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The Gorkon away teams are currently navigating a secretive station laced with hidden traps here there and everywhere, and in this really fun sim from Vylaa we get to see some of that action in a whole load of cool descriptions and dialogue 👏 Lt Vylaa zh'Tisav: Bada Boom. Big Bada Boom (google.com)

(( Denali Station, Soldotna, 21st Floor, Mac's Quarters )) McGillian: Security Officer's Log, Stardate 240104.06, I have begun my duties at Denali Station and have already come across some things that I am concerned about. Mac paced across the floor in his new room. It was spacious, much more spacious than what he'd had on board the Forrester, the Alamo, or the Academy. He found it both refreshing and a bit anxiety inducing, he'd have to get some extra furniture or something to make the space not quite as open. McGillian: There are numerous personnel due for security clearance verification, security seems mostly preoccupied with the protection of the administration center, and the Commodore does not have an armed escort when leaving the administration center. Computer Pause. Mac brought his hands up to his face as he stopped pacing. He rubbed his hands up and down his face and then took a deep breath. McGillian: Computer, resume log. ::continues pacing with hands behind back:: I've submitted the list of personnel requiring security clearance reverification to Lt. Cmdr. Falt, I should be able to begin interviews tomorrow morning. Mac paused for a moment, he knew to some extent his recommendations would likely cause some disgruntled attitudes, but he had watched his father endure similar and worse things when upholding security regulations. McGillian: ::clears throat:: In addition, I've delved into the security records and discovered that the Commodore does not maintain a security escort when leaving the administrative area of Denali Station. Given the recent events that occured before my arrival, and the general threats possible when moving outside of the secured administrative area, I have made Lt. Cmdr. Falt aware of my intent to bring my recommendation directly to the CO for her safety. Mac stopped pacing and placed his hands on the back of one of the tall chairs sat at the kitchen bar and slightly leaned down. His quarters came with a full sized kitchen. Not that he knew much about cooking to fully make use of it. McGillian: I hope that the Commodore will take the gravity of this seriously. Finally I have submitted recommendations to Lt. Cmdr. Falt to establish a Federation Security Outpost within the city. Given the large population, that seems to be growing daily, there needs to be an established lawful Federation presence within the city that can handle matters on the civilian side. End Log. Mac took a deep breath and turned around from the chair to face the main living room. McGillian: ::places hand on chin:: Definitely need more furniture. NT/END _______________ Ensign Daniel McGillian Jr. Security Officer Denali Station D240104DM2

((Observation Room, Brig, Deck 11, USS Ronin)) Behind a section of the adjoining bulkhead where a one way hologram concealed a level ten forcefield, Karrod watched, listened and scowled. After wrestling with it for days, he’d decided B’ek’s immediate value to the Ronin outweighed the nagging doubts he simply couldn’t dispel. To his surprise, Starfleet Command agreed with his assessment and put up little struggle to keep Karrod from retaining custody. That fed his anxiety as well, sensing something more and more wrong with his recent interactions with Command but still unable to decipher what was going on in the minds of the fleet's bureaucracy, hundreds of light years away. He mulled it for a moment, but the startling appearance of B’ek, seemingly close enough to touch, pulled his mind back towards the present. Behind him, there was a hissing sound. A door opened and closed briskly. Light footsteps of padded-soled boots approached the commanding figure of the Trill. After a few seconds, the CSO stood at his side, dark eyes locked on the same spot as the Captain. Alieth: Satisfied with that information, sir? She held out the PADD with the data the defector had provided, and she studied the Trill's stern face as he took it. He’d glanced over the list of potential target systems while B’ek had input them, but his scowl remained fixed firmly in place. Niac: He gave us a lot of information without actually telling us much useful…that list of planets he spat out could’ve just been a database search of ‘class M planets with ample biodiversity.’ Got to give him credit…he’s not making this easy. And that suggestion about the Gorn…I just don’t know. The petite Vulcan suppressed a grimace, which nevertheless plucked slightly at her lips. Then she shook her head, long strands of untamed hair swaying with the subtle movement of her head. Alieth: ::with a minute sigh:: He will not tell us anything useful. There was a hint of anger and frustration hidden in the soft wrinkle between her tilted eyebrows, in the tension of the elegant muscles of the diminutive Vulcan's angular jaw. He’d worked with the intense, diminutive Vulcan long enough to pick up on the small shift in her mood…a frustration with the situation that was coming close to outright anger. He pitched his voice down and fixed her with a sympathetic look. Niac: It’s not your fault…we knew this was a long shot. If it helps, I doubt the SFI people would’ve gotten even that much out of him. It was a sour solace, but a solace nonetheless. At the end, she turned to face the Captain, and held his gaze for a moment, a dangerous spark in her eyes. Alieth: ::with a deliberately even tone:: If it were up to my advice, I would encourage dropping him off at the nearest Klingon penal colony. Favouring a very frigid one. A soft curl appeared at one corner of her mouth for a split second, then a pondering frown settled in her strong features Alieth:: Tetra, on the other hand... you pointed out weeks ago that she could be considered a born in the Ronin, and therefore a full Federation citizen… That was a puzzle that the diminutive Vulcan had been pondering ever since, and one that had come up more than once in her conversations with Saros. Neither the discussions nor the conundrum had come to a conclusion that fully satisfied the Vulcan. During that brief pause, Karrod sighed, preparing himself to deliver more frustrating news to someone who’d already had more than their share. Niac: I’ve spoken to representatives from the JAG Corp, three xeno-cultural legal specialists and even Ambassador Buford on DS33…nobody wants to touch this one. As of this moment, Tetra is classified as a ‘stateless being,’ having no specific point of origin, allegiance or culture. My understanding is that there were even communications sent out to the Tholian Assembly to determine if they wanted to take custody…they haven’t responded. I doubt they will. For all intents and purposes…Tetra’s home is this ship. Which makes me her legal guardian. The frown on her face deepened, and a soft crease appeared between the two slanted eyebrows. Alieth: While I rely on your judgment, Karrod, this is no place for her. We have no facilities where it can fully develop, and this :: motioning a hand slightly towards the nearest bulk plate:: is a heavy cruiser in a looming war. What was left unsaid, but plain in her words, was that the decision was substandard, to say the least. Niac: I know it’s not what you wanted to hear…and it’s less than I had hoped for. But the Alliance is still a ‘developing threat’ as far as Starfleet Command is concerned and while they’ve told me they’ll look into this matter with “all due urgency” I got the impression I was getting the brushoff. Alieth: They had abandoned her, then.:: oO All we are Oo was left unsaid, once more. An eerie, dense and ominous silence spread through the tiny room. After a while, Karrod looked through the transparent forcefield and felt a shudder as he caught B’ek’s glowing eyes. For a moment he got the impression the Tholian was watching them, but then B’ek’s attention returned to the datastream coming from Tetra’s habitat. Niac: I don’t give one single damn what happens to that Tholian, but when you and your team decided to try to keep Tetra alive you took on a responsibility, and it’s not one I intend to shrink from…even if it seems like the Federation wouldn’t mind if I did. I’ve written orders for you and for the whole science department that state, among other things, that you are to take all measures appropriate and necessary to preserve this beings' life to the best of your ability. That will give your people all the latitude and cover I can provide. She allowed herself to break her dignified façade briefly in the privacy of that quiet room and pinched the bridge of her nose, shutting her eyes. Alieth: You see, I asked Miss Lorana not to get attached to her, but she never listens. She shook her head and once again folded her arms behind her back, the brief loss of composure past and forgotten. Alieth: We will find a cure for her affliction, but we need a place for her ::looking at B'ek through the one-way window toward the cell:: and for him long-term, and it cannot be the Ronin. Tugging at his beard in frustration as he considered the endlessly thorny problem, Karrod jabbed an angry finger towards the forcefield. Niac: I agree with you that the easiest solution would be dropping that guy off on Rura Penthe in a t-shirt, but we both know that won’t solve our problems…even if it does make us briefly feel much better about them. Alieth: ::with a slight impish tone:: Is it possible to leave him there for just a little while? It would be a very formative experience for him, for sure. Possibly one that would make him a little more chatty. Karrod crossed his arms and his expression hardened. Niac: Alieth… She let out a short huff of air through her nose, not a chuckle, but something that if one listened very carefully could be interpreted as such. Alieth: All right, no penal colonies. :: She looked at Karrod, one eyebrow raised:: Do not even consider telling Mister Raga that I suggested it, or I will disarm you again, and this time for two weeks. Putting his arms up in mock surrender, Karrod shook his head in frustration. Niac: I’ll keep that in mind. The simple fact of the matter is that once I transfer either of them off this ship, I lose all ability to influence what happens to them. I realize this environment isn’t…ideal by any means but I don’t think there’s ‘better’ available at the moment. Our options consist entirely of bad and worse. The brief moment of levity passed, the Vulcan's slanted brows darkened her eyes once more and her gaze turned, again, to the prisoner. Alieth: About the Gorn joining the Alliance... What's your opinion? I do not trust him, but somehow, the way he said it... it seemed genuine. Karrod felt his shoulders tighten as he considered the prospect of the Lattice Alliance welcoming yet another antagonistic, xenophobic species that ranked most of the Federation by how well they’d taste at a buffet. Niac: It’s...an incredibly disturbing prospect. And one we can’t ignore, even if he is just trying to rattle us. The Gorn have a lot of resources and almost no contact with the Federation, so our knowledge of their capabilities is incredibly limited. She gave a small nod. Alieth: We have to try to find out how much truth there is in this. He felt a decision clicking together in his mind and grabbed a nearby PADD, transferring the recording of the entire interrogation and beginning to make notes. Niac: Starfleet Command can’t keep ignoring this…and I’m not going to let them. If I can’t get someone on subspace who will actually act on this, I’m taking a runabout and throwing this PADD on their desk until they pay attention. I can be…very convincing in person. Karrod’s grip on the PADD tightened until his knuckles popped. The petite CSO turned to the captain and raised one hand just a bit, then paused and lowered it again, palm formally against her side. Alieth: Your orders, sir? Niac: Keep the good Doctor here in containment till I can figure out what to do with him. You have my authorization to leverage any resources you need to help Tetra…you might even ask around while we’re still in orbit of Ferenginar. You can pick up a lot of…exotic materials here that might not be part of standard Starfleet equipment. Alieth: Understood. I will get in touch with... people I know there. They might have something that can help us. ::once again she had to hold her expression tighter than she usually did, control over her emotions, thin:: I am confident that Lieutenant Lorana will find a way to put it to good use. She is very invested with Tetra. Karrod let out a long breath and focused on Alieth, his expression softening for a moment. Niac: Good work on this, Commander. Make sure your team knows they’ve got my full confidence. If anyone can figure this problem out…it’s you. While you’re doing that, I’ll go take on a much more complex mystery….Starfleet Command’s hearing problem. Sparing one final glance towards the viewport, Karrod’s jaw tightened as he made his way to the door, already planning the opening salvo of the tirade he’d be sending Command’s way. He hoped it would be enough to get their attention before it was too late to matter. Alieth stood back and watched him go, before she turned back to the chamber where their uncooperative guest dwelt. There, in the solitude of the concealed room, she let her mask crack into a grimace of disdain and disgust at the abject creature that stood before her. [[End]] ================================ Commander Karrod Niac Commanding Officer USS Ronin - NCC-34523 V239509GT0 & Lieutenant Commander Alieth Chief Science Officer & 2O USS Ronin USS-34523 E239702A10

((Special containment cell, Brig, Deck 11, USS Ronin)) The petite Vulcan spun over her heels, slowly, and stared at the Tholian for a very long time, a period carefully calculated to discomfort any non-Vulcan, and then retraced her steps back to the position she had occupied in front of the cell. As if nothing had actually happened. Luxa followed Alieth lead, she observed the changing colours of the Tholian. A ruse? A deceit? He was certainly capable of that. Or was it that he faltered? The reality of the situation had dawned on him. The Caitian suspected that it could be both things. The glowing shifting of colours of his eyes and face were a representation of his hesitation. B’ek: My knowledge of the full extent of the Alliance is limited, as I was not a high-level commander, but I will provide what answers I can. The CSO nodded, slowly but deliberately. Alieth: Questions are simple: what is the Lattice Alliance's organizational structure? Where is located its main HQ? Which forces does it have at its disposal? Whose are its allies? The questions were simple. The answers, not so much. She knew B'ek probably didn't have a tenth of the information they needed, but any detail they could get, any little bit of information, would go a long way toward giving them a slight advantage in this uneven game of cat and mouse they were playing. One in which their enemies knew far more than they did. Lorana: Provide us with a list of the worlds you planned to terraform? She thought of Cait. Her homeworld, and one of the Federations most natural and beautiful planets. At such a perilous location. At present, it was unknown if the wider Tholian Assembly endorsed the Lattice Alliance. Cait was on high alert, with the Caitian Fleet on high alert. The thought of the jungles, the mountains and the seas of Cait being reduced to molten rocks and ash tore at Luxa's heart. She wanted to airlock this Tholian, his brain was the weapon that caused the destruction on GB3. Once, perhaps, she'd have done this. In any other situation, he might have been amused by the Caitian's most obvious concern; while not a stellar cartographer, he had intimate knowledge of the systems they had been exploring that would serve well for their terraforming process. There was a short pause and the captive's eyes flickered briefly, in a way that could only be defined as malevolent. B’ek: You needn't worry - your homeworld has been deemed too dangerous to attempt the process until well after control of the entire region is established. The rest of the quadrant would come eventually, but that would be far down the line. ::pausing:: If you can provide me access to a data unit, I can provide system names and targets planned for immediate testing. There is an extensive list of targets provided the tests are successful, but those would not be attempted for some time yet. Alieth: Note again, we will also need a list of the Alliance's highest ranking officers, affiliates and the location of their headquarters. B’ek: Unfortunately, the Lattice Alliance headquarters remains mobile; rather than being a single installation, it is a modular grouping of multiple crystalline ships. I can provide the names of a few, but not all. They are often on the move, especially with the news of a potential alliance with an offshoot of the Gorn Hegemony. The Gorn? Luxa tried to remain composed yet the shackles on her spine stood on end. Things had just gotten a whole lot worse. He tapped the tips of his fingers together again, a bit less anxious than before. There was something freeing about sharing what was meant to be unknown. B'ek: Supreme Commander F'red is the highest-ranking member of the Lattice Alliance Council. Six members are serving underneath him - High Commanders G'rg, T'rn'r, and Rksirl representing the Tholians, and Commodores B'ahrb, B'hrad, and B'l'n'y representing the Sheliak. There was a slight tremor on the Vulcan's face, a tiny twitch of one of her eyelids as a new threat was named to add to the already considerable menace that was the Laticce Alliance. For a split second, she breathed a hundredth of a second faster than she should have... but she let the defector scientist keep chatting. Alieth: That, at last, is meaningful information. Satisfied, as far as she could be, with the answers, Alieth pulled a small PADD from her sleeve. It was a new model, specially modified by the Ronin engineering team based on the combadges' resistance to extreme temperatures, high pressures and generally unsuitable conditions for technology. She held up the small device for a second in front of the force field that separated her from the prisoner before squeezing the delta pinned to her uniform. Alieth: Transport room four, beam object A-42 to our special invitee's holding cell. A flurry of sparks vanished the PADD from between her fingers, which appeared a moment later between the Tholian scientist's forelegs. As he picked it up, the petite CSO spoke once more. Alieth: Live feed from a camera located in your offspring's ward, with feed from scans of her vitals. She sleeps, as she does most of the time. It was a one-way feed, on a secure line separate from the rest of the ship's systems. B'ek could only observe and read, but any attempt to tamper with the device or access any other information on it would automatically self-destruct. They were not going to take any chances, but she refrained from informing him of this, as the distrust was mutual, and she had no doubt that the smart insectoid would have foreseen such a course of action. B'ek handled the PADD carefully, his hands quite oversized in comparison. He found after some adjustment it would fit in the palm of one hand, and he could use a single sharp-tipped finger to manoeuvre on the screen. Tapping the centre of the screen allowed him to zoom in on the sleeping creature, and he cradled the PADD almost tenderly and traced the tip of his finger over the image of her head. Alieth: In the lower left corner of the screen, you will see that we have provided you with artificial Maleconite crystals, as we informed you in our previous meeting. She is in good condition, as you can see, except for her addiction to the substance, which slows down her development and growth. This time, the petite Vulcan turned to the Caitian, leaving the questioning to her at that point. The lieutenant was, after all, the one who had spent the most time with the creature. From the PADD they could hear that Tetra had begun to sing, in her way, the Caitian lullaby that Luxa had taught her. His colours shifted with surprise at the singing, the lights of his eyes growing wide as his head tipped to the side. Singing was common for Tholian offspring, but not in this manner. He looked to the Caitian as she spoke. Lorana: She grows weaker, her Tholian biology has evolved with the Maleconite and craves it in quantities that we are not able to provide. She is a warrior caste, we believe, and has begun to show signs of her natural instinct. Mostly she … mostly she's confused and tired. She has begun to communicate, in simple terms. Mostly via her colours, and sounds. He zoomed in further to study the structure of her physical form, and he nodded in agreement. B'ek: Warrior, indeed. She must be strong, to have survived this long with this disability. He zoomed back out and studied the artificial Maleconite crystals. B'ek: I would like to see the chemical composition of these crystals. We may be able to make some alterations to wean the cravings and bolster her development. He paused for a moment before looking at Luxa. B'ek: Why 'Tetra'? The petite Vulcan kept a serious face, but when her eyes fell on the Caitian, hidden from the prisoner, they revealed a spark of amusement in them. Alieth: Miss Lorana, would you mind explaining it to the creature's creator? Lorana: Named from the tetradom crystals of her embryo. An accident of her Maleconite DNA :: haughtily :: You wouldn't know that being … less than proficient in the task of creating life. B'ek: ::narrowing his gaze:: What is the phrase oft used by the carbonics called humans? 'Practice makes perfect'? The Tholian flashed again, and the two Starfleet Officers left him with his suffering. The only sound was the haunting siren of Tetra’s lullaby. Luxa was reminded of its lyrics: We sing come little lost cub, come to me, I am your mother, come be free Come little cub, through the trees, I am your mother, come to me Come little lost cub, I am your mother, come be free Somehow the sound was both beautiful and yet simultaneously haunting, and it followed the officers down the corridor towards the exit, and left the Tholian scientist alone, with the music and the image of his creation within his grasp, and yet, at the same time, unreachable. ================================ Lieutenant Commander Alieth Chief Science Officer & 2O USS Ronin USS-34523 E239702A10 & Lieutenant JG Luxa Lorana Science Officer (Astrometrics, Meteorology, Xenobiology) USS Ronin A240004LL2 & Terraforming Specialist V't'r'us B'ek Former Lattice Alliance Territorial Reclaminator as written by Ensign Quentin Beck Medical Officer USS Ronin NCC-34523 A238810SA0

((Special containment cell, Brig, Deck 11, USS Ronin)) Alieth: Spunau bolayalar t'Wehku bolayalar t'Zamu il t'Veh: The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one. If you do not prove useful to us, I will make you a useful asset. The Tholian scientist remained silent for an achingly long time. He weighed what he knew of them, the stories he'd heard, what he knew of their actions on the planet's surface. He was… not entirely certain he could take this one at face value, though even among the Tholians it was known that Vulcans did not lie. Likewise, he was also certain he could not simply capitulate without ensuring their survival. B'ek: So easily, you threaten to let her die, to dissect her. What assurances do I have should I cooperate? The knowledge I offer is worth more than any one life - in truth, knowing what I know now, it is worth at least several hundred thousand lives. I will not fail again, I assure you. In this thing … what do you call one with no mortality? Surely sapient or individual was too limited a word for such malice. Luxa could see in it, an ego. A hubris that had no limitations. He truly believed that what he had done on GB3 was the work of a god. In his view, he has become a self-appointed deity to an entire world. Regardless, they had lived mere minutes. She stepped forward, her furred features almost touching with the specially adapted containment shielding. Her whiskers bristled against the heat. It was a well established fact, throughout thousands of civilizations, that there was one enemy to false gods. Ciencia. It was time to offend a god. Lorana: I can assure you pitiful, low caste Tholian B’ek. Traitor to your kind. Failed scientist. We will cure Tetra, she'll go on to live a fulfilled, wondrous life as a miracle, an accident of science. A new subspecies of Tholian, born in spite of your errors and vast theoretical flaws. She'll show you and the rest of the Alliance that we, Starfleet, always win. Your name will be nothing but a footnote in history. :: to Alieth :: This fool has nothing to offer us. I suggest we turn him to the Tholian Assembly. Although he would never admit it out loud, she was… not wrong, in many regards. Her attempts to insult him, at least regarding his standing among his people, didn't work, if only because he had never had a choice in the matter until the Lattice Alliance. He stood by that choice, even amid failure. And he was proud to be a traitor to his kind for the very same reason. Considering the abject failure of his experiment, there seemed to be little choice, or else he lost the only surviving youngling from his brood. Still… This one he felt was easier to read than the Vulcan, at least in the way she presented herself. Her form was… different, however, which still confused matters. He stood tall despite her insults, tipping his head upward defiantly. B’ek: Failure is common and even expected when one is performing experiments, especially of this caliber. One that is not resilient in the face of it is a poor scientist, indeed. ::pausing:: So which is it? Kill or kidnap? I do not believe you can do both. Either way, you lose everything regarding the terraforming process. Alieth: No kill or kidnap, doctor, it is merely an "equivalent exchange". If you do not supply us with adequate information, we will look for alternatives, which, in all likelihood, you will not find agreeable. The slender Caitian turned away, allowing the Vulcan room. They shared a glance that felt like a plan, a change of tact. Alieth: Moreover, you know that knowledge about your so-called terraforming process is ancillary. We are seeking intel on the Lattice Alliance. The lights making up his eyes shifted to follow the Caitian's movements, the tips of his fingers clicking together with only mild anxiety before his gaze flicked back to the Vulcan. B’ek: That stands to reason. The point still stands - if I am unsatisfied with your 'alternatives' regarding my offspring, you lose everything. Lorana: :: growls lightly :: Give him to the Tholians. He knows nothing. The Vulcan's eyes turned away from the Tholian scientist, and at last she moved, a few short steps to one side of the narrow passageway and then back again. At the turn, the Commander's eyes lingered on a very specific spot on the wall for half a second longer than necessary. B’ek: I know more than you, Caitian Lorana. ::to Alieth:: Again, I ask. What assurances do I have should I cooperate? Alieth: Things would be different in that case, indeed. We would work on sustaining the life of their progeny, indefinitely, if possible. We would provide you with the means to get to a neutral location, well away from the Federation and the Lattice Alliance. A neutral ground, transportation and supplies. You can disappear forever if you so desire. Lorana: :: locks eyes with the Tholian :: I know what he wants. What little could be seen of his colours grew muted. B'ek: I wish to see my child. Then I will answer your questions. A dangerous gleam appeared in the Vulcan's dark eyes. The glint of a predator that knows it has its prey cornered. Alieth: Doctor B'ek, you are not in a position to make demands. B'ek: That is what I require to cooperate. If you will not allow me to see 'Tetra', as you call her, I will assume she is dead, and I have no reason to answer your questions. The readings you have shared are old by any standard. Alieth looked at Luxa, but said naught. Lorana: That may be what Tholian B’ek requires. He forgets that he does not have the advantage. An exchange is required. That exchange is information. We receive the information and we provide access. B'ek: A scientist is prepared to face failure, but they also seek proof. The CSO gave a small nod and finally turned away from the Tholian. When he looked at her subordinate, there was fire in her eyes. Alieth: All right, if that is your choice. ::Turning to Lorana:: Shall we go, Lieutenant? Lorana: He gives us nothing because he is for nothing. There was a small nod of agreement from the CSO. Alieth: And therefore, nothing will come of it. A few steps towards the door at the end of the corridor took them away from the prisoner, plain their intention to left him isolated for an undetermined number of days, once more. Behind them, B'ek fumed, his colours growing ever more muted. B’ek: ::indecipherable clicking noises:: Very well. I will provide limited information on the Lattice Alliance for our first exchange. Luxa and Alieth looked at each other, both aware that they had won that small but important breakthrough. It was the first time they got him to consent to something they asked for, the first hint that they could get ANYTHING from him. ================================ Lieutenant Commander Alieth Chief Science Officer & 2O USS Ronin USS-34523 E239702A10 & Lieutenant JG Luxa Lorana Science Officer (Astrometrics, Meteorology, Xenobiology) USS Ronin A240004LL2 & Terraforming Specialist V't'r'us B'ek Former Lattice Alliance Territorial Reclaminator as written by Ensign Quentin Beck Medical Officer USS Ronin NCC-34523 A238810SA0

When you have absolute stellar writers and they drop a 4 part bombshell. You have to show the love. @Karrod Niac @Alieth @LuxaLorana @Quentin Beck ((Special containment cell, Brig, Deck 11, USS Ronin)) The evening was a good time for her work. There were hardly any people in the corridors, nor in the security complex, the officers and NCOs mostly asleep or off duty. And those that remained were silent, the scuff of feet and boots on the grey carpet as loud as the breaths of the two officers, the only moving shapes in a slumbering world. The skeleton crew left on watch in the brig paid little attention to the scientists as they walked across their territory. Mainly because Chief Carpenter had given them clearance. But mostly because it wasn't the first time she had given them access. Alieth glanced at her subordinate as the doors to the maximum security wing stood waiting for their delayed opening cycle. Alieth: Do you have the questions ready? Luxa resisted the urge to sigh. B'ek had not proven to be useful to them at all. He'd danced around the science, in some attempt to grapple control of this failed experiment. She suspected that this was because he knew as much as they knew about the Maleconite’s unique abilities and how it had impacted on the terraforming process on GB3. Which was very little. Lorana: :: nods :: Do you think he'll be any more helpful this time? The petite Vulcan nodded curtly, an unruly lock of hair escaping from her tight ponytail. Alieth: I expect so, he has sat with the last information about Tetra development… : she made a pregnant pause.:: … he seemed unhappy about it. Lorana: He may be unhappy. ::The sidelong glance of the shorter woman made her stop for a second:: What? We don't know. He's not to be trusted. He betrayed his own kind. Luxa, again, resisted the urge to sigh. Her tail twitched several times, before it looped and sunk down as she tried to contain it. It was forever betraying her true feelings. Captain Niac believed that the scientist Tholian may be more forthcoming with fellow scientists. They didn't believe he could provide any real scientific answers to their questions on the Maleconite or Tetra's condition. They hoped he'd provide much needed intel on the LA. She shared in the captain's frustrations. Always having to respond to an unknown crisis left the fur on edge. They needed to gain the upper hand. Luxa couldn't stop her mind from wondering … where was Starfleet? This situation was escalating at an alarming rate, yet no other ships had been assigned to the region. The Ronin and the Arrow, as well as DS33 were the only line of defence against the Lattice Alliance, which they didn't fully understand yet. Yet, despite all of this she had a nagging worry that this Tholian, wanted further access to Tetra. There were too many reasons for her to count as to why this was a bad idea. However, Tetra, the infant, was the only bargaining chip they had. Why else would they allow her to remain on the ship? B'ek do anything to claim his prize. His scientific ego wouldn't allow him to pass on the opportunity to study her up close. His creation, the potential of a whole new subspecies of Tholian. He didn't see her as a victim to his ego. He saw Tetra as proof of concept. Not unlike Kipal, and the USS Kolo. Alieth: humm… The sound sounded almost like an admonishment, the slanted eyebrows drawing further shadows into the dark eyes. Yet the two had worked together enough to know it was a tacit agreement. One that simply should not be said aloud. Just then, the doors opened before them, a loud hiss and a puff of exhaust fumes marking the opening, as a red light flashed above their heads. The area had been modified for this particular inmate. The temperature, even outside the cell, was oppressively hot and absolutely arid. Given the night cycle, there was hardly any light, only the reddish ceiling beams, and a faint orange glow that seemed to come from nowhere in particular. Luxa felt the heat like an assault. The nearer she got to the cell, the more intense the heat. Her skin beneath the fur recoiled, and she felt the hairs along her spine stand on their edges. Her whiskers pulled back and she stopped. She looked at Alieth, this had become a ritual of sorts. The Caitian twisted her mane around her paw and gathered it on top of her head, to allow more ventilation. With a nod, they moved on. At the end of a short corridor laid the cell. It was larger than the high-energy containment field in lab 4, and had some extras that the lab lacked. A bed, for example, that had never been used. A desk and a chair. A small waste disposal shaft that had required a really awkward explanation and possibly given the Tholian scientist too much information about carbon-based beings. Little else. The Tholian was… sleeping. Sort of. His body didn't consume energy in the same way Alieth or Luxa's bodies might, but especially in this sort of environment, he still needed a chance to rest and recharge, so to speak. While they had done a fine job fulfilling most of his environmental needs, he still required an EV suit to interact with them or any of the tools they could provide. The suit he'd been wearing originally had been damaged too severely to function indefinitely. Thankfully, the Medical and Engineering departments had been able to cobble together a suitable replacement, one that seemed to put the Starfleeters more at ease because the glow of his abdomen and thorax was no longer visible at all times. It looked almost like one of their standard uniforms, jet black in colour, with the Starfleet delta emblazoned on what would be his right breast pocket, if he'd had either. Only the glowing eyes betrayed his nature. Luxa hated that those eyes were the same as Tetra. Their arrival was enough to wake him. He stirred briefly, the pointed tips of his feet tapping against the deck plating, and the colours and lights in his head grew much brighter and more solid as they approached. He didn't raise his abdomen from his prone position yet, but he observed their arrival with a curious look. Alieth: Good Evening, Doctor B’ek. The petite Vulcan stopped just inches from the glowing force field that isolated the defector, bright orange hexagons rippling across its surface almost as if it were a pond. She folded her arms behind her back, firm and stiff, in that posture so typical of her people. B’ek: Vulcan Alieth. Has it been three cycles? I find it impossible to keep track of time in this ship… The diminutive humanoid gave a silent nod, a small twitch between her slanted eyebrows. Alieth: Miss Lorana and I have come to ask you a few questions, if you would like to answer us this time. She made a deferential gesture towards her companion, before resuming her statuesque posture. Lorana: I trust you have reviewed the data on :: She locked fierce amber eyes on the Tholian:: your progeny, as you call her? :: angered :: I hope that you've reconsidered your position. It would make sense for you to help us. We want the same outcomes. As the Caitian spoke, B'ek stretched out his arms and legs before lifting his abdomen from the deck. With arms and legs fully expanded, he took up over half of the room behind the forcefield, and it was… uncomfortable to get around. Even to turn much. So he just stood there, half listening, until she finished. Then he shook his head. B’ek: That is decidedly incorrect, Caitian Lorana. I want the freedom to leave this cell and take, yes indeed, my progeny, to a safe, new home. ::pausing:: However, I have, indeed, reviewed your data and I applaud you for getting this far. I am not fully convinced you can make any good use of it. The Commander stifled the curl that threatened to take hold at the corner of her mouth. Alieth: Your kind does not monopolize industriousness. He chittered and drew his limbs closer to his body so he could turn to approach his computer. B'ek: You wish to develop a workaround for the reliance on Maleconite. Would you find it acceptable to require a different source of nutrition, assuming one could be developed? Alieth: It is an option, but we will not pursue it. We will keep your progeny alive, and nothing else, until we get answers to our questions. The Caitian held her position, as still as a rock. The Tholian had no need to know what she really thought about this tactic. Luxa wanted to pursue all avenues. She had spent hours with Tetra. She'd communicate on a basic level with them, seemingly adapting knowledge from the surrounding environment. Luxa had told her about the galaxy around her, where they are, who she is and her species home planet. She also told her about the Federation, and Starfleet. What it means to be a part of that family. This monster in front of her couldn't conceive of family. He saw an experiment that could be salvaged. Just like any egotistical scientist, he was unwilling to share what he knew. The lights that made up his eyes drew to narrow slits as he studied the duo, and not for the first time was he annoyed at their lack of illumination. It was so difficult to read carbonic expression and body language, he had very little frame of reference. Still, considering what he'd heard of Starfleet in the past, he believed they were fully capable of killing his youngling without a moment's hesitation. B'ek: I grow tired of this conversation, Vulcan Alieth. I have told you what is required to provide you any answers. The petite Vulcan took a small step. So close to the energy screen that a few strands of hair frizzed, electrically charged. Alieth: If your response is deficient or absent, I will let your "progeny" die. A natural death, of course, without the substance to which you have made her reliant. Dissecting her will make an impressive research paper. You will go next. She didn't blink during her speech, her voice flat, her face hieratic. The only thing animated on her face was a dangerous, determined spark in her eyes. The heat of the room seemed to rise a notch or two, Luxa felt her body shift to regulate her temperature more effectively. Subtle changes in the configuration of her fur, and a slight variance in her breathing, that made her breaths quicken, increased the absorption of oxygen. She refused to admit that these changes were brought on by the heightened anxiety she felt at the prospect of Tetra's demise. It simply, for Luxa, was not an option. [[TBC]] ================================ Lieutenant Commander Alieth Chief Science Officer & 2O USS Ronin USS-34523 E239702A10 & Lieutenant JG Luxa Lorana Science Officer (Astrometrics, Meteorology, Xenobiology) USS Ronin A240004LL2 & Terraforming Specialist V't'r'us B'ek Former Lattice Alliance Territorial Reclaminator as written by Ensign Quentin Beck Medical Officer USS Ronin NCC-34523 A238810SA0

Despite having the wiki to prove it, to newer Simmers such as me, it can be quite difficult to imagine just how long a history the fleet has, not to mention some of the wonderful writers that I now tell stories with on the USS Artemis. Similarly - like many Ensigns and Lieutenants on the installations we know and love from the Trek stories - the concept of a time where our Captains weren't the awe-inspiring and strong-willed people they are today is equally alien. @Addison MacKenzie's latest Sim definitely encapsulates that feeling of a storied background, both of an experienced writer who's dedicated YEARS of his life to writing amazing stories on various vessels, AND of a Captain who's seen so much, and is now trying her best to steer her crew through the many horrors their writers can come up with. An excellent Sim - as always - Captain, and thank you for the close-to-1-year of service you and your staff has shepherded me through 🫡 Couldn't have wished for a better starting vessel!

@Quentin Beck & @T'Ama just don't kiss already Jokes aside, this JP is delicate and vulnerable, I really enjoyed this, it's always a pleasure to give a glimpse into characters' pasts, old relationships and friendships between ships, well done guys! ((Outside Guest Quarters, Room 2001, Deck 4, USS Ronin)) He just kind of… stood there for a while, staring at the reprogrammable panel next to the door that displayed T'Ama's name and listed her as a special guest on the Ronin. Their whole interaction on the planet's surface had been… well, interesting wasn't quite the right word. It had stirred up a lot of old memories, old feelings he hadn't exactly forgotten about but had certainly put aside until she had unexpectedly come back into his life again. That wasn't a bad thing, per se, but the last time they had talked had ended rather poorly. That had been his fault, not hers, though up until recently he had convinced himself it was the other way around. His time on the Ronin had taught him a few things about alien cultures, not the least of which being he had a lot of trouble separating them from human traditions. That often left him confused when they didn't respond in a way he'd expected, or when they seemed entirely too puzzled by what he'd chosen to do or say. Quentin didn't like that he'd been so mad at T'Ama when she'd left before. He'd had a lot of time to think about it by now. Steeling himself, he reached up to tap the chime next to her door. T'Ama: Enter. The door cycled open after a moment and he still just kind of… stood there, for another long moment. Then he cleared his throat and took a single step into the guest room, clutching an item to his chest. He was dressed in a fresh, clean uniform - quite a bit different from the sheets of fabric he'd been wearing on the planet. She was sat reading on the couch, which was oriented towards the large viewport showing a field of darkness and stars. The guest room was way nicer than the windowless quarters she shared with her roommate on Deck 19 of the Conny. After a moment she realized no one had actually come in and she looked up from her PADD to the door to see… him. Oh… She stared as he stepped inside. Beck: Hi. I just wanted to, uhm… Thank you. For all of your help down on the surface. She looked down and away, embarrassed. He’d still been mad with her and rightfully so and now it was horribly, painfully awkward. Not at all like how it used to be. T'Ama: Yeah, well… ::she inhaled:: … What did you bring? Beck: Huh? Oh. He fidgeted for a moment before shaking the package in his hand, the contents shifting around inside. Beck: I brought these for you. Quentin handed the box over. She would find the box full of chocolate-covered potato chips - a treat he'd introduced her to at the Academy to which she'd taken a particular shine. He'd had no idea at the time how chocolate affected Vulcans, he'd just wanted to share a snack he enjoyed with a good friend. She took the box and opened it in her lap and she gave him a lopsided half smile at her favorite Earth treat. She’d gotten drunk off her ass on them the first time, they were so good. The perfect combination of sweet and salty that made you want to keep eating them. They were difficult to find on replication menus. T'Ama: Thanks. She sat and stared up at him, box clutched on her lap, the tense moment stretching out between them forever. She desperately wanted to turn on that El-Aurian thing that made people want to talk to you so he could say something, anything, easier but apparently he had always hated when she’d done that. At the thought her face fell and she looked back down at the box of chocolate in her lap, one finger worrying the corner of it. His brow creased as the silence stretched between them for longer than it should have, and he watched the play of emotions running across her features before she'd dropped her gaze to the box. The chips were symbolic of what he wanted to say… or at least, that's what he'd intended. An olive branch. But then, their whole friendship had nearly imploded because of a misunderstanding on his part, so he figured a symbol probably wasn't enough. Beck: I owe you an apology. T'Ama: ::surprised:: For what? Quentin chuckled lamely, looking down at his feet before digging a toe into the carpeting on the deck plate. Beck: For a lot of things, but… mostly for overreacting when you left. I've learned a lot on this posting, mostly that I have a habit of humanizing everyone rather than taking the time to learn about their cultures and how they respond to things. I thought it was good to see everyone equally, but it sort of blinded me to the realities of how different we can be. She blinked at him, confused about what he was apologizing about. His reaction to what she'd done seemed perfectly valid to her - who wouldn't be upset? And all this about him humanizing everyone and being clueless about their culture was irrelevant. She liked that about him. He never treated her like a Vulcan. She could see why it would get him in trouble with others but she had found it so refreshing to just be herself. She gestured to the couch. T'Ama: ::quietly:: Sit. We should talk. He fidgeted again for a moment before nodding and crossing to sit on the other end of the couch, with some space between them. She twisted to sit sideways and face him. Beck: The whole touch telepathy thing is weird for me to think about because I'm so limited in that regard. I imagine if humans had it, too, we wouldn't be quite so touchy-feely about anything. Wouldn't shake hands, wouldn't do… all the things we normally do with someone we care about. Like hugs. Or… more. T'Ama: ::dryly:: Like kissing on a first date? Beck: ::sotto voce:: Like kissing a Vulcan on a first date. He hadn't figured it out until after seeing her again, despite the fact he'd been doing a lot of reading about Vulcans after his initial encounter with Is'Kah after the mission. Physical intimacy was fully scandalous, even in private, and to actually kiss was basically the same as dropping down on one knee and proposing marriage. Sort of. She closed her eyes to gather her thoughts and sighed, then realized she never had explained what happened, though he had in a weird way deduced it. T’Ama: Look. That was my fault. I should have kept myself shielded especially considering what we were doing. But you caught me by surprise… ::she smiled sadly:: And I got a full hit of your mind and all your… expectations. And I just… I couldn't live up to that. I can't be all that for you. She had broken the kiss by pushing him away, muttering something like “I can't” as the only explanation, and then running away. And avoiding him every time he tried to talk to her until she graduated and was posted to the Constitution. Oh he had every right to be mad. Quentin had been… wrapped up in the future he could see with T'Ama, but then he'd always had pipe dreams that looked far, far into the future, and they were all unrealistic. Normally he wouldn't have been so obsessive over a relationship like that, mostly because he didn't quite understand them, but his friendship with T'Ama had been instant and had felt deeper than any other friendship he'd had up to then. Beck: ::brow creasing:: It was a lot, I know. I only had one or two close friends growing up, and you know I was an only child, so… I kinda couldn't help the mental spiral into some imaginary future. I'm sorry I expected too much so soon. T’Ama: ::in a small, weepy voice:: I'm sorry I avoided you. I shouldn't have handled it that way. I should have just talked to you. She sniffed and wiped her eyes where a couple of tears had rolled down her cheeks. She had curled completely up into a ball and hugged her knees. He let out a heavy breath, leaning forward to prop his forearms on his knees and lace his fingers together. Beck: I should've tried harder to talk to you, too. Shouldn't have given up so quickly, but I was still smarting at the time. After you graduated and I didn't hear anything, I figured that was it. T'Ama: ::shaking her head slightly:: No, I was avoiding you. You have a right to be mad about that and about being rejected. Quentin looked down at his feet, pursing his lips. Beck: I'm not mad anymore. Well, not about that. Now I'm just mad we lost all that time to a stupid misunderstanding. ::shaking his head:: That's why I'm working on better communication skills. That includes educating myself when dealing with folks that aren't human. She frowned at that, her brow furrowing. T'Ama: Quentin, I like that you never treated me like a Vulcan. Don't go starting to now. Beck: ::smiling slightly:: No, I get it now. I think maybe I would have then, too, if you'd explained it? His gaze lifted to peer out at the stars. Beck: I'm sorry for coming at you so hot at the club, too. I think I was trying to blame the El-Aurian thing for… everything. She shifted her gaze from him to the tops of her knees, curling inward to protect something vulnerable. She was proud of that half of her heritage, and she couldn't bear to hate all of herself. T'Ama: ::softly:: Yeah, that hurt. Did you actually hate it the whole time? She thought he had been into it at the time. She never would have used it like that if he hadn't been. Quentin shook his head. Beck: No. I never did. I said it because subconsciously I knew it would hurt, and that was a dick move, so I'm sorry. I definitely didn't mean it. She stretched her legs out across the length of the couch and they were just long enough for her to press her toes into his leg. Her own symbolic olive branch. T’Ama: So… just friends? No romance? He sighed and chuckled, tipping his head once in a nod as he leaned back against the couch. Beck: No romance. I'm involved with someone right now, anyhow. You and I were always better off as friends, anyway. I'm sorry I complicated things. T'Ama: ::smiling slightly:: I'm glad you're moving on. Is’Kah could not wait to tell me you were dating someone. Beck: ::rolling his eyes:: Oh, I'm sure she couldn't. Queen of the rumor mill, that one. T’Ama: Though what is up with her lately? She kept making weird pointed comments about you like she was jealous. Beck: ::scrunching up his face:: I maybe sort of kind of accidentally went on a date with her. If she had been drinking anything she would have done a spit take. T’Ama: You went on a date with Is’Kah?! Beck: ::sighing and rubbing his face with both hands:: Okay, but I thought she was joking when she first called it a date. Like we finished her medical exam and she asked if I wanted to join her for drinks and she said she would 'only find it logical' blah blah blah and she didn't call it a date until after I agreed. T’Ama: ::swearing in El-Aurian:: She didn't tell me THAT part. That explains a lot. Beck: ::sighing again:: I thought she was joking because of the way she said it but I forgot that Vulcany Vulcans are always so damn literal. So we went down to the Lounge and ate and it wasn't until we were done that she took my hand and said, uh… crap, how did she put it… 'I believe the next step in human courtship rituals is for you to offer me a nightcap in your quarters in a thinly veiled attempt to get me to remove my uniform'. Her eyes went wide and she clamped her hands over her mouth and kicked him from across the couch in excitement. T'Ama: Sweet Surak, noooooo! Did you die on the spot? Quentin winced and rubbed at the spot she kicked, making a face. Beck: I about choked on my beer, that's what. Her eyes twinkled with amusement. T'Ama: What did you do? What did you say?? Beck: I tried to let her down gently, but that went about as well as expected. I don't know if she's holding a grudge or anything, if she's even capable of that, but it was way embarrassing. She snickered from behind her hands, eyes shining. She forced her hands into her lap trying to contain her grin and mostly failing. T'Ama: If she's anything like my mother - and she is - she can hold a grudge. She'll tell you she isn't but she is. The mention of her mother sobered her up some and she repositioned herself on the couch to sit in the middle next to him. Feet up on the coffee table, she considered the stars as the moment grew heavy and then passed when he changed the topic. Beck: ::leaning his head back and staring down his nose out the viewport:: You like it on the Conny? T'Ama: Yeah. Jalana is very casual, it suits me. Plus luxury liner and all. It's like being back on the Louisville. How do you like the Ronny? Beck: Oh, I love it here. This place is nuts. She raised an eyebrow and smirked like no kidding. T'Ama: ::dryly:: Yeah, I noticed that. Barring her very first day on the Conny, these last few days on the Ronin had been nonstop insanity. It was quite the contrast. T’Ama: How is Alice? Did you get to bring her with you? Beck: ::smiling warmly:: Oh yeah, she's here, too. She's adapted remarkably well to living on a ship. Though… hell, I still don't know where she came from originally, she could've been brought to Earth by a transport from the Martian colony for all I know. She's happy, though, at least I think. T'Ama: She's a cat, she's probably from Earth. Though it's unusual to find a purebred randomly outside. Beck: You should come say hello at some point. I'm sure she'd love to see you. T'Ama: What, like now? Beck: Just sometime before you leave. You could meet her in the Medical Lab if you want, she comes there a lot to spend the day with me if I'm too busy to go back to my quarters. T'Ama: ::smirking:: It's a date then. He made a choking sound at the back of his throat. Then scowled and crossed his arms, scrunching up his shoulders. Beck: Oh, go to Hell. I lied, she doesn't miss you at all. She threw her head back and cackled immensely at his reaction. T’Ama: Ahhh, I have missed this. Beck: ::scowling deeper:: I didn't miss you, either. Or this. T'Ama: ::smugly:: Yeah ya did. He pushed out his lower lip, screwing up his face a little more… then sighed, his shoulders slumping, and he raised an arm to hook over her shoulders, letting his head tip back against the back cushion again. Beck: You're so damned annoying. T'Ama: ::snickering:: You love it. He gave her a firm sideways hug before detangling himself and letting his hands drop into his lap, kicking his feet up on the table next to hers. Beck: Heh. This kinda reminds me, we sat like this after uh… oh hell, who was it that taught that Operations and Command Functions course we took together? T'Ama: Professor Vinku? The Denobulan guy? Beck: Yeah, Vinku! That one class where we had to give the thirty-minute presentation and he stopped us halfway through because he didn't like our take on the responsibilities of an Operations officer - he just wanted us to repeat what he'd told us in class without any changes whatsoever. Still gave us a passing grade on that project, but just barely, and we took the shuttle up to the orbital station and sat in one of the viewports all night, grousing over a bottle of Bolian ale. T'Ama: Yeah and we cooked up ways to prank him so his face would puff up! ::she laughed:: Beck: That was… a good night. Not sure I've had one quite like it since. T'Ama: Well… Turns out this guest room comes with a stocked mini bar. She popped up from the couch and bent over to look into a lower cabinet, giving him a rather nice view. His eyes widened and his gaze flicked away, cheeks coloring slightly as he studied instead one of the seams in between panels in the ceiling. Thankfully the color drained before she stood again. When she straightened up she had several small bottles in hand and offered him the assortment after she plopped back down beside him. T’Ama: No Bolian ale but there's, uh, all this stuff. ::turning a bottle to read the label:: Trill kahlua. Beck: ::taking the bottle to look it over:: Wonder if Cap bought way too much of this and just shoved it in the VIP quarters to get rid of it. Heh. T'Ama: Probably. Shaking his head, he looked it over for a moment before twisting off the cap and raising it to take a sip. It wasn't too different from the old kahlua recipe he'd had on Earth - pretty sweet, tasted like coffee, but not quite like any coffee he'd ever tasted before. He smacked his lips before taking another sip, then held it out to her. Beck: It's a little much. T'Ama: Is it? She took the bottle from him and took a sip herself, cocking her head thoughtfully as she considered it before downing the rest of it. It was only a little bottle. T’Ama: It was alright. Try another one. She laid out the other little bottles across their laps for him to choose from. Beck: ::wrinkling his nose:: Lessee… this one is… ugh. The small bottle was about half the size of the Trill kahlua and held a green liquid. Beck: It's just called 'Green'. I've heard of this one. Shaking his head, he twisted off the cap and took a tiny sip. His face screwed up and he smacked his lips a few times before taking another sip, then handed her the rest. Beck: Oh yeah, that is green, all right. She took the bottle and downed the rest of it. T'Ama: ::surprised:: That does taste exactly how I'd expect green to taste. He plucked up another little bottle, Aldebarian Amaretto, and opened it to sniff it. Beck: Oooo, this one smells nutty. She leaned over to sniff it too. T'Ama: I can barely smell anything with the nasal inhibitors. I bet that actually stinks a lot. Beck: I probably shouldn't have too many of these, I'm supposed to take a duty shift in Sickbay this evening… T'Ama: Well, good thing you're a doctor then and have free access to the hyposprays. Just give yourself a sober up one. Beck: ::lop-sided smile:: I mean, that's what I was gonna do but those things give me headaches if I had too much to drink and I don't like doing a painkiller at the same time. She grabbed her box of chocolate covered potato chips he gave her and selected a large chip to offer him before selecting a small chip for herself. She always liked to eat them smallest to largest. T’Ama: Have something to eat with them then. Beck: ::shaking his head and taking the chip:: Clever girl. Or maybe it's clever me, since I brought those for you. She smiled and they clicked their chips together as if to toast. —- Ensign Quentin Beck Medical Officer USS Ronin NCC-34523 A238810SA0 & Lieutenant JG T’Ama Operations Officer USS Constitution-B C240004T11

I always appreciate it when we respect the fact that life doesn't have a reset button after the mission. So here is @Talia Ohnari dealing with the after effects of getting hit by a sleeping dart in a wonderfully comedic way. But she's also struggling quite seriously with how some portions of the mission went for her. Loved all of this. Also looking forward to seeing how our somewhat taciturn paramedic responds!

I was waiting for @Tomas Falt 's reply to @John Kendrick 's request for Tomas to be his son godfather. From the first time I saw the two simming togheter I enjoy their playing. indigenous peoples of Earth. I made it myself, and added modern bedding for good measure. Kendrick: Tomas gave his friend a smile. Falt: It’s basically a portable crib. Tough enough that Christopher can be safe in it outside whilst we’re putting the finishing your cabin. Kendrick: Response. Falt: Yes, we. Consider this me volunteering to help you build it. If you need a hand that is? Kendrick: Response. Tomas set the cradleboard down before reaching inside and pulling out two glass bottles. Falt: ::smiling:: I came across an old Earth traditional called “wetting the babies head,” and I had a couple of bottles of Duvel left from the barbeque last year… He passed one bottle to Kendrick, and opened the other for himself. Falt: Apologies, they’re not very cold. ::raising the bottle:: To your family… Kendrick: Response. TAG/TBC Lieutenant Commander Tomas Falt Executive Officer Denali Station J239807TF2

((And the conclusion of "White Tribble" and "1 Hypo makes you larger, and 1 hypo makes you small" )) (( Ba'el's Mind, Paioke Colony-Drever IV)) The older Klingon again nodded approvingly to her. A look of approval on his face, W'mar: No, I am not. :: Takes another drink from his flask before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand:: So, if I am not really W'mar, as you say, then what am I? Ba'el stared at him for a moment before she lowered her gaze, unsure how to answer the question. W'Mar chuckled to himself for a moment before he spoke again. W'mar: Come now, this should be a simple question and easy to answer. I thought you were a trained "counselor', and not a trainee on her first cadet cruise. There was a mocking tone to his questions, and Ba'el could feel her own temper build in response. Ba'el: I am a Counselor! W'mar: Then answer the question! What. Am. I? Ba'el thought a moment before responding to his challenge. Ba'el: Since all of this ::Gestures around herself:: isn't real, then it is a construct of my unconscious mind which means ::Glares at W'mar:: You are as well. W'mar: ::nods:: Very good. Ba'el: Then what is all this about then? ::Glares:: Why now? The old monk met her stare, and the challenge it implied. It is a test of wills, but Ba'el refused to avert her eye's in deference to the older Klingon. W'mar's steely gaze was evenly matched with the fire in Ba'el's eyes. The standoff lasted only a moment before W'mar smiled and took another drink. tacitly yielding to the younger woman. W'mar: Good. I see you still have the heart of a Klingon warrior. Even if you reject the warriors path. Ba'el: I have not rejected the warriors path! W'mar: Oh? ::cocks his head slightly to the side:: You left your people, and joined starfleet to be a "counselor" for the glory of the empire I suppose? ::a dismissive gesture:: Bah! Ba'el took a deep breath to focus her thoughts and not give in to her anger. Ba'el: I left because that was the path laid out before me in my visions. Not every battle can be won in physical combat! Not every battlefield is so simple as an open field! Not every enemy is easy to slay! W'mar dismissed her statements with a wave of his hand. W'mar: Invisible enemies? in our minds? Perhaps human minds are vulnerable to these "enemies", But a Klingon mind is stronger. Ba'el: No, it is not. All minds are strong, Klingon or otherwise. But even the strongest ones can be worn down by unexpected foes, by enemies the mind cannot cope with. I have seen it with my own eyes. W'mar shakes his head in disbelief. W'mar: I'm confused. You talk of helping others minds, like a doctor, yet you also talk of fighting enemies that are unseen. So which are you? A healer of minds, or a Klingon Warrior? Ba'el leaps to her feet, fists balled, glaring angrily at the old monk. Ba'el: I AM BOTH A HEALER AND A WARRIOR! W'mar looked up at her with a stony look on his face. W'mar: Is that so? Tell me how this can be? Ba'el took a moment to regain her control before speaking again. her heart pounding in her chest. Ba'el: I stand with those who have been condemned to fighting a lonely battle. With no support, no reinforcements and no chance to rest and regain their strength. A battle against an enemy already entrenched within their minds. The enemy is tireless, their very strength can double the moment you aren't looking. It is a long campaign against almost impossible odds. Against such an enemy, every moment of survival is seen as a victory. For me, there is no more honorable combat than this. And I will never yield. W'mar looked at her in silence. The crackle of the fire filling the silence between them. Ba'el: This is an enemy that does threaten our people. An enemy against we have no defense. An enemy our people don't see as a threat. But it is there. And has already claimed the minds of those caught unawares. I have seen those who suffered amongst our people. They are treated as weak cowards, or simpleminded. But they have suffered at the hands of enemies that can make a Klingon's blood run cold with fear. W'mar: What enemies. We fear no-one! Now it was Ba'el's turn to be dismissive. Ba'el: The Borg for one. An enemy that cares nothing for honor, that views us as simply a resource to be harvested. The hearts of even the greatest of Klingon warriors will know fear. The fear of being robbed of the self through assimilation. The fear of defeat without a glorious death in combat. I remember seeing the Klingons rescued from the Borg on Boreth. They were hollow shells of themselves, and all but forgotten by their fellow Klingons. W'mar simply stared at her. Saying nothing. Ba'el: I was a young acolyte then. But I knew this was wrong. Kahless never turned his back on his people, and yet we claim to follow in his footsteps? The enemy had shown themselves to me. To fight them, I needed training I could not get in the empire. So yes, I turned to the Federation. And yes, I joined Starfleet. They had the knowledge I needed to fight this enemy. Someday I will return to the Empire. And when I do, it will be armed with the weapons. the skills, and the experiences of this path. She stopped to take a breath and looked down at him. Ba'el: I have freely surrendered my todays, for my peoples tomorrows. W'mar slowly regained his feet. He walked around the small fire to stand before Ba'el. W'mar: Your heart, is truly Klingon. With such fire, futures are forged. With a final nod of respect, the old Klingon monk begins to talk back to the tunnel he arrived from. Just before he enters, he turns to look at Ba'el on last time. W'mar: Ba'el, daughter of Laneth, of the house of Konjah. I wish you well on your path. Qaplah! Ba'el: Qaplah! Brother W'mar Ba'el watched him walk into the tunnel. eventually, he faded from sight. oO Well that was interesting. But I still don't know how to wake myself up. Oo From the tunnel, W'mar's voice could be heard one final time. W'mar: One more thing. Getting injured by animal traps will not help you get into to Sto-vo-kor. So try not to get darted again? oO Darted? Oo Pain suddenly flared in her hip and side. the burning sensation made her nerves scream in agony. She felt herself falling. Her last sight was the cavern floor rushing up to meet her before she blacked out. ((OOC: I think that should tie it up. Wake me up outside please.)) Ensign Ba'el Counselor USS Constitution-B C240012B13

((This is the continuation of "White Tribble" )) (( Ba'el's Mind, Paoike Colony-Drever IV)) W'mar: Ba'el, daughter of Laneth, of the house of Konjah. We need to talk. Ba'el: Talk? ::Tilts her head in confusion:: About what? The old monk simply grunted with amusement. He pulled a flask from within his robes, opened the cap and took a deep drink before he returned his gaze to her. W'mar: About why you are here. Ba'el was even more confused now. Ba'el: Why I am here? I do not even know how I got here! The last thing I remember was....was W'mar: Drever IV? Ba'el looked up sharply. The memory coming back to her. Ba'el: Yes! I was helping one of the colonists and went to get some water for his garden and.. The old monk laughed. Shaking his head upon hearing her words. W'Mar: Getting a colonist some water for his garden? Is THIS the path you left us to follow? And then what happened? Ba'el bristled at the old monks mocking a moment before she tried to recall what had happened. Ba'el: ::furrows her brow:: I went to get the water, as I started to walking back, I heard a noise in the underbrush, and tried to see what it was. Then it starts to get blurry and I must have blacked out. The old monk gave her an incredulous look before he took another drink from his flask. W'mar: Yes, that sort of thing can happen when you get shot in the 'oSrlq by a couple of darts! Not exactly the sort of tale to inspire your fellow Klingons with. The younger Klingon woman was now confused, embarrassed and angry Ba'el: Darts? ::Shakes her head in confusion:: Wait, am I dead? W'mar: No. Merely unconscious. Ba'el: Merely unconscious? ::looks around then back to W'mar:: So this is all in mind mind. W'mar: ::nods approvingly:: Just so. It's nice to see your wits haven't been completely dulled yet. Ba'el: If this is all simply in my mind, then you aren't really W'mar. The older Klingon again nodded approvingly to her. A look of approval on his face, W'mar: No, I am not. :: Takes another drink from his flask before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand:: So, if I am not really W'mar, as you say, then what am I? ((TBC: Gotta stop to make dinner, I will pick this up again soon.)) Ensign Ba'el Counselor USS Constitution-B C240012B13

Mark knocked it out of the park with this MSPNC. Tensions are high in this scene and one wrong move by either side could bring war to this planet. Domeni’Dolce's gambit to arrest a member of the Kings Path has worked, but he didn't expect the other parties to be there. Meanwhile Achi'Trinot might actually be the one in control, as we soon learn, it looks like he's ready to do anything for his cause. Then when he was surrounded with blades to to his throat, Mark took what I gave him (which was quite bare bones) and elevated it to new heights. Mark then drops the hardest line ever and my jaw on the floor when I read it. "Achi’Trinot: Your choice; martyr or prisoner. " @Josh Herrick

Alice is amazing to see her point of view while @Quentin Beck's quarters get invaded ((Quentin Beck's Quarters - USS Ronin)) Odd. Strangers in the room, though one scent was familiar; Alice had picked up on it a few times in the corridor outside when making her way to the medical lab, and once very recently near the hole in the wall where her Father retrieved food for her. The one with that scent was there again now, and they'd opened up another hole beside it and had not brought food for her. She did not approve. Leaping down from the top level of her tree, she padded towards Smelly and mrowled. They were next to the food dispenser, after all. Alice: <<Feed me, peasant.>> Stranger: She blehbleh hungry? Alice sat down expectantly in the spot where Smelly would have set their feet to climb out of the hole, a clear indication she was upset at not being fed. She glanced over her shoulder at the Stranger, her tail flicking in confirmation as she licked her chops. She also purred loudly. All of the traditional signals any hairless one should know for feeding. Smelly: Do you think blehblehblehblehbleh animal blehblehbleh person blehblehbleh? Stranger: :: shrugs :: Blehblehblehbleh. Blehblehbleh fur blehbleh. She's cute. :: bends down and strokes the cat :: Aren't you a nice girl. Oh. Ooooh! The one thing Alice loved more than food was attention. She purred loudly, raising her rear end and turning to press as much of herself against the Attention Giver's hand as possible, her tail curling around their wrist. She considered for a moment flopping onto the floor and rolling onto her back for belly rubs, but that seemed far too scandalous on a first meeting. Smelly made an ugly sound with an ugly look on their face. Smelly and Ugly: :: eugh :: Blehblehbleh. Bleh bleh holo-emitters ready? Attention Giver: Yes, blehblehblehblehbleh beta shift blehblehbleh. Blehblehbleh how you wanted. The Attention Giver stopped giving attention to her once Smelly and Ugly started talking again. Alice stretched out on the floor and flicked her tail in indignation, turning to face Smelly and Ugly and staring up at them, still waiting to be fed. Smelly and Ugly: :: devious :: Blehblehblehblehblehbleh. Blehbleh. Former Attention Giver: I don't think blehblehblehblehbleh. Blehblehblehblehblehbleh? I thought blehblehblehblehblehblehbleh good idea? Smelly and Ugly: Blehblehbleh you lack imagination blehbleh. Blehblehblehblehblehblehbleh no big deal. Blehblehblehblehbleh Luxa. Blehblehbleh kiss blehblehblehbleh Luxa blehbleh bare ass. Her ear flicked at the mention of Luxa, the other cat in Father's life. Alice had not met her yet, had only picked up her scent lingering on Father, and she was aghast that he would spend so much time with her and not Alice. Her purr grew lower in volume and intensity, though it was hardly a sign of approval. She licked the back of her paw and started to bathe herself. Former Attention Giver: True. Blehblehblehbleh. Smelly and Ugly: I hate him. Blehblehblehblehblehbleh terrified blehblehblehblehbleh never forget. Blehblehblehblehblehbleh Luxa blehblehblehbleh friends bleh capable bleh. Friends blehblehbleh know exist. Her ear flicked again at those first words - she had heard Father say them many times in their short time together, usually while he thought he was alone and usually while he was looking at a flat hairless one that was even more hairless than usual. Sometimes while talking to a different flat hairless one. Former Attention Giver: Blehblehblehbleh we're watching. Smelly and Ugly and Hateful: Blehblehbleh. Blehblehblehbleh greatest fears to life. :: looks to time on the replicator :: Bleh go blehblehbleh shift ends. Former Attention Giver and Smelly and Ugly and Hateful walked past her without offering any food and what little affection she might have felt for either dropped to nil. She stopped bathing herself, only partly done, pushing herself to stand and mrowling at them as they moved to the door. Smelly and Ugly and Hateful paused to look back into the room and made the same face Father made when looking at her, but it was smelly and ugly and hateful. Stopping in the middle of the room and sitting, she wound her tail around her feet, staring at Smelly and Ugly and Hateful. Her purr of annoyance deepened when she was left alone. Father would be hearing about this. Alice Ragamuffin Kitty and Quentin's Companion USS Ronin NCC-34523 A238810SA0 as written by Ensign Quentin Beck Medical Officer USS Ronin NCC-34523 A238810SA0

(( Paoike Colony - Crever IV)) Beside the small pool, Ba'el lay where she had fallen. The simple, locally made, compound that coated the darts, was intended to only induce some mild disorientation and discomfort in local fauna. The darts, based on size, and dosage, were sufficient to encourage animals to avoid the colony without causing them any permanent harm. But Ba'el wasn't one of the local fauna. And her Klingon physiology reacted a bit differently to the compounds introduction to her system. It was nothing that would endanger her life, and she would recover in time. But for now, Ba'el was drawn into a very vivid dream. And every so often, her prone form twitched. The first thing she noticed was that she was very warm. A soft crackling sound and the scent of burning wood forced Ba'el to open her eyes. She found herself sitting on the ground in front of a small fire. She looked down at herself and was surprised to discover herself dressed as an initiate of the Followers of Kahless. Ba'el lifted her eyes to examine her surroundings. Though it was dark, she began to pick out enough details to know where she was. oO I know this place! These are the caves just north of the monastery on Boreth! Oo The last thing she recalled, was being part of an away team on Drever IV. So how did she come to be here? Her thoughts were interrupted by a gruff voice. "So, you are awake at last." Ba'el looked up to see a figure swathed in a heavy cloak walk from the darkness and into the chamber. She watched them approach until the figure stopped.The figure pulled back the deep hood of their cloak revealing themselves to be a Klingon male, who was a great deal older than her. At once, she knew who he was. Ba'el: Brother W'mar? What is going on? W'mar: Be silent! The older Klingon settled to the ground, taking a seat across the fire from Ba'el. She remembered brother W'mar from her time at the monastery. He had been one of her tutors during her studies. W'mar was a harsh teacher who had expected his students to do more than simply memorize the words and repeat them when required. His students were required to apply critical thinking to what they read and how the writings applied to the universe as it is now, and not when when they were written. He conducted debates that were almost interrogations until he was satisfied that his students had a clearer understanding of the writings of Kahless. He glared at Ba'el for a moment before speaking again. W'mer: Ba'el, daughter of Laneth, of the house of Konjah. We need to talk. Ensign Ba'el Counselor USS Constitution-B C240012B13

Love these sims with Work, really building up for an adventure on Ferenginar. I know it's not easy writing two of your own characters in one sim but @Marty Tucker is able to make them seem like distinct and true characters! Can't wait to see what happens next!

Holodeck is always fun, and since @Tomas Faltorganized the event I'm looking forward to see how things will evolve. A nice collaboration from Falt,Xiron,Harper and Forsyth! ((Cable car in the Alps, Holodeck 2, Deck 6, USS Eagle)) Harper: We could just order the computer to give us appropriate attire… Falt: ::with mocked shock:: Where’s the fun in that? Besides, real spies wouldn’t be able to ask the computer to just provide them with clothes. Xiron::nodding toward the others:: Ready? Harper: I suppose so. Tomas gave a grin Falt: Besides. I’m sure you know how to incapacitate someone? Vahin: ::to the guests:: My apologies; I swear I saw something that looked bear-like. Xiron: I must have burrowed back underground. Harper: I do, actually. Tomas raised an eyebrow, it was a good question and it would be equally sensible to have an answer before they did anything drastic. He thought quickly. Falt: Why don’t we dress them in our clothes and then tell security at the top that they tried to attack us? Harper: I guess that’s what we’re going to have to do. Satisfied Harper was now on the same page as the rest of them Tomas tuned back into the conversation around him… Guest: I think something is going on here. I think we better tell the host about this when we reach the top. Despite Vahin’s amusing struggle with Earth trivia his performance was having the desired effect, the guests were all completely focused on him and not the rest of the team. Xiron was the first to take advantage and strike, hitting her target in the back of the neck. Appropriately for a spy thriller the woman simply collapsed as a result, unconscious. Harper was next up, using a sleeper hold to subdue her quarry. Harper: There we go. Vahin: It’s about time. With two of his crowd already down Vahin ended his show with a powerful uppercut to his targets chin. Vahin: ::softly:: Sorry. Xiron: Nice punch Vahin! Harper: It was a very nice punch. Tomas nodded, it had indeed been a good punch. His own target was still standing and beginning to look really angry at the events that had just unfolded in front of him. Tomas brought him down with a swift chop to the jugular. Harper: I guess we’d best get changed. Falt: That was the idea, yes. Xiron::Smiling slyly:: So….Are we all just going to change in this car together or can we pause the game for privacy. The question gave Tomas pause. He was pretty sure they’d all gone through decontamination cycles or had torn uniforms over the years, but he now realised that really wasn’t the same as stripping down for a holodeck game… Before he could reply the holodeck arch appeared in the middle of the car, before swishing open to deliver Lieutenant Forsyth into their game. Forsyth: Hi, Sorry I was late but I had to take a call from my mother. Tomas raised an eyebrow, as entrances went it wasn’t the most subtle. Harper: If anyone wishes to have some privacy, please feel free. Xiron::Her antennae bounced in a shrug at Harper’s statement..::Alright then. Tomas wasn’t remotely concerned about taking his uniform off, he had sensible under garments on after all. He bent down and began removing the smart suit from his victim. Falt: ::to Forsyth as he dressed himself:: Glad you could join us! Forsyth: Thank you, W-What are we doing here? Vahin: We’re spies and um…we’re stealing clothes. Tomas finished pulling on his new pants and shirt and set to work tying his bowtie. Falt: Since you’ve joined late I suggest you just replicate something Forsyth: Oh, Right.::beat:: That makes more sense now, Cool. Vahin: ::pulling on his stolen pants:: I’m almost ready. Harper: I guess we’re ready then? Forsyth: I'm not really familiar with spy thrillers, I'm more of a detective fan. Vahin: ::patting Alex on the shoulder:: Just follow our lead. ::looks to Harper:: Ready. Xiron: Ready! Tomas adjusted his bow tie and donned his jacket. He regarded his reflection in the glass of the cable car for a moment. The program had done a good job with the suit, he really looked the part. Falt: Ready. Which was a good thing, because the cable car was now arriving at the top station whether he was ready or not. It came to a smooth half and the doors swished open. To his surprise they were not met by a single immaculately dressed butler or compere, rather than a security party. Harper: Oh thank goodness! Please, help, they attacked us! Vahin: ::stumbles out of the cable car:: Safe at last! ::feigning fear:: We could have died in there! Harper: These people should be tossed in jail. Tomas rolled his eyes at the overacting, but couldn’t fault them for getting into the spirit of things. Forsyth: Response Butler: Welcome to… He was stopped mid-sentence by Vahin grabbing his lapels. Vahin: We were attacked! I would have died if not for the bravery of that man and woman. ::he motions to Falt and Xiron:: Tomas decided to attempt to look like someone doing their best to keep their cool despite the situation. He knew he wasn’t a very good actor, but on this occasion that might actually help. Falt::: over-exaggeratingly calm:: It was certainly an unpleasant situation. Forsyth: Response Butler: ::politely removing Vahin from his lapels:: Please, sir. Calm yourself. What happened? The butler looked much more offended by Vahin’s physical assault on his uniform than the one that had supposedly taken place in the cable car. Vahin: ::overacting:: I’m sorry it’s all too much… Xiron: It all happened so fast! Harper: They attacked us in the car once the doors were closed. Forsyth: Response Falt: We managed to subdue them. I must say I wasn’t expecting riff-raff like this to have been invited to the party. Now Vahin had finally released him the butler seemed to pay more attention to their claims. Vahin: Everything they said is true! You need to send the car back down! Hurry before they wake up and attack us again! With the butler distracted Tomas watched as Xiron moved behind him to the cable car control panel. He jumped back slightly as a few seconds later the car behind him suddenly left the station in reverse. Xiron: Oh my! The car has malfunctioned. When was the last time someone ran a diagnostic on it?::Her antennae shot straight up as she gasped in mock surprise.:: Despite the overacting Tomas was impressed at the initiative she’d shown. He decided the situation now merited a more indignant approach. Falt: ::to the butler:: First you let the riff raff in, and now the cable car has a mechanical issue? That could have been me out there now, man. This is simply unacceptable. The butler stared at him silently, with the look of a man suddenly concerned he might lose his job. Vahin / Forsyth: Response Xiron took an invitation out of her stolen handbag and waved it in from of the butler, who now looked like his world was crashing down around him. Harper did the same, prompting Tomas to search for his. He found it in the inner pocket of his jacket. Xiron: I seemed to have forgotten my coat. We should just head on inside. Harper: Agreed. Ugh, what a horrible way to start a night. Please do something about those horrible people! Tomas flourished his own invitation before giving the man a final glare and following the others Harper: Well, that was interesting. The team set out towards the only obvious entrance, a large doorway cut directly into the mountainside. As they neared the highly decorated double doors Tomas realised he could hear faint music from within. Without any obvious manual intervention they swung open as the group neared, causing the music volume to peak. Tomas crossed the threshold and found himself in an enormous room, essentially a cavern carved into the mountain. He’d thought the doors had been highly decorated but the décor in the cavern was something else. Every surface he could see was adorned with white silk or gold, all lit by numerous fine chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Harper: This looks more like a mansion. Falt: Agreed. Forsyth / Vahin / Xiron: Response They came to a cloak room and Harper checked in her recently stolen fur coat. Tomas stood back, since he didn’t have a coat to check in. Harper: What information do we have about our target? Falt: Almost nothing. We know their the owner of this… establishment, and the host of the party, but beyond that your guess is as good as mine. Forsyth / Vahin / Xiron: Response The music changed to a more upbeat number, causing some of the holographic guests to make their way to the dance floor. Harper: Should we stay together or split up? Falt: I think we split up, we can cover more ground that way. I’m not much of a dancer, so I’ll head toward the bar… Forsyth / Vahin / Xiron / Harper: Response Falt: Ask questions, poke around, see what we can find out? That kind of thing. He paused for a moment to snag a glass of champagne from the tray of a circling waiter. Falt: Who knows, there might even be a game of poker we could join. Forsyth / Vahin / Xiron / Harper: Response Tomas nodded in agreement. Fortunately, as well as the rather excellent suit his victim had been wearing he’d also sported a splendid Swiss watch that now adorned his own wrist. Falt: Let’s meet back here in say, half an hour? Forsyth / 5 di 4091 Lieutenant Commander Tomas Falt: Confusing the Butler 0 visualizzazioni Foto del profilo di Tomas_Falt Tomas_Falt da leggere, 3 apr a sb118-...@googlegroups.com OOC: I've put an ANY tag in at the end of this sim as it would be a perfect spot for anyone else to join in. ((Cable car in the Alps, Holodeck 2, Deck 6, USS Eagle)) Harper: We could just order the computer to give us appropriate attire… Falt: ::with mocked shock:: Where’s the fun in that? Besides, real spies wouldn’t be able to ask the computer to just provide them with clothes. Xiron::nodding toward the others:: Ready? Harper: I suppose so. Tomas gave a grin Falt: Besides. I’m sure you know how to incapacitate someone? Vahin: ::to the guests:: My apologies; I swear I saw something that looked bear-like. Xiron: I must have burrowed back underground. Harper: I do, actually. Tomas raised an eyebrow, it was a good question and it would be equally sensible to have an answer before they did anything drastic. He thought quickly. Falt: Why don’t we dress them in our clothes and then tell security at the top that they tried to attack us? Harper: I guess that’s what we’re going to have to do. Satisfied Harper was now on the same page as the rest of them Tomas tuned back into the conversation around him… Guest: I think something is going on here. I think we better tell the host about this when we reach the top. Despite Vahin’s amusing struggle with Earth trivia his performance was having the desired effect, the guests were all completely focused on him and not the rest of the team. Xiron was the first to take advantage and strike, hitting her target in the back of the neck. Appropriately for a spy thriller the woman simply collapsed as a result, unconscious. Harper was next up, using a sleeper hold to subdue her quarry. Harper: There we go. Vahin: It’s about time. With two of his crowd already down Vahin ended his show with a powerful uppercut to his targets chin. Vahin: ::softly:: Sorry. Xiron: Nice punch Vahin! Harper: It was a very nice punch. Tomas nodded, it had indeed been a good punch. His own target was still standing and beginning to look really angry at the events that had just unfolded in front of him. Tomas brought him down with a swift chop to the jugular. Harper: I guess we’d best get changed. Falt: That was the idea, yes. Xiron::Smiling slyly:: So….Are we all just going to change in this car together or can we pause the game for privacy. The question gave Tomas pause. He was pretty sure they’d all gone through decontamination cycles or had torn uniforms over the years, but he now realised that really wasn’t the same as stripping down for a holodeck game… Before he could reply the holodeck arch appeared in the middle of the car, before swishing open to deliver Lieutenant Forsyth into their game. Forsyth: Hi, Sorry I was late but I had to take a call from my mother. Tomas raised an eyebrow, as entrances went it wasn’t the most subtle. Harper: If anyone wishes to have some privacy, please feel free. Xiron::Her antennae bounced in a shrug at Harper’s statement..::Alright then. Tomas wasn’t remotely concerned about taking his uniform off, he had sensible under garments on after all. He bent down and began removing the smart suit from his victim. Falt: ::to Forsyth as he dressed himself:: Glad you could join us! Forsyth: Thank you, W-What are we doing here? Vahin: We’re spies and um…we’re stealing clothes. Tomas finished pulling on his new pants and shirt and set to work tying his bowtie. Falt: Since you’ve joined late I suggest you just replicate something Forsyth: Oh, Right.::beat:: That makes more sense now, Cool. Vahin: ::pulling on his stolen pants:: I’m almost ready. Harper: I guess we’re ready then? Forsyth: I'm not really familiar with spy thrillers, I'm more of a detective fan. Vahin: ::patting Alex on the shoulder:: Just follow our lead. ::looks to Harper:: Ready. Xiron: Ready! Tomas adjusted his bow tie and donned his jacket. He regarded his reflection in the glass of the cable car for a moment. The program had done a good job with the suit, he really looked the part. Falt: Ready. Which was a good thing, because the cable car was now arriving at the top station whether he was ready or not. It came to a smooth half and the doors swished open. To his surprise they were not met by a single immaculately dressed butler or compere, rather than a security party. Harper: Oh thank goodness! Please, help, they attacked us! Vahin: ::stumbles out of the cable car:: Safe at last! ::feigning fear:: We could have died in there! Harper: These people should be tossed in jail. Tomas rolled his eyes at the overacting, but couldn’t fault them for getting into the spirit of things. Forsyth: Response Butler: Welcome to… He was stopped mid-sentence by Vahin grabbing his lapels. Vahin: We were attacked! I would have died if not for the bravery of that man and woman. ::he motions to Falt and Xiron:: Tomas decided to attempt to look like someone doing their best to keep their cool despite the situation. He knew he wasn’t a very good actor, but on this occasion that might actually help. Falt::: over-exaggeratingly calm:: It was certainly an unpleasant situation. Forsyth: Response Butler: ::politely removing Vahin from his lapels:: Please, sir. Calm yourself. What happened? The butler looked much more offended by Vahin’s physical assault on his uniform than the one that had supposedly taken place in the cable car. Vahin: ::overacting:: I’m sorry it’s all too much… Xiron: It all happened so fast! Harper: They attacked us in the car once the doors were closed. Forsyth: Response Falt: We managed to subdue them. I must say I wasn’t expecting riff-raff like this to have been invited to the party. Now Vahin had finally released him the butler seemed to pay more attention to their claims. Vahin: Everything they said is true! You need to send the car back down! Hurry before they wake up and attack us again! With the butler distracted Tomas watched as Xiron moved behind him to the cable car control panel. He jumped back slightly as a few seconds later the car behind him suddenly left the station in reverse. Xiron: Oh my! The car has malfunctioned. When was the last time someone ran a diagnostic on it?::Her antennae shot straight up as she gasped in mock surprise.:: Despite the overacting Tomas was impressed at the initiative she’d shown. He decided the situation now merited a more indignant approach. Falt: ::to the butler:: First you let the riff raff in, and now the cable car has a mechanical issue? That could have been me out there now, man. This is simply unacceptable. The butler stared at him silently, with the look of a man suddenly concerned he might lose his job. Vahin / Forsyth: Response Xiron took an invitation out of her stolen handbag and waved it in from of the butler, who now looked like his world was crashing down around him. Harper did the same, prompting Tomas to search for his. He found it in the inner pocket of his jacket. Xiron: I seemed to have forgotten my coat. We should just head on inside. Harper: Agreed. Ugh, what a horrible way to start a night. Please do something about those horrible people! Tomas flourished his own invitation before giving the man a final glare and following the others Harper: Well, that was interesting. The team set out towards the only obvious entrance, a large doorway cut directly into the mountainside. As they neared the highly decorated double doors Tomas realised he could hear faint music from within. Without any obvious manual intervention they swung open as the group neared, causing the music volume to peak. Tomas crossed the threshold and found himself in an enormous room, essentially a cavern carved into the mountain. He’d thought the doors had been highly decorated but the décor in the cavern was something else. Every surface he could see was adorned with white silk or gold, all lit by numerous fine chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Harper: This looks more like a mansion. Falt: Agreed. Forsyth / Vahin / Xiron: Response They came to a cloak room and Harper checked in her recently stolen fur coat. Tomas stood back, since he didn’t have a coat to check in. Harper: What information do we have about our target? Falt: Almost nothing. We know their the owner of this… establishment, and the host of the party, but beyond that your guess is as good as mine. Forsyth / Vahin / Xiron: Response The music changed to a more upbeat number, causing some of the holographic guests to make their way to the dance floor. Harper: Should we stay together or split up? Falt: I think we split up, we can cover more ground that way. I’m not much of a dancer, so I’ll head toward the bar… Forsyth / Vahin / Xiron / Harper: Response Falt: Ask questions, poke around, see what we can find out? That kind of thing. He paused for a moment to snag a glass of champagne from the tray of a circling waiter. Falt: Who knows, there might even be a game of poker we could join. Forsyth / Vahin / Xiron / Harper: Response Tomas nodded in agreement. Fortunately, as well as the rather excellent suit his victim had been wearing he’d also sported a splendid Swiss watch that now adorned his own wrist. Falt: Let’s meet back here in say, half an hour? Forsyth / Vahin / Xiron / Harper / Any: Response TAG / TBC Lieutenant Commander Tomas Falt Executive Officer Denali Station J239807TF2 Vahin / Xiron / Harper / Any: Response TAG / TBC Lieutenant Commander Tomas Falt Executive Officer Denali Station J239807TF2

@Korras. Once again you have melted my heart with the domestic fluff of Amar and Haukea interacting. Loved this sim from the moment I first read it. Knew I had to post it. Anything that makes me smile deserves an appreciation. ______________________________ ((Starbase 118 – Airlock near drydock)) It had been a week or so since Haukea left, but a lot of things had happened in those days. Amar had had a talk with someone from Child Services, who had given the okay for her to stay with Haukea for the meantime. They made it clear it was not a permanent okay, but for now she’d be staying. For now, no more running. While Haukea would sometimes be off-station, it was deemed okay that her neighbors checked in on her. The same woman had ran her DNA, whatever that meant. It turned out, she was not registered anywhere. Her parents simply never bothered to do so when she was born, she guessed. It did not surprise her, her parents were not all that good. It also meant that there was no way of finding them, which was fine with her, she really did not want to go back to them. And, the woman had made sure she got enrolled in school. At first, she thought it would be dumb. But, it turned out that it was not all that bad. In fact, she thought she liked learning. Vanla had always made sure everyone in the Misfits knew how to read and write, as well as maths, as it often helped in their line of ‘work’. But school was different entirely. She realized quickly that she had missed a lot of things, and would need a lot of time to catch up. But her teacher was very helpful, and she felt that she was genuinely trying to help her, and being very patient with her. The extra homework gave her something to do in the evenings as well, so it wasn’t all that bad. The day the Narendra returned, Amar was noticeably excited. So much so, that her (amused) teacher gave up when the Narendra was nearing the station, and sent her off to greet Haukea at the airdock. And that brought her to now: her face pressed against the glass as she watched the ship dock. It took a while before Haukea came through the airlock, and Amar was practically bouncing on her feet by the time she did. Amar: ::Rushing up to Haukea and hugging her:: I missed you! Willow: Response? Amar: How did it go? She had not heard any particulars of what had happened yet, just that they had encountered a bit of a problem on a diplomatic mission. Willow: Response? Amar: ::eyed widening:: is everyone okay? Willow: Response?

More genius from @LuxaLorana for torturing Our Man Beck

This was a definite share. Not only did @Arturo Maxwell paint a picture, he did it with Picasso like precision! My character began to build a scene and what he did with it was a beautiful glorious thing. Full SIM: https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-butler/c/vb5sHL50VkE

Some lovely writing from our new tactical officer. Showcasing the evolution of the relation ship between her and her academy roommate. ((OOC: Long sim is long.)) ((Academy Campus, Starbase 118)) The Narendra had returned from her mission, but with most of the senior staff on their well-deserved shore leave, Eshrevi once more had the impression she was left to figure out the intricacies of her new posting on her own. Or rather, the circumstances surrounding it. Right now, for example, she was making her way back to her old dorm room on 118’s Academy campus, because assigning her new quarters had been an oversight so far. Perhaps she should be a little more demanding, self-sufficient, and show initiative- just find the person responsible, request new accommodation, and get it over with. She wasn’t quite sure why she didn’t. Perhaps she simply liked to play PLOM (poor little old me). Or perhaps she was just exhausted and glad to be able to decompress in a place that had been her home for the past few years, rather than unpack boxes. Perhaps she didn’t want to let go. Maybe it was a mixture of all of these. ((Same location, four years ago)) Eshrevi trudged wearily back to her dorm room. Her steps were heavy with the weight of a particularly rotten and exhausting day that had the Andorian eagerly anticipate the peace and quiet of her quarters. Really, she wanted nothing more than an early night's rest after a long sonic shower. And she knew that wasn’t going to happen. Because once the doors slid open, she wasn’t greeted with the silence and solitude she so desired. Instead, some Terran (?) music was blaring from the questionable quality speakers the room was fitted with, and a sickeningly sweet scent hung in the air, intensifying her already sour mood. Eshrevi was tempted to simply turn around and leave, and considered sleeping in the library, on a park bench, or falling down the stairs to earn herself a biobed in sickbay. Retrospectively, she should probably just have picked the park bench. With a resigned sigh, the she forced a greeting as she entered, her tone already tinged with thin-veiled annoyance. Sh'shiqil: Hey Brennan. Brennan: Hey! Brennan, her roommate, responded from her desk. The woman’s oblivious cheerfulness grated on Eshrevi's nerves, and had since the day they first met. It was tradition at Starfleet’s Academy Campus to share quarters with another first-year cadet. It prepared aspiring officers for life aboard their first vessel, where they - depending on what ship they served on - were either sharing their room with one to three other junior officers, or simply lived in a hallway with all the other junior officers. Usually, Eshrevi wouldn’t mind - both her upbringing with several siblings and her previous career had gotten her used to having to earn the privilege of privacy. But in this particular case, it seemed that whoever was responsible for assigning roommates had decided to conduct some sort of social experiment where they matched two people who were utterly incompatible. Alcyone Brennan was good bit younger than Esh, and half Rodulan - which in and of itself wasn’t a crime, but didn’t make the young woman particularly likeable in Eshrevi’s eyes. Not that she had something against Rodulans as a species, but she didn’t enjoy the company of telepaths. That Brennan insisted her telepathic abilities were minor at best, didn’t make it much better. It just made her a bad telepath. In addition, Brennan somehow managed to be shy yet talkative, and prone to sharing things Eshrevi had no interest in knowing. Like how her classes went, or that she saw a squirrel - whatever the fuck a squirrel was - on the way to the library. But the worst thing-… Brennan: My mom says hi! … was that. Sh'shiqil Good for her. Eshrevi suppressed a growl of frustration as she retreated to her side of the room, her antennae stiffening with irritation. Brennan came from a sprawling family that seemed to rival the size of a major Andorian clan, and apparently called member at least once a week. She received stupid little notes of encouragement and parcels with even more stupid handmade tokens on a regular basis, and that made Eshrevi angry. Because she and her family hadn’t spoken since the day she told them she would join Starfleet. Perhaps it was an ill-advised change of careers. Eshrevi had attended, and graduated from Chekthora, the prestigious Andorian Military Institute on Andoria. She had served in the Imperial Guard long enough to build a career and reputation that made her parents proud. And now, while the skills she had learned there were valuable and would certainly be beneficial in the years to come, she was once more starting out as a cadet, and once more had to prove herself. But it wasn’t sudden. Eshrevi had played with the idea of joining Starfleet for several years, weighed pros and cons against each other, and eventually came to the conclusion that being her own person and making her own decisions was more important than chasing family approval. She had studied for the entry exam in secret, passed it with a score just high enough to get accepted, and then casually revealed her plans during an already tense family dinner. Needless to say, it hadn't gone over well. She could probably have picked a better way to inform them. Oh well. Brennan turned with a slight frown, her forest green eyes fixed on the Andorian. Another annoyance for Eshrevi—Brennan's cosmetic contact lenses. If Brennan felt discontent with her species' features, she ought to consult a therapist rather than a cosmetologist. Brennan: Did you have a bad day? :: she asked with genuine concern in her voice:: Sh'shiqil No :: responded Eshrevi a little too quickly. Then she amended:: It wasn't bad. But it didn't go as planned. Brennan: What happened? Eshrevi didn’t want to talk about it, which was pretty much what she told Brennan, who gave a slow nod but seemed unwilling to give up on having a conversation. Brennan: Do you want to hear about my day? oO Not really Oo thought Eshrevi, but she merely said: Sh'shiqil: I guess. Just make it quick. I already have a headache. Brennan either didn’t mind, or didn’t notice the jab. Brennan: It was good. I get to prepare participants for a medical trial, and I’m really looking forward to it. She was positively glowing. Ugh. Brennan was doing her major in nursing, which was basically just holding people’s hands and telling them everything was going to be fine while the doctors did the real work. Eshrevi was aiming to become a tactical officer and make sure that people didn’t get injured in the first place. Maybe she could apply for a different room, with a different roommate, but Eshrevi was concerned that making such a request would flag her as a potentially complicated cadet. Maybe she could get Brennan to request a different room. But that, too, wouldn’t make Eshrevi look good. The best course of action was probably to deal with her as little as it was possible. Sh'shiqil: Ah :: Eshrevi replied impassively, tuning out Brennan's prattle as she placed her shoes in the designated area:: Brennan: … and that was pretty much my day ::her voice trailed off, having grown quieter and a little unsteady:: Sh'shiqil: That's nice. She hadn’t noticed the change in demeanour and her patience was wearing thin. Brennan nodded solemnly, and for a moment she seemed unsure what to say. Then her eyes lit up as she continued Brennan: Oh, and I got a parcel today. Some homemade cookies. Would you like to try some? Eshrevi blinked once, slowly, and tried to ignore the surge of anger rising within her at Brennan's seemingly perfect family and their constant displays of affection. She told herself that there was no point in a confrontation, but before she could convince herself to let it go, she snapped. Her voice was loud, and edged with bitterness as she replied. Sh'shiqil: Stop flaunting your perfect family in everyone's faces. No one wants to hear it. Brennan: I-I’m sorry, I didn't mean to… ::she stammered, her voice trailing off. Her eyes filled with tears, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She fell silent, her gaze downcast. :: Eshrevi was ashamed to admit that all she could think of in that moment was that she had gotten the woman finally shut up. Her tone was laced with venom as she spoke. Brennan: You never do, do you? Always rubbing it in that you have these wonderful and loving parents and aunts and whoever the heck all these people are. Eshrevi watched Brennan's reaction, which really was no reaction at all. That didn’t calm the Andorian down one bit. She wanted to lash out, if not physically then at the very least by continuing their argument, but instead found herself confronted with a suffocating silence that stretched on and on and on, until Brennan's quiet voice broke the tense silence. Brennan: …Foster. Sh'shiqil: What? :: she hissed, not getting it:: Brennan: They're not my parents. They were my foster family :: she admitted softly:: Eshrevi felt a pang of guilt stab through her anger as Brennan's words sank in. There was no shame in having a foster family or being adopted - such practices were common enough for many species - but Eshrevi knew that, for humans, it was not. And she could imagine that it was a far cry from the perfect family she had accused Brennan of having. She opened her mouth to speak, to offer some semblance of apology, but the words caught in her throat. When nothing came forth, Brennan rose from her seat, her movements slow and deliberate as she slipped on her shoes. Without another word, she made her way to the door, and left. Finally alone, the heat of Eshrevi's anger began to dissipate, replaced by a cold, gnawing sense of guilt. She sat on her bed, glaring up at the ceiling. It wasn’t like her to lash out in anger, not any more, and especially not at someone who was so much more… fragile than she was. Would Brennan complain about her? Probably not. There wasn’t really anything to complain about, and this probably was neither the first nor the last argument she would get herself into. Still, the right thing was to apologise. The thought of facing Brennan filled her with a sense of unease. Admitting to flaws and vulnerabilities had never been her strong suit, but facing her fears and working on weaknesses was something she used to pride herself in. With a sigh, Eshrevi pushed herself to her feet and made her way to the door. She had no plan on how to find Brennan, but looking for her was better than sitting around doing nothing. Or sitting around feeling guilty. Neither was a great option. As Eshrevi approached the door, it hissed open, revealing Brennan standing on the other side. For a moment they both stood there, an awkward tension hanging in the air. Brennan: …Hey. Sh'shiqil: Hey. Their eyes met, and for a moment, neither knew quite what to say. Eshrevi cleared her throat. Sh'shiqil: Where have you been? :: she asked, her voice tentative:: Brennan hesitated for a moment before holding up a hypospray. Brennan: I got this for your headache ::she explained sheepishly.:: Her cheek flushed with embarrassment, and Eshrevi felt the last remnants of anger and annoyance crumble at the gesture. She still felt an inexplicable urge to respond with a sharp remark, like a familiar instinct to assert her independence and self-sufficiency. But she resisted. Sh'shiqil: Thank you ::she said instead, her voice softer than she intended:: Brennan nodded, retreating to her desk as Eshrevi took the hypospray. They lingered in silence for a moment longer, the weight of their previous confrontation still hanging in the air. Finally, Eshrevi broke the silence. Sh'shiqil:: Can I still have one of those homemade cookies? ::she asked, gesturing towards the box Brennan had indicated earlier:: Brennan nodded carefully, bringing the box over to her. Eshrevi selected a cookie, and the the simple act felt oddly significant. She took a bite. It was nice. Sh'shiqil: It’s nice. More awkward silence followed, and Brennan once more quietly retreated to her desk. It irked Eshrevi that the usually so verbose woman wasn’t saying anything and left the talking to her. If the last conversation had shown anything, then it was that Eshrevi wasn’t great at talking. Sh'shiqil:: I’m sorry. Brennan: I know. I’m not mad. Eshrevi nodded slowly, chewing thoughtfully on her cookie. Sh'shiqil: I failed an exam. ::she admitted. :: Brennan tilted her head to the side. Brennan: Do you want to talk about it? Eshrevi shook her head. Sh'shiqil: Not really. But I would like to hear more about your day, if that’s okay? She beckoned Brennan with a gentle wave of her hand, inviting her to sit beside her on the bed. And after a moment of hesitation, Brennan joined her. Brennan: Sure. ((Today)) Things had changed, and despite the stress Eshrevi was feeling, her steps were a lot lighter as she entered her old quarters, expecting them to be empty. They weren’t. Brennan: …Hey. Sh'shiqil: Hey! A big smile spread on Eshrevis lips, and all the stress of the past few weeks - final exams, graduation, the mission - washed off her. She hadn’t even dared to hope that Alcyone, too, had been assigned here. But with the woman’s usual excellent grades, that wasn’t a surprise. Sh'shiqil: So they overlooked your room assignment too? Honestly I would have expected this place to be better organised, but I guess everyone is busy. ::she barely inhaled before she continued:: How were your first few days? Mine were great! I took a shuttle to the Narendra and arrived during an altercation with an enemy vessel :: she smirked :: Of course they needed me on tactical, and of course I made sure everyone got home. The words just kept spilling forth, and while getting out of her uniform and into a more comfortable piece of clothing, she told Alcyone every little detail of the mission, the battle, the other officers she had met, and the presumably bright future she had ahead. Eventually, she let herself fall into one of the chairs, and closed her eyes for a moment, finally basking in the high of a battle won. Sh'shiqil: Next time, hopefully you can come too. I’m sure someone needs their hand held ::she grinned:: That was their dynamic. Eshrevi made fun of Alcyone’s chosen duty post, and the other woman tried explaining for the umpteenth time that nursing was more than emotional support for officers who had gotten slightly injured. Then Alcyone tried to make a similar comment about tactical, failed, and turned red like the butt of a Kahit. But she didn’t. She didn’t say a single word, and at the absence of the usual banter, Eshrevi opened her eyes again and looked at Alcyone, who just sat there, eyes fixed on her own hands, not saying a single word. Sh'shiqil: Zion, what happened? : Zion - the nickname Alcyone hated, but that usually made her smile when Esh said it. This time, she didn’t smile, and it took minutes before she spoke. Brennan: I failed. Sh'shiqil: … What? ::she said, not getting it. She could be a little dense sometimes:: Brennan: I … in that last test, I just froze. I didn’t get to graduate. The instructors… I don’t know. Eshrevi simply stared at Alcyone, momentarily forgetting the somewhat exaggerated display of emotion she had taught herself to not come across as too cold-hearted or threatening. She took pride in being just the right amount of both. She knew that the Instructors could be tough - they had to be. It was their job to make sure cadets were, in fact, ready to graduate. She also knew that the other woman could be a little touchy-feely, and lost her self-confidence easily. Especially when she sensed something that threw her off. But all softness aside, she was still training to be an officer. And someone working for Starfleet should be able to stand above some instructors' bad mood. Sh'shiqil: You … don’t know? ::she asked incredulously:: Brennan: I guess I’ll just… leave. Even if Eshrevi didn’t have a solution right now, this certainly wasn’t it. Sh'shiqil: No. :: she frowned :: Brennan: Why not? I can’t do anything right! :: her voice was loud, and had an usual high pitch to it:: Esh took a deep breath. She wanted to be kind and nurturing but… really that wasn’t her style. It wasn’t how she was raised. Then again, the tough love approach didn’t exactly seem like a good choice here. So she was trying something in-between - logical reasoning. Sh'shiqil: Look at me. Brennan: I don’t want to ::she said quietly:: Sh'shiqil: Do it anyway. Finally, Alcyone looked at her. She had been crying, and that … made Eshrevi angry. Not at Alcyone - okay, at Alcyone too - but mostly at whatever had happened to throw her off balance. She took a moment to suffocate that anger. Sh'shiqil: Look… :: she bit her lip, then started again..:: You weren’t ready. Once you graduate, you can get into all sorts of very unideal situations. Like me, arriving in the middle of battle, not really knowing what is going on. There will always be things that can throw you off. People die, maybe even friends. Others get severely injured. You know that. Alcyone nodded. Sh'shiqil: Not being ready is… fine. It’s not a great feeling, but you learned that now, in a training scenario. And it’s good to figure it out before you’re being thrown into situations you can’t handle. You now know this is something you have to work on, and then, you will be ready. Brennan: What if I’ll never be? Sh'shiqil: What if the Starbase explodes and opens a black hole that destroys the sector? Alcyone chewed on her lower lip, attempting the smallest of smiles. Brennan: You wouldn’t let that happen. Esh reached out, and took Alcyone’s hand, for a moment allowing herself to appreciate the other woman’s faith in her ability to keep a starbase from exploding and a black hole from forming. Sh'shiqil: Obviously. And you won’t let ‘never being ready’ happen. When can you repeat the exam? Brennan: In six months. Sh'shiqil: That gives us six months to work on the things that didn’t go well. Top grades, assignment here. Brennan: You think so? Eshrevi nodded. She was well-aware that it would take work, and even if she doubted Alcyone a slight bit, she was convinced of her own skill. And now that Eshrevi had already graduated and was no longer concerned with her own exams, she would hopefully be able to invest time into helping. In addition, it meant that she would have access to the people who mattered - if she played it right, she could recruit them to help out where it was needed. Surely some of the doctors would be willing to run with a cadet nurse when they weren’t busy with sector-altering missions. And McLaren was an abundance of confidence who could probably teach Alcyone a thing or two. All of that aside, suddenly, she was glad to not have been assigned quarters yet, and she hoped it would continue to remain an oversight. Or perhaps she could even request to stay here, though she’d need a good reason to get that approved. Hm… she would have to think of something. Sh'shiqil: Yes. I’m an excellent teacher, you know? This time, Alcyone actually smiled. Brennan: Suuuuure. You’d have me run laps whenever I answer a question wrong. Sh'shiqil: …. Yes. My class, my rules. Which was one of the many reasons Eshrevi would never become an Academy instructor herself. She actually would make people run laps or do push ups. A little physical exercise had never harmed anyone. Sh'shiqil: ::she smirked, but then turned serious for a moment:: I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier that something was up. I was… :: she hesitated, looking for the right word:: Brennan: Self absorbed? Inconsiderate? A jerkface? Esh dipped her antennae and slumped her shoulders for good measure. Sh'shiqil: … A jerkface, :: she whispered, quietly and remorsefully:: But. :: her face lit up again:: I will make it up to you. I have credits to spend. How about I take you out for dinner? Alcyone seemed to consider that, and Esh could tell that she would rather remain curled up on a ball and wallow in misery. Maybe even put on some sad music. Because really, Eshrevi liked to do that too, but she usually put a time-limit on said wallowing. Brennan: I… don’t know. Sh'shiqil: I know. That’s why I am making the decisions, Brennan. Come on, put on a nice dress. We’re going somewhere fancy. Alcyone nodded, and before she headed over to her closet, she embraced Eshrevi. That was nice because Alcyone was warm and soft, and had somehow managed to become Eshrevi’s best friend. And she was glad that they hadn’t parted ways. End Scene ___________________ Ensign Eshrevi Sh'shiqil Tactical StarBase 118 Ops

There was one of these for the Victory and I seen other ships with a simular topic, so here is a new one for a new ship, who wants to be the first to put up a funny Quote from one of the crew??

This has horrific ramifications for Beck's personal reputation despite his innocence. Hilarious work by @LuxaLorana

Here we have @TAma tying everything together for comedic gold. I love how @Quentin Beck and @Xiron helped bring this together.