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Exquisite writing from our beloved Tribble faced Cap'n, @Karrod Niac. The piggybacking of ideas from the glowing earrings, and temporal ghosts of the other teams courtesy of @Alieth @LuxaLorana T'Fearne and Sybil Nemes, being the focal point for the rest of us to play off of just made this mission all the more wonderful. This was one of the most fun missions we've had and this XO just has to share the love. j ((Store Room, Sanctuary Temple, In The Mountains of Dahkur Province, Bajor)) Niac: If they're not back by the time we're done you'll have to go and find them. I'll take one of the phasers and find a good vantage point near the front door. I'll see any Cardassians coming up the mountain long before they see me...and they won't be expecting a fight. Get our people back here and when the last Bajoran leaves... As he nodded towards the oil and tinder the whole of the room seemed to ripple around them as ghostly images of people and places rippled into view. People running from some great calamity as the ground broke and temples fell...darkened tunnels and people in chase...unfamiliar Bajoran's who he instantly recognized, even through their assumed personas. His crew, each scattered and transformed, each struggling with some burden of their own. The images vanished and Toryn gasped, wide-eyed. Raga: Ronin. ::He gasped a murmur and shot Karrod a look to see if he wasn’t just hallucinating:: Karrod..our people…like they’re…also stuck somewhere else in time? Karrod rubbed the wrinkled bridge of his nose as his vision cleared. The visions lingered in his mind like they were somehow close by, in the next room or out in the hallway. The sound of a shout or a prayer carried through from somewhere across time before the note of hope in Toryn's voice drew him back. Niac: Certainly looked that way...also looked like they were working the problem. And I think I saw Dekas wearing shoes. That'll haunt me for a while. He shook himself back into motion, ripping the seal from the waxed cork of the cask and pouring the contents down and behind another stack of wine jars. The pungent aroma of the oil quickly filled the room and Karrod's eyes started burning. He tossed the empty cask aside and reached for another. Raga: Perhaps, as each of us are closing in on why we were sent here the glow is getting stronger? Which makes sense then that we’re short on time. ::He gestured to Karrod’s uniform:: Unless you like being in blue. His brow furrowed as he turned to look at Toryn when he mouth fell open in shock. The air around him seemed to ripple and shimmer, his Bajoran rags vanished and were replaced by the uniform of the Klingon Empire, complete with baldric and house insignia. Karrod looked down at himself and found his local attire gone but replaced by an older style Starfleet uniform in the bright blue of the science division. A quick check of the pips on his collar and he realized he was only a Ensign. He tried to dismiss the implications and get back to spreading the oil around. Niac: Lets save the exploration of the multiverse for those specialists on Starbase Eighty. I'm having a hard enough time keeping track of this reality. He heard more people in the hall, families assembling as Tommin moved between them, helping where he could and offering the occasional word of support. Karrod mourned for the boy he'd met just this morning and grieved for what Tommin would face in the days ahead. Raga: The timeline better right itself or I may airlock myself. ::He grumbled:: That’s the last cask. I’m going to get the others. Try not to have too much fun before we get back. Tossing the empty cask of oil down Karrod caught a disturbed look on Toryn's face a moment before he turned towards the hatch in the floor. All around him the smell of oil and strong wine filled the storeroom with increasingly thick and eye watering fumes. Karrod hobbled towards the door but noticed a small jug of wine that had escaped their efforts and picked it up to smash it but paused, reconsidered, and popped the topper off before taking a deep drink of what turned out to be very pleasant spring wine. He passed the jug to one of the waiting families in the hallway with stern instructions. Niac: Wait five minutes then start heading down that hatch. You'll find a landing down a few steps then tunnels to follow. Keep moving deeper into the mountains. Good luck. True to his word Tommin had gotten the people organized, most already on their feet with their possessions slung or tucked or carried as best they could manage. Karrod tried to look at each one, to remember their faces, to burn the images into his mind so that they were never forgotten. He hobbled his way past them, his shifting clothing seemingly invisible to them. The changes came more frequently and by the time he'd made it to the front of the temple he'd worn an Admirals uniform in rich maroon which he'd quite liked and a gold miniskirt with exceptionally tall boots which did not flatter his figure or make walking with a broken leg any easier. At last he stood at the temple doors, his Nagus Burger uniform replaced by his Bajoran attire, and he pressed out into the storm. Karrod didn't expect the intensity of the wind this far up the mountain and was soaked to his skin by the freezing rain within ten paces. Shielding his eyes against the rain he all but stumbled into a stone that would give him a decent perch to look back down the mountain path, barely visible in the rain and dark. To his surprise, he saw lights there, slowly but steadily bobbing their way up the trail towards the monastery. He counted nearly two dozen lights before he stopped bothering. The Cardassians were nearly here. Karrod didn't know how or why they'd rushed up the mountain but the few hours they'd hoped to have evaporated like smoke in his hands. They hadn't spotted him yet, still slowly making their way up the path with their lights on, broadcasting their location with the arrogant confidence of soldiers not expecting trouble. Karrod's blood boiled as he reached into his frayed clothing and drew out the sidearm he'd kept for himself, taken from one of the dead Cardassians. He leaned against the stone and sighted in on the lead Cardassian, still hundreds of meters below them and totally unaware of the threat, simply a soldier marching miserably in the rain. Karrod's thumb moved to the activator stud but he paused and, with the temporal prime directive ringing in his ears at the last moment, changed his target to a tree stump near the man and fired. The crimson bolt briefly lit the mountain path before the tree stump ignited and exploded, showering three of the soldiers in burning wooden splinters. At first they were too shocked to do anything but scatter, weapon lights bobbing as they raced for whatever meager cover they could find on the last switchbacks up towards the temple. Then everyone began firing all at once. To Karrod's great amusement only a small fraction of the disruptor fire was fired up towards him, with each inexperienced Cardassian trooper simply firing at whatever was around them, caught totally flatfooted and unprepared. It was that arrogant belief in their own superiority that would ultimately doom their occupation but right now, it gave Karrod a chance to hobble away as he heard shouts and orders carrying up on the wind, directing more of the fire towards the stone where he'd been perched. By the time he'd hobbled back to the door they'd even managed to hit it once. He stepped back inside and closed the door behind him as more weapons fire echoed up the mountainside and harsh Cardassian voices drew closer. Exhausted, dripping wet and miserably cold, part of him wished he'd kept the jug of wine. He hobbled back towards the hallway which lead to the storeroom and found the last of the families vanishing into the room, the temple quiet but for the sounds of the storm and the weapons outside. Karrod felt an odd sense of calm fall over him as his appearance shifted once again and from the reflection off one of the puddles he'd left behind, he could tell he was wearing his proper uniform once again. He smiled at the sound of weapons fire outside grew louder. Heavy footsteps behind him a moment later heralded the arrival of his people and suddenly it was the five of them, alone in the outer chamber of the temple, exactly as they'd been when they'd arrived here. There was a great slamming on the temple door and the sounds of disruptor strikes on the walls outside. Raga: I told you not to start without us! Karrod shrugged towards the door. The thuds were getting louder. Niac: Technically they started it. Speaking of...you folks get that fire going? Evinrude/Beck/O’Connor/Raga: Response Even as they said it Karrod could hear the crackling of the flames from the hallway behind him as acrid smoke began pouring into the narrow hallway. Karrod winced, patting the stone of the temple wall near him in apology. Angry shouting from beyond the heavy temple door ceased and Karrod could see shadows moving under the edge of the door, just outside. Niac: Get ready, they're coming in. ::He sighed readied the disruptor pistol:: Next mission...the next mission will be a normal one...we're due a normal one, right Toryn? Evinrude/Beck/O’Connor/Raga: Response He smiled at his people and, quite inappropriately for the situation began laughing, a deep rich sound echoing off the high ceilings of the temple. The laughter continued and grew louder until it was swallowed up by the sound of the door exploding and weapons firing, Cardassians firing blindly inwards as his people fired back. As the bolts crossed the room time slowed, the scarlet lightning of the weapons frozen in mid-air as the rushing troops became wispy statues, the room and the temple and the mountain and the storm all fading around them as Karrod felt himself falling, tumbling towards some distant point of light that felt familiar. That somehow felt like home. He reached towards it across time and space and when his hand fell upon it the whole of the universe seemed to twist. From somewhere nearby he heard his own voice and then suddenly the world came into focus. ((B'Hala Excavation Site, Kendra Provence, Bajor, The Present Day)) Niac: I asked for a prize, not a reason to make half the crew mutiny. Lets get to.... Karrod blinked, shocked at the brilliant sun and the warm breeze. Shocked at the expressions of both Alieth and Carpenter, standing exactly where they had been, but looking just as baffled as he felt. He glanced over and a Prylar was standing a few meters away, a large stone box under one arm and a perplexed expression on her face. Those differences washed over him as he tried to put his sense of reality back together. A new band of sensations flooded through him as Niac rushed back into his mind, awash with confusion and delight, questioning if Karrod knew what had just happened. It took him a moment to assemble his thoughts. Niac: Did you two just... Karrod rubbed the bridge of his nose was was delighted to find it as smooth as it always had been. Alieth/Carpenter: Response Niac: And our people... He glanced around and a few meters away near the marshaling area for the runabouts Toryn stood with a stunned expression, merrily lifting the heaviest thing he could find with plain delight on his face. Every face he found was baffled, or delighted, or confused...but all of them were there. They'd returned. In his shock he'd missed the Prylar walking over until the young woman cleared her throat to get his attention. Nyssa: Thank you for coming all this way, Captain, but I don't know why you've brought so many people. We just wanted you to examine this chest that we recovered when we excavated a new section of the city a few days ago. I think you'll see why we contacted Starfleet. Karrod's confusion and disorientation slowed his responses down as he tried to make sense of the moment. Niac: Chest...wait...wasn't there a Ranjen... Alieth/Carpenter: Response Unperturbed by their questions the young priestess set the stone chest down in front of him and Karrod gasped. The inlaid etching on the lid was a perfect reproduction of the mandala he'd spent the last day looking at, exactly as it had been etched into the mountain somewhere in Dahkur. Yet behind it, exactly as it had looked when a bolt of lightning had lit the temple, was the profile of an Akira class starship. Their ship. Niac: The Ronin. Where did you find this? Nyssa: In a chamber that pre-dates the fall of the city by several thousand years at least, although our instruments had trouble getting accurate dating information on this particular piece. It's age was different every time we tried...once it was only around ninety years old, another time it was more than twenty thousand....and there's the etching, of course... Alieth/Carpenter: Response Karrod felt compelled to lay a hand upon the smooth lid, the stone somehow warm under his hand. The whole top of the box shifted open, hinging away from his hand as if by hidden springs, and when the lid fully opened he gasped at what was laying inside, shining brightly as the daylight played off the metal and gems. His hand went to one in particular and for just the faintest moment the gem seemed to glow with faint inner light. He glanced to Alieth and Kirsty, their expressions as shocked as his was. The prylar was the first to speak. Nyssa: What interesting designs...these look like they could be from several different periods in Bajors history...but I'd need to consult a reference to pick out the exact eras...very odd to see them grouped together like this....none of them should've been available to pre-fall B'hala though...and there's an inscription.... She leaned in and studied the flowing script carved into the interior lip of the box, only visible now with the lid open. She took a few moments to work out the language and her face paled when she finished. Nyssa: It says...it says Bajor will always be with you. With those that saw and did not stand aside. But how...how could... Karrod accepted the box and it's precious contents, gently closing the lid as the earrings jangled inside. He realized part of him was going to miss that sound. Niac: It's...the will of the Prophets, Prylar. After today I've given up trying to make sense of it. Alieth/Carpenter: Response Karrod took in their expressions and, giddy to be able to walk again, turned and headed back towards the landing site. Niac: I don't know about either of you but I think it's time we got ourselves and our people back to the ship. We can explain things to the Bajorans tomorrow...::he chuckled to himself as the breeze tickled his beard::...it looks like we've got plenty of time. Oh and Commanders? Everybody gets pizza. Karrod smiled as Niac continued to roil in confusion deep inside him, the box of earrings jangling quietly under his arm as he headed back towards the runabouts...and home. [[Tags/End Mission for Karrod!]] ((OOC: Another amazing mission in the books, everyone! Wrap up those mission sims over the weekend and look for my shoreleave starter tomorrow. For anyone who wants to get an early start we'll be traveling aboard the newly repaired Ronin as we head back to the Isles, so feel free to start up your shoreleave sims in your quarters or otherwise aboard ship! Great job everybody!)) ================================ Captain Karrod Niac Commanding Officer USS Ronin - NCC-34523 V239509GT0

A superlative bit of writing from my Captain. Evocative and heartfelt. Just wonderful stuff… ((Deck 1, Bridge, USS Khitomer)) PADD mountain had dwindled, but he doubted it would ever be fully defeated. For every issue he addressed, another arrived, and the rotating cast of fearful-eyed junior enlisted messengers had started to show their trepidation with the haste of their departure. The captain’s glare was not something they wished to contend with, especially on instructions from someone else- the middle was an ugly place to be caught in bureaucratic tizzy. But it was the last arrival that had ground Shayne’s gears into a fine ash. She’d stepped in, and almost fell backwards, as if a gust of wind had blown her askance. She eyed the captain as you might eye a sun, blinded by the glory of, in his case, grumpy obstinance. He grit his teeth in fury as he noted her black eyes. She’d placed the PADD down, and left without a word. Thirty seconds of tight-toothed grimacing later, the rage and fury and violation left him, and he was almost consumed with an exhaustive despair. His whole life, he’d struggled with feelings that were more than feelings. They were physical sensations, often ailments, indistinguishable to him from lacerating pain, or stabbing sharpness in the chest. The anxiety, the doubt, the anger… all of it boiled. And all of it stayed hidden. Out of sight. Out of mind. Out of judgement. He could fool the onlooker, the subordinate, or the passerby. But the telepathic Betazoid, or Deltan, could not be so easily assuaged. They felt it. All of it. Whether they wanted to or not. He was naked before them. The violation was unintentional, and absolute. And unacceptable. Red-tinged eyes blearly gazed at the bottom drawer. The exhaustion that had built up, physical and emotional, could be blamed on the difficult mission. It could be blamed on Ash’s leaving. It could be blamed on simply being in Starfleet. But he knew deep down what his normal exhaustion looked like, felt like. It was a tinging of everything, into a muddled grey haze that left nothing but overwhelming distress with anything colorful or vibrant. What he was experiencing was not that. Bloodshot eyes were the least of his problems. Fury… fury he couldn’t swallow… had tinged his entire stymied interaction with the last damned messenger. That wasn’t right. Paranoia, a sensation of stuckness, of threat, loomed in the horizons of his brain. The medication was taking its toll. Not for prolonged use, the file had read. The “why” of that equation was coming into focus. He had to lay it off. But the effects, the teeth-gnashing strain, would last for days, certainly. And now, of all times, he couldn’t afford to be that vulnerable around people who needed him. The door chimed. He bit his lip. It might be nothing. Another messenger with another PADD, and bearing with him a distinct lack of telepathy. Then again… Grudgingly, promising to make amends later, Shayne grabbed the hypospray, and strained as he braced for the sudden depletion of energy that rolled across his psyche. Muscle memory found him putting the hypo away where conscious thought wasn’t interested. A moment later, the familiar thickness in his head told him it was safe. For now. Shayne: Come on in…

Love the way Max portrayed what it's like being a telepath! Eloquently done. --- The signature flourished in something approaching calligraphy, she closed it in an envelope and attached it to a box full of the fresh confection with a little ribbon. She carefully stacked it atop a padd and another box destined for the Captain, and stepped out of her room into the corridor. One quick delivery to the counselor's office, then off to see the captain! Ensign Amelia Magnolia Semara Science Officer USS Khitomer - NCC-62400 A239710MA0

((Denali - Ring 42)) ((OOC: this take place after the ceremony, of course)) The wind had grown stronger than a light breeze during the night, carrying dark clouds, and the waves had grown accordingly. The weather on Denali was the same day after day, but from time to time, a day like that one occurred, and there was no forecast for it. It was no weather to sail, not from that beach, but Drex was in no mood to sail anyway. He sat on the sand, where the water could barely reach his nacked feet and wet them. He sat with his legs slightly bent, one knee touching the sand laterally and the other bent towards his chest. He drew meaningless lines on the humid sand. From time to time his gaze went from the drawings to the waves and back to the sand. oO Do you think they will let me create this in the holodeck? Oo With his hand he smoothed the sand, erasing the drawings. A year and two months. That was how long it had been since Dominique had asked him that question. And they both knew it wouldn’t be the same. Drex: But are you sure it will be enough for you? :: He murmured remembering his reply :: He wiped the sand off his hand on his pants and let his gaze wander over the growing sea. Patches of white foam stained the otherwise blue surface. The air was heavy with iodine and the sweetish scent of rotting, beached seaweed. A longer wave pushed forward, threatening his pants, followed by two more equally brave waves. Drex stood up and took a few steps back. The weather was getting worse. oO It's getting mad at you. Oo The rough voice of his conscience awoke. Drex: Do you want me to leave? At first the sea seemed to retreat, but then it launched a new attack and the water rolled around his ankles. Drex: Do you want me to stay? Even if the sea gave him an answer, he could not change the orders that had come that night. Ten hours. Ten hours to report to the USS Eagle. Ten hours to say goodbye to those left behind on Denali. Ten hours to call home and face his father for the thousandth time. And he had spent half of that time on that beach staring at the sea, and memorizing sounds and scents. Trying to decide if he had to go or give up. Drex: I don't want to hear ‘I told you so’. oO You won’t be home to see your niece be born. Oo Why did his conscience have to twist the knife in the wound? oO Your schedules will never match Dominique's. It won’t work. Oo He let out an annoyed grunt. He bent down to pick up a rock and threw it forcefully at the oncoming wave. Drex: I know all of this! :: He screamed to the water :: oO Resign! Oo Drex: I’m not done here yet! oO You’re not gonna stay here anyway. Oo Drex: I may return. oO Or you may not. Oo Drex: If others can do it, so can I. oO But you’re not the others. A spaceship is no place for you. For us. Oo Drex: You mean for you. oO Doesn’t make any difference. You can’t live staring at a black sky out of your windows. Oo Drex: No, I can’t. :: He murmured :: But if I resign… oO You’ll admit he was right. Oo He shook his head in an attempt to shuffle the dice again and dissuade his conscience from continuing that discussion. oO You'll make her worried. Again. Oo Drex: Ayra will have a child to look after. I won’t go back to Kalus. oO You’ll disappoint her. Oo Drex: I’m not so sure she will go. Ships are no place for kids either. The water had dug into the sand around his feet, causing him to sink, each new wave pushing him deeper. But Drex did not move. oO You’re doing well Drex Oo A gentler voice crept into his mind. Drex: Ayra… I’m sinking. oO Are you sinking into a glass? You can swim as well as me, better than me. Oo He tried to reply, but the wind swelled her voice. oO You can do it, I know it. Oo The wind roared and swelled the sea so much that the next wave swept over him. With his feet stuck in the sand, Drex fell to the ground, barely managing to cover his face with his right arm before closing his eyes. The sea overwhelmed him and he began to struggle, trying to free himself and bring his head to the surface. But his feet held him inexorably to the bottom. He had never seen a storm like that hit Denali. Darkness enveloped him and with it, the silence. His heart pounded in his ears. Fear made him kick hard and open his eyes. Morning light filtered through the window of his apartment on the 38th floor of the Soldotna tower. During the night, the sheets had rolled up around his ankles. It took him several seconds and several deep breaths to put everything in order in his head. A dream. An awful nightmare. He reached out to grab the PADD from the bedside table: “Lieutenant Drex - Transfer order”. No, it was the awful reality. Despair fought over his heart and mind and his hand trembled, but soon anger took over and he hurled the PADD at the opposite wall. NT / END ============ Lieutenant Drex Science Officer Denali Station D240011D14

[Prologue] LtCol Wes Greaves - Through the Lens of Resolve ((Backsim, Day Prior to Arrival at Koreli IV)) ((Wes Greaves’ Quarters, Deck 12, USS Octavie E. Butler)) :Wes Greaves leaned back in his chair, the faint hum of the starship’s engines filling the silence of his quarters. The PADD in his hand displayed lines of text, old mission logs he’d pulled from the Federation database. He’d been reading for hours, immersing himself in the details of past encounters with the Zet. Each entry reignited a quiet frustration that had taken years to build. He placed the PADD carefully onto the desk, his expression unreadable as he rubbed a hand over his face. Greaves: Computer, replay log entry 7264-A, USS Thor mission report. The PADD chirped, and a clipped recording began to play. It was a familiar voice, one that Wes had worked with before—Fleet Captain Aron Kells, recounting the horrors they’d witnessed during the Zet’s manipulative dealings. Wes’s jaw tightened ever so slightly as the details of commodified life and moral bankruptcy spilled from the tiny device. He folded his hands in front of him, the only outward sign of the emotions simmering beneath his calm facade. The Zet. A society so warped that every breath, every moment, carried a price tag. It wasn’t just abhorrent; it was a perversion of everything the Federation stood for. He let out a slow breath, quiet and controlled, before picking up the PADD again, scrolling through the detailed account of the USS Oumuamua’s disastrous encounter with the Zet. The logs spoke of captured Starfleet officers, manipulated through twisted contracts and overwhelming greed. He tapped a finger on the edge of the PADD, the only betrayal of his mounting distaste. His gaze drifted briefly to the viewport before refocusing on the logs. He remembered his first encounter with the Zet aboard the Endless Golden Penetrator. The ship had been a prototype, designed to escape a nebula surrounding the Zet homeworld—a feat that only underscored how primitive it was by Starfleet standards. It had been drifting, abandoned by its Zet owners after its usefulness had run out. He’d boarded it with an away team, finding the crew starving and desperate. They’d been left to die—just another line item written off in some Zet ledger. Wes had felt pity then, though he hadn’t allowed himself to show it. How could anyone… anything, treat sentient beings as disposable tools? The thought lingered, as bitter now as it had been then. He scrolled further through the logs, pausing as a familiar name appeared: Anroc. The memory returned with stark clarity. Meeting the Zet ruling caste for the first time had been like stepping into another universe. The opulence of their chambers had been grotesque—gold, jewels, and luxury so extravagant it bordered on the absurd. Yet outside, the working caste toiled in filth and squalor, eyes downcast and faces hollow. Wes had kept his voice steady, his face blank, but the contrast had churned his stomach. He’d watched Anroc and his peers, their smug indifference etched into their faces, and felt an icy revulsion he hadn’t dared to show. Wealth was their god, and morality had no place in their worship. He had no illusions about their kind. His grip on the PADD shifted as another entry caught his eye. Port Coray. The slave market. The images surfaced as vivid as ever. The market had been a sprawling labyrinth of misery, filled with faces—young and old, human and alien—all chained and waiting to be sold. The away team had moved in quietly at first, freeing as many as they could. Wes had led them, in no small part due to V’Len Kel’s reckless urging. When the Zet had discovered them, what followed was a running battle through the station. Phasers had burned the air, and his training had guided him like muscle memory. It was a memory that had stayed with him. Wes exhaled slowly and moved to the viewport, his hands clasped behind his back. The quiet darkness of space stretched out before him, vast and indifferent. Somewhere out there, the Zet were waiting, sharpening their metaphorical knives for the next deal. This mission would be no different. They’d try to twist the Danni—a race Wes had never even met—into servitude or worse. It was what they did. It was who they were. Greaves: Damn vultures. The words were quiet, almost inaudible. The Federation’s principles were a shield for the weak, but against the Zet, that shield was too often a fragile thing. They didn’t play by the same rules. The idea of meeting with the Zet again filled him with a calm but unshakable resolve. There was no avoiding it. Greaves: Not this time. Not again. He turned back to the desk, picking up the PADD with deliberate care. If they were going to face the Zet, then he’d be ready. Preparedness was one thing he could control. He’d study their tactics, their patterns, and he’d make sure the Butler and her crew wouldn’t be caught off guard. Not if he had anything to say about it. Greaves: Computer, queue all Zet-related reports from the last five years. Cross-reference with Federation economic intelligence. Prioritize anything involving the Danni. The computer chirped in acknowledgment, and Wes’s focus deepened. There was no room for error with the Zet. Not now, not ever. With a quiet sigh, he settled back into his chair and began reading again. The mission ahead promised to be messy, but if the Zet wanted a fight, they’d find one. He’d make sure of it. And if he could protect the Danni from the Zet’s insidious grasp, even a little, then maybe he’d sleep better once this was all over. ========================= Lieutenant Colonel Wes Greaves Marine Detachment Commander USS Octavia E. Butler NCC-82850 E239702WG0 =========================

You know a piece of writing is good when you are inspired to write one of your own. I love this sim from @Wes Greaves so much. We're heading into Zet territory on this mission, and Jacob has set up this wonderful dichotomy: there will be the officers who have met the Zet before and formed their opinions, few of which will be positive; meanwhile, there will be the younger, newer officers for whom this will be the first time meeting them. Jacob has also, in one go, shown us Greaves's motivations and given us a clue as to how he may react in the negotiations.

I love a slow-burn start to a mission. I love that we take the time to build things up, crank up the tension, and set (or in this case, Zet) the stage. Zac sets the stage with his Zet MSNPC so wonderfully here. We get a clear sense of who King Toal'Dius is, what his goals and motivations are, as well as insights into how the Zet view the Federation. We also gain a broader understanding of Zet philosophy. Zac also does an excellent job of reintroducing the Zet, who we haven’t encountered for quite some time in our adventures. Now, tell me—what do you think of King Toal'Dius? Can we trust him? @Jania Nis

((Denali - Ring 42)) ((OOC: this take place after the ceremony, of course)) The wind had grown stronger than a light breeze during the night, carrying dark clouds, and the waves had grown accordingly. The weather on Denali was the same day after day, but from time to time, a day like that one occurred, and there was no forecast for it. It was no weather to sail, not from that beach, but Drex was in no mood to sail anyway. He sat on the sand, where the water could barely reach his nacked feet and wet them. He sat with his legs slightly bent, one knee touching the sand laterally and the other bent towards his chest. He drew meaningless lines on the humid sand. From time to time his gaze went from the drawings to the waves and back to the sand. oO Do you think they will let me create this in the holodeck? Oo With his hand he smoothed the sand, erasing the drawings. A year and two months. That was how long it had been since Dominique had asked him that question. And they both knew it wouldn’t be the same. Drex: But are you sure it will be enough for you? :: He murmured remembering his reply :: He wiped the sand off his hand on his pants and let his gaze wander over the growing sea. Patches of white foam stained the otherwise blue surface. The air was heavy with iodine and the sweetish scent of rotting, beached seaweed. A longer wave pushed forward, threatening his pants, followed by two more equally brave waves. Drex stood up and took a few steps back. The weather was getting worse. oO It's getting mad at you. Oo The rough voice of his conscience awoke. Drex: Do you want me to leave? At first the sea seemed to retreat, but then it launched a new attack and the water rolled around his ankles. Drex: Do you want me to stay? Even if the sea gave him an answer, he could not change the orders that had come that night. Ten hours. Ten hours to report to the USS Eagle. Ten hours to say goodbye to those left behind on Denali. Ten hours to call home and face his father for the thousandth time. And he had spent half of that time on that beach staring at the sea, and memorizing sounds and scents. Trying to decide if he had to go or give up. Drex: I don't want to hear ‘I told you so’. oO You won’t be home to see your niece be born. Oo Why did his conscience have to twist the knife in the wound? oO Your schedules will never match Dominique's. It won’t work. Oo He let out an annoyed grunt. He bent down to pick up a rock and threw it forcefully at the oncoming wave. Drex: I know all of this! :: He screamed to the water :: oO Resign! Oo Drex: I’m not done here yet! oO You’re not gonna stay here anyway. Oo Drex: I may return. oO Or you may not. Oo Drex: If others can do it, so can I. oO But you’re not the others. A spaceship is no place for you. For us. Oo Drex: You mean for you. oO Doesn’t make any difference. You can’t live staring at a black sky out of your windows. Oo Drex: No, I can’t. :: He murmured :: But if I resign… oO You’ll admit he was right. Oo He shook his head in an attempt to shuffle the dice again and dissuade his conscience from continuing that discussion. oO You'll make her worried. Again. Oo Drex: Ayra will have a child to look after. I won’t go back to Kalus. oO You’ll disappoint her. Oo Drex: I’m not so sure she will go. Ships are no place for kids either. The water had dug into the sand around his feet, causing him to sink, each new wave pushing him deeper. But Drex did not move. oO You’re doing well Drex Oo A gentler voice crept into his mind. Drex: Ayra… I’m sinking. oO Are you sinking into a glass? You can swim as well as me, better than me. Oo He tried to reply, but the wind swelled her voice. oO You can do it, I know it. Oo The wind roared and swelled the sea so much that the next wave swept over him. With his feet stuck in the sand, Drex fell to the ground, barely managing to cover his face with his right arm before closing his eyes. The sea overwhelmed him and he began to struggle, trying to free himself and bring his head to the surface. But his feet held him inexorably to the bottom. He had never seen a storm like that hit Denali. Darkness enveloped him and with it, the silence. His heart pounded in his ears. Fear made him kick hard and open his eyes. Morning light filtered through the window of his apartment on the 38th floor of the Soldotna tower. During the night, the sheets had rolled up around his ankles. It took him several seconds and several deep breaths to put everything in order in his head. A dream. An awful nightmare. He reached out to grab the PADD from the bedside table: “Lieutenant Drex - Transfer order”. No, it was the awful reality. Despair fought over his heart and mind and his hand trembled, but soon anger took over and he hurled the PADD at the opposite wall. NT / END ============ Lieutenant Drex Science Officer Denali Station D240011D14

"It's midnight," I thought to myself, "I'll just read one sim, and then go to bed." But the one sim was by @Richard Matthews and it was fantastic, so now it's midnight and he's got me making a dang appreciations post.

(( Brig - USS Constitution-B )) Even though the shooting was done, Senior Commander Nugra found himself still wired. He couldn't sleep and so had decided to stay within the intelligence office finishing up paperwork once Jalana got out of the sickbay. The lizard had heard of her injuries and knew that she'd throw a fit if he just barged in. So, he was busying himself finishing what need to be done for her, her boss, and Starfleet Headquarters. He was about done with the report when his eyes glanced over the names of the prisoners and one jumped out to him. One that made his heart stop for a moment and his scales become heated with rage. Shapeshifter - Que This couldn't be? Hadn't she vanished back in 2392 when he was on the USS Columbia? Even worse, that specific changeling had been posing and the woman he cared so much about, Talia Kaji. The Gorn had sworn he would kill the changeling if he ever found her again. oO It's been almost a decade. Oo Not even waiting or explaining himself, the lizard made his way purposefully towards the brig where it was being held. The heavy doors clambered open and Nugra strode in. He looked towards the startled security guard and spoke. Nugra: Give us a moment, Ensign. The human hurried out. Sitting the floor of the brig that had been rigged with a double forcefield to keep her from slipping out was the face of the woman he despised. Dark hair, the imitation features of a humanoid. Her eyes were closed as she sat cross legged. The Gorn stared at her silently as a small smile crossed her face. Que: I was wondering how long it would take you to realize I was here. Nugra: If this was not a starfleet vessel. You would be dead by now. Que: How fortunate that Starfleet believes in such humane treatment. Unlike your people. The Gorn considered going over to the phaser rack and getting one but he was not going to rise to the bait. Her dark eyes finally opened as she looked him over, his starfleet uniform he had adopted with the black collar but bearing the Gorn insignia of his rank. Que: I see you're in Intelligence now. :: eyes roaming :: And not with Starfleet. You back with the Hegemony? Nugra: An obvious observation. The smile on the Changeling's face got bigger. Que: Oh. So short with me. Would it be easier to talk to me if I was her? Her formed shifted and sitting on the floor was the dark skinned Rodulan that he had not seen in years. The fury that burned within him almost pushed him over the edge. Nugra: Your insult will not be forgiven, changeling. There will come a day that I will kill you. Que's form switched back and she let out a little laugh. Que: So violent. The Gorn ignored her. Nugra: Is Sicarius working with the Lattice Alliance now? I thought we finally was rid of your kind after the Prometheus Incident. Que: Not that I know of. You could say I'm...freelancing. There are so many opportunities now since you all wiped out most of our infrastructure. The Gorn couldn't tell if she was lying or not. He couldn't trust her. Nugra: But you are still with them. They aren't completely gone. Que: Of course, we're never gone. Let's just say we need to...bide our time. You know what's out there. You have seen them yourself. The Gorn's eyes narrowed. Sicarius was aware of the extra-galactic creatures called The Hunger that had been making their way towards the Milky way. Evidence showed that they were at the edge of the Great Energy Barrier but unable to cross. There had only been two incursions he knew of. Back when he was at the Embassy and when he was with his people. Both had been stopped. Sicarius believed that the galaxy had to be prepared no matter the cost. And their cost was high in lives. OOC: The above mention of The Hunger is an old story arc from Nugra's time on the USS Victory. It is NOT a hint of any future mission or anything we have plan. Just lore from the Gorn's past. Nugra: Well you are out of business. Whatever your plan is. Que: If that makes you feel comfortable, Commander. The Gorn stared at the changeling before turning on his heel to leave. Que: Hey, Senior Commander. The Gorn turned back silently. Que: Do me a favor? Nugra: And what is that? Que: ::smirking:: Tell Azura we'll be seeing her soon. A cold chill ran down his scales. OOC: the above was approved by Commander Ada. PNPC Senior Commander Nugra Intelligence Officer USS Constitution-B

While most of the Ronin's crew has been tossed across the timeline two NPC's, brilliantly realized by @LuxaLorana & @Marty Tucker, have gone on their own strange and quietly beautiful journey. Arcs like this enrich our narrative so much and the writing is superb. Thanks so much for helping to make this mission another special one for all of us you two! =================== ((A long long time ago, Mountain Cottage, Bajor)) High in the mountains, there was a small cottage nestled amongst a grove of trees. A flume of smoke rose from its chimney and one of its two inhabitants stepped out into the cold night, and pulled a shawl tightly around her shoulders. The old woman looked down on the small city far below. Her green eyes, not as good as they had once been, tracked the new building that had begun construction with interest as she had done each time she had stepped out from the cottage. Right on time. She cocked her head to look towards the stars. In her mind, she repeated the names of the worlds they'd become one day. The stars had become her anchor to a life she had stopped living long ago. A reminder of what was at stake. She almost laughed as she thought of starships and aliens in gold, blue and red uniforms. It was almost as if she had dreamt them in the first place. Then she remembered her own name. Vailani Zoyara. Vailani: :: blows a kiss to the night :: I believe in you. It was her own ritual. The Prophets had placed her here; she hadn't decided, even after all these years, if it was a punishment or a blessing. Maybe it was both. A voice came from within the old cottage, she turned to peer inside and as she saw her husband emerge she helped him join her by taking hold of his arm as they both hobbled to the stoop. Vailani: I think it's almost complete :: she pointed to the city lights :: It'll have to be soon. She thought of the years that had passed, at first she had hated him, and she had told him that often. He had become a reminder of what she had lost. A constant thorn on a rose that she had become entwined. They'd both been forgotten to time, yet somehow in that, they'd found a love for each other. He gazed into the eyes of his beautiful wife, recognizing the kindness within them; though they had been lost to time, they still created an extraordinary life filled with love and strength; she was his foundation. Gruvush: Are you planning for tonight, my dear? She had a challenging task ahead of her, but he knew she could do it. Vailani: If it's not tonight I'm not sure I'll be able to do it at all. I can't exactly fight my way into the temple. It will be easier to do it before they complete the construction. She was right; only during construction would she be able to gain access to the temple. After construction, it would be a fruitless endeavor. She placed a wrinkled hand on his cheek. Gruvush: ::putting his hand on hers:: There are times I don’t want you to do this, because of the risks involved. Vailani: I know the risks. Have you ever seen me avoid taking risks? :: laughs :: You have taken some risks as well, Ranjen. That title he hadn’t heard in years; he’d decided to step away from all that when they were thrust through time, ever-changing time. Vane had, over the year,s kept a low profile. These days his most significant thing was tending to the garden. They had what they needed here; they rarely needed to get something they didn’t produce themselves. They had made quite the life for themselves. She allowed herself a mischievous laugh before she kissed him on the lips. Gruvush: ::kissing her back:: You take risks, my love? He made no effort to hide his laugh at that. They linked hands. Vailani: Together. Gruvush: Always and forever. A man approached them, followed by another woman carrying a babe in her arms. Gruvush Jnr: Mother? Father? Are you ready? The old woman nodded before she turned to see that her eldest son, Tova, had a tear in his eye. She lifted her hand and wiped it away, just like she had done thousands of times before when he was a child. Their children were his life, descendants of a now-lost ship. While he was never part of her crew, he was there the day the timeline shifted….more than once. Even he could no longer piece all of the events together that led them to this point. Oh, he had journals as a way to remind him. Zoy kept up with what needed to be done; she was the brain of the two. He had learned so much from her over the years, lots of things that they never taught at the monastery. For that, he would be forever grateful. Oh she loved him so much. All of her children. The first generation of The Descendants of Ronin. She had given them an account of their lives and what had to be done in the very distant future to ensure that the timelines could be restored. There was a dreadful truth to it that she had never spoken to any of them, she wasn't even sure Vane understood what it meant. If her plan was to work, then Tova and his brothers and their lineage would cease to exist. They would be nothing but ghosts in the time stream. It was with that in mind she hesitated. It was too dreadful for one woman to bear. Then she felt Vane’s hands in hers and she remembered a promise made in a different timeline on a battlefield within a dying planet. Together. They would travel to tomb beneath the new temple and they'd sleep … and she could only hope that it was enough. The End for Vailani Zoyara and Gruvush Vane. Ranjen Gruvush Vane Head Of B'hala Dig As Simmed By: Lieutenant Commander Marty Tucker Chief Of Engineering USS Ronin NCC-34523 Capt. Karrod Niac Commanding D240008MT1 And Lt JG Vailani Zoyara Mission Ops Specialist USS Ronin As simmed by: Lieutenant Commander Luxa Lorana Science Officer (Astrometrics, Meteorology, Xenology) USS Ronin A240004LL2

I couldn’t wait to post about this JP, so I’m sharing this before the final part is released. As Sevantha's mentor, I was lucky enough to get a sneak peek at this JP, and it’s a brilliant piece of writing that had me hooked from the very first page. I could truly feel Mac’s pain, especially in the first half, and Saa completely tore our hearts out. Both Edrei’s and Harford’s parts made me so angry (in the best possible way). The first three parts are below on our ship list and when the final parts are out, they will appear in the link below. @Sevantha @Daniel McGillian Jr @Leenaya Edrei @Alix Harford You four should be so damned proud of yourself and proud of this JP. https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-butler/search?q=[[Backsim]] JP%3A Lt JG Sevantha Saa %26 Daniel McGillian Jr.%2C Ensign Leenaya Edrei %26 Alix Harford - The Need to Connect

(( Main Cargo Bay )) Chandni had done this job for many years but nothing had prepared her for the parkour she had to do in this battle. Running between shelfing units and cargo piles, climbing up ons aid shelves, dodging under some units, fast curves, quick slaps to tag, and on to the next one. It seemed that the battle had paused and she stood, sweaty and panting in the middle of the Cargo bay. She needed to pick up the exercise just in case this ever happened again, not that she hoped for that. Better be safe than sorry. The break was good, her heartrate was just normalizing when the ship shook again and it almost kicked Chandni off her feet. Kapoor: ::hissing:: Kya bakavaas hai? ((OOC: What the hell?)) She held herself up at a shelf and calmed her heart down when a call came in. Cain: =/\= Kapoor, you there? =/\= She tapped her badge and wiped her forearm over her sweaty forehead. Kapoor: =/\= I'm right here. Response Cain: =/\= Tag something that’s either going to give us a big bang or looks like a big bang. =/\= Kapoor: =/\= Big bang? =/\= What was he planning? Her eyes scanned the cargo bay to see if she had anything like he wanted. Cain: =/\= Just do it Lieutenant. You have 20 seconds. =/\= 20 seconds. Damn. She didn't give a damn about ranks or whatever, but he was the person up there who would know what needed to be done, well one of them. So she would do it trusting he didn't try to blow up their own ship. 19 Chandni suddenly had an idea, but it was not in this cargo bay. Grabbing two tags, she ran out, knocking over the tray with the tags on the way. 16 Running through the corridor like a mad woman she called out. Kapoor: Out of the way! She still bumped into someone as she quickly moved on. She had to get one deck down. She couldn't risk having to wait for the lift and instead took the stairs. Luckily the staircase wasn't far. She pretty much smashed the door open and jumped several stairs at once, taking the corner with the help of the banister and kicked out of the next deck's door. 9 The Officers on this deck were much more sensible and side stepped, pressing themselves against the wall as they saw her coming, running down the hallway, panting for breath as the reached out for the door frame of the next Cargo Bay and used that to get around the corner faster, heading straight for two large containers standing at the back of the way. Hydrogen, that would give them a big boom for sure. 4 3 Tag you're it on one. She rushed to the other container. 2 1 Tag! The slap actually burnt in her hand. Kapoor: =/\= ::panting:: OPS to Bridge. Ready! =/\= Cain: =/\= Acknowledged.::In the same breath:: Cain to Ba’el =/\= Chandni closed the line and was about to sit down and lean against those containers to catch her breath when they vanished and she simply landed on the ground gasping for air. Might as well! After a moment the ship shook again, she assumed the shockwave of the Hydrogen blowing up. Lucky she already was on the floor. LtJG Chandni Kapoor Operations Officer simmed by Commodore Jalana Rajel Commanding Officer USS Constitution B Image Team Co-Facilitator A238906JL0

(( Sick Bay, Constitution, 12 hours ago )) Darkness. Her heart beat jumped up. Was she back in the tunnel? Where was Laria? Was the rescue just a dream? It took a moment for Jalana to register that she was laying on something soft but firm. Not the tunnel, not the metal floor. The pain she had felt in her leg the whole time she'd been in there with Laria was gone, her mind was like wrapped in cotton. Pain killers. As she looked around she faintly made out lights next to a frame, though something felt wrong about the way it looked, she recognized where she was. Sick bay. Relaxing back into the biobed she exhaled. It wasn't a dream. She and Laria had been saved. Then the memory kept flashing back. Storming Va's office. Va changing... staring in her own face.. the pain. Once more her heartbeat increased rapidly. Enough to alert the nurse to come into the room and having to sedate her again. Something was wrong... (( Sick Bay, Constitution, 6 hours ago )) Jalana sat in shock on her biobed, staring at the PADDs before her. Maybe it was her imagination but they looked different when only seeing them with one eye. The writing was more fuzzy, wonky even. It was just in her mind, it had to be. Just because she knew what had happened. The attack from Va had completely destroyed her eye and it had to be removed. The doctor had assured her that the optical nerve was only slightly damaged and she could easily have an artificial eye but she had just sent him away. She had told the medical personnel she didn't want to see anyone but somehow Diz'mim had still managed to get through. That infuriating blue man. She had sat in silence, staring into the void as he informed her about what had happened. She had remembered the attack after all she was only attacked after she had gone to Hermes Outpost to get an update from Va. His voice drifted to her like a whisper of wind through a foggy November night. He told her everything he knew from the officers who had been switched and the changelings that were now in the bridge, the loss of one of the Ollos who had died to save Nugra who had almost been flushed into space by the changeling posing as her. The panic on board because of the events in the Sol System. He had given her a PADD with all the information about Frontier Day and informed her that those events had been stopped and the Borg and changeling thread was over. Naturally those that had died during them could not be brought back and the crew was still in shock, many worried about their own families. She heard about the way Changeling Laria had taken over the ship, another had attacked a child, again others attacked the crew and attempted to stop repairs and finding solutions. But Diz'mim had also told her of how the crew had come together to counter these measures, to find solutions and regain control of some of the ship to be able to fight off the returning pirates. If she had not been stuck in her grief and guilt she could have felt the pride in her crew. Pretty sure it was there, deep down, but the other negative feelings overshadowed everything. Jalana hadn't said a word while Diz'mim reported the events and assured her that he would make sure the ship would be repaired and taken care of while she recovered, which just made her feel useless. The First Officer had asked her what to do next and as she had not replied he had his own ideas which he naturally revealed to her. First of all he would inform Starfleet that Captain Va had been exchanged and as they had scanned the whole outpost for her without a result had to assume she was still somewhere out there. Repair crews for the outpost that had taken such a beating, would be sent by Starfleet to make sure it was fully repaired on top of the work the Crew had already done, that would include the orbital sensors and relays. He also would inform Starfleet Security to send someone to escort the changelings to their most likely final destination. And the Constitution would work on repairs while returning to Drever IV. They could retrieve their buggies after doing the race they had to interrupt, giving everyone some time to recover from the events. There were also large parts of the planets that would give people a chance to explore a bit and as she heard large parts of the crew had requested to leave and check on their families. So after hearing what he had to say she simply nodded and he had enough sense to leave her alone and put it all into action. She still hadn't moved a bit, and continued to stare at.. nothing. And even that felt too much, so she scooted down and pulled the blanket over her head. Maybe that would make it all disappear engulfed by the fog in her mind. (( Sick Bay, Constitution, Now )) While Jalana was busy feeling sorry for herself and chasing everyone away, the ship had done the opposite. It had reached Drever IV and entered orbital routines. The Trill looked at the window in the single bed room she had occupied since her surgery. The planet looked peaceful as ever, simply doing it rotary thing down there. If she waited long enough she could see all kinds of landscapes from forests, to desert, even icecaps, oceans and large rivers splitting through the continents. It was fascinating to think that the only living people were those in the colony. She had half a mind to ask someone to cover the view. It was just a reminder that everything looked wrong because she had lost an eye. Nurse: Commodore, you have a call. The voice cut through the fog in her head and Jalana rolled her eye with a grumble. Rajel: I said I don't want- Nurse: ::interrupting:: It's from the colony. Someone called N'Veri. Hearing the name Jalana's mouth closed. She had wanted to tell the nurse to bugger off but that stopped her. The child. Jalana hesitated, but finally sighed and sat up. She reached up to try to fix her hair but it looked unruly either way. But she did reach for the eyepatch the doctor had wanted her to wear and she had ignored so far. She did not want to scare the child and covered the empty cavity in her face with it and then reached out for the PADD the nurse held in her hand. As she had it Jalana took a deep breath, though she didn't manage a smile, she at least didn't want to look like a total grouch. finally she pressed the button and the child appeared on the green. N'Veri had a bright smile on their green face, the dark brown eyes sparkled and the dark green hair filled out almost all the screen as the child was real close to it. N'Veri: Hiiii Papa said you are back! You left without saying good bye! Rajel: N'Veri. ::She greeted softly.:: How is your recovery going? N'Veri moved the screen a bit away from their face and Jalana could see the pillows behind them and the blanket pulled up to their chest. During their mission N'Veri had suddenly fallen sick and it had turned out that they were affected by the poisoning in the soil, that had also gotten into the plants eaten and used to make tea. They had suddenly collapsed and worried everyone, until receiving treatment after figuring out what was going on. And then they had been called away. It was hard to imagine that this had been only yesterday. Or was it the day before by now? Jalana couldn't say. N'Veri: It's boring. Papa says I have to stay in bed until they are sure I'm okay. ::The kid tilts their head:: What happened to your eye? For a long moment Jalana remained silent. N'Veri: Oh was that bad to ask? Daddy says that sometimes thing should not be asked about. Rajel: It's... ::She started harshly but something in her stopped her, even if she really wanted to yell at someone, and sighed, the words coming out more defeated now.:: I was hurt when we had to leave. N'Veri: Oh. You have great doctors though, I bet they make you well again. Like me! Jalana looked at the kid and took a breath before nodding. In her foggy mind she still wasn't sure if anything could make that good again. Rajel: ::whispering:: Yes. The best. N'Veri: I wanted to invite you. ::They beamed at the screen.:: Your crew. They all helped us so much and they saved me. And because of that I can have my naming day soon. You will come, will you? Rajel: Your naming day? Jalana had not spoken much with N'Veri and thought they already had a name. N'Veri: Yes, Daddy says our people choose their own name when they are 10. I am 10 so I can choose! ::They grinned proudly:: N'Veri is a .. placeholder he calls it. You will come, yes? They asked for the second time and Jalana who didn't want to go anywhere, still nodded slightly. Rajel: When will it be? N'Veri: In two weeks. Two weeks. That would give everyone enough time to check on family, repair the ship and recover. Even if she may not. How could she. That eye wouldn't just grow back and her leg would need some time to recover as well. Rajel: We... will be there. Thank you for the invitation. They chatted a little bit more after that -or rather N'Veri chatted and Jalana listened with a few nods and leading questions here and there - until N'Veri noticed that Jalana got tired and said they had to rest more. Or maybe they were tired themselves. Who knew. Once they hung up Jalana lowered the PADD and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. She'd be there. If she could make herself get up that was. Commodore Jalana Rajel Commanding Officer USS Constitution B Image Team Co-Facilitator A238906JL0

Going to kick off the new quotes thread for the Astraeus with one from our Vulcan doctor, @Solok. I just love me some dry, Vulcan humor 😂

Another great opening of Act 3 of our plot, this time from @Nera Ay who marvels at a rare experience he's having (floating through space tethered to two other officers). Ensign Nera Ay - Out in the Cold of Space

A well thought out and prepared prank. Some Lower Deckers could learn a thing or two about how to annoy their CO and FO in a creative (and most importantly: well covered) way. (( Main Engineering, Deck 14, USS Chin’toka )) Is’Kah tilted her head at her station, her fingers flying across her console. She started manipulating the sensor data, gathering what she needed to write a report on the ship’s systems. She could use a few things to get approval to have an official work order approved by the ChEng. After writing several drafts, the hybrid was satisfied. Taking her PADD, she downloaded the document and walked to the Chief Engineer’s office. Is’Kah: Lieutenant, I discovered some concerns with the structural fields on the bridge. I have detected microfractures in several places around the bridge. This kind of damage often occurs after a refit due to the ship adjusting to the rigors of space travel. She handed Xiron her PADD, showing four locations that apparently needed repairs. These locations happened to line up with the best locations for holo-emitters to fully cover the bridge. Coming to parade rest, she watched Xiron review the report. Xiron: Good catch, Sh’za. Approved. Is’Kah: Thank you, ma’am. I will complete the repairs on the night shift tonight. Xiron: Don’t work too late. Is’Kah: ::smiles:: You know me, ma’am. Turning sharply, Is’Kah departed the Chief Engineer’s office but left Xiron with a lingering feeling that her partner had lied to her, as for what, it wasn’t clear. (( OCC- I spoke with Xiron’s writer and received her line approval. )) (( Bridge, Deck 3, USS Chin’toka )) Entering the bridge wearing her toolbox and antigrav boots, Is’Kah walked over to the deck officer and handed her the work order. Is’Kah: I have a few repairs to complete tonight. OOD: ::Looking over the PADD:: Looks in order. Will we need hearing protection? Is’Kah: Ear plugs should be sufficient if you are more than a meter away from me, but that is only while I am cutting. I will alert you before I start. OOD: Very well. Thank you, Lieutenant. Taking the PADD back, Is’Kah approached the first position and started working. She hid holo-emitters around the bridge, captain’s ready room, conference room, and break room for the next few hours. Sitting at the bridge co-processer, she connected the new equipment before uploading a holo control program and a copy of the EMH for a dedicated backup. Satisfied with the work, a sly smile crossed her lips as she started to program the system flash a bright white light as if an omnipotent being snapped their fingers before overlaying the deck with mashed pea-colored 8-centimeter-long shag carpet while each console was wrapped in wood paneling, along with setting the chairs to be covered in a slightly lighter matching green tufted fabric. However, the most important part was the giant disco ball hanging above the captain’s chair. To help cover her tracks, she set the program to trigger only when the ship was at green alert and when Commander Sherlock had entered Deck 3 three to ten times. She also buried the program so that it wouldn’t be quickly discovered by other engineers and, more importantly, T’Ama. The hybrid felt better about operating in the expanse now that there was a way to keep the captain safe from the murder bots, even if she used it first as a prank on the Captain and XO. Closing up her toolbox, Is’Kah departed the bridge, ready to rest for two hours before her next shift. TAGS/TBC Lieutenant (JG) Is’Kah Xiron Engineering USS Chin’toka R240101I14 Character Pronouns: She/Her/Zha/Zhen

Brilliant opening here from @Taelon who goes into Act 3 of our mission torn apart by fatherly worries. Lt.JG Taelon - Old Fears Borne Anew

Absolutely loved this! ❤️ ((Wes Greaves’s Quarters, Deck 12, USS Octavia E. Butler)) The moment Wes stepped through the door, the silence hit him. For the first time since reporting aboard the Butler, he had a chance to stop and breathe. The quarters were large by Starfleet standards, but compared to the spacious accommodations he’d enjoyed during his assignment on Earth, they felt downright cramped. Still, they were functional. A desk, a small sitting area, and a viewport offering a glimpse of the stars streaking by at warp—all the essentials were there. On the floor near the bed sat his duffel bag, standard issue and well-worn from years of use. Beside it was a small cargo pallet, a single stack of neatly secured crates that had been transferred from the cargo bay. These contained the rest of his belongings: mementos, tools, and personal effects that wouldn’t fit in the duffel. Wes took a moment to survey the room, his eyes lingering on the bare walls. They were impersonal, almost clinical, and felt more like a temporary billet than the sanctuaries he’d created aboard the USS Thor or the USS ‘Oumuamua. Those ships had been his homes in a way that few other places ever could be. The camaraderie of the crew, the sense of shared purpose, and the memories of countless missions all seemed to echo within those spaces. Compared to those warm memories, this room felt hollow, though he knew it would take shape over time. For a brief moment, he thought of the Cascades back on Earth, the towering evergreens and misty mornings tugging at him with a pang of nostalgia he quickly set aside. “Time to get this place in order,” he muttered to himself, stepping over to the pallet and releasing the securing straps. The first item he unpacked was a small, carved model of a starship—a simple but detailed recreation of the USS Thor. He’d had it commissioned during his time on Earth, painstakingly ensuring every detail matched his memory of the ship that had been such a significant part of his life. The lacquered wood caught the dim light of the room, its sleek lines evoking memories of missions that had defined his career. Wes placed it carefully on the desk, adjusting it until it faced the door, a quiet nod to the ship and the crew that had been his home for so long. Next came a small, weathered journal. Its leather cover bore the scuffs of frequent use, and the edges of the pages were slightly frayed. Inside were entries written by his great grandfather, detailing his time as a combat engineer during the Earth-Romulan War. Wes thumbed through the pages briefly before placing it reverently on the shelf above the desk. The journal reminded him of the lineage of service he was part of—a lineage that stretched back generations, rooted in dedication and resilience. A box containing a set of holophotos followed. He pulled out a few—a snapshot of his family during a hike in the Cascades, a candid shot of the Marine detachment on Duronis II, and one of Private Paul Newson. The latter gave him pause. Wes stared at the image for a long moment, memories of that tragic mission flooding back. Paul’s sacrifice had been a turning point for him, shaping his approach to leadership and responsibility. With a deep breath, Wes placed the photo beside the model of the USS Thor, a tribute to a fallen comrade. The last crate held practical items: tools for field repairs, a portable holo-emitter loaded with outdoor scenes, and a compact hydroponic kit. The kit, a small indulgence, contained a fern native to the Pacific Northwest. He’d grown it from a clipping taken six months ago, and its presence here was a quiet reminder of the forests he loved. The fern was more than just a plant; it was a piece of home he could carry with him, a living connection to Earth. As he worked, Wes couldn’t help but reflect on the journey that had brought him to this point. From his days as a young enlisted Marine to his current role as Marine Detachment Commander, the path had been anything but linear. The challenges, the losses, and the victories—all of it had shaped him, reaffirming his confidence in returning to a role he knew well and genuinely enjoyed. Serving as a detachment commander was second nature to him, a position that felt like coming home to a familiar and fulfilling purpose. He moved to the viewport and stared out at the stars, their light unchanging and indifferent. The transition from Earth to the Butler wasn’t just about adapting to smaller quarters. It was about embracing the unpredictability of life aboard a starship, where every day brought new challenges and opportunities. He allowed himself a moment to wonder about the crew he’d come to know, the missions that lay ahead, and the bonds that would inevitably form. There was a certain excitement in the unknown—a sense of purpose that could only be found out here, among the stars. Turning back to the desk, Wes picked up his datapad and brought up the Butler’s recent mission logs. His role wasn’t just about commanding the Marines; it was about ensuring they were ready for anything. He began drafting training schedules and brainstorming ways to integrate his team with the Starfleet crew. Cooperation would be key, as it always was. As he worked, Wes’s thoughts wandered to the Marines under his command. Some were seasoned, with years of experience etched into their confident stances and sharp movements, while others were fresh out of the academy, their eagerness tempered by uncertainty. It was his job to shape them into a cohesive unit, to instill the discipline and camaraderie that had been the hallmark of every detachment he’d led. He relished the challenge—this was the work that felt most meaningful to him. The datapad buzzed softly in his hand, a reminder to check in with the ship’s department heads. He made a mental note to schedule a meeting soon. Understanding the Butler’s overall mission parameters and establishing strong inter-departmental relationships would be critical. The Marines didn’t operate in a vacuum, and Wes knew from experience that success often hinged on how well the entire crew could collaborate under pressure. He set the datapad down and glanced around the room. The walls still looked bare, but they didn’t feel quite so sterile anymore. The model of the Thor, the photos, the fern—each item was a piece of a story, fragments of a life lived in service and adventure. It wasn’t home yet, but it was getting there. And for now, that was enough.

Barbara always gives lovely insights into Drex and his life. IC: ((Baudin’s villa, Palombaggia, Corsica, Sol III)) Drex stretched his hand over the sheets. He turned his head and forced his eyes open. The side of the bed was empty. Leaving his arm out, he turned his head to the other side and looked at the door heading to the living room. A soft light illuminated the frame allowing him to see the silhouette of the armchairs in the almost dark room. He did not close the curtains before going to bed, so it had to be very late (or very early) at night. He pushed his leg out of the bed and sat on the edge. He stifled a yawn badly and raised both arms in the air, stretching. As he breathed deeper, the scent of some bread cooked in the oven reached his nose, his brain and, finally, his stomach. A significant rumble reminded him he had skipped dinner the night before. Wearing only the light trousers of his pajamas, he left the comfort of the bed and walked out of his bedroom. The soft light was coming from the kitchen spotlights. Barefoot, he silently approached the woman who was fiddling with bowls and flour. When he passed his arms around her waist, she pushed her head backwards, resting it against his shoulder. Baudin: Have I woke you up? Drex shook his head slowly, watching her hands kneading a soggy ball. Baudin: But it's not your usual hour… Drex: I felt something was amiss. Why are you awake? Baudin kept silent as she finished giving a shape to the ball and sprinkling it with flour. Drex waited patiently. Dominique did not usually cook and did not usually wake up in the middle of the night. She could have changed some habits since they graduated Ensigns, but Drex was more of the idea something was in her mind. The Denobulan knew there was no point in repeating the question, so he bowed his head slightly, touching her hair with his cheek. She smelled of salt water and vanilla. Baudin: The flour is finished and I didn’t find any yeast... Drex: What have you used then? Baudin: I know some chemistry… Drex: Do I have to guess? She put the dough in a pan and pushed Drex back with her body to free herself and reach the oven. Baudin: Are you good at chemistry? Drex grabbed a purple oval fruit from a bowl on the counter and gave it a bite. He pondered his answer while chewing. Drex: Took some classes a long time ago. But I know what’s usually in the kitchen. And :: He vaguely pointed at a blue and white can :: you left the container visible. Dominique set the timer on the oven. Baudin: It works, I already cooked this :: She broke a small piece of bread from the already baked loaf. :: Since we're awake, we may have breakfast and then walk to the pier. You promised me. Drex studied her movements and expressions. Words were her usual, but not the tone. She was faking her enthusiasm for the promised sailing trip. He nodded and smiled slightly. Breakfast was an easy task. He had bought those horrible herbal teas she loved. Drex finished the purple fruit and put some water to boil. While waiting, he prepared two cups of fruit salad. He could hear her setting the table. Baudin: Do you really like your place? Drex: I'm planning to move near the beach. I'm just waiting for the power lines to reach that area. If she wanted to play cards face down, he would do the same. Baudin: That's a nice plan, but I wasn't talking about your quarters. He put the knife in the sink and turned around with the cups in his hands. Drex: What you were talking about, then? She shook her head, sitting. The Denobulan put a bowl in front of her and one on the other side of the table. He was going to sit himself down when a whistle informed them that the water was ready. He walked back to the kitchen giving her more time to think. Giving him more time to think. She was acting strange and he did not know her well enough to read her silences. Baudin: My unit is going to be dismissed. Drex finally sat and let her know she could go on talking with a single “mh”. But she did not talk. Drex: You wanted to transfer anyway, didn't you? Now you don't have to worry about the opinion of your commander. Baudin: I've been offered to lead a research project on MH64222. Drex: Leading a project? That's great! :: His enthusiasm faded in a second :: Wait! Where is MH64222? Baudin: Very far away from the Aavaro Wilds. :: She murmured :: They remained silent, pondering the meaning of that transfer. Dominique prepared two filters and filled them with dried herbs. She never looked at the Denobulan sitting on the other side of the table. So was that it? Was she leaving him? Drex shook his head, dismissing the thought. To leave someone, you had to be together first, and they had agreed that they would not go beyond sporadic meetings when their schedules allowed. Her moving away only meant that the possibilities would be reduced. Drastically. oO You don't love her, you've only got used to her. Oo That wasn't entirely true. He didn't love her the way he knew he could love, but he had let her through his armor. Her announcement had made his stomach churn and created a heaviness in his chest. Baudin: I’m… Drex: There have been rumours in the last days on Denali. He interrupted her before she could say anything else, whether it was an apology, or the confirmation that she had already accepted the assignment. Baudin: What kind of rumors? Drex picked up his cup, watching the wisps of smoke rising from the surface, and inhaled the spicy cinnamon scent. Drex: Many kinds, as on every unit. But the most interesting is the Commodore’s upcoming retirement. I don’t know if it is true, but I know what I see on Dark Denali and it would not surprise me if she’d decide to give up her career for that woman. Baudin: And… What would this have to do with us? She had finally looked up at him again. Drex shrugged. It was curious she had used the word us and he did not forget to notice it. He put the cup down without drinking. Although he liked the smell, he wasn't as enthusiastic about the taste and temperature of that broth. Drex: Maybe nothing, maybe everything. As I'm sure you're aware, a change at the top can lead to some pretty big changes. I could… It was her time to interrupt him. Baudin: I know you love Denali. I remember how happy you were when you got the assignment to the Ring when we graduated. You need that place as much as I need to accept the offer they did to me. She pushed back her chair and stood up and walked around the table to get to him. Drex followed her every move and when she stopped behind him, he let her lean over him and hug him from behind. Baudin: We've always agreed, right? Never serve on the same unit. Drex rested his right hand on the fold of her arms. Drex: We agree. That one rule was the reason their unique relationship worked. They were both young and the project will come to an end sooner or later. They had found a way to meet regularly over the past year, they would in the future. He just had to figure out where this planet, or satellite, or alien station was. If the fleet was sending her there, they would send ships and shuttles every now and then, he just had to find out when. The uncomfortable feeling in his chest and stomach didn't go away, but it seemed to have at least eased. Baudin: We have two days before we have to leave. And you promised me too much to sit here and brood over. NT / END ============ Lieutenant Drex Science Officer Denali Station D240011D14

I think all of us know this feeling. When you have an idea and start something, hoping the rest of the crew likes it. And some people join in, others don't, some give great contributions and others... Well, other's like @Lyara Alroyo just take it to the next level. Literally. Very well played Isa, I never expected it to be this good and I have to share it her so everyone can see.

I chuckled a few times during this sim, so better to share all of it than just standalone quotes. Standish fumbles over his words whilst enjoying a drink with Tahna Meru, and it's so endearingly funny (and well written!). @Russell Standish has been with us now for a few months, and it's been a joy to see both Mike and the character Standish meld in with the ship over time. Ensign Russell Standish -- Smoking Leaves

About six months ago, Lhandon and Toxin had a falling out in an explosive argument that the entire ship felt. This was partly caused by Henri, a being that serves as the computer for both Alpha Brenkelvi II and the OEB. Now, it’s Christmas Day, and the two are discussing what happened, with emotions finally coming to the surface. I want to highlight something incredible that @Toxin Arlill (Erik) has done here. Not only has he set me up to write some of the most gut-wrenching sims I’ve created since joining, but he’s also avoided taking the easy route with this story. Erik could have easily made Toxin the villain of Lhandon’s story and gone for a cliche story but instead, he’s shown that Toxin isn’t the villain, nor is Henri. They’re just two individuals who made the wrong choices and, in doing so, hurt the one person who would have helped them without question: the person Toxin called a brother. Toxin and Lhandon’s are experiencing pain, miscommunication, and regret, yet their confrontation feels authentic. Toxin isn’t a villain, and Lhandon isn’t blameless—they’re just two people trying to navigate the wreckage of their relationship. Very few simmers can pull this off as well as Erik has, and even fewer could have seen it through without bailing early.

Tom decided to let everyone sit on edge waiting Lhandon's response to the long overdue apology from Toxin and Henri. I initially was going to highlight just his end quote but the entire thread deserves feature due to the emotionally satisfying and relatability in the debate is an apology enough sometimes? He brilliantly ties in his placement in the storyline with Morro and his need for an apology, reflecting if that would ever be enough. @Lhandon_Nilsen@Toxin Arlill You two have done amazing work on this. Toxin's character work as someone who was influenced by Henri who was in self preservation, who had to live years without his crew post mission and has had a realization of whats important and trying to get back his best friend has been wonderful. Bravo~

I love these. I love how some of our fellow writers write off script characters, or animals. Even what is suppose to be lifeless, like a Space station or Space itself. We have a long tradition in this, one of the best sims I read was way back when I was fairly new, and it was from the perspective of Ops. There was also a frog, if I remember correctly, and a probe, or was it a torpedo? Forgive me but the amount of awesome writing, in what ever shape it happens, is such that I can't recall all the amazing things I read over the years. And we have one more side "character" or "would be pet". So keeping in the tradition of bringing more than Characters to life, here is Wormie. All thanks to the talented @Jovenan