendrils that wrapped around them, being lifted back to their feet, their eyes aglow once more. Swibble: ::She picked herself up off the sand:: Fvadt! Wyla cringed. Her brave protectors got back up, stood around her and readied for more fighting. For the first time since she woke up here, they’d stopped moving forward. She saw the skeleton’s ballista arm point in her direction and fire. It flew so fast towards her she didn’t realize she’d yelped until it exploded a couple of meters in front of her. She winced and waited for pain that never came. Bravely she opened an eye and saw the most beautiful shimmering dome of energy around them all. Vibrant blue that had coalesced around them somehow. Kwibble: Yes!!!! I knew she’d make it! Wyla looked to Kwibble who excitedly gestured with the ancient sword of hers to an outcropping of rocks by the shore to their right. Standing atop it was a lone twibble in blue, with similarly pointed fur to Ribble and Swibble though she had a cute little fur ponytail. She held a small talisman in hand that glowed with light, rectangular-ish in shape that looked like the newer Tricorders. Their other hand outstretched towards Wyla’s group, the limb also aglow with the same blue energy as the barrier around them. N: I would have been here sooner but I had to find a replacement. ::She held up the talisman:: Kwibble: You’re in twibble now you shiny metal monster! ::She called out to the skeleton ahead:: Wyla smiled at Kwibble’s enthusiasm, despite the terrifying sight around them. The shield eventually lowered and the mage with the ballista arm turned its focus onto their new arrival. Avae: ::she whispered to the lion she clung to:: Who’s that? Twibble: Niibble. She blinked. Avae: Are you asking me to nibble you, or that you’ll only tell me if I let you nibble me? Or you’ll tell me after you finish nibbling on that zombie? I’m confused. There was a rumbling chuckle from the lion, which was a little awkward given that he had a zombie in his mouth at the time. Twibble: ::He spit out the zombie:: Nibble’s her name. She’s our Sage. The Antosian’s mouth opened into an ‘oohhhhhh’ and she nodded. Now they had magic of their own. Maybe they could get through this after all. To be continued…. ================================== Lieutenant JG Wyla Avae Chief Nurse Keeper of Twibbles as unconsciously simmed by Lieutenant Commander Toryn Raga Second Officer/Chief Tactical & Security Officer USS Astraeus NCC-70652 Astraeus Staff Member Writer ID: A239410TR0 https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Toryn_Raga

Those first few scenes as a new player are always intimidating and, in this case for Mr. Hobart, doubly so because he's on the Bridge a few hours after showing up. Still he manages to jump right in and contribute with some wonderful characterizations and observations, along with some follicular humor, starting our Act 3 off on a great note. Well done Ensign! ======================================== ((Deck One, Bridge, USS Arrow)) Commander Niac leaned back in discomfort in the command chair on the Bridge, before rising to survey the assembled and assigned crew. Hobart in his own kind of discomfort, tucked away into the proverbial corner of a round-ish room, fell back onto his accidental mantra. It was something he took to saying in Academy simulations, when he found himself in a place like this. The simulations were all contrived to find a way to make cadets of varying specialties all act together as bridge crew. Every bit of his training, every component system he memorized, every tool he learned, had him situated if not in the beating heart of Main Engineering, then somewhere in a Jefferies tube, which from inside felt a bit like a ship’s digestive tract. But every major simulation had him situated right where he was, at the stern of the bridge, looking at a screen, his hands very much grease-free. Every time, Nolen's expression became a little more exhausted, a little more exasperated. But here, on the Arrow, where the stakes were real, he couldn’t muster such chutzpah. Accordingly, he only mouthed the words: "But what does an engineer do on the bridge?" He was about to find out. Niac: Lieutenant Commander Collins, Lieutenant Jg. Ayemet, you're going to be our eyes and ears while the away team is offship. I need you to squeeze everything you can out of our passive sensors. I want to keep track of the team and I don't want us to get snuck up on. Any questions? Collins/Ayemet: Response As Niac began his round of the bridge crew, Hobart stared at the panel in front of him. Thrusters only, shields offline, weapons powered down, life support and air circulation at a minimum. It was a blessing that the lights and displays themselves wouldn't create too much "noise," so they could be left un-dimmed. The air was still fresh enough, but Hobart knew as they settled in, things would begin to get stale. With any luck, the Captain's excursion would be brief. oO And “successful,” of course. Don’t forget “successful.” Oo Niac: Understood, give me as much warning as you can. Karrod nodded and turned his attention towards their helmsman, Cadet Jenna Perim. Nolen wondered which sadistic instructor assigned her to this ship for her cruise. Niac: Cadet Perim, confirm we're in position relative to the asteroid and the facility. Once we're set, I want you to start plotting warp trajectories out of the system and back to the Proteus ring. ::Karrod tried a reassuring smile:: You think you're up for that, Cadet? Hobart's black eyes danced around the map of the ship as he mused to himself about which sections were about to become very cold, and which very sweaty. The Bridge, he estimated with relief, would be closer to the former. As Nolen's father put it: you can always put more layers on. He did not envy Lieutenant J/G Dewitt, though, nor the smell that would undoubtedly await him on his return to Main Engineering. In the brief span of time between his arrival on the ship and his assignment to his current station, Ensign Hobart had only barely had a chance to drop off his belongings in his new quarters, drink a glass of water, and briefly meet a very busy man who seemed to have only just arrived out of the Academy a week or so before he did. The fact that Dewitt had already secured his half-pip was bewilderingly impressive, and Nolen wondered exactly where the Lieutenant got off setting such impossibly high standards for the rest of the crew. Perim: Response Karrod fought to keep a smirk off his face and turned his attention towards the last and newest member of their team, Ensign Nolen Hobart. The hairs on the back of Nolen's neck tingled as an image of looming anthropomorphized facial hair in a command uniform filled his mind. Niac: Ensign Hobart, welcome to the bridge. You'll be responsible for monitoring our power systems and making sure we're not leaking any detectable emissions. We don't want to trigger those facility defense batteries. That said, I want us ready to power up and get underway on a moment’s notice. Think you can handle all, Ensign? Hobart: ::raised voice:: Aye, sir, not a scrape nor squeak, Commander Bea— ah, Commander Niac. Sir. Hobart kept his back to the ship's Executive Officer, ostensibly to continue to monitor the ship’s systems. Had the ship's lights been dimmed, he imagined that his face, glowing as hot embers, would have drawn more attention no matter which way he stood. In this precise moment, he envied Lieutenant Dewitt a great deal. Karrod straightened up in the Chair and tapped at his commbadge. Niac: =/\= Niac to Shayne. Captain, we're all set up here. =/\= Shayne: =/\= Understood. Standby for our launch. =/\= Niac: =/\= Aye sir, good hunting. You're clear for departure. Arrow will be standing by waiting for you. Good luck, Captain. =/\= Shayne: =/\= Thank you, Commander. =/\= The comm closed and Karrod turned his attention back towards the bridge. The viewscreen showed the barren, pitted surface of broken stone stretched off into the darkness all around them. After a few minutes of relative silence, Karrod spoke aloud, half to himself and half to the bridge as a whole. Niac: Guess I should've brought a deck of cards. This caused Nolen to turn around, his face finally under control and un-blushed. Out the main viewscreen he saw the vast surface of their shelter against prying Sheliak sensors, a slash of barren rock against the dark void of space, and felt for a moment as if he was back home. An Engineer on the Bridge, he realized, if nothing else, got a real good look. Collins/Ayemet/Perim: Response With his eyes finally filled, Hobart turns back to his station, focused on making sure things stayed good and quiet. He tapped, rhythmically, cycling through the different powered down systems, arranging them for reactivation in the most efficient sequence possible. Somewhere from the dark recesses of his mind, antiquated cultural artifacts echoed. Hobart: ::whispering absentmindedly, with a Scottish lisp:: One… ping… only… Any: Response Tags/TBC — — — Ensign Nolen Hobart Engineering Officer U.S.S. Arrow (NCC-69829) A240001NH3

((OOC: A great sim from Emma that just socked a lot of us in the feels.)) She had taken the opportunity afforded to her to rest for the briefest of moments, downloading a series of schematics and information from her personal servers, that could provide useful. She noticed the small onyx like box that had been mysteriously handed to her when on a shore leave , and she had struggled to open ever since. Scans had shown little information, but from them, and the data on El-Auria she had downloaded whilst at Odyssey Station, she had come to the conclusion that it was El-Aurian in composition, but quite why it had been given to her, and what it contained, were still a mystery to her. She sighed as she changed her uniform and combed her hair, trying to mask the signs of both emotional and physical exhaustion that sought to overwhelm her. At one point her and Gorva had planned to open it using her burgeoning psionic abilities, but that was when she had been terrified that there was a deep uncontrollable part of her waiting to be unleashed. Thanks to R’Ariel she had discovered that this was not the case, but merely the results of psci-dolescence, adolescence but for those with psionic gifts, and hope had resurfaced. She had looked forward to having someone who not only knew, but understood to talk to, but as so often, life had taken R’Ariel elsewhere, at least for the moment. She let out another breath, her right hand falling flat against the smooth surface of the box. Click. Her eyes opened. Whir. She looked down at the box as a small seam opened along the top of it, the whirring rising in volume as its’ sides began to turn and expand outwards. She picked the box up, it’s’ volume seemingly two or three times what it had appeared to be when closed. The sides were now extended outwards to the left and the right, giving the impression of books stacked previously on top of each other. She peered inside, tentatively at first, half expecting some creature or beam of light to come spilling out. It smelt…old, dusty, like a house that had laid unattended and cared for over decades. Inside were.. She half laughed. There was a small wooden wind instrument. About five inches in length, with small holes running down its’ side, and an obvious mouthpiece at one end. She picked it up, and gingerly blew into it. It was like the wind blowing through the trees, ethereal, lonely, a melancholy that spoke to some great sadness lost to time. She put it down, feeling like she had intruded on something precious and deeply private. She took the next object out, a small beaten soft toy in the shape of what humans might call a rabbit. Parts of it were faded, and it’s’ left ear fell loosely to one side, but it was soft, warm, and as Ayemet gel it carefully in her hands she felt comforted, like it brought back almost memory. She smiled stroking the small plush as she placed it down on the desk. Next was a book. The language was something she instinctively recognised; El-Aurian. The symbols filled page after page, hand drawn illustrations interrupting the paragraphs every so often. It looked like some kind of notebook. History? Biographical? A diary? She wasn’t sure, but it was certainly something that needed, no insisted, on further careful study. The final item was a clear bag with several smaller pockets within it. In each pocket was a myriad different seeds and pulses, all carefully placed so as not to be contaminated by either the other seeds nor anything outside the bag. She looked at the colors and shapes. There must have been at least a dozen different seeds. Seeds of plants that once grew in El-Aurian soil. Tears formed in her eyes, her hands moving gently over the contents of the box, a smile on her lips . Home. Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of her communicator calling for her return. She places each of the items back into the box, which closes once more, and turned to leave her quarters, taking a brief moment to look once more at it as the doors closed and she took the unusual step of locking it . She turned and ran straight into someone, colliding with them, and falling ti the floor. Any Response: Jacin: Yes. Totally my fault. I’m so sorry. Any Response: Jacin: No it:beat: it’s something for another time. Any Response: Jacin: nodding: On my way. With that she turned and hurried towards the turbolift. TAG/ TBC/END? Lieutenant Jg Jacin Ayemet Science Officer USS Arrow A239810JA2

((Circular enclosed courtyard with benches and a small water fountain at the center – Shi’Kahr District)) Sera had found herself wandering after the New Year’s party on the SS Belladonna had wound to a close. She wasn’t quite certain how exactly she found this small courtyard in the Shi’Kahr district, which was quite a ways from her quarters. However, the feeling of it reminded her of home, and she took a seat at one of the benches spaced equidistantly apart surrounding the bubbling fountain in a perfect circle. She stared at nothing really, though her eyes were generally fixed on the flowing water. The chocolate had not been one of her more logical…or perhaps intelligent decisions, as the euphoric effects were wearing off and she was left with a sense of profound…emptiness. Sherlock had spent half the party explaining Terran traditions regarding this particular celebration, and Sera soaked it in – finding some of the customs most interesting, if inexplicable. However, part of learning was comparing past experiences or knowledge to find a meaningful way to categorize the new information, and pulling up knowledge of her life on Vulcan, in this current state…well it made her feel things. Isolation…loneliness…longing…grief. They were old friends, in a way, following her since leaving home and entering a new life as an academy cadet…and they were still here. Oh, she had become quite proficient at subsuming them, locking them away in a box that was conveniently shoved into a mental closet marked, “OFF LIMITS – DO NOT OPEN.” Nonetheless, here they were, in the forefront of her mind, filling her soul with something that caused discomfort behind her breastbone, a dull pain that made each breath a miserable chore. A rustling of clothing jolted her from her musings, and Sera reached up and wiped at her face, unsure of why it was wet. Nalaat: ::In a crisply accented Vulcan that spoke of growing up in Gol:: It is quite late to sit in such contemplation... Sera’s head whipped to the voice, and she caught herself with her hand on the bench seat as the motion held a little too much momentum. She looked up to see an adult Vulcan male, with slight salting of his hair around his brow line, wearing robes of an indeterminate color…it was quite late, wasn’t it? Sera: It…the courtyard is quite placid at this hour. Nalaat motioned with his hand, asking permission to sit, and Sera nodded once, giving assent, and he settled a respectful distance from her on the stone slab. Nalaat: I have never seen you here before, miss… Sera: ::sighing in a very un-Vulcan-like manner:: S’Ers-a Nalaat: Ah…S’Ers-a. Your accent, it is quite unique. I have never heard one like it. Sera looked down to her hands which were gripped tightly together in her lap. Her anxiety speaking with one of her own was visible in the whitening of her knuckles, and she forced them to relax. Sera: I was born in Jia'anKahr. She turned her gaze from her hands to the profile of the stranger sitting next to her and waited. Nalaat: That is far south. Very remote if I recall my geography correctly. Sera blew air out of her nose at his self-deprecating statement. Of course, he would recall it correctly – every Vulcan had been taught about the Lyr’Taya region…and what peoples hailed from it. Sera: A different world, one might say… ::wincing, knowing that the use of idioms would not serve her here:: The man tilted his head slightly, as if contemplating what she said. Or perhaps he was thinking of a scathing remark to be delivered in a quintessential Vulcan manner that would cut her deeply, but only if she admitted she had such feelings, which tonight at least, she didn’t have the control to deny herself that. Sera: For the sake of efficiency, I am m’Lyr’Zor. oO There. That should end whatever this is… Oo The man turned to look at her fully and raised a brow. Nalaat: Stating that your home is in Lyr’Taya all but guaranteed that. ::regarding her in a manner that indicated that he too was thinking of how to be efficient:: Do you believe I am…scandalized, knowing this? Sera gaped at him, and as her face felt utterly bizarre, perhaps she actually was physically expressing her incredulity. Sera: Every Vulcan I have ever told has never…not been. Nalaat nodded considering. Nalaat: As you are here, on a Federation installation, in a simulated Vulcan portico, very far from Jia'anKahr, I will postulate you have not chosen a profession that feeds into the rumors and innuendos regarding your clan’s unsavory dealings. Sera ducked her head in an attempt to hide the single laugh at his rather 'diplomatic' observation. Sera: That is quite astute of you...? She studied him, waiting for the inevitable rebuffment that she had experienced outside of her clan's landholdings. Nalaat: Very well, S’Ers-a M’Lyr’Zor. I am Nalaat M’Hgrtcha. Are you new to the district? Sera breathed out slowly, regaining some semblance of control before answering him. Sera: No. My quarters are…some distance from here. Nalaat: Starfleet then. It is hard to determine such things when one is not wearing their uniform. She ducked her head in response to his humor. He was not incorrect…it was hard to tell when one was wearing a netting dress that was decidedly un-Vulcan. Nalaat: And your mate? Is he here with you? Nalaat: And your mate? Is he here with you? Sera started at his question, her mind immediately going back to the memories of…him. It was suddenly as if she were drowning all over again. The discomfort within her chest exploded into burning pressure, and she felt as if she couldn't get air into her lungs. Her hands grasped the edge of the stone bench the edge of the rough stone bit into her palm, pulling her out of the panicked state she had started to fall into. Nalaat saw the change come over her and realized he had made a grievous error. This young woman appeared to be undone, her shoulders and arms trembling as her breath echoed in a harsh whisper. His initial response was to turn away, to allow her a moment to regain her composure in an obvious lapse of emotional control…but…from what she had just shared with him, he considered doing so would show an unforgiveable indifference to her suffering. Reaching out he placed his hands atop her trembling one and sent calmness through the link that opened between them. He was most careful to not take anything from her, and this was an easy thing given the years of training he had in the mind arts as a Priest of Amonak. He remained by her side, stoically composed as he waited patiently for the woman to regain herself. She felt the calmness being projected to her and she focused desperately on that, forcing her breaths to slow and the frantic thrumming of her heart to ease. She dropped her head and shut her eyes, ashamed of her actions before a stranger, and a Vulcan no less. Nalaat: There is no shame, S’Ers-a-kam. <<Kam denotes affection/caring>> My question was obviously indelicate. I ask your forgiveness. Sera sat, unmoving for a moment, but she was not ignoring Nalaat…she was simply trying to find the courage to face him. Sera: There is nothing to forgive, Nalaat. It is I who am… ::mouth moving but no further words coming out:: Nalaat: I grieve with thee. Sera body shuddered, as if shaking off a deep chill, and her composure had finally returned to its proper place. She delicately pulled her hand out from under his, and as soon as the movement was perceived Nalaat courteously withdrew. Sera: There is nothing to grieve. It was kal-if-fee. Nalaat reared back slightly, her statement so unexpected that he was unable to contain his surprise behind his neutral façade. oO So young! Oo Nalaat: ::switching to formal Vulcan:: Was the one thy were bonded to at Koon-ut-la such an ill-fitting mate for thee? Sera’s expression shifted to that of incredulity, but she did not turn to look at this stranger. It was a very personal question, and she should find this entire exchange unacceptable…but she had never told anyone…and no one had ever asked…and now here she sat on a stone bench, next to…::studying the sigils on his robes::…a Priest of Amonak? Sera: ::hesitant:: My clan…adheres to older ways. I informed of my family’s choice with only a short time to prepare. Nalaat could only shake his head in disbelief. His estimation of Sera increased greatly. Nalaat: And you managed to procure a champion for thee in such short time? Sera exhaled through her nose at his statement. A champion…if only. Sera: I was my own champion. I fought for my life and bought my freedom by his death. It was a pyrrhic victory. Nalaat: ::raising a brow:: In what way? Thy call it a pyrrhic victory – costly, yes, but did thee believe the loss incurred was not worth any gain? Sera finally risked looking at him and raised a brow weakly in question. Sera: ::softly:: I could not…go through with it, so he had to die?…and for what…to find myself here, having made irrational choices, intoxicated to the point of inability to control my emotions…telling a stranger my deepest shame…::shoulders slumping:: …T'nash-veh kashek nam-tor sa'awek - tra' nam-tor rim ik thresh ish-veh. Nalaat studied her defeated form – seeing her lapse in control as a physical symptom of psychological pain. Isolation was detrimental environment for a Vulcan. To be physically alone was one thing – but to be telepathically alone? Vulcans required bonds to maintain stability. Bonds with family, bonds with associates – or friends, bonds with mates…It was never spoken about because it simply…was. They were touch telepaths, yes…but close contact with other Vulcans formed subtle links – that were often strengthened through melds that occurred – when the situation appropriate. If she was here, unbonded – with no meaningful connections with anyone else…why, it was amazing she had maintained stability as long as she had. Nalaat: ::in a fatherly tone:: when have you last shared thoughts, S’Ers’a-kam? Sera: ::defensive:: I…melded with a half-human/half-orion woman the other day. What was this becoming…a confessional? Sera finally braved looking at his face, and his concern was expressed all over it. He was a Priest of Amonak after all…he was trained to listen and offer guidance. Normal Vulcans did this…they confided…gave trust…asked for and received assistance. It was an alien concept. Her family was calculating…cold. It was an unheard-of thing to confess such as she was to another. However, she was drunk and just couldn’t stop herself. Nalaat: For the purpose of closeness…of connection? Sera: ::gesturing with her head in a negative motion:: No. It was to educate, exchange information. Nalaat: And that inability to meld in a proper manner…? Sera:: It…pained me. Nalaat tilted his head to the side in compassion. Nalaat: S’Ers-a m’Lyr’Zor Tan-tor nash-veh nahp. <<give me your thoughts.>> ::raising his hand up and out to half the distance between them. Sera’s eyes widened and she sat up straight and then leaned her head back slightly to give him correct access to the side of her face. His warm fingertips touched her face, expertly sliding precisely over the cranial nerve pathways. Sera shivered all over uncontrollably once, and then became perfectly still. Nalaat: T’nash-veh kashek tor ish-veh kashek…T'nash-veh nahp tor nahp <<My mind to your mind…my thoughts to your thoughts>> She was always filled with astonishment to feel the breath of another’s lungs, to see herself through another’s eye, to sense that there was no beginning or no end…Sera reached back out to him, allowing him the same transcendent gift that full meld bestowed. Nalaat: …Etwel nahp nam-tor veh <<Our thoughts are one.>> Yes. This was what was missing in the meld with Shevon. Beatific. <<Small Time-skip>> Two shadowed figures remained silent and still on the stone bench for a long time. The simulated darkness began to wane, and a subtle red began to build in the ‘dark sky’ of the dome as the day cycle was initiating. Nalatt removed his hand from her face and opened his eyes. Sera, meanwhile, considered never opening her eyes as that would mean she would not have to look at the face of the one who now knew her better than anyone else she had ever known. She had never given into cowardice, and she was not about to now, so Sera opened her eyes. Nalaat: Was that acceptable, S’Ers-a-kam? Sera: ::Softly:: Yes. There was more to be said, but Sera was not ready yet. It felt as if a festering wound had been lanced open, and now the infection would have to drain out before it could be cleansed and sown shut. Nalaat nodded with a sage expression on his face. Nalaat: You may return any evening you are not on duty. I will be here. We may continue, if so desired. Sera looked about the flamelit courtyard and realized she was in a portico to the grand entrance of a temple. He was a priest of the temple…ah. Sera stood gracefully and looked down to the Priest of Amonak. She tilted her head to the side in a gesture of acknowledgement of what told her. Sera, however, did not agree to his offer. She didn’t want to promise anything – they were prisons. Nalaat saw her ‘answer’ and nodded once, standing as well. She would return when she was ready to. Nalaat: ::raising his hand in the ta’al:: Peace and long life, S’Ers-a m’Lyr’Zor. Sera: ::reciprocating in kind for the first time since leaving Vulcan to join the academy:: Live long and prosper, Nalaat M’Hgrtcha…and…I thank thee. Nalaat: Unnecessary. I come to serve. [End Scene] ***************** Lieutenant JG Sera Engineering Officer SB 118 Ops J239812S14

This is a continuation of a sim by @Toryn Raga that I previously posted here, and it just gets better and better. ========= (( Shattered Halls of Cata Maran )) The darkness was utterly oppressive around them as Wyla and her small troupe of twibbles progressed away from the isolated room they’d found her in. It felt like hours, but as she thought about it, there was little here that made it easy to tell the passage of time. And she’d been distracted by the soft fur of the lion beneath her while the other twibbles flanked them. Thankfully the hallways were wide enough for all of them to walk side by side. Swibble and Ribble had spent much of the journey so far nudging each other and taking turns teasing or one upping one another while the cute bird on Ribble’s back just stared at them like a guardian that had long since tired of their foolishness. They were to her left. Pwibble was just ahead of Twibble and her. While Libble and Kwibble flanked her on the right. She noted that all of them seemed to be uneasy, despite their lighthearted natures, particularly when they passed through chambers large enough for the light emanating from her medallion to not completely illuminate the space. And she couldn’t blame them, in those chambers she could see the defined borders where the shadows pressed against the light. Like greedy hands trying to push through a wall or paper mache. The corridor they were currently in opened up to another of those large chambers and she gripped the fur of Twibble’s mane a bit tighter. Whispers echoed throughout this chamber and made her shiver slightly. Separating the ventral and dorsal roots. Heart rate and respiration remain within acceptable parameters. She felt an ache in her back then and a soft whimper escaped the paralyzed Antosian clinging to the lion’s back. The whimper drew the attention of the others who moved closer and place a hand on her legs or arms and gave her reassuring looks. Libble: It’s alright Wyla. This is part of the journey! And we’ll do everything we can to protect you. ::She said reassuringly:: She smiled and nodded at Libble and then they pushed forward. The chamber made her uneasy, aside from the whispers an occasional spark burst from a wall or ceiling beyond the bubble of light she made, that let her see the surfaces. A mix of panels, bulkheads and loose optical cable but all stone. Separation complete. ::beat:: Doctor Solok, go ahead and sever the brainstem. Wyla gasped from the tug she felt to her back but when she looked behind or reached behind to rub her back she couldn’t feel anything different. A faint glow ahead looked to come from another corridor up a few meters ahead. And she felt a little better. Brainstem is severed. Placing the Cerebral Cortex on life support now. Primary brain dysfunction in four hours. Vitals holding within normal parameters. Avae: H..how long until we reach the artifact? Pibble: Well, uh, no one knows! We know where it is, we just don’t know when we’ll find it. That didn’t make her feel any better. Making the incision. The whispers returned but this time there was a lingering echo that was unlike the others. These were malevolent. The shadows pressed more aggressively against the light she emanated and a low growl rumbled from Twibble. The troupe all stopped and she realized why. The light from the next corridor wasn’t visible anymore. The twibbles all spread out from around them, each either drawing their weapons or taking up defensive postures. Wyla whimpered. Avae: What’s wrong? Twibble: The daarkness doesn’t want us to progress. Hold tight, Wyla. All around them the shadows pushed, hammered, pierced the light until several passed through the border. Burning and trailing smoke as if in pain from the light of her medallion, but they charged at her. Shrieking at her. Wyla gasped as one of the shadows got within a few feet of her before a lion’s claw slashed it asunder. Avae: My face….wh…why did it have my face? She asked, shaken from the sight of a barely humanoid form, with her visage but twisted and terrifying. Twibble: They’re trying to snuff your light Wylaa, don’t let theem get to you. Ribble: Back, ye foul monsters! Ribble cried out punching and kicking shadows that passed within reach of him while Sylara bit or clawed at shadows that attempted to descend on them from above. What started as a handful of shadows soon swelled to dozens and the Antosian gripped the mane she held onto and tried to make herself as small as possible while the melee went on around her. Swibble cleaved several shadows with her blade like a whirling dervish. Libble had her medkit out using it to block or smack the passing shadows, between moments of calling on its powers to mend the wounds her fellow twibbles sustained. A shadow clipped Ribble, which sent clouds of stuffing onto the ground. But soon after the wound mended from a glowing light from Libble’s medkit. Kwibble held an ancient looking sword that she had told Wyla was called a Chon Blade. Apparently it had, at one time, been able to open magical portals to allow instant travel across great distances, but the magic had long faded and only worked in specific shrines. It sliced through shades easily enough. Pwibble fought back against the shades both with the tiny runabout that flew around as his command, firing little beams of light, small orbs of orange that burst in minute puffs of magical power and even rammed shades on occasion. And by fighting similarly to Ribble, punching and kicking with skill or with the handheld anchor that they wielded. Wyla felt helpless as her brave twibble guardians fought all around her and held tightly onto the lion beneath her that slashed and bit and roared. Then she felt the abrupt cold chill on her body. She gasped from the sensation and shivered. Her head snapped to her side and she stared into the face of a shade. Her face. It shrieked and she felt life slowly drain out of her body. The light of her medallion flickered all around them. Blood pressure seems to be falling, Doctors. Slowly, steadily – but falling. The lion roared and a hoot sounded above her before Sylara swooped down and clawed the shade off her. Another pair managed to grab her, making her cry out in a whimper of pain and sorrow before both were destroyed or knocked away from her. Administer the Leporazine. Fifteen ccs. Twibble hissed at the shades like a hypospray and several began to fall. The battle raged for minutes? Hours? Eventually, no more shades breached the light bubble, which was a little smaller than before. Each twibble seemed out of breath, even Libble, who took a moment to go around to each and heal them before healing herself. After Wyla was mended of course. Avae: I..I’m alright, Libble. Thank you. Libble: Of course! You’ll get through this, just hang on a bit longer okay!? She could only nod and lay against the lion’s mane as the troupe headed into the next corridor after a brief rest. A final whisper, unheard by Wyla or the others, sounded from the chamber behind them as they left. oO Please stay with me. Oo To be continued…. ================================== Lieutenant JG Wyla Avae Chief Nurse Keeper of Twibbles as unconsciously simmed by Lieutenant Commander Toryn Raga Second Officer/Chief Tactical & Security Officer USS Astraeus NCC-70652 Astraeus Staff Member Writer ID: A239410TR0 https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Toryn_Raga

Love the big Teddy Bear energy from the big bearded @Karrod Niac here. ((Security Complex, Deck 3, USS Arrow)) The probe continued to stream in valuale intelligence data but the discovery of weapons emplacements had alarming implications. Fortunately, the team was quick to discover an opportunity that could be exploited. Serinus: A firestar 23 Mark 8. Good eye again, Ensign. This has got to be the weak spot that Engineering reported. Niac: We should be able to tweak the shuttle's shield harmonics enough to slip by on low power but that leaves us the question of where to have them put down. Ideally it's a spot that gives them some cover on the way in but doesn't leave the shuttle too far away in the event they need to make an expedient exit. Tarisai: I suppose that depends on how they're moving their quarry inside. Perhaps we could slip in with the next load. Serinus: Tactically, it makes sense. Brilliant sense. Strategically, unless we can get their delivery schedule, we might not be able to wait. Karrod harrumphed at the simple reality of it. Niac: Captain's not going to want to wait and neither do I. Longer the Arrow lingers here, the more chance we have of getting into a direct confrontation with the Sheliak. We have to find or make a hole in their sensor coverage, insert our team, then be ready to exfiltrate them and fall back to safer territory. Tarisai: Response Serinus: We do have a whole Marine team dedicated to search and rescue ops, perhaps Chief Jones can be of some assistance. Karrod nodded, annoyed with himself that it hadn't occurred to him. His lack of familiarity with all of the Arrow's assets was driven by his new posting but he wouldn't allow himself an easy excuse. They were sending people into harms way and he needed to give them every advantage. Niac: Excellent, contact the Chief and have him put a detachment together. Advise him that we'll be jumping off in the next few hours so he's not going to have a ton of time to prep. Ensign, begin transferring our probe data to holosuite one and have the computer being rendering the environment as accurately as we can get it. Tarisai: Reponses Their Chief of Security seemed completely conscious of the seriousness of the situation and inclined his head gravely before tapping at his commbadge. Serinus: =/\= Serinus to Chief Jones. =/\= V. Jones: =/\= Response =/\= A shadow of something passed across Lt. Cmdr. Serinus's face as Karrod watched the man speak on the comm. It was fleeting but it spoke to some memory that Karrod guessed was less than pleasant. He turned his attention back to the probe, trying to tease out anything more he could from the data. Serinus: =/\= Please report to my desk asap.=/\= V. Jones =/\= Response =/\= Karrod had fixed the image of the structures airlocks on the display and something about them gnawed at him. Memories from Horvu, the young Ensign who had been Niac's shortest host before meeting an untimely end in the opening days of the Dominion War, asserted themselves strongly. Karrod's eyes went wide. Niac: According to the slug ::Karrod poked at his midsection with a thumb:: those airlocks were standard pre-fabricated models provided to Federation colonists more than 40 years ago. Serinus/Tarisai: Reponses Niac: Well the good news is we'll have the specs in the computer. Our team should be able to pop the doors from the outside without the Sheliak knowing. It'll give them even more time to work their way into the facility before being noticed. Serinus/Tarisai: Reponses Karrod stood back from the console and regarded the two of them seriously. Niac: Alright, I'm going to find your team a medic and then I'm going to brief the Captain. Get your team ready, Mr. Serinus. The two of you know what's at stake...so good hunting, bring our people home. Serinus/Tarisai: Reponses Karrod turned to leave but paused at the threshold and turned his attention back towards the youngest officer in the room. His memories of Horvu, of the anxiety and fear that came with being an Ensign, encouraged him to offer Ensign Tarisai a few kind words. Niac: Your insights were valuable, Ensign Tarisai, and I can see why Mr. Serinus here thinks you've got potential. Good fortune to you. Serinus/Tarisai: Reponses Karrod nodded curtly and turned, heading into the hallway while digging a padd out of his uniform jacket. He was already tapping out notes by the time he'd walked into the turbolift. Tags/End Scene for Niac! ================================ Commander Karrod Niac First Officer USS Arrow - NCC-69829 Captain Randal Shayne, Commanding V239509GT0

((Gator Deck - Deck 3 - USS ‘Oumuamua)) This past mission had affected Jack in ways he had not expected and he did not like it. The loss of the USS Caboto and his parents reported M.I.A. had stung him hard. He had let his emotions get the better of him on the bridge during the mission and as a result owed some apologies to Vomek and especially Promontory who he had snapped at during a more tense moment. Something a senior officer should never do to a junior officer and Jack deeply regretted that moment and lapse in his judgment. Jack needed to better himself, to strengthen his core mentally and to become better at handling crises on the bridge. He needed to expand his training and needed to become a better example and leader. So far, since he joined the USS Thor and now the ‘Oumuamua, the man that he needed to turn to for this help was the one man he knew had been through what Jack was going through and could lead him to being a successful officer. As such he was headed to Deck 3, the ‘Gator Deck’. This deck housed the ship's complement of Starfleet Marines and according to the ship's computer was where Lieutenant Colonel Greaves was currently at. The turbolift doors hissed open and Jack stepped out into the corridor. The last time he had been on this deck it had been bustling with activity but today the main corridor was nearly empty and Jack only saw one Marine walking his way. Kessler: Excuse me, can you point me to Colonel Greaves? Marine: (pointing down the corridor) He’s in the Armory. Kessler: (nodding) Thank you. He started down the hallway and came to the entrance to the Marine Armory. The doors hissed open and he stepped inside where there were a number of Marines along with Greaves apparently doing some type of weapons audit. The room was impressive and defensive weapons the Marines boasted were equally as impressive. Jack smiled at the thought of all these ‘cool toys’ and then realized that virtually all work in the room had come to a halt and all eyes were on him. That was just a little unnerving. Kessler: Colonel Greaves (trying to be more official) Do you have a moment sir? Wes had been holding a type III rifle upside down with his finger tracing out the serial number when the doors had opened to reveal Lieutenant JG Kessler. Of the two lance corporals with him, one held another rifle in a similar fashion while the other held a padd. It was their monthly serialized inventory, an especially important function for the armory to make sure none of their weapons had suddenly disappeared or were unexpectedly damaged. While in only required a Staff Sergeant or above to conduct the inventory, Wes liked to do it himself. It was one of the few links he still had to working shoulder to shoulder with some of the Marine Detachment. With the tactical officer standing unexpectedly in the doorway, the three Marines continued to watch the man, until he spoke. There was something in his voice, with a look on Jack’s face that said this was important. With a smooth motion Wes rotated the rifle back to it’s approriate angle and slid it back into the wall rack it came from. Greaves: Sure, (looking to the junior Marines) Go ahead and take a break. I’ll come grab you when we’re ready. The pair of junior enlisted both immediately nodded, the hint of a smirk on their faces. One which Wes chalked up to being thankful for getting out of work. With the two stepping out into the corridor Jack visibly waited until the doors to the armory whooshed closed and the two of them were alone with the weapons. Kessler: Colonel, I need your help. The Lieutenant Colonel raised an eyebrow, not sure how to take the statement, but sure that whatever Jack meant had more to do with something personal than anything in Tactical. He strode just past Jack and hit the door lock to make sure they wouldn’t be interrupted. That done, he leaned against one of the closed wall racks and crossed his arms, studying the man’s face. Greaves: Of course. What can I do for you? Kessler: To be honest sir, I have a couple of requests. The first, is I would like to know if you would sponsor me to enter the Command Training Program? Jack knew Greaves had enough trust in him to make him his Acting Chief Tactical officer so hopefully the Colonel had seen or found value in Jack’s abilities. Greaves: Huh. Color me surprised. I figured it’d take you a while longer before you asked about that. Wes grinned now, though it didn’t seem like Jack was reciprocating the warm feeling. He was still deadly serious, and Wes’s grin slowly faded. His arms uncrossed and landed on his hips as his body pushed off from the wall locker so he was no longer leaning. Greaves: I think you’ve got the potential to be a solid command officer, but why so sudden… and serious? Kessler: The Caboto (beat), the UDP, the Gamma Quadrant. (double beat) I need to be more than I am. Wes thought it might be something like that, and he wasn’t exactly sure how to interpret it. Greaves: You know Jack, the CTP isn’t a joke. It’s damn hard work. Lot’s of studying and a lot of exams. Even the written ones are hard, and that’s the easiest part of the program. The practicals are even harder. When it comes to command there are no right answers. Only wrong ones. Poor marks go on your permanent record. Enough failures and you can eventually be barred from the program forever. Wes watched Jack’s face as he spoke, looking for any sign of reluctance or hesitation. Any break in his grim seriousness. Kessler: You, the Commodore, (beat) Starfleet are going to need strong command officers in this quadrant. I want to be one of those officers and I have no doubt I can do it. You won’t talk me out of it. Jack knew what the Colonel was saying was the truth. The CTP was not a joke or something to be taken lightly but the decision to join Starfleet and to get into the Academy and then graduate was equally challenging. The CTP was to Jack just the next step in the evolution of his career and this event with the UDP and the Zet had just set his mind to it all the more relentlessly. Greaves: I’m not trying to talk you out of it. I’m just making sure you know what you’re asking for. It’s not something to dive into rashly. It's not an emotional decision. Kessler: Isn’t the request to better yourself always emotional versus institutional? The Marine sighed heavily, his hands releasing from his hips. For a moment he didn’t acknowledge Jack’s comment and instead looked about the room for something. When his eyes finally fell on the padd the junior Marine had been holding, Wes moved past Jack and picked it up. The inventory was still displayed, well over 100 serial numbers in a long list with a few dozen highlighted already as accounted for. With a flick of his wrist Wes tossed the padd to Jack and didn’t wait to see if he caught it. Instead he took several steps back to the open wall locker and withdrew a phaser rifle. With another smooth motion he spun the weapon end over end until it was upside down where he could see the serial number. The PADD sailed at Jack and thankfully with as much luck in the catch, the PADD did not hit the floor. Jack spun the PADD until it was oriented so he could see what he was looking at but by the time the Colonel was rattling off a serial number. Greaves: Beta-Mike-Kilo-Three-Three-Eight-Niner-Four-Seven-Zero. There was a moment of silence and Wes’s eyes moved away from the serial number to see Jack’s reaction. Jack traced his finger down the inventory list trying to orient himself to the data layout and find the serial number. As he found it he read the number aloud back to the Colonel. Kessler: Beta-Mike-Kilo-Three-Three-Eight-Niner-Four-Seven-Zero, confirmed. Content, Wes spun the weapon back and slotted it into the wall locker, withdrawing the next one and repeating the movements. Jack tapped the confirmed button indicating the weapon had been visually accounted for and as he did Greaves rattled off another number. Greaves: Beta-Mike-Kilo-Three-Five-Eight-Six-One-Seven-Two. (Pause) What’s this really about Jack? Why do you want this so badly, and right now? Kessler: (locating the weapon on the data line) Beta-Mike-Kilo-Three-Five-Eight-Six-One-Seven-Two, confirmed. The two prong question was expected and Jack turned the PADD on it’s side and stepped closer to Greaves. Kessler: I’ve always known I would want to command (beat). I thought I had prepared myself to start that process but this last mission showed me how unprepared I am. Jack stepped around the room for a moment looking away from Greaves to the other weapons lockers and then turned back to the Colonel. Kessler: The loss of the Caboto and her crew affected me in a way that it affected how I reacted with two junior officers on the bridge. I snapped at Ensign Promontory, I almost snapped at V’Airu and I showed them that I was not in control. The Marine nodded, withdrawing another weapon after a moment of silence. Greaves: As for as screw ups go, that’s pretty minor. Kessler: I understand that but I was the second senior officer on the bridge and I failed to give the proper presentation for those junior officers. The CTP can give me that training to be the command influence that you and the Commodore need me to really be (beat) to be the officer I want to be. Jack paused and watched the Colonel. He hoped Greaves could understand where he was coming from and if he did not want to sponsor him, he at least hoped the Colonel would give him the guidance that he needed to better himself in front of the junior officers in a crisis moment. The older man sighed once again and slid the phaser rifle back into the rack, turning to face Jack once again. Greaves: I don’t know if you knew this or not, but I was enlisted before I became an officer, still a Marine though. Kessler: (shaking his head slightly) I was not aware of that. Greaves: My first real time leading folks during an actual mission was back then. I was younger than you are now, just a new Corporal. We were raiding a pirate hideout and I was a team leader. The details aren’t really important. What’s important was a decision I had to make. As a leader. As a Marine. Wes crossed his arms again and leaned against the wall locker door, studying Jack’s face. The memory of the raid wasn’t a pleasant one. Even a year or two ago he probably wouldn’t have been comfortable talking about it at all. Moving on from it was a part of his own command training, although not formally or even as he understood it at the time. Greaves: A couple of pirates surprised my team. Pinned us down and tossed a photon grenade into the middle of our group. We’ve all seen the holovids where the hero jumps on the grenade, right? That’s not just in the vids. Back at The Basic School, walls are lined with pictures of the heroes who did just that. Jack’s breathing unknowingly started to slow as he thought about the implications of giving your life to protect those of your teams. Kessler: (softly) You didn’t jump on it? Greaves: Nope. Arguably should have. I was in charge. They were my troops I was leading. I was responsible for their lives. It was the right thing to do… but I didn’t. I chose another option. I kicked the grenade down the hallway back at the bastards. Ok, split second decision. Jack could see the tactical advantage of sending the enemy's weapon hurtling back down the hallway at them. Kessler: So you used their weapon against them? Greaves: Tried to. Remember when I just said in command, there’s no right answers, just wrong ones? Kessler: (puzzled) That was a wrong decision? Jack didn’t understand how that played into the wrong decision category. Greaves had protected his men and used the enemy’s weapon against them. Shouldn’t that have been the right decision? Greaves: I’m still not sure if that was a wrong decision or not. See, this was an asteroid hideout we were on. On the surface. I could see the stars through the windows in the corridor. Turns out those windows don’t react too well to explosions. Especially from the inside. I kicked that grenade right next to the window. The visual of what that meant slammed into Jack’s head and resulting chaos that must have ensued after the explosion would have been bad, very bad. But the Colonel was here so somehow he managed to survive the ordeal. Jack paused and looked at Greaves trying to read the emotions carried in the Marine’s eyes. Kessler: You made it out but not all of your men did? Greaves: Pretty much. One of my Marines got sucked out during the decompression. Jack thought about the decision and the results. In his mind the decision was a two-edged sword. One way someone died instantly, the second option had a variable to it that was unseen. Did that make it a wrong decision? Jack personally did not think so but he could see how the families of the fallen might and thus the mental question Greaves carried about the choice he made. Kessler: You are here, you brought the rest of your men home and how many Marines have come home because you are here? Because you made a decision in a split second that would have resulted in death one way or another? I don’t see that as a wrong decision, just a bad kick. Jack smiled lightly trying to relieve the tension of the thought of death that hung in the room. Greaves: True, and I’ve come to terms with that. My point is it took me a long time to move past that decision. What I realized through that process is we do the best with what we have at the time. When a crisis confronts us, we react with who we are, not who we want to be. As long as we aren’t negligent or immoral, we learn from our wrong decisions and move on. Jack watched Greaves as he spoke. Although younger, Greaves spoke much like Jack’s father with regards to command, actions and consequences. There were subtle differences of course but the experience of time and command gave Greaves the same strong foundation that Jack saw his father stand on and give advice from. Kessler: Then I need to better who I am at handling my responses when someone touches a nerve. I need to better my understanding of how to handle those instances so I do not have that emotional mistake again. Greaves: You say that on this mission you made emotional mistakes. I say you reacted well in line with what I’d expect of someone with your grade and level of experience. Arguably better in fact given how personal the stakes were. Listening to Greaves Jack did not feel the Marine would say something like this just to help lift his spirits. Greaves struck Jack as a no hold back Marine who offered praise or compliment only when it was earned so having Greaves voice this made Jack feel better about his performance and a little less like he had made the wrong moves on the bridge. Kessler: Thank you Colonel. That means a great deal coming from you. Greaves: Take it from someone who spent too long focused on the past. If you’re looking to enter the CTP because you’re focused on past mistakes, you’re doing it for the wrong reasons. Command of his own ship had been a dream of Jack’s since he first sat foot on a Starship. He remembered the first ship his father was assigned to; well not the class of ship or what it looked like from the outside. From the inside it had a draw to it that for a kid was a magical feeling. The ship had a hum, a very soft hum in the walls. Windows as tall as young Jack was allowed his larger than life imagination to stare out into the universe where his own childhood missions were carried out. Jack was not focused on past mistakes as much as he was focused on not making the same ones again. He could better himself without the CTP but his road to the command chair had been laid out in front of him years before. Kessler: My father told me once he wanted me to be whatever I wanted to be. I told him that I wanted to command my own ship. (beat) I was little at the time and he smiled and said, well, you have a long time to make up your mind. (double beat) I’ve never wanted to be anything other than a starship Captain and now seeing what we face here in the Gamma Quadrant, I know this is the right choice. One day you and I, we won’t be defending Starfleet side-by-side on the same bridge. We will be standing on our own ship's bridge defending the Federation's ideals and policies. My decision just became more clear on this mission. Wes nodded along as Jack spoke. He could see the resolution in the man’s eyes. There was passion and history behind the story. Greaves: Okay, that’s a start then. Good. Kessler: So then let me prove my determination and drive to you. (beat) The ‘Oumuamua is currently without a Security Chief. Give me the Asst. Chief of Security role on top of my Asst. Chief of Tactical responsibilities. I will head up both departments until we get a Chief of Security. Until then, that will help me in leadership of multiple departments. The Marine broke into a wide grin at the audacious request. It was a bold move and he respected the play, in more ways than one. Still, that wasn’t his decision to make. It was the Commodore’s. Greaves: (Lightheartedly) Whoa, slow it down. I’ll bring it up to the commodore at the next personnel meeting, but it’s not something you need to prove. You're already leading Tactical. Let’s start with the first module of the CTP instead and we can touch base again after you complete that. Maybe you’ll decide it's still too early for you, or maybe you won’t. As long as you finish the module there’s no harm in it. Kessler: (Allowing a slight smile to crease his lips) Fair enough. I can do that. He nodded, the Marine’s voice growing more serious for a moment. Greaves: Expect me to be a tough tutor. Don’t gaff off your studies. You’ll need it. Jack allowed his slight smile to grow into a larger grin and nodded to the Colonel. Kessler: I wouldn’t have it any other way sir. Jack was still not happy with the way he had performed on the bridge in front of the junior officers but that was in the past and he was looking forward, looking to what he really wanted and what would benefit him the most. His goal was clearer now than it had been and with Greaves at the helm of his training he knew that he would succeed, there was no question in his mind. Kessler: On a personal note. I will be switching quarters to a set of family quarters on Deck 4 to help accommodate Krystal until my parents can be found. I do not see any reason to send her back to Earth where she has no family. I want you to be assured though that having her aboard will not interfere with my duties or training. Wes turned his back once again to the young officer and drew a rifle from the rack once again and resumed the inventory as he listened. As Jack’s comment turned toward reassurance rather than simply a statement, the Colonel looked over his shoulder with a slightly amused look. Greaves: We’ll see about that. I’m sure you’ll do your best though. How’re you handling the revelation? It’s not everyday you find out you have a teenage sibling. Jack took a slightly deeper breath than he had been. This entire ordeal had been so unexpected that he had not really given himself time to process all of it. He had immediately gone into being in ‘family mode’ and everything had been moving since then pretty fast. Kessler: It’s a little weird finding out your parents adopted a child without telling you, but at the same time; knowing what I do now. It does not surprise me. (beat) My mother loves big surprises. He nodded once again. Wes had dedicated his life to the Marine Corps. Sure there had been flings along the way, but he’d never even really considered settling down. Children had been the furthest thing from his mind. He didn’t know how he’d feel if suddenly he were faced with the prospects of taking care of a teenager. Phaser rifle still in hand Wes turned back to face Jack again. Greaves: I’d like to say I can imagine… but I don’t know if I can. Adjusting is probably tough for her too. Kessler: (smiling with a slight chuckle) You’ll have to meet her. She’s a bright kid. This time Wes openly chuckled at the comment. His mind went back to the station and the slave market that Krystal had been sprung from. Then he thought to the arboretum when he’d questioned the kids for more information on the station’s security in preparation for the raid. He was well aware of what Krystal was capable of. Greaves: She’s a tough kid too. Bright like you said, but resourceful and tough. I busted her out of that slave market… or rather it’d be more accurate to say I helped V’Len do it. Kessler: (grinning broadly) I’m sure he gave you a choice. Jack knew full well that if V’Len decided to do something his mind was set and there was probably very little the Colonel could have done to stop him. Wes motioned toward the rifles with his chin, the conversation now winding down to small talk. Greaves: You’re welcome to stay and help me finish the inventory, but I’d wager a bet you’ve got more interesting things to do on your shore leave. Let’s meet tomorrow morning at 0900 and I’ll get you set up with studies for the first block of the CTP. Kessler: (handing the PADD back to Greaves) I actually have a personal project in the mission pod I need to keep playing with. Thank you for your time and help Colonel. (beat, turning towards the door) I’ll send you Marines back in. Jack nodded to the Colonel and then exited the room. The doors hissing closed behind him. He paused and took a deep breath. The first step in his journey was made and now he needed to commit to the tasks at hand. ========================= Lieutenant Colonel Wes Greaves Executive Officer Marine Detachment Commander USS Oumuamua NCC-81226 E239702WG0 & Lieutenant jg Jack Kessler Asst. Chief Tactical Officer USS Oumuamua T239901JK1 =========================

@Doz Finch -- each of your sims just blow me away and this latest one, complete with a flashback (a great look into your amazing, well-developed character) and the thoughtful contemplations of home, was really well done!! :) ((Cyrithra Forest, Palanon)) The party continued to swell, filling the canopy with its bombinating sounds; glasses filled with neon-orange liquids clinked with other glasses, fires crackled pointedly towards the sky, and the almost static wings of insects flapped ambitiously in their bids to steal whatever sugary morsels they could. It was delightful—ushering in the new year and century on a planet that she hardly knew, and yet many of those around her knew it intimately, even viewing it as a second home. Not a bad second home either, with the strange plumes of the trees, the texture of the soil beneath her, the palatable taste of the atmosphere. The Caitian woman, L’rann, told them a deep and personal story about what had happened to M’Rish, and why she had come to end up in L’rann’s care. Doz harkened the details of the story and noted the almost ambivalence in the younger felinoids' face; though emotion wasn’t always easy to read in a Caitian’s face—at least that was her own experience. Watch the tail, M’oa had told her in the past. The tail tells you everything you need to know. But who needed watch a persons tail when the story said all it needed to say. That little girl had been let down by the one person she should have been able to trust, and that was unforgivable. But thank god for L’rann. For a moment her cottony caterpillar brows kissed each other as she dissolved into thought. Her career had spun over decades, and through it she had had many of her own second homes. But allowing herself the grace to think of them as homes at all, now that was another matter. Purposefully distracted by her work, she rarely allowed herself to think of the ships as that. Home, she supposed, once felt like something that resided in people, rather than places. She knew all too well how quickly a home could change based on who was in it. Her home in Birmingham all those years ago, when her hair was wild and curly and brown, lost its appeal the moment her brother Wallace left, and she had been left behind with her miserable mother Iris. Doz didn’t like herself for thinking it, but that was just how she had felt. As if all of the home had drained from the house, and all that remained behind was a hopeless wilting bouquet, and a naive girl trying everything she could to water it back to life. ((FLASHBACK)) ((In the dining room, the Finch’s, Birmingham, Earth — 43 years prior)) Doz: You’re not leaving me behind with her. Wallace: ::he frowned:: That’s our mother, that, Doz. Doz: Some mother. She hasn’t said a word to either of us in weeks. Hauled up in her bedroom, staring at the walls feeling sorry for herself. ::she crossed her arms and sulked:: No, I’m sorry Wally, but I’m not having it. Wallace: It’s already done, Doz. Contract is signed. I go to Mars tomorrow for training—oh be positive, won’t you? This is supposed to be an exciting time for me! Doz: Yeah. For you. Meanwhile, who's left behind to deal with everything? Who's cleaning the house when the service-bots break down, who’s the one cooking her dinners, replying to her mail, making sure she doesn’t just waste away to nothing. Because given half the chance, she would. Wallace: You can fix the bots! Doz: ::she pulled a face:: What? Wallace: I gave you that manual a few weeks ago. It shows you how to repair the bot if it breaks down. You read it, didn’t you? Doz: I read the bloody manual and nearly launched it at the wall—forget it, Wally, you swan off like the other two did. I’ll look after misery-guts on my own, since apparently that’s my lot in life. Wallace: Oh don’t be like that, Doz— Doz frustratedly headed for the door of the room, sighing hard as it whooshed itself open. She gasped; stood there, pallid and watery-eyed was their mother Iris who had been listening on the other side. They all stared in silence—the deafening sort that seemed to go on forever. It was a painstaking moment that Doz quickly shook off as if she herself were an insect shedding an exoskeleton, rapidly clapping her hands together and ushering her mother into the kitchen, replacing the quietness with a loud tangent about service-bot manuals and how little sense they made, eager to distract her mother and frankly—herself. ((END FLASHBACK)) Alieth: Have you had a chance to take some downtime since the start of the reconstructions? L’rann: Not really, no. I’ve been keeping busy piloting shuttles on supply runs and things like that. Finch: I said to Mister Gnaxac and Ensign Vylaa, they may well have taken the industrial replicators down there. It might have saved you some hassle. T’Lar: Response Alieth: I see, these celebrations are therefore a perfect period to relax, then. I suggest you visit Yarista if you get a chance; it is certainly a remarkable location. L’rann: That’s why we’re here. Also, it’s not every day a new century begins. Finch: No, you’re quite right. It isn’t. T’Lar: Response Cheesecake, Alieth’s excitable four-legged mastiff, hopped into the conversation as soon as the new century was mentioned, as if she herself was its mythical harbinger. Though apparently it was more than that, as their pointy-eared colleague excused herself a moment later, no doubt to top up her liquid-youth. Alieth: Excuse me, I suspect I am required elsewhere. I trust that you will have an agreeable night. L’rann: Pleasure to see you, sir. I’m sure M’Rish is thankful for the candy. M’Rish: Thank you. Finch: I enjoyed the catch up, Commander. Alieth gave the familiar Vulcan gesture before dispersing into the crowd. That left M’Rish and L’rann with T’Lar and Finch. L’rann: Were you two involved with the rogue planet teams in some fashion? Finch: In every fashion, believe it or not. I piloted the Azetbur, didn’t I. Took them some medical supplies, and other things desperately needed. And then I helped evacuate the civilians and the officers—they were basically trapped inside an old non-functioning Cardassian ship. Something of that measure; it’s almost a blur, because that much happened in a short space of time. I don’t recall seeing you, though, T’Lar— T’Lar: Response L’rann: Thankfully, no. I was flying shuttles across the area trying to deliver supplies and medics to damaged ships. It was extremely difficult with all the gravity waves the planet gave off. Finch: I can attest to that. ::she pointed a finger in agreement and side-eyed T’Lar, nodding:: the clouds at one point were kaleidoscopic. Very rarely have I had to pilot anything as big as the Azetbur, and through all those waves—you can only imagine. It was bedlam! T’Lar: Response L’rann: Fortunately, M’Rish knows to either lock herself in our quarters or go to a nearby shelter area. I admit it hasn’t been easy to care for a child on a ship that has so many dangerous encounters. Finch: I’ve yet to work on a ship that doesn’t have a surplus of dangerous encounters, if I’m being honest. She looked serenely up at the sky; its brilliance tickled by the slow undulation of overhead branches. Finch: But if we didn’t love it, then we wouldn’t do it, would we? ::she smiled and pointed her words toward M’Rish:: there’s always things to be done on a ship as big as the Gorkon. Pipes that need resealing, coolants that need replacing. You could be an engineer, if you wanted to, one day. T’Lar/L’rann: Response Finch: Is that so, yeah? and how often? T’Lar/L’rann: Response Finch: Not me, Counsellor. I wouldn’t step foot in that suite of yours even if my life depended on it, and I say that only with respect and admiration for what you do, because god knows I couldn’t do it. T’Lar/L’rann: Response -- Ensign Doz Finch Engineering Officer USS Gorkon C239809SH3

Great sim from @Toryn Raga. Prepare for laughs. 😂 ======== ((Surgical Suite 1, Deck 12, USS Astraeus)) The moment was finally here. Her surgery. It had been a week, or two since both she and the Chin’toka had been broken. Many days of fear, sadness, brief flashes of anger, depression and a refusal to accept her fate. She didn’t want to be, no, couldn’t be paralyzed and the love the crew had shown her had kept her from falling into that dark pit of despair. And hope. A flicker of light in the dark that her best friend Liz had given her. But now, staring down at the floor of the Sickbay knowing that in a few minutes once the sedatives kicked in, that she’d have her spine removed was terrifying. At least, until everything went black. (( A Dark Place )) Wyla sat on the floor. Or what she thought was a floor. It felt like stone and was cold. Her legs limply laid across it with her back up against the wall. She shivered and rubbed her arms with her palms. Avae: Why is it so dark? Don’t worry! We’ll protect you! Aye, verily you shall have my strength and my fists! And my blade! And anything we need, I can get it for us! And I can guide the way. We’re family, Wyla, we’ll look after you! You are strong and tenaacious! The voices emanated from the darkness and she startled at their abruptness, but there was something soothing about them all. Avae: Hello? Who’s there? She called out, slightly afraid because she couldn’t move. She was paralyzed. Even in her dreams now, it seemed she was useless. Then there were eyes. Several eyes. Softly shimmering like little black beads. A faint flicker of light backlit them all and Wyla’s eyes widened in surprise for standing before her were Twibbles! Libble: Don’t worry! We’ll protect you! Twibbles she had in her quarters or that had been standing watch over her in her isolation room. The first one that had spoken was in medical teal uniform from the Kirk era of Starfleet. It even had an old medkit hanging from it like hers did. But the voice sounded feminine. Ribble: Aye, verily you shall have my strength and my fists! The second was two plushies in one? Or so it looked. It was the Twibble she had with the 2398 uniform. Red collar. But at first glance it had wings, which it wasn’t supposed to have. Then she realized the Sylara plushie was sitting on its back. Swibble: And my blade! Another Twibble in red, but with long, dark hair on its head and the fur on the sides of its cute fluffy little face was slightly pointed. Wait, so was the last Twibble too! Kwibble: And anything we need, I can get it for us! This Twibble was in gold, 2398 version as well, with a cute little toolkit slung over its body but it had bright, ocean blue fur on the top of its head. Pwibble: And I can guide the way. We’re family, Wyla, we’ll look after you! This Twibble was also in Gold, but had a tiny little Runabout hovering in front of it that seemed to be wanting to fly away in a specific direction. Twibble: You are strong and tenaacious! This Twibble was identical to the very first Twibble she’d ever seen and collected. . They stood with the others as adorable as she recalled when she first saw it and it had a warm smile. They all were smiling. Avae: You’re all Twibbles? ::She asked hesitantly:: They nodded in unison. Avae: Oh…well, um, why are you all here? Twibbles in unison: To help you walk again! The Antosian blinked and stared at them. This was definitely one of the weirder things she’d ever experienced. Avae: How? Ribble: By with an epic quest, of course! Pwibble: Yes, follow me. I can guide us to the ancient ruins where the artifact lies! Avae: A..artifact? The same Twibble nodded. Pwibble: Yes! The Spine of Paralysis Removal! The Antosian giggled at the silly name and looked at each of the adorable fur covered beings. It was certainly surreal. An epic quest sounded like a lot of fun. And for a moment the light in the room brightened. But as realization hit and she glanced down at her legs, unable to move them she frowned and the darkness started to oppressively push back in towards her. Libble: Wyla you mustn’t let the shadows consume you! We can help! We just need to get moving. She looked up and still frowned. Avae: But how? I can’t move. The original Twibble stepped forward. Twibble: Then I’ll be yourr legs. The Twibble stepped forward and that cute ball of fur in a red uniform changed, growing much, much larger until she was face to face with a massive lion. The face looked more like the new Twibble that Liz had gotten her, but it towered over her on all four, powerful legs. Part of its mane and fur around its front legs was the same red as the uniform save for four perfectly spherical patches of gold where pips should be. She couldn’t help but stare at the big cat. And had to fight back the urge to give him scritches. He leaned his front half down in front of her to let her grab onto him. Twibble: Cliimb on, Wyla. The Antosian nodded and nervously grabbed fur. It was so soft! She eventually managed to pull herself up, with the help of the other twibbles who moved around to help push her up onto the lion’s back. She took a moment to lay there and nuzzle the fur. Avae: So soft. Twibble: Of course. The real thiing is much better. A soft giggle escaped Wyla and she noticed the room got brighter, or more specifically, the light emanating from her pushed back the shadows. It was then that she looked down and saw a heart shaped medallion with an image of the Chin’toka inside of it. At the moment it was glowing as brightly as a warp core and she could see the whole room. An empty stone room with one door. As she settled the lion looked up at her and she nodded. The Twibble all gathered around them with the one with the shuttlecraft in the lead. Avae: So, uhm. What do I call you? Twibble: Whateveer you want. We’re your guardiians. It’s up to you to name us. She looked at each of them in turn starting with the one with the medkit. The voice sounded so familiar. Actually, they all did and some were feminine and others masculine. Avae: Libble. ::She pointed at the one with the medkit:: Libble: Libble it is! She noticed the twibble with the dark hair and fur pointed like ears also had a dangerous looking blade on their side. She grinned and pointed at her. Avae: Swibble. Swibble: Fvadt. Sure, Swibble. The other twibble with pointed ear like fur and the wings on their back laughed at Swibble, so she pointed to him next. Avae: Ribble!!! He immediately stopped laughing and looked at her, then received a punch from Swibble, who’s turn it was to laugh. Ribble: Verily? Well then fine, but I betteth though hast a worse moniker for mine companion! He gestured to the large owl that climbed up onto his head and looked at her. She grinned and shook her head. Avae: Nope! She already has a name. That’s Sylara! A soft, but powerful hoot sounded like a laugh and Swibble was literally rolling on the floor. It was entertaining seeing the round twibble laughing like that. She looked to the next twibble, the one with the ocean blue fur and gestured. Avae: Kibb….Hmm, no. Kwibble! Kwibble: Oooh, thanks! The Antosian had two left to name, so she looked at the one with the tiny runabout and giggle. Avae: Pibble! Pibble: Oh, okay. And lastly she looked down at and curled her fingers into their fur. Avae: Easy for you! You’ll always be the original Twibble! ::she giggled softly:: Her only response was a rumbling chuckle and a roar that echoed in the whole room. Avae: Well, I’m ready. Let’s go! The Twibbles all assembled, though it took Swibble and Ribble a moment to stop nudging each other before they filed in beside the lion and Wyla. Libble: Oh, one important thing Wyla. That medallion is your light. No matter what, we can’t let it go out. Avae: ::She looked at Libble with concern but held the medallion in her hand:: What happens if it does? Twibble: Then the daarkness will claiim you. As ominous as the lion’s deep voice made that sound she managed to hold it together and nodded. Avae: Okay! I guess, let’s go. With that the door opened. Not into some bright light or some wide open expanse or whatever she might have expected. But pure darkness, that was only pushed back a hundred meters from the group thanks to her light. A ten foot wide corridor of stone, worked in a way that reminded her of starship corridors. She felt an uneasiness welling up inside of her but the presence of the thick, but soft fur between her fingers calmed her. She sat on the back of Twibble, her legs hanging useless behind her on his back. Let the quest begin. ((ooc: I decided on something silly, but oddly appropriate for Wyla, given her nature and obsessions to show her side of things during the surgery. Expect more parts as I can manage to write them.)) ================================== Lieutenant JG Wyla Avae Chief Nurse Keeper of Twibbles as unconsciously simmed by Lieutenant Commander Toryn Raga Second Officer/Chief Tactical & Security Officer USS Astraeus NCC-70652 Astraeus Staff Member Writer ID: A239410TR0 https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Toryn_Raga

((Forward Observation, Deck B, Mission Pod, USS ‘Oumuamua)) There were many places on the ‘Oumuamua that you could find some sort of seclusion if needed. Jack’s personal quarters usually were fine but when he wanted to really just think and escape his favorite place to work was in the Mission Pod of the ‘Oumuamua. Very rarely was anyone ever up here unless he had directed a Tactical or Engineering team up here for maintenance. Nothing was scheduled for the area so this was a great opportunity for him to finish up some light work and do it from the observation area in the Mission Pod. His thoughts were on his parents and the USS Caboto. The UDP and the Zet. An attack that for all intents and purposes was provocation by the Zet to gain technology they had no business getting their hands on and if it had not been for the UDP giving a pre-warp civilization warp technology, they would have never had the means of such an attack. Jack stopped what he was doing and began to stare out the observation window thinking about how many lives had been lost or worse, sold because the UDP had given the Zet warp technology? It was a disturbing thought and what more was the thought that his cousin, now his adopted sister was among those about to be sold. He leaned forward on the console in front of him with a gut ache and slight feeling of nausea as he realized how close they had come to missing out on that rescue. Yet how many others had already been handed off in such a manner that they had missed. Jack slowly shook his head from side to side at the disgusted thought and then, there in the reflection of the observation window stood a familiar figure. Surprised that he had not heard anyone enter the pod Jack spun on his heels and looked up to the catwalk above. Lieutenant Commander Brodie stood leaning against the rail and was glancing down at Jack. Brodie: I had a feeling it might be you. Kessler: Sorry doc, I did not know you were up there. You waiting for someone? I can clear out. Brodie: No…I was watching, not waiting. ::He turned towards Jack:: I get the distinct impression you’ve been doing the same? The man was perceptive and a good ships counselor. Was he here to do what Jack was, reflect inwardly on some specific matter or was he here checking up on Jack? Brodie was a good man and in Jack’s eye, his father and Brodie would get along great. Two Scotsmen who loved to talk and share a drink with a friend. Kessler: (stepping up the stairs to the catwalk and looking out into space) It’s a nice place to come and get lost in thoughts. Brodie: I can go, if you’d rather have privacy. Kessler: (glancing over to Brodie) No, I could use someone to talk to. (beat, looking out at Seytoxal) What are you watching from our watchtower up here? The reference was meant to lighten the mood a little. Jack knew he was probably looking rather out of sorts himself as he tried to real in his thoughts and emotions. Brodie: ::Far away voice:: The USS Esperanto… ::Turning to Kessler, more focused:: Sorry…it’s an old reference…Esperanto was a universal language…it translates as “one who hopes”…I suspect you can relate? Jack nodded, he could relate to that but there seemed something more that the Doc was dealing with himself. Jack turned slowly and gently to Brodie. Everyone in the crew came to the ships counselors, they must need an outlet themselves like everyone else. Maybe this was Brodies or maybe, he thought to himself, he was Brodie’s outlet right now. He knew the counselor had a daughter close to Jack’s age, maybe this was his fatherly side trying to find it’s way out or maybe Jack was just reaching for something himself in a time as dark and distraught as this one was. Kessler: Yeah, I just don’t feel like shore leave is the right answer for me. I can’t just drop all this and go have fun, not right now. Not while there’s still unanswered questions about my parents and the Caboto. (beat) It’s too heavy of a weight right now to try and push aside. Brodie: Have you found anything yet? Anything. Anything would have been great. Anything would have lifted that level of hope up higher. Anything would have been preferred to the nothing they had. Kessler: (lowering his head and sounding more defeated) No. I keep scouring the data feeds from that social media thing Vomek linked into but nothing useful. What about you, have you heard anything different? Brodie’s empathy was genuine and Jack felt that. The man had suffered loss as well and Jack could see that in his response, he could feel it in his response. Brodie: Nothing that I’ve heard. They’ve had a few vessels sweeping the area but so far; nothing. You’ve done the security training, what is it they teach you. Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence? Kessler: (look up slowly to the view port and the planet below) I keep telling myself, keep hoping that I am wrong but after what we have seen and dealt with out here, I can’t get the fact out of my head that they are already dead. Brodie: I’m not going to lie to you Jack, it’s highly likely. Jack tilted his head sideways and looked over at Brodie. He did not try to baby you, he was there to give support, but he was holding the door of reality open, keeping it from slamming in your face. Jack appreciated the honesty and the bluntness of it. Kessler: (softly) I know, (beat) that’s where the weight of hope becomes heavier to carry. Jack looked back out into space and leaned against the catwalk railing. His hands gripping at the rails with anger, fear, rage, confusion and so many other feelings intertwined. He could feel the blood pulsing in his fingertips at the thought of what was a more than likely outcome for the Caboto crew based on what they currently knew. Truth be told, Jack was strong enough that he knew he would be able to get through this with or without Brodie’s help. What he could not understand was how he was going to get through this and help Krystal get through it at the same time. His own emotions he could deal with and grieve in his own way but he now had this young girl who had already been through so much trauma to help. Kessler: (looking back to Brodie) I can carry that heavier burden of hope knowing that the outcome is most likely the worst case scenario. What I do not know how to handle is Krystal. If the worst case should be true, this is going to destroy her world. (beat) I have no idea if I can give her what she needs. (backing away from the railing) I know I will do everything in my power for her but it’s not like I have any experience in helping her understand this type of loss. Brodie: Response Jack nodded slowly as Brodie spoke. He knew the entire crew would come to aid Krystal if needed, especially his crew. Many were survivors of the USS Thor and all had seemingly become much closer having gone through that horrific ordeal. Jack knew he was not alone in giving her the help she would need if this indeed went to the worst case scenario. At the moment though, even with Brodie standing right there, Jack still felt a million kilometers away from everything. Kessler: I don’t mind telling you Alex. This is one of those moments where Starfleet thinks they have trained you for this and in reality (beat) no one can prepare you for this. Jacked leaned against the back railing of the catwalk, facing forward and folded his arms across his chest and just stared out into space. The planet in the background seemingly not even important anymore. His mind just started drifting into the void of space staring at the empty solitude of blackness between each glistening star. Brodie: Response Tags Lieutenant jg Jack Kessler Asst. Chief Tactical Officer USS Oumuamua T239901JK1

@Gogigobo Fairhug as usual is killin' it over here. I've been waiting for the pirate thing to happen, and I was not disappointed. Yes. I love a pirate. 10/10.

What a great way to start our new quotes thread That's meant to be a Fonzie noise in the title, FYI

I really enjoyed reading this sim. It's a wonderful read about a surgical procedure being done to restore mobility for one of Astraeus' nurses who was left paralyzed following the previous mission. Well written by @Elizabeth Snow & @Solok. I am posting both parts here for continuity. Part I ((Surgical Suite 1, Deck 12, USS Astraeus)) After slipping into her surgical scrubs and sterilizing, Elizabeth stood next to her best friend as the woman drifted off to sleep. When the Antosian woke up, she’d be a different person than what she had been during the days after the accident. oO If she wakes up. Oo She sighed. There was still that fear of ending her best friend's life lingering in the back of her mind. The constant battle. oO She will wake up. Oo Elizabeth was determined not to let that fear become a reality. Solok stood at the foot of the surgical bed, dressed in standard-issue Starfleet scrubs. He was aware of the personal connection between the CMO and the patient, and although this was typically reason enough to seek out another physician, planetside, Solok knew altogether too well from his own experience how differently things played out in Starfleet. He had operated often on colleagues – on friends – in the past. It was, quite simply, part of the job. Stenner: She’s fully out, Doctors, and her vitals are stable. Solok nodded acknowledgement of the nurse’s report, then turned to Snow. He was there to assist his superior, as best he could. Solok: Shall we proceed, Doctor? Elizabeth looked at Doctor Solok and she nodded. oO You’ve got this. Oo She took a deep breath before speaking. Snow: Let’s begin. Solok: Mister Stenner, remain vigilant in your observation of the patient’s – ::he glanced very briefly at Snow:: – of Nurse Avae’s vitals. Stenner: ::nodding:: Yes, Sir. As Stenner kept an eye on Wyla’s vitals, Elizabeth tapped a few buttons on the cover that was slid in place on the biobed covering her back. Snow: Separating the ventral and dorsal roots. Solok looked over at Stenner, then to the readout of Avae’s vitals over the surgical bed, and then back to Snow. Solok: Heart rate and respiration remain within acceptable parameters. It wasn’t an easy task to be done and took all of Elizabeth’s concentration. If she didn’t get the right area she could do more damage than good; setting them back a ways. Snow: Separation complete. ::beat:: Doctor Solok, go ahead and sever the brainstem. Solok, standing on the opposite side of Avae’s unconscious body, leaned forward with a look of utmost seriousness on his face. He was almost always expressionless, by non-Vulcan standards, at least. But this was something else: not the absence of expression, but the expression of absolute focus. He had never severed a brainstem before. The medical ramifications of the act were, of course, profound. But in practice, it was a relatively simple procedure. Solok: Brainstem is severed. Once the brainstem was severed she heard Stenner call out. Stenner: Placing the Cerebral Cortex on life support now. Primary brain dysfunction in four hours. Vitals holding within normal parameters. oO Good. Stay with us, Wyla. Oo They moved the cover out of the way and Elizabeth took the exoscalpel from Stenner. Snow: Making the incision. Solok watched Snow as carefully as she appeared to be watching Avae. Part of his job in the operating room was to insure that Snow remained up to the task. But she was clearly a skilled surgeon, and the Vulcan saw nothing to make him reconsider his assessment. Solok: A masterful cut, Doctor. Although I am puzzled as to why you opted to make the incision by hand. Would not a computer-operated scalpel have been more reliably precise? Elizabeth looked at Solok and smiled. Sure she could have used the computer to do it for her, but some things she just liked doing herself. Snow: Thanks. I could have, but I guess I’m a little old fashioned sometimes and prefer to do things myself once in a while. Solok nodded. Solok: I understand. I am of a similar opinion, when I must treat my slug. It showed just how Vulcan he really was, that he was the only one in the room – or in the tales that were told of this moment, later on – who did not understand why what he had said could be construed as unusual or humorous in any way. Elizabeth smiled and heard a slight chuckle come from Stenner. She had to say she has never heard that one before. Snow: Slug? They were interrupted – mercifully, perhaps – by Stenner. Stenner: Blood pressure seems to be falling, Doctors. Slowly, steadily – but falling. Solok turned back to Snow. Solok: Standard medical protocols would indicate treatment with Laporazine until blood pressure could be stabilized. But this would require at least temporary cessation of the procedure. ::Pause.:: How do you wish to proceed? oO Slow and steady wins the race, right? Oo Though she wasn’t thrilled at pausing the procedure, it was something that had to be done. Hopefully, they wouldn’t encounter any more hiccups as they progressed, but the way Wyla’s immune system was going to react to the new spine was another concern at the back of her mind. Snow: ::nods:: Administer the Leporazine. Fifteen ccs. Solok: Mister Stenner. At Solok’s order, the man prepared a hypo with the required drug. Solok watched Avae’s blood pressure continue to drop, but did nothing to rush Stenner’s work. Better slower and accurate than faster and – Stenner: Fifteen ccs Leporazine, Doctor. Solok took the hypo from the nurse, pressed it against Avae’s neck, and administered the drug. All three of them seemed to be staring at the data monitor, watching her blood pressure, almost willing it to stabilize and rise. Time passed. Eventually, Stenner was the one to speak first – almost elatedly, but certainly with relief. Stenner: Blood pressure is stable, Doctors. Stable, and rising to normal levels. Solok turned to Snow. Solok: We shall be able to proceed shortly, Doctor. Once Nurse Avae’s vitals are within acceptable parameters. If you wish to use this time in some other way, I will remain here to observe the patient and can alert you when she is ready to continue. Snow: Thanks, Doctor, but I’ll remain. Sickbay would be just fine and if they needed her, they knew where to find her. She wasn’t leaving Wyla’s side unless there was a very great reason to do so. ((Time Skip – 20 minutes later)) Now that they had Wyla’s blood pressure under control. Elizabeth and Solok carefully removed Wyla’s spine and placed it, carefully, inside the genetronic replicator and she activated the scan. As she waited, she looked back at the woman laying on the table. This was one procedure she never thought she would be doing. Especially not on her best friend, but here they both were. Now they were approaching the part that concerned Elizabeth the most. She said a silent prayer to the four deities that the woman's body wouldn’t reject the new spine. oO Please stay with me. Oo Solok: Fascinating. Solok’s description caused Elizabeth’s head to snap towards him with a look of bewilderment. Wyla was lying on the table with her spine removed. Of course she knew that Solok and Wyla weren’t close like she and Wyla were, but what could he possibly find fascinating about any of it? Snow: Hardly. Solok: I do not wish to offend, Doctor Snow; I am aware the patient is a friend of yours, and of course, a colleague to us all. ::Pause.:: But this procedure, despite being entirely unorthodox, is a remarkable thing to observe. Simply from a scientific perspective. How does it work? Although not technically an emotion, wonder was something Solok strove to keep from inflecting his voice. Snow: Well, the genetronic replicator scans the object placed inside. Then, once the scans are complete, it replicates the object and then it’s grown into a replica after it is placed inside the body. Solok: A complete replication of biological material. A perfect substitution. It is an elegant solution to an ancient medical problem – perhaps the most ancient medical problem, that the body sometimes fails beyond our ability to repair it. ::Pause.:: Apparently, there are many developments with which I must become familiar, outside of my own specialty. Part II ((Surgical Suite 1, Deck 12, USS Astraeus)) {{Time Skip}} The beeping of the machine caught her attention. Now that the scans were done she hit the button to start the next phase. Stenner: Two hours and a half until primary brain dysfunction. Snow: Mr. Stenner, go ahead and inject her with twenty-five ccs cervaline. Solok: You anticipate rejection? Snow: I have taken that into consideration. Hopefully, the injection will help her body to accept the new spine. But I am prepared for it if her immune system decides to get aggressive with us. Solok: A logical course of action, Doctor. And what is our recourse to be, should her immune system reject the new spine? Snow: We’ll have to get aggressive with immunosuppression. There were, he thought, only two real options: even more radical immunosuppression than would be produced by the cervaline, or to find some alternative to the new spine. But it did not seem Avae had many other options than this one, if the goal to be achieved was restoration of ordinary movement. Solok: Understood. I am prepared to assist, whatever the outcome. Snow: ::nods:: Thirty more minutes and then we can begin the implantation. Solok nodded. He turned to Stenner. Solok: How are the patient’s vitals, Mister Stenner? Stenner: She’s stable, Doctor. Doing fine. The Vulcan turned back to Snow. Solok: How long do you wish to wait before determining whether cervaline therapy will be a viable solution? Not having performed a transplant of this magnitude, I am uncertain as to how we should proceed. With less significant internal tissue grafts, it is customary to readminister cervaline approximately every four hours. But this is no simple tissue graft. Snow: We should know once the growth process begins whether or not the body is willing to accept it. At least we have a head start in suppressing the immune system if it does decide to reject it. If that happens, we can administer the cervaline in smaller doses every couple hours. Solok: A perfectly rational plan of action, Doctor. Let us proceed. {{Time Skip - 30 minutes}} Solok: Any time you are ready, Doctor. As Solok held the container, Elizabeth carefully took the noodle looking spine of the container with her instruments and placed it inside. After it was adjusted into its place, they carefully slid the cover back into place. Snow: Closing the incision. ::tapping a few buttons:: Solok looked to Snow and nodded. After the computer closed the incision it was time to begin the growth process. Soon they would have the answer to whether or not the implant would be rejected or not. Of course she was praying that things would go off without a hitch. Snow: Ready to begin the growth process. Is everyone ready to proceed? Solok: I am ready as ever. Stenner: So am I, Doctor. What do we do? Snow: Just keep monitoring her vitals and let me know the second something happens. Elizabeth tapped a few buttons on the cover and the growth process began. Solok faced Snow, prepared to assist. Solok: I come to serve, Doctor Snow. He paused, as there really was nothing more to say. As so often in complicated medical procedures, the team of highly trained, highly capable physicians just had to wait. It wasn’t long after that Stenner called out what Elizabeth had felt was coming. Stenner: Showing signs of rejection and vitals are showing a slight drop but are still within normal parameters. Snow: ::nods:: How long has it been since the last Cervaline injection? The Vulcan did not need to consult a chronometer, as he had a well developed chronological sense. He spoke evenly, dispassionately – matter-of-factly. Solok: 22.543 minutes, Doctor. Stenner: Should I terminate life support? Snow: We’ll wait until her vitals are stabilized. The computer emitted a brief alert. Solok: Mister Stenner? Stenner: Her blood pressure is falling. Seventy over forty and falling. Snow: Twenty ccs Laporazine. Solok prepared the hypo himself. He spoke as he pressed the hypo against the side of Nurse Avae’s throat. Solok: Twenty ccs Laporazine, Doctor. Administering now. {{Time Skip - 40 minutes}} It had been a long battle trying to stabilize Wyla, but they had managed to finally get her stable and remove the woman from life support. It was the worst and slowest forty minutes for Elizabeth as she wasn’t sure whether Wyla was going to make it. Thankfully, the woman had and the Cervaline was now doing what it was meant to. Snow: Thank you, Mr. Stenner. Have her room prepped and ready. I’ll take over vitals. Elizabeth took Stenner’s place as he went to tend to the task she had given him. Solok: Commendable work, Doctor Snow. On Nurse Stenner’s part – and your own. Snow: You did a great job, Doctor Solok. At least now her body is starting to slowly accept the new piece of it. Though we’ll need to keep her on round the clock supervision. I'd say with a few more treatments of Cervaline that she will be okay to begin physical therapy next week. Fingers crossed things continue to improve. The Vulcan glanced from the CMO’s face to her hands, but did not see anything unusual about the placement of her fingers. Solok: Continued improvement seems likely, with an at least 82.4% chance of full recovery. ::He paused.:: In sickbay, perhaps even more than in Engineering, the odds do not frequently climb higher than that. That was true, but there were always those few cases that went above those odds. It might have been wishful thinking on her part, but Elizabeth felt certain that Wyla would be one of those cases. Snow: Sometimes people have a way of surprising you. ::smiles:: Solok nodded, then turned and departed the operating theater – leaving Snow to attend to her patient – but more than that, he surmised. She would be watching over her friend. Thinking on this, he prepared to resume his duties in sickbay – but also to contemplate the question, whether anyone might feel inclined to watch over his bedside were he in a situation comparable to Avae’s. He doubted it; it was, after all, most illogical. Most illogical, indeed. {{Time Skip - 20 Minutes}} (( CMO’s Office, Sickbay, Deck 12, USS Astraeus )) Now that they had gotten Wyla settled back in her room, Elizabeth sat at her desk to finish the report. She could rest a little easier now knowing that the worst of it was over and that her best friend was on the mend. Though Wyla still had some work to do before she was back in action, Elizabeth planned to be at her side every step of the way. ============== Lieutenant Commander Elizabeth Snow Chief Medical Officer USS Astraeus NCC-70652 D238803EH0 & Lieutenant Solok Medical Officer USS Astraeus R237908S10

The pacing of the second half of this sim was outstanding. Real heart-pounder here by @Addison MacKenzie.