Jump to content

Search the Community

Showing results for tags 'appreciations'.



More search options

  • Search By Tags

    Type tags separated by commas.
  • Search By Author

Content Type


Forums

  • Welcome to our forums!
    • Board Rules and News
  • Featured
  • Applications and Training
    • Prospective Members
    • Academy Training
    • Graduation Hall
  • Hall of Honor
    • Appreciations
    • Awards Ceremonies
    • Contest archives
  • News & Updates
    • Community News
    • Ship Mission Reports
    • FNS Headlines
  • Community Discussion
    • Trek Discussion
    • Poll of the Week
  • Community Collaboration
    • Graphics requests and Image Resources
    • Teams
    • Squadrons
    • Guilds
    • Duty Posts

Calendars

There are no results to display.


Find results in...

Find results that contain...


Date Created

  • Start

    End


Last Updated

  • Start

    End


Filter by number of...

Joined

  • Start

    End


Group


Location


Interests


Current Post


Wiki user URL


Wiki character URL

Found 356 results

  1. I really loved the JP below. The three of them really did a stand-up job of setting the scene for the Embassy's transition to the Thor's first mission. Really well executed writing which gave a great "cinematic" set piece to the send off. I kept seeing slow sweeping shots of this great starship sliding through space in my mind's eye. Well done gents!
  2. The junior officers hold the founding meeting of the JOPA (Junior Officer Protection Association) in this epic joint point! I like it for three reasons. First, the JOPA is a neat conceit to get newly assigned junior officers together and bond. Second, the joint post itself gets the characters and their backgrounds introduced (super helpful OOC wise). Third, the collaboration and organisation that has gone into making this post happen is neat! ((Kofi Bar Patio, Duronis II)) The 32-year-old man stood next to a large wicker table with seats for eight. The view was gorgeous, overlooking sun-kissed beaches on the waterfront. The sun, low in the sky this late in the afternoon, beamed over the sand, stretching for miles in either direction along the coast. Beachgoers could be seen enjoying themselves in the water just a hundred meters away. The ocean breeze swept across the patio. Wes’ short-sleeved shirt, white with a black grid pattern on it, rippled in the light breeze. He wore it unbuttoned with a tight-fitting dark green T-shirt underneath and beige shorts. The wind brushed at the edges of the loose clothing. Having encouraged the other officers to come relaxed, he had dressed for the warm sunny weather. The scent of the saltwater and the sea was relaxing, and Wes sat down at the table to wait for the rest of the junior officers to arrive. Seeing the first walking through the interior of the half restaurant half club, Wes waved and called out. Greaves: Out here on the patio. The weather is perfect to sit outside! Dar walked out onto the patio and gave Greaves a subtle wave back with a smile. Dar: The weather is almost perfection and thank you for inviting me. Greaves: Of course! The whole point of this shindig is to get all of us together. The filthy senior officers are no match for a cohesive group of us! She grabbed a chair and sat down as the others began to arrive, she was curious as to what this was about. She had chosen to wear a loose-fitting pair of beige slacks and a maroon sleeveless vest with a pair of sandals, she was glad to see she was not overdressed. Wes looked around and didn’t see anyone else approaching yet, so he decided to try and carry on a conversation. He was never great at small talk. Put him in a big group setting, and he could joke and vibe with the best of them. One on one and Wes just stumbled over his words and felt awkward. Greaves: oO No better way to get better with small talk than to do it! Oo So, I know we met once already right before the mission, but it was brief and we all were busy. To try again, I’m Wes Greaves. You seem a little old to be a junior Ensign. Join Starfleet late, or were you prior-enlisted? Dar couldn’t help but chuckle at Greaves candid and very direct approach to his question pertaining to her age and she knew that it was bound to be only a matter of time before someone mentioned it. Dar: Well, yes I am a bit more seasoned than the rest and yes I was enlisted before...a few years back but I returned to Bajor to work with the government. As she spoke she peered up seeing the familiar stoic form of Dr Alieth approached. Alieth arrived at the meeting place neither too early nor too late, but just when she intended to. For the occasion, she had chosen to dress in civilian clothes, something she rarely did since she had joined Starfleet. The young Vulcan wore a high-collared tunic that stretched to the floor, producing a soft rustle with every move. It was a traditional garment of multiple shades of gray and copper, which left only her face and hands exposed, which she was able to conceal within the wide sleeves. Or, that she would do so if it had not been for the tray she carried on her hands. Over it was a steaming teapot and half a dozen minute cups. Alieth: Mister Greaves, Miss Dar. :: She said as a greeting while she placed her load on the table. :: Is everyone here? Wes smiled as the Vulcan appeared on the patio with tea. He had been drinking the stuff Alieth had introduced him to every morning along with his coffee and he had finally begun getting used to the shock of the taste and the caffeine-like energy it gave him. Greaves: Alieth, glad you could make it. And with tea even! Is it the kind of tea I think it is? Alieth: :: Nodding solemnly. :: Indeed, I considered that it might be a suitable method to...:: She remained silent for a second, in search of the proper Terran proverb. :: ... to break the ice. Greaves: Great idea! I could use a pick-me-up. Pour me a cup? Alieth: By all means. The Vulcan took a seat in one of the vacant chairs amidst a flurry of greyish fabric. When she finally settled down on the seat and began to pour a couple of minute cups of the sour-smelling liquid, her outfit had arranged itself around her in such fashion that it seemed as disciplined and stoic as the doctor herself. Alieth pushed one of the cups towards Wes and took another for herself, cradling in between her slender finger to warm her hands. The weather was mild for the first time since they had arrived to the planet, the heat of the twin suns were almost agreeable. The nearby beach was, however, disconcerting to the Vulcan: the combination of the familiar sands with the sight of the massive body of water and the salty smell it produced was alien to her, no matter how many times she experienced it. Dar watched Alieth as she seemed to be agreeing with the current mood that was being set by the table. It was rather relaxing here on the patio, the weather was fine, the sun was warm and the company did seem agreeable. Dar: Anymore to come still? She took a sip of her coffee as she waited for Wes to respond. Greaves: Looks like we’re still missing a couple of the others … :: He paused noticing another Starfleet Officer. :: Oh wait, it looks like … Wilkins just got here too. Tara made her way to the table where she saw two people already sitting down. She knew the Vulcan medical officer, but she recognized Wes from when they had lunch earlier. Tara was holding a bowl of mixed fruit as she sat down with the three of them. She was dressed informally with some form-fitting pants that went down to her ankle and a top that had short sleeves with a dropping neckline. Tara: Thank you for inviting us here Wes, and please call me Tara. We’re off duty now. Greaves: Long time no-see Tara :: Winking. :: Good to see you again. Tara: Thank you for lunch earlier. It was lovely. Greaves: o0 Okay, was she taking that wink out of context? Oo I had a good time too. It’s been nice to have some down time to meet up with people after that mission. Alieth poured a couple more cups, pushing them in front of the other women. Then the Vulcan took care of her own tiny teacup and took a small sip. Alieth: I realize we have not had the opportunity to formally introduce ourselves. :: Turning slightly to face the Trill. :: I'm Doctor Alieth, Ensign Wilkins, I presume? Tara: That’s correct. I think we met briefly when the shuttle went down. Alieth: :: Nodding soberly. :: I have been unable to visit the science tower to retrieve the residual anaesthetic I left on your facility. I hope that I have not caused you any inconvenience. Tara: No inconvenience at all. Honestly, I haven’t been in the science tower myself. I’ve been enjoying my down time instead of working. She gave Wilkins a smile and a slight nod. Dar: Ensign Dar Elandra, I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting yet. At that moment another Vulcan approached the table. Dar: oO How many Vulcan officers are here?Oo Dar offered him a curt but polite smile as she took another sip of her coffee. Greaves: :: Noticing the Vulcan approaching the table. :: And last but not least, here’s Sirok. Sirok joined the group, wearing a long gray Vulcan-style robe, it was a sober and elaborately manufactured garment. The Vulcan engineer was looking out over the beach more than the people around him. The weather seemed suitable for such a meeting. At the academy he used to skip that kind of reunions, always having something to study or practice on. Since he had arrived at the embassy he had always had something to do and was partly there on the recommendation of his superior officer. But also he found it logical to know the officers he was going to work with, and for emotional beings it was useful to create bonds to do their job. As he approached them he saluted by bowing his head slightly. He went over to the table and pulled up a chair to sit down. In a way, Sirok moved as he spoke in a robotic way. His way of suppressing feelings was reflected in everything he did. Greaves: Well looks like we’re all here finally. Let’s get sta.... As Wes announced the arrival of all parties, he was interrupted by a short red-headed waitress who seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Sami: Hello everyone, welcome to the Kofi Bar. My name is Sami and I’ll be taking care of you all today. I see that you’ve gotten tea and fruit already. Can I get anyone started with some more drinks or appetizers? At the mention of food, Wes’ stomach growled in protest for the third time that day. Greaves: Getting started can wait, let’s get drinks and some food. :: Half turning in his chair toward the waitress. :: I’d like a Jack and Coke please, and a plate of vegetarian :: winking at Alieth. :: nachos for the table. Wes offered a beaming smile to the waitress and turned toward the rest of the gathered officers to let them order. Alieth bowed her head to the deference the Marine showed to Vulcan food preferences. Sirok was going to try the tea that Alieth brought, but part of the gathering ritual seemed to consist of consuming products from the place where they had gathered. Sirok: Spice tea, if you do not have one, a juice of your choice. Dar: Another cup of coffee, black no sugar and no milk. Tara: A glass of your best white wine, please. Alieth: Plomeek tea :: She tilted her head to the side before adding. :: Black coffee if it is not available. A drink native to the host's home world sounded like a fitting accompaniment to the gathering. Sami arrived shortly after with the first round of orders. The drinks were distributed around the table efficiently, while the woman never blurred the wide smile painted across her face. When all the refreshments had been served in front of the guests, the chirpy Laudean retraced the short journey to the counter and then came back with some appetisers. Alieth blinked with astonishment at what was in front of her. It was a sort of sliced... something... roughly triangular, covered with a thick, green, radioactive-looking sauce. On one side of the plate there was a handful of dark, steaming beans, and on the other a pile of carefully cut vegetables, among which the Vulcan could recognize onions, tomatoes, and various types of peppers. The dish itself did not seem intimidating, but the absence of instruments to consume it was frankly disturbing. Alieth stared at the plate for 5.44 seconds before turning to the waitress. Alieth: Provide me with a set of chopsticks. :: Looking at Sirok. :: Preferably two sets. Sirok nodded, not as a sign of gratitude; that was a feeling. He simply confirmed to Alieth that he wanted a pair of chopsticks, as most Vulcans try not to touch food, so it was a good solution to follow the ritual of sharing food in a group and not having to touch it with your hands. Wes leaned back in his chair. As the waitress departed again to fill everyone’s orders, the warm afternoon sun was beginning to peak under the awning over the patio. In a matter of moments the table was bathed in direct sunlight. Greaves: Okay. :: With emphasis on the word. :: Now let’s get started. The human paused to take a sip of the tea Alieth had brought. Greaves: So, I know I laid it out in the e-mail, but the JOPA is an informal organization for all of us junior officers to get together. The target audience is the first two ranks of officers. Ensigns and Junior Grades for you folks. Second and First Lieutenants for us in the Marines. Really the goal is to share ideas, share professional education amongst each other, let off steam from work, and have fun together to build camaraderie. Wes took another sip of his tea and looked around for the waitress, hoping some food was coming soon. Greaves: Today, I’d like us to get to know each other a little better, decide how formally we’d like to run the JOPA, and then have some fun together. This is as good of a place as any. So to start, let’s introduce ourselves. I’ll start. I’m Wes Greaves. I’m from Seattle Washington on Earth. I joined the Starfleet Marines when I was 18, became a combat engineer as an enlisted man, and eventually decided to become an officer. Not married, no kids, and I’m an only child. Not much family to speak of, but both of my parents are still alive and living happily back on Earth. In my free time, I love to run, read, and I dabble in photography. Mainly nature and landscapes. :: Pausing. ::. And that’s me. Anyone else care to share? Alieth: My name is Alieth, daughter of Saros and N'Keth. I am a native of Chi-ree, in Xial province, in Vulcan :: Probably that would tell little to the non-Vulcans present, after all Xial was the province of the planet least familiar to off-worlders. :: I started my training at the VSA before moving to San Francisco, where I graduated from the Starfleet Medical Academy. Alieth took a second to compile the data that Wes provided before she continued following his example. Alieth: My parents are alive and in a satisfactory state of health. I have an older sister and a younger brother. My current marital status is un-bonded. The Vulcan took another pause, considering what part of her daily activities might be considered as recreational by human standards. Once she found a suitable activity, she resumed her speech. Alieth: Outside the medical centre, I care for lesser beings whose health has been compromised. And I prune plants. :: She added eventually, in the light of the latest developments. :: Dar listened to the introductions as they went around first Wes, then Alieth and now it was her turn. She was quite a bit older than most of them and she was sure that most of them knew about the history of Bajor, it was part of the Starfleet syllabus after all. Dar: My name is Elandra, Dar is my, as you terrans would call it, surname. In Bajoran culture it is always said first then the name anyways I digress. I was born on Bajor in a Cardassian Internment Camp, Batal which was liberated by Bajoran resistance fighters when I was 11. She took a sip of her coffee as she gave the others a few minutes to process what she was telling them. Dar: Long story short I joined the resistance at 16 fought till Cardassia withdrew, joined the Bajoran Military, when the Dominon war started I decided to join Starfleet. :: She paused. :: Well that was a few years back I took a long break after my son was born and returned to Bajor to raise him. Well he’s older now and here I am. She took another long swig of her coffee waiting for the next person to speak. Tara: Hello my name is Tara Wilkins. Wilkins is my family name. If I was joined, which I am not, I would be taking on the symbiont’s name as my last name. I grew up in Gheryzan located on Trill. I studied science at Manev University, which is also located on Trill. I then went to Earth where I was a doctoral student in Xenology at Princeton University. I joined Starfleet when I was twenty-six-years-old. I was placed in the six-week Starfleet Academy Preparatory Program. I joined Starfleet because I wanted to explore the universe. Go where no one has gone before. That type of thing. Tara popped a grape in her mouth. While the others were completing their presentation, Sirok tasted his drink. As he assumed they didn't have the Vulcan drink so they brought him the juice. He didn't know its precedence but it seemed appropriate. And in the time that the others had been presenting themselves Sami had been able to bring the chopsticks and could taste that traditional food. He did not find it so adequate. Sirok: I am Sirok son of S'Vek and T'Lil. I was born in the region of Kyr on the planet Vulcan. :: Unlike Alieth's parents his family was known in certain areas of Vulcan society, especially in the rich region of Kyr. :: I have an older brother and I am un-bonded. Sirok: As a complement to my work activities, I practice suus mahna to maintain my physical condition and I draw by hand mechanical pieces as a method of concentration and memory improvement. Alieth: :: Tilting her head to the left. :: I had the knowledge that Osu S'Vec of Kyr had only one male progeny, his heir Sopeg. Sirok: My parents decided to keep me out of public life. Alieth: A decidedly unusual arrangement. Sirok: My brother is more than enough to take the lead of the family in the future, which has allowed me to develop my career in Starfleet. Alieth nodded at that explanation. It was a logical conclusion, albeit one that did not fully justify why one of Kyr's most prominent families had concealed the existence of one of its members for several decades. However, prying was a decidedly un-Vulcan behaviour, so she refrained from further inquiries. While the group went through introductions Wes grabbed a small plate and began piling some of the Nachos onto it. The Vulcans’ earlier request for chopsticks had been worth a good laugh to Wes, but he kept his amusement to himself. Biting into the first chip, Wes listened as Sirok finished up. He took a sip of his drink before addressing the group again. Greaves: Great! Good to get to know everyone a little better. On to more business. I figure we have two things we should all agree on for the group. First, how do we want to run the JOPA? I’ve seen things be satirically formal, or just an informal gathering. Personally I have my preference, but I won’t taint the conversation. What do you all think? Alieth took the chopsticks that Sami had supplied her with, split them up with the elegance that came with custom, and guided them to the plate in the centre of the table. She tried to catch one of the triangles sunk in the sauce but despite all her skill the edge cracked, leaving her with nothing between the chopsticks but thin air. Before she attempted a second try, she opted to answer the Marine. Alieth: Formal or informal makes no difference for me. :: Looking at her table partners. :: I delegate that decision onto you. With no more to add at this time, she focused again on attempting to catch one of the triangles. After five rounds, her endeavours remained largely fruitless. Dar listened to everyone, placing her now empty coffee cup down on the table before her she stretched a little in her chair. While they spoke she dished a plate of the nachos for herself. She couldn’t recall ever having tasted them before but she definitely smelled something spicy. Sirok: Perhaps a more formal structure will serve to set the ground rules and once established we can act more out of habits. It seemed to Sirok the most logical way to act with emotional beings. If the norm became a habit, it would be easier for them to maintain a basic structure. After talking, he continued to taste the juice that had been brought to him. Tara: I would rather keep it informal myself. Something a little laid back, so we can unwind. Greaves: Well if we do things formally we should identify positions for the group. A senior member as the leader, and set some recurring times for a get together. We could even go so far as to call the group to order, have an agenda and the such. Wes took another bite of the dripping nachos from his plate. He realized his mistake too late however, as he hadn’t finished his thought. There was a brief pause of indecisiveness, and eventually the man just spoke through a mouthful of food. Greaves: Personally, I prefer informal. He swallowed the last of the chip in his mouth and followed it up with a sip of his drink. Greaves: Ultimately, majority rules. Looks like our Vulcan comrades prefer a formal arrangement. :: Playful smirk toward Sirok and Alieth. :: And myself and Tara prefer informal get-togethers. Dar, you’re the tie breaker. What do you think? Dar watched Greaves shovel the nachos and speak through them, trying not to reveal the amused expression that was threatening to break free from her face. Sitting up a little straighter, a silence for a moment before she spoke. She was now regretting not having ordered. Dar: I would have to agree on a more informal structure, too many head chefs can sour the dough. She picked up a fork, forgoing the fingers and chopsticks the others seemed to opt to eat and took a mouth full of the nacho’s, the texture was different but it was nice, surprisingly so. Crunchy and spicy...she paused...a little too spicy. Coughing slightly, she swallowed quickly as the spice from what she could only assume was chillies. Alieth: So this is done. :: The Vulcan sentenced when Dar leaned the election towards one of the options. :: Greaves: :: Nodding. :: So that’s settled then. The next thing are traditions and the character of the JOPA. This is unique to our group and really extends to whatever we come up with and all agree on. What kind of ideas do you all have for things we can do within the JOPA? Traditions, rituals, rights of passage, unique roles within the group, etcetera. It’s all on the table. What do you got? Sirok: If the objective is to help junior officers, any officer who is a junior ensign or lieutenant should be able to join the association. By the same token, anyone who becomes a senior officer would leave the association. Alieth nodded at the other Vulcan's contribution before she spoke. Alieth: Given the private and protective nature of this association in regard with other Junior Officers, it is essential to establish confidentiality of what happens or is shared in these meetings. The minute doctor took a moment to re-word it in a more concise manner. Alieth: The first rule of JOPA is: you do not talk about JOPA. The second rule of JOPA is: you DO NOT talk about what happens in the JOPA. Tara: This is all new to me. I was thinking the main thing about JOPA was for us to share ideas and vent our frustrations. I never thought about it being ritualistic. I guess I was looking at it as being just a relaxing place to unwind and bond with each other. Greaves: In my mind the traditions or little rituals are more of a thing to bond us together, build camaraderie, and whatnot. I was thinking more like little rites of passage as new members join us and the senior members are promoted out of the group. Little jokes to play on each other to break the ice and keep us engaged. The idea is all in good fun. Here’s a thought, as a send-off to officers promoted out of the group, we get together and roast them as the send-off. Tara: I don’t know what you mean by roasting them. Do you plan on cooking them or something? Alieth acquiesced to the Trill's words. Baking one of their peers didn't seem like an optimal methodology for building camaraderie. With a mouthful of whiskey and cola in his mouth, Wes nearly choked on his laughter. It took several seconds for the unpleasant burning sensation of alcohol in his nostrils to subside before he spoke. Greaves: No, no. My apologies. It’s just an idiom. It means we get together and tell funny stories and jokes at their expense in good fun. A way to remember their exploits, contributions. Their successes, but mostly their failures. Tara: That sounds like that would be okay, but I don’t know about joking about someone’s failures that just seems so cruel. Alieth: Highlighting someone's faults and mistakes is an efficient basis for improvement and it is the duty of their peers to point out these deficiencies. I find it a satisfactory arrangement as a farewell ritual for the group. :: She tilted her head to the side. :: Moreover, I have noticed that the pointing out of faults and defects of one’s acquaintances is a sophisticated humoristic skill on Earth. You all could benefit from the advantages of humour in emotional beings. The Vulcan doctor took a sip of her tea and made another attempt to catch one of the green-sauce coated triangles. To her astonishment, this time she succeeded and finally got a taste of that "appetizer". She nibbled it thoroughly for a long minute. The taste was... foreign. Salty. And much more intense than what she was used to. She found it quite palatable. Once she had found the technique to catch the nachos with the chopsticks, Alieth repeated the process a couple more times, efficiently consuming half a dozen triangles in quick succession. Sirok listened carefully, social rituals were not something he was used to. He found the reason for ordering social behaviour, but the fewer of those rituals he had to satisfy, the more time he could spend on things he considered more important. Even though as a Starfleet officer he recognized what Teller was saying, it would help create camaraderie among emotional beings. Therefore the Vulcan did not have much more to add, so Sirok nodded in agreement with his companions, before taking another sip of his juice. Suddenly it seemed, Wes’ plate of nachos was empty and his glass of both tea and Jack and Coke were drained as well. The man blinked in surprise as he reached for another chip, only to find all of his refreshments already eaten. Looking to the larger plate of nachos, Wes was able to catch a glimpse of the final three chips being rapidly devoured by the chopstick wielding Vulcan woman. Wes took a mental snapshot of the moment as he found it wildly humorous. Greaves: Okay, so let me summarize. :: Counting on his fingers. :: One, we will be informal. No titles or rules of discourse. Two, we don’t mention the JOPA to anyone except members and we don’t talk about it openly. Three, all officers in the first two grades are invited to the group, and we kick out anyone who promotes to Lieutenant or Marine Captian. Four, before we kick someone out of the group, we gather to commemorate their accomplishments and failures, preferably in a humorous method. And finally, the purpose of the JOPA is to share professional knowledge, build camaraderie, and decompress as peers. Wes looked about the table, making brief eye contact with each Ensign at the table. Greaves: Well that sounds like a successful meeting of the JOPA. I hereby rule this meeting adjourned! Now, who wants to explore the city and get some drinks? [End Scene.] JP Written By: 2nd Lieutenant Wes Greaves Marine Officer Embassy of Duronis II/USS Thor E239702WG0 Ensign Alieth Medical Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 Author ID number: E239702A10 Ensign Tara Wilkins Science Officer Duronis II Embassy & Support Flotilla E239702TW0 Ensign Dar Elandra Security Officer Duronis II Embassy/USS Thunder-A C237904DE0 Ensign Sirok Engineering Officer Embassy of Duronis II/USS Thor E239702S10
  3. ((StarBase 118 – Academy Campus Green)) ::Romyana was sitting on a bench enjoying the view across the Academy green. She was told she would be met here by someone to escort her to her new duty post. She already knew she would be staying on the Star Base instead of speeding off on a star ship, but that did not make her any less exited. Quietly Romyana reminisced about the unique experience of the Final Exam that she had completed two days ago. At the time she was convinced she had failed, but to her delight she passed and with a pretty good grade too!:: Dal: Ensign Casparian? I am Commander Ishreth Dal. Welcome to StarBase 118, Ensign. ::She turned her head to see who had called for her. An Andorian man wearing a Marine green Starfleet uniform and three pips on his collar, ranking him Commander.:: Casparian: Sir. ::as per the training that was systematically drilled into each Cadet in the first weeks of the Academy, she stood to attention when addressed by an officer:: Thank you Sir. I am looking forward to meet the rest of the crew. ::Romyana's eyes flickered from the Andorian's eyes to his antennae and back. When she realised how silly this must look, she tried to control it and focus on the Commanders eyes, but each time the antennae moved she couldn't help but looking at them.:: Dal: We are very pleased to have you join our senior staff. I am here to bring you up to date on the current mission our crew is working on as well as bring you to meet Lt Commander German Galven, our Chief of science. Casparian: Yes, Sir. Please lead the way. ::Romyana was nervous so her answers were brief, but she made an effort to sound strong and confident. This came easy to her as she had a relatively low and carrying voice for a human woman. An excellent voice to shout orders with, her father once said.:: Dal: Commander Galven’s team is working on an antidote to a deadly poison known as Silicon Platinochloride. When inhaled it destroys the membranes of blood cells, causing terrible internal bleeding. ::He drew in a breath, antennae curling downwards:: Have you heard of this chemical before? Casparian: No, I can't say I have. It sounds like a horrible way to-- ::she let her sentence trail off:: Is it lethal to humanoids? ::Romyana visualised the effect of the chemical on the human body. Impressions of her lungs filling up with blood, gasping for breath and finally slowly suffocating in her own blood shot through her thoughts. It sent shivers up her spine.:: Dal: Yes, it is known as Death Fog. ::he tipped his head slightly as they entered the lift and he keyed in the correct deck.:: It is illegal in the sector. Heavily illegal in the Klingon Empire as it has a particularly strong effect on Klingons. Casparian: Hm, interesting. ::she nodded thoughtfully:: The Klingons would be especially grateful if Commander Galven and his team succeed. Are they close to finding the antidote? Dal: I am not sure where they are in their research, but I can try to answer any general questions you have. ::The turbolift came to a gentle halt and the door slid open. Romyana stepped forward but then came to an abrupt halt. She had never been here before, so she wasn't sure which direction to turn next.:: Casparian: Where do we go from here? Dal: To the left, come, I will show you. ::He waved her forward, walking quickly enough to be efficient but slowly enough that they could still easily converse.:: Casparian: Commander, I do have a question about the chemical actually. Where does it come from? Who has developed it? Dal: Originally it was a by-product of deuterium mining methods using old fashioned cobalt explosives. It does not naturally occur within the natural galaxy that we know of. The current poison is manufactured by criminals and refined to increase toxicity. ::His soft voice had a deep undercurrent of distaste. His expression was still quite calm – that was expected for higher rank Andorian clans that emoted with their annetnnae while generally keeping their facial expression blank. Ishreth had been raised with this tradition impressed upon him strongly, but he had also worked for two decades with non-Andorians and a bit of that had rubbed off. Every once in a while his lips would twitch or his brows would perk, but mainly his face stayed calm. His antennae however curled with a deep dismay and flexed for a few times like a massive frown. As they slowly relaxed he spoke again.:: Dal: Any other questions, Ensign? Casparian: No, Sir. No more questions for now. ::she gave him a quick almost apologetic smile and pushed her auburn shoulder long hair behind her ear.:: Dal: I’m sure Commander Galven will be able to give more insights, both scientific and otherwise. ((Cybernetic/Robotics laboratory & testing facility - 8th Level, Deck 529, Starbase 118)) ::When the sliding doors opened Romyana was positively surprised by the sight of the lab. It was not just any science lab, it was full of the latest technology. She had expected lots and lots of glass vials containing brightly coloured chemical substances, in an otherwise sterile room, but instead there were several robotic like creations and a multitude of machine parts scattered around the workbenches. She could see two people further in the back but her eyes now focussed on a Denobulan man approaching. He had a funny looking smirk on his face. He must be the Chief Science Officer that Dal was talking about earlier.:: Dal: Commander Galven, please meet Ensign Romyana Casparian. Ensign Casparian, Commander German Galven. ::He offered polite introductions.:: ::Romyana blushed as she listened to Dal introducing her. It had been Cadet Casparian for so long, that it was now strange to hear anyone call her Ensign and it would probably take a few weeks before she would really get used to that.:: Galven: ::grins:: Pleasure to meet you, ensign. I suspect the journey from the bottom of the base was a smooth ride and the Commander filled you in, yes? Casparian: Yes, Sir. Dal: I ran down the basic information on the Silicon Platinochloride. I will let you fill in the rest, Commander. Galven: ::nods:: Very well. ::moves to the side, then extends his hand outwards for her to walk more into the room:: Allow me to introduce you to a couple of other people. Lieutenant Junior Grade Karen Stendhal and our brilliant civilian scientist, Taelon. ::The Denobulan's smirk had now formed into a reassuring grin. Whilst Dal made to leave, Romyana used the moment to take everything in and she moved her head from left to right looking around the place like a child in a candy shop.:: ::Careful not to stumble over any of the Robotics scattered around the lab, she took some tentative steps towards the two other crewmembers.:: Casparian: Hello Lieutenant Stendhal, Mister Taelon. I am Romyana Casparian. Pleased to meet you. ::she paused shortly to take in the tall man's unique looks:: What are you working on there? ((OOC - Like I said before @Romyana Casparian, I'm very excited to see what you have to write because you've shown just from your first couple of post aboard Ops that you're a valuable member of the crew! Keep up that enthusiasm and infectious positive attitude!
  4. @Jona ch'Ranni Fantastic job at writing for an NPC Slime Devil point of view post that showed the flip side to what's going on in our cavernous adventure! ((Dead Zone, Væron)) Vorl blinked her pupil-less eyes in the low light of the Cavehome. She had explored every centimeter of the place and knew right where everything should be without looking. Her two pronged fore-claws skitted on the rocky floor as she crept forward. It had been three cycles since the Change had occurred. She did not remember much of her life before the Change - only that her existence had been filled with caring for baser needs like food and procreation. Since that time - after being placed in the Cavehome - the Change had brought about many differences. She began to ponder her own existence, to plan, to learn. She had the sense that the Change was not a normal experience of her kind. She was blessed with a gift and she believed it was because of being brought to the Cavehome and because of the Sphere. Vorl gazed up at the Sphere of Life, its yellowish-green glow nearly matched the bioluminescent sacs along her crimson dorsal spine. She found the light and warmth strangely appealing. Vorl: oO It must be protected, it must be preserved. Oo Her head tendrils swayed at a new sound, the scraping of rocks and voices on the ledge above. It was a new sound and new often meant dangerous. She paused, listening for a few minutes as the sounds grew louder. She would not fail in protecting the Sphere. Vorl lowered her carapace to the floor and lay in wait. A blue-skinned prey animal lowered itself from a web into the Cavehome. Would she finally be able to use her new-found abilities to hunt a worthy prey? She inched toward the unsuspecting meal but a shout from above alerted the blue one to her hunt. She locked eyes with the animal and knew in that moment that she would be the victor. Nextmeal's antennae quivered in fear as they rightly should. She took another step forward as it rummaged uselessly among its belongings. She could make out the scrabbling sounds of her Bondmate far above as he tried to get to the prey animals. It mattered not. She would share the Nextmeal feast with him. Vorl: oO A shame that such a creature must die. But one must keep their strength up ... and one must protect the Sphere. A flash of light against an object hurtling toward her was the only warning before the searing pain of her severed tendril was quickly followed by the sharp ache of something hitting her dorsal shell. Vorl cried out in anguish, rising up on her hind legs in desperation. A second Nextmeal joined the first and then a third. A hot beam of light shot forward and caught her in the center of her thorax. As the enroaching darkness melted away her vision, Vorl had but one thought. Vorl: oO What of the Sphere? Oo -- Vorl the Denebian Slime Devil simmed by Lt. Jona ch'Ranni Chief of Operations USS Gorkon (NCC-82293) C239510JC0
  5. ((Sickbay Complex - Deck 5, USS Atlantis)) ((Time Index: First day of shore leave, 0700 Hours Ship’s Time.)) Being limited to touch telepathy meant that she couldn’t be sure what Journs had been thinking when their Antosian chief nurse had casually brought up her romantic feelings towards Commander Raga. However, based on facial expressions she had guessed that it was somewhere between “I’d rather discuss anything else” and “I’m about to jump into the nearest escape pod and go far away from here”. Either way, she was worried about making her fellow medical officer uncomfortable. G’Renn: I do apologize if Lieutenant Avae discussing it in front of me made you uncomfortable. Journs: ::pauses:: I tend to be fairly private about my intimate partners, but I’m not ashamed of it. We were just being careful about how many people knew until we could prove that our personal relationship wouldn’t interfere with our working relationship. The Columbia sickbay had been very light on gossip. Which made plenty of sense. Captain’s yeoman Rolla Haneer didn’t work in sickbay. Despite the ship gossip’s absence, there were still whispers of the latest events and relationships aboard the ship. For the most part, Anath had always tried to ignore them. G’Renn: I try to not get involved in anybody’s social life if they don’t want me to. You can keep as much or as little as your personal life out of sickbay gossip as you wish. So long as it doesn’t impact sickbay operations. Journs: ::nods:: I understand, ma’am. It was part of why Toryn and I have been making such an effort to keep our intimate life so discreet. We want to be judged by our professional attitudes rather than our personal ones. ::smiles wanly:: He and I have that in common it seems. G’Renn: ::She finished updating Journs’ chart.:: There’s only one thing I’ll say on the matter, and I’m sure you can guess what it is. It wasn’t an exact rule, but it was a common recommendation of medical ethics and one that she had always lived by. Feelings, even for a half-Vulcan versed in emotional suppression, could interfere with objective analysis. It was the reason that Savok had always received any medical treatment or medication that he needed from Doctor Giles on the Columbia. G’Renn: Treating our family members and our partners is almost never a good idea. It hurts objectivity and can prevent us from giving the care that needs to be given. And if you make a mistake… I’ve always left any medical care for Savok to other medical officers. I’d suggest you consider leaving any non-emergency care for Commander Raga to myself or one of the other medical officers. ::She paused and looked down at the PADD in her hands. Was she really about to ask what she was about to ask next?:: He hasn’t mentioned having a problem with me, has he? It had been a small detail that she’d barely picked up on, but she had noticed it nonetheless. And it had been bothering her ever since. If there was some issue she would like to know about it and try to remedy it right away. But it was also possible that she was just reading too much into things. Journs: ::pauses:: He hasn’t mentioned anything, no. G’Renn: It was when I was first beamed aboard the shuttle on Tibro. The commander seemed to tense up a little. After a second it was gone, but I did pick up on it. I didn’t know if it was just the stress of the mission or if I’d done something. Anath suspected that it could have something to do with her being half Klingon. To say that the Klingon side of her lineage had been unkind to the Al-Leyans would be a gross understatement. But she didn’t want to say that. Especially since she couldn’t be certain that it wasn’t something else that she had done. Just assuming all Al-Leyans had a problem with Klingons was just as wrong as someone judging her on no evidence but her forehead ridges. Journs: ::smiles wanly:: I wouldn’t take it personally. There’s been a good deal of bad blood between Al-Leyans and Klingons. For some, the biases are more deeply ingrained than others. Knowing what I do about Toryn, he would never transfer that bias to you personally. It’s likely an instinctive reaction to Klingons in general. So her suspicions had been more or less accurate. It was understandable, but still difficult to hear. G’Renn: It’s good to know that it’s only an instinctive reaction to only half of me. I take it you do not have a similar reaction? Journs: ::nods:: Given my medical background and what I’ve experienced in my life, I don’t hold the bias as much as others of my people who haven’t seen a different side to Klingons as I have. G’Renn: That’s good... She’d regretted asking already. The conversation had started awkwardly enough with a discussion of Lieutenant Journs’ relationships. Then it set sail on a collision course with the nasty subject of Al-Leyan/Klingon history and the prejudices created therein. Journs: I have the utmost respect for you...and not just because you’re my department head and my superior officer. You are clearly a person of strong moral character and integrity. That experience allows me to see past your physiology and into the core of who you are. That comment definitely earned a look of mild confusion bordering on disgust. She was still Klingon. Being half Klingon was something that had caused a lot of pain and upset for her, but it wasn’t some physiological defect that needed to be looked past. It was part of the essence of her being. She was a vegetarian doctor, but she also loved Klingon opera, brought a d’k tahg with her family seal on every assignment in her Stafleet career, and carried the name of a Klingon colonel and her great grandmother as her last name. G’Renn: I’m very glad to hear that. Journs: ::nods:: That’s why I’m certain Toryn feels the same way. ::smiles:: You and he are kindred souls in a way. You both put a lot of stock in honorable actions and you both care a great deal for the well being of others. ::pauses:: Feel free, to borrow a Human expression, take it worth a grain of salt. However, as someone who has seen the deeper parts of his mind-- The words were left to hang in the air for a moment. Anath didn’t need to ask for any clarification. G’Renn: It would be nice if there was nothing to look past in the physiology at all. I’m not just a Vulcan with unfortunate Klingon forehead ridges. ::She sighed and leaned against the wall near the biobed in frustration.:: Can’t fit in anywhere, can I? Journs: Response Questions of her “Klingonness” were bringing back some very upsetting memories from her past. When she was fourteen she had almost the opposite conversation with her father’s brother O’Trel. He had taken the opinion that despite looking like one she was not a real Klingon at all and that she should consider having the Klingon forehead ridges removed so as not to dishonor the rest of their species by association. G’Renn: Never accepted by the Klignons in the family as a hybrid freak. Too chaotic and emotional to fit in with the Vulcans. My behavior is seen as weird when it would be accepted from a full Vulcan. ::Pause:: And all that some people see are my forehead ridges. Journs: Response G’Renn: If you’ll excuse me, I have other patients to check on. Her voice was starting to break and she wanted to get out of the conversation as quickly as possible. Journs: Response Anath signed off on the record, put the PADD back next to the biobed, and walked away from the biobed. Rather than continuing her checks on the other patients she crossed sickbay, going past the other biobeds and the CMO’s office. She entered the empty morgue and took a deep breath. It was taking a concerted effort not to cry. The question of her own identity had always been a sore spot for her. What was she? A Klingon, a Vulcan, both, or neither? Sometimes she felt that she was at least mostly accepted as Vulcan. Then she was reminded of how her Vulcan demeanor and pointed ears were easily unnoticed, but her Klingon side was there for everyone she met to see. Almost everyone saw her as Klingon. Except for the Klingons, of course. Lieutenant Commander Anath G'Renn Chief Medical Officer, USS Atlantis A239402AG0
  6. Did someone write something that you loved? That made you laugh out loud, or gasp? Please share it here, on this post.
  7. I love the bits of Risian language that @Sophie290999 sprinkled into Vanlith's message. This is a beautiful little sim showing a mentor/mentee friendship continue across the stars. Well done, Sophie and @Geoffrey Teller! ((Personal Quarters, Deck 4, USS Veritas)) Charlena tucked her legs under herself as she curled up on the sofa with her PADD. She was catching her breath again after everything that had happened and she couldn’t help but think that there was one person who should know what had happened. Teller. Opening up her message she didn’t hesitate. Charlena read over her message once more before she hit send. She smiled up at herself catching her gaze in the mirror that he had gifted her. She couldn’t help but wipe the single tear that fell from her cheek as she stood and straightened her attire. A strong coffee would work wonders now she decided as she made her way out the the Brew Continuum. ((Roughly 8000 LY away, Duronis System, Embassy of Duronis II)) Geoff Teller sagged into a chair in his wildly lavish living quarters with a sigh. He had been going almost non-stop since stepping off the shuttle on the world the locals called Til’Ahn, and now that Doctor MacKenzie had been rescued and the Thunder was on its way back, he could finally take a moment to relax and regroup. His arm, fully mobile now, had picked up a strange grinding and as he rolled his shoulder around he heard what sounded like a box of pebbles within the joint. If it had been a component aboard a ship, he would’ve disconnected it and applied a through dose of lubricant. He smirked at the idea - no doubt the Embassy’s medical staff would have a more practical solution once he made the time for a follow up visit. He briefly considered going now, but found his body was completely disinterested in the idea of getting out of the plush, comfortable lounger. He kicked off his boots in surrender to good sense and grabbed a nearby PADD, content to get caught up on some of the mountain of reports that had accumulated while he was jogging through the forest. Flicking through menus, Teller stopped on his inbox and smiled. It was overflowing with routine message traffic, administrative issues that he was copied on as a courtesy, and all the logistical information that came with running a base and a small fleet of starships. One message stood out, though. A message from a friend. As Teller opened the note and began to read, he immediately found himself smiling. He could hear the young woman's voice behind the words and wondered if she had been hiding behind her hair as she wrote it. The note itself was touching and it reminded him of the family he had chosen to leave to take on this new challenge. It was not a decision he regretted but, as his freshly healed arm continued to grind, it also wasn’t one that had gone smoothly. As he finished the note and put down the padd, Geoff closed his eyes briefly and fought tears. Charlena had come aboard the Veritas equally full of potential and self-doubt, and it had been one of the highlights of Teller’s career helping the woman find her confidence. She had grown enormously as an officer during their time working together and Teller was certain she had a bright future. With a grin he opened his eyes, picked up the PADD and began composing a response. Geoff paused the recording and considered his next words carefully. He’d tried not to focus on just how much distance there was between his new and former posting, but at the moment that gulf seemed unimaginably vast. He had to remind her, and himself, that they were still on the same team - even if they were separated by duty, time and tides, as naval officers had been since time immemorial. Geoff found his vision had blurred at some point and he wiped his eyes before sending the message on. In his mind, he traveled with the packet of data, first to the local comm relay, then up to the repeater in orbit, and on to the chain of relay stations and listening posts scattered across the Federation until, finally, it found a funny little ship full of the best people Teller had ever known, basking gracefully in the light of a distant sun. Teller went to bed feeling better than he had in weeks. [End] =============================== Lieutenant Commander Geoffrey Teller Executive Officer Duronis II Embassy & Support Flotilla Rear Admiral Turner, T. Commanding V239509GT0 LT. JG Charlena Vanlith Engineering Officer USS Veritas V239604CV0
  8. Sneaky spy stuff is always fun to write with @Serala (( Government Sector, Keibrom, Tibro )) Jemmar began to put the suit on as the Trill man turned around and seemed to keep watch. Once done - and he had to admit the guy had done a decent job at figuring his size - he tapped the man on the shoulder to indicate he could turn around. Then he spread his arms as if to say, “Well, whatcha think?” Instead, he was handed a small device, an emitter of some kind. Pex: Activate this. It will change your appearance and voice making you seem slightly younger. Darven: :: chuckling slightly :: Slightly younger for me is still old. Still, pretty nifty. And my, how Federation technology has improved since I left. Some sort of portable holoemitter, I would imagine, no? Pex: Well, it is my job and apparently the obligation that I have to help you. I am not sure as to why, but an order is an order no matter who or where it comes from. Darven: Well, I’m sure all this skulduggery is new for you. SFI doesn’t really engage in that much anymore, but back in my day, covert ops were pretty common. The remark would have been true for most, but not Tenai. If the older man knew his true past then he would probably regard Tenai in a different light. That was not something Tenai needed nor did he want to explain his past to the man. Pex: Depending on the situation they are still used, but most commanding officers are not fond of them due to the somewhat shady results they can bring forth. Darven: Hmm. Well I have been out of touch for a while, so I’m sure you would know better than me. Jemmar clicked on the device and clipped it on his belt underneath the jacket of the suit. He couldn’t see his face, but he did notice that his hands had less wrinkles than before. Darven: So, what’s our next step, Spots? The nickname was curious and Tenai wasn’t sure how he felt about it, but he would leave the comment alone. Pex: Well, do you think you can act like a Starfleet officer again? Darven: Do I think…? :: chuckles :: Young man, I never really stopped being a Starfleet officer, even after my forced retirement. When you do it as long as I did, there’s some things you just don’t forget. They become habit. Yes, I think I can manage it. Jemmar was curious, though, as to why the Trill man had brought a suit rather than a uniform, but figured he knew what he was doing, so he left the question unanswered for now. Pex: Well, it’s good to know that you have a sure mind of yourself, but do not question any of what I do if you want to get through this alive even if you think it is a mistake. Do you understand? Darven: I got you, son. Don’t worry. I reached out to you for help. It would be quite ungrateful of me to try and tell you how to render that aid. He nodded. It was nice to know that the man would do what he asked especially considering his plan was a bit on the crazy side. He pulled out a comm badge and handed it to the man of whom he was starting to enjoy the company of. As his job left him secluded it was nice to have someone to talk too. Pex: I’m sure you recognize this. Pin it to the suit and we shall begin the journey. Darven: Aye, cap’n. :: grinning in good humor as he pinned the comm badge to his suit :: After you. As the Trill man began to lead the way, Jemmar fell inside next to him. Normally, when on a mission, Jemmar was quiet unless need required him to speak, but he had been away for so long he felt the need to get some news, starting with why their ship was here, in Valcarian space. Darven: So, not that I’m complaining, mind you, but I was wonderin’ why you folks decided to pay a visit here. Pex: Well, I really don’t know. The Captain didn’t seem to provide me that information. I am a lowly Ensign who hasn’t really been considered to be privy of the full reasoning. I know we came for a celebration, but I’m sure there is more to it than that. Have you heard any scuttlebutt of things going? Darven: :: again that knowing chuckle :: Oh, down in the slums one hears all manner of scuttlebutt, Spots. Some of it’s true, some ain’t. Takes a keen ear to hear the difference. Like, for instance, did you know them Romulans is back? Pex: :: A slight nod. :: I did see that as I was heading down to the surface of the planet. I am unsure as to their reasoning of being here, but from what I saw they had only a scout ship; however, I am uneasy that there could be a D’Deridex looming in the darkness. The thought of that made his stomach churn. He had fought those ships before and it was never a fun experience, but the Scimitar was worse. Dios he hoped they didn’t have one of those. That news took Jemmar by surprise, to be certain, and he had no doubt it had shown on his face. He was skilled in maintaining his poise even under shocks like that, but he had let his guard down a bit with this Trill. Darven: I didn’t know they had a ship here. I was referrin’ to the Tal Shiar. I seen one of them the other day having a secret, clandestine meeting with a hooded Valcarian. The Valc gave the Romy a data crystal. Don’t know what was on it, but the Romy seemed pleased to receive it. The news was not what he was expecting. This could be an issue though he wasn’t sure as to the mission it seemed like that happened before the Romulans arrived in the atmosphere according to the man’s crude timeline. Pex: Ok, well I am not sure about that, but I feel like that could be a true issue in the end. Let’s double-time it back to the shuttle. Are you up to quickening the pace? Darven: Heh, I may be old, but I’m not dead. You have to stay in shape in these places if you want to stay alive. Let’s go. But, what about the quarantine checkpoints? How are we going to get around those? Jemmar took off at a quickened pace. A jog would attract too much attention, but his current pace would get them there more quickly without attracting undue attention. Pex: I meant no offense by asking if you were ok. As to the checkpoints no need to worry, as Starfleet I can get through, but getting back to the ship could be an issue due to the ridiculous transporter interference here. I have a shuttle, but I’m not sure if we can get off the planet with it. Pex had looked at the wristpadd he had looking at the conditions of the planet and things seemed to be deteriorating quickly. The planet seemed to be completely locked down and Pex needed to get back to the Atlantis. Jemmar glanced over at the younger man. He seemed worried. Jemmar wasn’t exactly sure why. Could be the quarantine in general, the heightened security making his task nearly impossible at the moment, or something else. Concern, maybe? Concern for his fellow crewmates? That seemed logical. Jemmar had a family once. If they had been here now, he would be worried sick about them. No doubt this man was facing similar concerns. He might even have a significant other here. Darven: Then we might still need to find a place to lay low until things settle down. Heck, we might even be able to just wait inside that shuttle until the whole situation blows over. So, what else has you worried there, youngster? The quarantine itself? Pex: Well, I know that multiple teams off the ship have been sent to different areas of the planet and they could be part of what made the quarantine happen. Well, let's head for the shuttle there is something waiting there for you anyways. We are almost there. Once there we can chat more. If that’s ok? Darven: Sounds good to me. But next time, you can just tell me to shut up. I don’t mind. :: he smiled to show he was just kidding with him :: Tenai nodded and led the way down the many streets that could confuse anyone though thankfully due to Tenai’s former life he had a good memory. The streets were full and some blocked so no one could get past. All of them heading for the checkpoints that were causing a ridiculous inconvenience. Pex got them through with some smooth negotiating and talking before they were in the safety of the shuttle. Jemmar was pleased to note the efficiency of the Ensign. He managed to smoothly talk them past the checkpoints and in short order they were at the Starfleet shuttle. He had never seen this model before, but that wasn’t so surprising considering how long he had been gone. He wondered if he would make it back to Earth and whether his family was still there or not. (( Shuttle Elysium, Landing Pad 6, Keibrom, Tibro )) The inside of the shuttle seemed quite luxuriant to him. Hanging on the aft wall was a plaque dedicated to the memories of several people. He wondered what the story was there. Aside from the Trill and himself, the shuttle seemed empty, though it was capable of holding about a dozen people including the two crew positions and ten passenger seats. Darven: :: letting out a low whistle of appreciation :: This is nice, Ensign. Can’t wait to see what else you guys have developed while I was gone. Pex: Glad you like it. It should make hiding out a little easier; however, it won’t matter once you get on the ship. He pulled a PADD out of the storage area and passed it to the man. This was the culmination of his plan and it took many hours digging through databases and covering the tracks of what he did. Darven: What’s this? Jemmar took the PADD and read through it. It was ambitious, but it just might work. Pex: Well this is your new life. Welcome back to Starfleet and the Federation Lieutenant Eugine Hull. It has been a while from what I can see. I think it’s time you come back after years of spying. :: Tenai grinned. :: Tenai handed the man a Federation uniform with the two pips to show the rank of the man. Jemmar was impressed, though the Ensign was slightly off. He hadn’t been spying, although he had picked up several good pieces of intel. No, hiding was the better word. But hiding was no good if one got dead anyway. If he had to be Lieutenant Eugine Hull, then that’s who he’d be. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to assume a new identity. Besides, officially, he was dead anyway. Darven: :: smiling :: Thank you, Ensign. This means a lot. How you going to explain all this to your Captain? The question was a good one, but the answer was not what the man would expect. According to the information on the PADD Pex had been ordered by Intelligence to come to pick up a member of Intelligence. It was scary, but his skill at his job should get him a promotion. Being a Commander at one point and going to Ensign was rough, but no one knew the truth on the ship. Pex: Leave that to me. You don’t need to worry about it! The main thing is your safe now and that’s what matters to me. Darven: I am glad to hear that. I am really looking forward to getting home. I wonder if my family will even be there, or if they’ve moved on? Wish I knew. I really regret that I had to leave them behind like I did. Pex: Sometimes doing what’s best hurts the most. I could look into our database and see if your family is still around, but that is only if you want to give me your real name. If not that’s ok I understand. I should properly introduce myself though. I am Ensign Tenai Pex, Senior Intelligence Analyst aboard the USS Atlantis. Darven: Pleasure to meet you, Tenai. And since we are safely ensconced in a Starfleet shuttle, I guess it would be okay to introduce myself. :: sticking out his hand in greeting :: My real name is Commander James Davis, Starfleet Intelligence, retired. Pex: Oh well ahem. Hello Commander. :: He said awkwardly. :: Darven: You seem surprised, Ensign. Do you know my name? Pex: Well not exactly, but I feel like you should be telling me what to do. Darven: Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve been retired for decades. Well, dead actually. But for now, let’s just go with Lieutenant Hull, shall we. I still have a number of enemies out there who, hopefully, think I am dead. It would not be good if they learned I was still alive. Pex: Your secret is safe with me Lieutenant. :: He said smiling. ::
  9. ((OOC: @Kali Nicholotti wrote a sim which displays the current turn of events aboard the Eagle, from a rather... interesting perspective. I loved reading it, and I believe it deserves a shout-out. It's not like any sim I've read before (probably due to being new), and it certainly sparked the concept of writing from such a perspective for me. Thank you!)) --- (OOC - Just a different perspective of our ringworld...) ((Ringworld)) The white puffy clouds drifted by without so much as a notice to the ground below. Untethered to any of it, the apparent lack of caring was a direct result of not being bound by gravity like so much of the other pieces of this strange worldly puzzle. Without a worry, the droplets that made up the clouds flew around, twirling and dipping in a dance only made beautiful by the end result, offering bits of on and off shade from the ever glowing sun. A gentle breeze wafted down from the mountains in the distance, lazily pushing the clouds along towards the village. A stray bird or three occasionally picked up on the current, drifting with wings outstretched to wherever the winds took it. Just like the clouds, the bird lazily moved along, not seeming to have a direction, a purpose, or any urgent needs. Here and there it gave a glance towards the ground below, wondering if it was a good time to stop in for a bite. Ultimately it kept going, drifting along in no particular direction. The vibrance of the grass was striking against the other equally vibrant colors on the ground. Even the mud next to the river was vibrant in its brown and orange hues. The water was crystal clear, save for the occasional eddy of reddish brown mud, and the varied colors of aquatic life ofset the glass-clear water as it gently flowed away from the mountains in the distance. Here and there a small splash let the universe know there was life down there, though the universe never seemed to care. Beyond that, among an overgrowth of branches and moss, a small frog hopped from rock, to branch, and back again seeking something delicious to snack on. A few bugs had passed by, short for the world in his presence, making the rock an ideal place for a rest. The cool feel of the rock was different than those in the surrounding area, which really was little consequence to the frog, but was nonetheless. Another insect passed by just then, and for a time, the frog watched it. Then, with precision only nature could replicate, the insect was gone. Had anyone been watching, they might not have even seen the long tongue of the creature dart out and catch the flying bug. A strange feeling of pin[...]s suddenly replaced the cool feeling of the rock, making it decidedly uncomfortable. Another insect flew by, but the frog was too busy trying to hop away. The feeling grew, increasing to a point that the frog could no longer take, and in a second, he hopped down to the ground below. No later than his legs left the rock, an electrical discharge from the clouds connected with the rock causing a loud bang, and a moment of searing heat. Thankfully, the frog had hopped just far enough from the rock to have to worry about being cooked, but the sound had startled him and left him in a state of shock. It only took a moment for the world around him to settle back into normalcy. If he hadn't been a frog, perhaps he would have thought about what had caused the sudden discharge of energy, or what had caused it, but as a frog he simply let instinct guide him away from what he perceived as a predator. The Frog As simmed by: -- Commander Ash MacKenna Intelligence Officer USS Eagle R238605KN0
  10. ((OOC:- Following the Tal Shiar's failed attack on Admiral Turner's yacht, several of the crew's wounded arrive at sickbay before the senior staff briefing. Originally posted as separate sims, I really like how the characters weave together, organically interacting. This is a retrospective JP with several sims stitched together, so the character perspective shifts from one to the other. Massive salute of respect to @Alieth @Quen Deena @Geoffrey Teller)) ((IC:- Embassy Sickbay, immediately post extraction from Talsion Forest shuttle crash site.)) Deena pushed her upper and lower molars against each other. She couldn’t see the tricorder screen as the nurse adjusted the placement of the clunky, blinking machine attached to her right ankle. He paused for a moment and looked over at her, clearly annoyed to no end. It was a hairline fracture, all right - he’d told her as much before giving her a dose of terakine and starting to set the bone. Rumbolt: Ya need to stay off it, Doc. Osteoregeneration’s gonna take- Quen: -one hour, I know. Deena sat up to fiddle with the controls for the protective forcefield the osteoregenerator created. If she could get it set high enough, she could actually use her right foot to walk. That was, until Rumbolt swatted her hand away. Rumbolt: oO The worst patients - every time! Oo Hey - cut it out. Quen: Ethan - I’ve been hopping around a forest working with a broken ankle for the past, oh I don’t know… two hours, say? I’ll be just fine using the mobility settings. There was, perhaps, a bit more snark than necessary in that remark. He gave up with a tired look and made a small note on the PADD with her chart. Rumbolt: Don’t fight me, Doc. I’m not in the mood. Deena waited until he moved away, then immediately adjusted the field to allow her to walk on her damaged leg. She slid off the biobed and gingerly tested her handiwork. The height difference was awkward, but workable. This would be far easier wearing boots. Trying to draw as little attention to herself as possible, Deena strolled across the room to the replicator. Quen: oO One boot - no way I’m getting anything but a sock over this thing. Eh - might as well just get in uniform while I’m at it. Oo Bundle of replicated clothing in hand, she ducked behind a screen to change as another argument unfolded nearby. Alieth: If you persist in moving disorderly, the treatment will take longer than expected. Ben looked at the doctor and forced a smile as he nodded. The Vulcan's voice was conveniently neutral, though the admonition was clear in her utterance. Puss wept through the epidermis and trickled down the side of Ben’s shin. Flecks of burnt skin dropped to the floor as new cells wove together, expunging the old under the pulsing beam of the dermal-regenerator. Ben gripped the bio-bed’s side-rail. The new skin shone a raw, irritable red. Ben exhaled through gritted teeth. A beading of sweat mottled Ben’s hairline. Garcia: :: Through gritted teeth. :: Itches like they’re still on fire. Ben’s torso seized and tensed as he strained not to scratch at the healing skin; Ben’s knuckles tightened white as he held his grip on the bed’s side rail. Alieth: That means you are healing adequately. You should cherish that sensation, Lieutenant. :: The Vulcan kept working on Garcia's upper left thigh. Overall, the skin looked normal and healthy, quite different from the burnt and oozing mess that the human had initially arrived at sickbay with. :: The skin will be tender for a few days, I recommend that you avoid any strenuous activity until the internal tissues have fully healed. Garcia: :: Ben fought hard to keep a tone of warmth in his voice. :: Got it Doc. :: Ben inhaled a hissed breath. :: There’ll be plenty of bed rest once we’ve got the CMO back from the Romulans. Alieth pursed her lips minutely by way of answer, but she refrained from arguing more with the senior officer, instead she turned to the adjacent trolley to resume the treatment. On the trolley, a grey tub was packed with a silky white cream. Poking out the top was a spatula. Alieth: I will apply a layer of dermaline gel. I think you will find its effects comforting, sir. Garcia: Ready. :: Nodding heavily. :: Go for it. The cream enveloped the regenerated skin in a cool calming balm. Ben’s hands relaxed and held on loosely to the side rails. Groggy and disoriented, Geoff Teller awoke to the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling. Consciousness and memory returned slowly as he tried, and failed, to lift his head. Somewhere nearby, voices caught his attention but he couldn't make them out. Garcia: :: Laughing in relief. :: Could’ve smeared the cream on first Doc. Alieth: :: Raising an eyebrow. :: But in that case the treatment would have been inefficient. Ben looked at the Doctor with a confused smile. With Ben’s treatment nearly complete, Alieth opened one of the trolley's drawers and pulled out a small tray she had replicated minutes earlier. Over it were placed the caricatured figures of a powerful terran predator from the Ursidae family dyed in five bright colours. Alieth: :: Offering the gummy bears to Garcia. :: I have been informed that humans found the consumption of sucrose after a medical treatment to be highly comforting. I recommend the red one, it is the most commonly chosen. :: Tilting the head to one side. :: It is also the one I find most palatable. Garcia: :: Ben pursed his lips with a smile and then spoke. :: High praise. :: Ben shrugged. :: Red it is, Doc. Ben raised an eyebrow at the doc: Alieth’s bedside manner was … distinct. Ben sat up and pulled his legs to his chest. The cream had extinguished the itching. Now, apart from the red raw patches, and the singed hairs, the skin was fully restored. Ben collapsed back onto the bed, his muscles relaxing for the first time since the attack on his shuttle in which the helm conduit blew, charring his legs in the ensuing fire. Having seen that Ben was well attended to, Deena looked over at Teller. She hadn’t seen Teller since he’d gone in for surgery. He appeared to be sleeping peacefully for now, though a glance over the PADD slotted at the end of his bed told her that it was more likely a combination of strong analgesics and residual anesthetic. Lights on the osteoregenerators immobilizing his arm and ribs indicated that the bones were around fifty percent healed. A good, strong start to be certain, but still a ways to go. Not wanting to step on the new doctor’s toes, Deena waited until Alieth had moved off to approach and check in on her friend, Ben. She leaned casually against the neighboring biobed as she watched him visibly relax for the first time since he’d come across her in the forest. Ben opened his eyes to find a familiar face obstructing the glare of the ceiling lamps. Quen: :: Playfully. :: So - is red the best flavor? Garcia: Hmmm. :: Ben pointed with his chin. :: Need to distract the Doc and test the others … :: Ben’s eyes narrowed. :: Make an informed judgement. Quen: How you feeling? Ben stretched his legs out. The red raw skin shone under the strip lighting. Garcia: :: Playfully. :: Like a … :: Ben smiled. :: smooth lobster … ? Quen: :: Smiling back. :: I wanted to say thank you. For helping me out back there- Before Ben could reply, a faint voice bled through the conversation. It was Teller, and his call tugged on Deena and Alieth’s Hippocratic strings; the two doctors made straight for the recuperating First Officer. Looking down, Teller could see his uniform had been removed and much of his shoulder and arm was covered in dermaplast trauma pads, and his arm itself was immobilized, small blinking devices sitting every few centimeters. oO At least it's still there. Oo Geoff took a deep breath and found his ribs equally restrained, but at least the pain was gone. He could feel his faculties returning more quickly as he looked around and one thing more than any other was forcing its way to the front of his mind. He was absolutely furious. He'd been shot out of the sky, had half a shuttle land on him, and then to top it all off his good friend had been taken right in front of him, and he'd been unable to do anything about it. With gritted teeth, Teller began forcing himself to sit up. He had to get back on duty. Teller: Doctor...little help please… Sickbay’s most severe patient was struggling to sit up, contravening all medical recommendations, not the greatest move for someone who had suffered a concussion as severe as he had. By now Deena was at Teller’s bed side. Quen: Easy - take it slow…. Give yourself time to adjust. Alieth returned to the conversation with a coolly neutral tone, but highly irritated words. Alieth: Desist from your attempts to incorporate, sir, your condition is still concerning. Ben called over the humdrum. Garcia: :: Conspiratorially. :: Don’t let them keep a good man down, sir. Teller nodded to the man. Teller: Good flying, Mr. Garcia. Top three crash landing for me, easily. And Doctor, I appreciate your concerns but if I'm in no immediate danger, the rest of my injuries can mend themselves on the go. Garcia: :: Laughing. :: Imagine if I’d taken the auto-pilot off. Ben wasn’t helping things for Deena and Alieth, but he jested out of relief - relief he hadn’t killed the First Officer. Quen: You’re not in immediate danger, no - but your body needs time to heal. If you don’t give it that time, you’ll likely wind up back here with an infection or worse. And, you’re still coming off anesthesia. Alieth: This is not how medicine works, sir. We have just performed a major operation on you, sir, you should at least rest for... Turner: =/\= ATTENTIONS ALL SENIOR STAFF MEMBERS. PLEASE MEET ME IN CONFERENCE ROOM 1 AS SOON AS YOU ARRIVE AT THE EMBASSY FOR A BRIEFING. TURNER OUT. =/\= Deena all but rolled her eyes. Impeccable timing, as usual. But on the one hand, a briefing couldn’t be that strenuous of an activity. That was usually reserved for the results of briefings. Teller looked to the ceiling with a raised eyebrow, then began sliding off the biobed onto unsteady legs, supporting himself with his good arm. Alieth lunged forward to grip him around the waist before he had a chance to stumble. Teller was about to start heading to the briefing room when he realized several significant flaws in his plan. The first was that he had no idea where Briefing Room 1 was. The second was that he had no pants. The latter seemed more urgent. Teller: Uh, Doc, you got a replicator around here somewhere? Seems I'm out of uniform. Quen: I’ll grab you one. Speaking of- :: With a nod to Garcia’s now mostly-healed legs. :: Let me wrap those, and you can swap for an uncooked one. Ben froze. His face paled as he held another of Doctor Alieth’s gummy bears millimeters from his mouth. Ben bit his lip, arched an eyebrow at Deena and flicked the gummy bear into his mouth. Ben held a finger against his grinning lips. Deena started applying a fresh set of dressings to Ben’s legs as Alieth and Teller started a new argument. With her back to Ben and Deena, Alieth continued to berate the First Officer, speaking firmly as her eyebrows descended gently on her features, which gave her an even more severe aspect than usual. Alieth: I refuse to allow you to perform such an unreasonable deed, sir. Teller: Look Doctor, I'm going to that briefing with or without your help. Personally, I'd prefer, and I think the rest of the crew would agree, that I show up in uniform and under proper medical supervision. He met eyes with their young Vulcan Doctor and did not blink. He had felt useless when the Romulans had snatched Addison, and he felt useless lying on his back on a comfortable biobed as the crew was called to action. On some level, Teller was entirely aware that he was nearly dead on his feet, but a potent mix of modern medical science and raw anger had given him a second wind. He intended to make the most of it while it lasted. The Doctors expression did not change from the level impassive slate her people were famous for, but Teller saw a small shift around the edge of her eyes. The Vulcan held Teller's gaze for a few long seconds. Technically speaking, the situation unfolding was decidedly Not Funny Not Funny At All. Maybe it was the pain meds kicking in, but Deena found the argument between a completely logical Vulcan doctor and a human man hell-bent on getting out of here one way or another undeniably hilarious. Alieth: :: Gently but firmly leading the commander to the nearest replicator. :: Agreed, but I will keep you under close supervision, sir. Deena looked to Ben with a raise of her eyebrows. Watching the battle of wills play out was far, far more interesting than playing mediator. Ben tilted his head at Deena. A smile crept across Ben’s face as Alieth continued to chastise the First Officer. Alieth: I am going to abstain from supplying you with a sugary treat, sir. You are clearly a troublemaker. Teller pursed his lips for a moment, genuinely chastened. He'd been irritating Doctors since the earliest days of his career but he'd never been admonished for it in quite the same way. After a moment, he barked out a genuine laugh. Geoff could already tell the young woman had the makings of a fine officer - fierce but compassionate. Stern but flexible. Dry sense of humor. When Doctor MacKenzie returned, Teller was confident she'd find a very capable addition to her staff. Ben caught a laugh from escaping and looked at Deena, mouthing “troublemaker” with a cheeky smile. Deena gnawed the inside of her cheek and shook her head as she finished with the dressings and bit back another laugh. The Vulcan deposited a uniform on the stretcher next to the commander with more force than necessary, which resulted in a muffled tuff sound. Almost under the lintel, Alieth stopped, forcing the commander to halt with her. Alieth: Instructions on how to reach Conference Room One would be appreciated. This time, Deena couldn’t hide how humorous she found the image, and let out a laugh. Quen: Hang on, we’re coming with you! Teller: The more the merrier, Doctor Quen. :: He winced as he pulled on his new uniform, draping the tunic over his upper body with his working arm. :: Besides, no one can accuse me of being irresponsible with my health when I've got both of you with me. Speaking of...just how far is this walk? And are the suns still beating down out there? Quen: It’s a bit of a hike - across the grounds in the main building. Are you sure? Teller: No, but if I can't do this then I'm no good to anybody right now and I'll crawl back into that biobed voluntarily. :: He took a deep breath and steeled himself. :: I have to do this, Doctor. Ben caught Alieth’s eye. The Vulcan glanced him back, her features unfazed and stately, yet the young Vulcan radiated a sense of exasperation in all directions. With a pleadinging shrug, Ben spoke: Garcia: Better we get him there under supervision, eh Doc? :: Ben stood and patted down his fresh dressings. :: I’ll help. Deena grabbed a hypospray pre-loaded with a variety of analgesics and pocketed it. Quen: Just in case. If anyone needs it, say something. Teller: Thank you Doctor, but for the moment I'll pass. Garcia: :: Ben’s brows creased. He looked over his shoulder at the silver tray of gummy bears.. :: Sure, I’ll bring the rest of these. Alieth tilted her head slightly to draw the pilot's attention to the dangers of too many sweets in the diet, but she didn't have time to compose the sentence, as she was too busy trying to prevent that the commander's endeavours might aggravate his state. Ben turned a half step and pocketed the remaining gummy bears as he filed into line with the patient convoy. With gritted teeth, Teller slipped his frozen arm through his uniform sleeve. It was an awkward effort and the various bandages and devices connected to him didn't sit comfortably, but for now it would have to do. His comm badge, pitted and scuffed, sat on the table opposite his biobed. Comm badges were tough to break, and the casing was meant to survive extreme conditions without suffering cosmetic damage, but his looked like it had been through hell. At the moment, that seemed entirely appropriate to Teller, and he slapped it back onto his uniform with a grim scowl. Teller: Alright, become I come to my senses - lets go. Don't want to keep the Admiral waiting. End. =============================== Lieutenant Commander Geoffrey Teller Executive Officer Duronis II Embassy & Support Flotilla Rear Admiral Turner, T. Commanding V239509GT0 & Lieutenant Ben Garcia Second Officer/HCO Embassy Duronis II - USS Thor NCC-82607 Author ID number: G239102MR0 & Lieutenant Quen Deena Medical Officer Duronis II Embassy/USS Thor E239602QD0 & Ensign Alieth Medical Officer Embassy Duronis II - USS Thor NCC-82607 Author ID number: E239702A10
  11. Part I ((Main Engineering - USS Gorkon)) Whittaker: You’re joined? The Human seemed a bit surprised by the statement, but Mikeja wasn’t offended. There were no outside indications on a Trill whether they were joined or not. For a long time, many people outside of Trill society had no knowledge of the symbiotic nature between the symbiont and host. Mikeja simply nodded at the question. Lan: Correct. I am the second host of the Lan symbiont. Mikeja allowed himself to inject some pride into the statement. Joining had been both a boon to his life, but was incredibly painful at the same time; especially considering the close relationship he had with Vessa. It had been over five years since the incident and he was still coming to grips with the integration of his two lives. Whittaker: Then you must be quite the Officer. ::he said, deliberately turning his attention back to the engineer.:: And it certainly goes a long way to explaining your assignment to Gorkon. The Ensign thought about that before responding. He would certainly consider himself competent when it came to his knowledge as an Engineer. But to think the fleet placed him on a ship of the line because he was joined seemed unwarranted. He was, after all, only the second host of Lan and his traumatic background felt like more of a hindrance than helpful. Lan: ::smiling, but shaking his head:: I appreciate that Captain, but it wasn’t really an option at the time. Joining with Lan was… unorthodox, shall we say. The Trill Engineer took another sip of the coffee, wondering if he would open up further to Captain Whittaker. He supposed it would depend on what the next question was. Whittaker: Why was that? There was a slight pause. The Captain seemed to realize the potential [...] pas and moved to correct it immediately. Whittaker: Not that I mean to pry, Ensign. You don’t have to divulge the details if you don’t wish to. Lan: ::putting up a hand:: That’s quite alright Captain. I’ve probably talked to over a dozen counselors about it over the years. I suppose you have the right to know, especially if we’re going to be working together in some capacity. Whittaker made a “carry on” gesture. In turn, Mikeja motioned to the seats surrounding the MSD and the two men sat. He didn’t think of the [...] pas he had also made at that moment as the two men seemed to be having a more casual conversation. Mikeja wasn’t even technically on duty for a little while longer. Lan: It was… an accident. About five years ago. We, that is Doctor Lan and I, were on our way to Earth. There was an explosion and Doctor Lan was injured… quite badly. A recollection of extreme pain came careening through Mikeja when he mentioned the incident. He’d learned to keep his composure when discussing it, but that had taken some time and effort. Lan: I was the only unjoined Trill on the ship we were on, and the symbiont wouldn’t have survived long enough to make it home. So… it was the only logical choice… Like Whittaker had done before, Mikeja let the thought linger, figuring the outcome would be obvious to the Human. The Captain responded first with a slow nod, apparently coming to an understanding. Whittaker: … was for you to undergo joining. ::he said, completing the man’s sentence.:: I understand that it can be a difficult experience for both host and symbiont when a joining is unplanned? Mikeja lingered on the thought… knowing that what the Captain had said was quite the understatement. (( Flashback: Medical Bay - SS Camtalla )) A bright light burned through Mikeja’s still closed eyes as he came back into consciousness. Things felt fuzzy and disjointed at first. He then began to hear voices and the beeping of computer consoles. One of the beeping noises sounded like a heart rate monitor. Voice 1: He’s coming around. Things started to make more sense and the young Trill slowly tried to open his eyes. The light was still there; it was someone flashing a pen light into Mikeja’s eyes. He heard himself let out a groan and then felt some soreness on his arms. His head began to throb in pain as the pen light was moved to his other eye. He couldn’t quite make out the faces of those around him. Voice 2: Vitals? Voice 1: Stable. Pupils aren’t dilated. Mikeja didn’t recognize the voices, but they were both feminine. As the pen light was moved, his eyes began to adjust to the environment. With a slight look around, Mikeja realized he was in a medical center. It looked used and fairly spartan, which meant he was probably still on the Camtalla. oO Wha… why am I…? Oo It all started coming back to him. The explosion. He tried to sit up, but the flash of pain in his head made him think twice. He then looked around again and saw two women hovering above him. Mikeja figured these were the Camtalla’s medical personnel. Woman 2: Whoa now, try not to move too fast Mr. Norven. Regarding the woman, Mikeja saw she was apparently human. Dark hair in a bob style cut and piercing green eyes were the two things he noticed immediately. The other woman was Andorian, with longer white hair and her antennae pointed upwards. Mikeja winced again as he made a move to a seated position, this time far more slowly. He felt the support of both women as he finally was upright. Mikeja Norven: What… what happened? Woman 2: An EPS relay exploded in Main Engineering. You were brought to the medbay. The Trill remembered what happened, and it dawned on him that Doctor Lan had also been there. He looked to the human medical officer with a worried expression. Norven: Doctor Lan? Is she alright? The Human looked over to the Andorian, unable to hide her own worry. She looked back to Mikeja with the same expression. The Trill’s heart began to sink, fearing the worst. Woman 2: She’s alive, but I’m afraid her injuries are very severe. The Captain has set course back to Trill, but… She hesitated. Mikeja immediately figured the explosion had damaged the warp drive and they were going far slower than they could be. He then had another realization. Norven: The symbiont? Part II (( Flashback: Medical Bay - SS Camtalla )) Norven: The symbiont? Woman 1: Please sir, you need to rest. Mikeja brushed away the hand the Andorian woman was trying to put on his shoulder to calm him down. He felt sadness, anger and fear all at once. He needed answers, not reassurances. Norven: ::raising his voice:: Tell me! The two women glanced at each other again. The human woman looked back to the Trill again, even more sad this time. Woman 2: Her isoboramine levels are dropping fast. Unless we can make it back to Trill in a few hours… Mikeja held up a hand. He’d heard enough and mustered the strength to swing his legs over the biobed and fully sit up. Norven: I need to speak with Doctor Lan. Is she conscious? Woman 2: I don’t believe that’s the best idea… Norven: ::once again holding up his hand:: Spare me that ma'am, but right now the well being of the symbiont is most important. The Doctor would agree with me. ::more angrily:: Where is she? I must speak to her before it’s too late. With a sigh and look of defeat, she gestured for the Trill to follow her. Mikeja got to his feet, ignoring the pain and dizziness. He followed the woman a few feet to a biobed across the room. Then he saw her. Lan was covered in a silver blanket, with only her head and bare shoulders exposed. As he walked closer, he saw the plasma burns on her face. Her gray hair was tattered and burned away at places. Cortical monitors had been placed on her temples and her breathing was very shallow. Mikeja felt a pang of fear rush down his spine and settle in his stomach before turning to the medical officer. Norven: How long does she have? Before the Human medical officer could respond, Mikeja heard a change in his mentor’s breathing, almost like a whisper. Looking back down, he saw her eyes were half-open. She looked right at the younger Trill and her lips began to move. Lan: ::whispering:: Mister Norven… Mikeja leaned in closer to the woman he’d known for over four years. He tried to put on a reassuring grin, but the look in his eyes betrayed him. Norven: Doctor. I’m here. It took a moment for the older Trill to compose herself. She finally was able to speak. Lan: Am I…? A single tear ran down Mikeja’a face. She looked so helpless and Mikeja knew there was nothing he could do to save her. Another tear fell as Lan tried to smile her own reassurance. Lan: It’s alright. :pause:: We must save the symbiont. He’d rarely lied to Vessa before, and he knew now wasn’t the time. Like all Trill who had been joined or even trained to be joined, Mikeja knew the symbiont’s well being was paramount. But that would be difficult considering the circumstances. Norven: I’m sorry Doctor, but we won’t make it home in time... Vessa shook her head with all of the strength she could muster, but it was still the slightest of movements. Her eyes never left the gaze of her young assistant. Lan: Then it must be you, Mikeja. It is the only way. Mikeja felt his mouth open slightly. He was taken aback at the thought. He then shook his own head, far more forcefully. Incredulousness replaced the sadness, but only slightly. Norven: That’s… I mean… I can’t. I wasn’t chosen. Vessa was able to move her arm from under the blanket and found one of Mikeja’s hands. She held it and squeezed with determination. Lan: I trust you, young man. Tears began welling in both of their eyes now. Lan: We will meet again. I’m… so… Her eyes closed and the grip from her hand softened. Mikeja looked up at the biomonitor. Vessa’s isoboramine levels were at fifty percent. Panic and determination took over and the Trill released his hand from Vessa’s and turned back to the medical officer with pursed lips before speaking. Norven: Can you transplant the symbiont? The woman hesitated before speaking. Woman 2: I… I mean I think so… but I’ve never... Once again, Mikeja held up a hand to stop her. Norven: Then do it. ::pointing to the biomonitor without looking:: If her isobormaine levels drop below forty percent then we won’t be able to save anything. Woman: But, Mister Norven… Norven: ::angrier:: We don’t have time for a discussion, Miss…? Even in the heat of desperation, Mikeja needed to know the name of the person he was dealing with. Able: Doctor… Doctor Tessa Able. A grin showed across his face, cutting through the anger and sadness. He let his breath out from his nose; some of the anger he'd felt melting away in the moment. Norven: Well, it seems fate has a sense of humor today Doctor Able. ::gesturing past her into the room:: Shall we? A sigh came pouring out of the woman and she turned to the Andorian. Able: Assema, get him prepped for surgery. Local anesthetic. He needs to be conscious for the procedure. (( Ten Minutes Later )) Now dressed in surgical outfits, the two medical personnel hovered over Mikeja. The hum of the sterilization field surrounded them all. He looked over to his left and saw Vessa. Her eyes were open and she smiled at him, something that he’d rarely had the privilege to see from his teacher and friend. Mikeja smiled back. The Andorian nurse was handed the teardrop-shaped symbiont while Able used a laser scalpel to cut into Mikeja’s abdomen, exposing the pouch all Trill had. Mikeja saw Vessa’s eyes go lifeless. Able: Ok, let’s go. Give it to me. The nurse wordlessly handed the worm-like creature to the Doctor and she gently maneuvered it into the male Trill’s pouch. At about halfway in, the symbiont moved on its own, settling into place. In an instant, Mikeja felt a rush of emotions. He took a deep breath as if he had just come to the surface from being held underwater for hours. With tightly closed eyes now, tears fell down his face. Mikeja Lan: ::aloud:: I’m… so… proud... (( Present Day: Main Engineering - USS Gorkon)) Whittaker: I understand that it can be a difficult experience for both host and symbiont when a joining is unplanned? Mikeja just smiled and nodded once again. Lan: Yes Captain. Quite a bit. Whittaker: And how have you fared since being joined? The Trill took another sip of the raktajino and contemplated how to answer the question. Lan: Oh… I just take it one day at a time I suppose. A flurry of activity began happening around Main Engineering. More officers and crewmen were entering and some were beginning to leave. Mikeja queried the computer for the current time and saw the morning shift was set to begin in a few minutes. He looked back to goateed man sitting next to him. Lan: Looks like we’re about to get busy, Captain. Maybe next time I won’t hog the conversation so much. Whittaker: Response The Trill smiled and followed the Captain’s lead as they both stood. Mikeja looked around and spied the replicator. He downed the remains of the bittersweet beverage and then once again regarded the superior officer. Lan: I’m going to get rid of this ::holding up the mug:: before things get too busy. Would you care for something while I’m over at the replicator Captain? Whittaker: Response ------ Ensign Mikeja Lan Engineering Officer USS Gorkon G239702ML0
  12. ((OOC: I had a blast writing this JP with Lt. Cmdr. @Krindo Pandorn! It was originally meant to be a fun curveball for folks during shoreleave, but the reaction has been so strong we've decided to use these events to build into a full scale mission! Great writing with you, Krindo!)) ((Talisin Forest, Outside Lokesh City)) Hidden in the underbrush and wrapped in a sensor dampening shroud, Subcommanders V’Tak and Sojot were into the third week of their mission on this hateful world. Through a set of high powered optics, they could see their foe in the distance - the outlines of their stolen structures, grotesquely covered with the insignia of Starfleet. Somewhere on that base, their target was blithely going about their day, completely unaware they had been marked for death. These fat, lazy Starfleet people had no idea why their mothership had been recalled at the last moment. Their communications to the homeworld had been monitored, and quite naturally ignored by the high command. As far as they were concerned, things were going precisely to plan. The arrival of the Klingon battleship had served the Tal Shiar’s ends perfectly, creating a moment of confusion when their operatives beamed to the surface, completely unnoticed. Now, their patience had nearly been rewarded. Communications from the Embassy, easily intercepted from the planets traffic control network, indicated that their quarry was about to leave the protected confines of their installation aboard a small craft traveling north. It was the perfect opportunity to kill an Admiral. V’Tak: It makes my blood burn to think of those Federation people inhabiting a structure that rightly belongs to the Romulan Republic. Perhaps when we’ve succeeded in our mission, the Praetor will give it to us as a reward for our service? Sojot: And don’t forget the revenge we will have after Jorok Three and Thendara Two. The reward will be substantial I would gather. V’Tak: The Federation has much to answer for, brother. We are fortunate to have been chosen for this mission of retribution. Have you inspected the canon? Nearby, sitting on a complex mechanical mount, hidden beneath a holoshroud, was the instrument of their vengeance. A surface to air disruptor battery, stripped down to its minimum size and weight for portability. It would only give them a few shots before the power supply was depleted, but that would be more than they needed. Sojot: We’ll get one or two shots from it then it will most definitely burn out. It wasn’t made to be stripped down this much. V’Tak: Then our aim must be true, or we should not bother attempting to leave this place. Better to be killed fighting Starfleet. He shuddered briefly, thinking of the torments he had seen dispensed to those who failed the Tal Shiar. Men and women with shattered bodies and shattered minds to match. It was not to be his fate. Sojot: Should we fail to shoot them down, I’ve rigged a self destruct charge to detonate on command. We won’t be taken by those Starfleet veruul. V’Tak: Very well. There must be no trace of our presence here. Either we are successful, or we cease to exist. For the good of the Romulan people. Jolan Tru. Sojot: For our people. Jolan Tru, my friend. Through the optics, V’Tak saw activity at the airfield. Crewmen moving with purpose, and landing doors being retracted. It was nearly time to strike. V’Tak: Ready the weapon. The honor of the kill shall be yours. Sojot tapped a few commands on a side panel and watched as power levels rose indicating the weapon is charging. When the panel was green, he nodded to V’Tak. Sojot: The weapon is ready. We will show our people what real Romulans are.They will remember what we do here. V’Tak: Your zeal is to be commended. So many of our brothers and sisters have grown weak these past decades, listless and docile...a lost race. They must be reminded that to be Romulan is to be feared. Our names should be spoken in whispers, by those who fear to anger us. That day will come again. Sojot: ::::lifts the weapon to his shoulder, exhaling at the weight of the launcher and facing the Embassy:: Let this be our mark in our struggle. From the Embassy grounds, several small craft took flight. Two appeared to be standard shuttlecraft - unremarkable except in how small and vulnerable they were. Starfleet - always so arrogant. Always so trusting. Fools. A third ship took flight and V’Tak’s lips curled back into a feral grin. The Admiral’s personal yacht, an obscene and garish vessel easily three times the size of the shuttles, alighted and fell into a lazy formation with the shuttles. They were heading directly towards their position. Sojot: ::scoffs:: They make it so easy. What is the human expression...sitting goose? V’Tak: ::Hissing slightly:: Don’t dirty your tongue with human turns of phrase. Focus on our mission. Our target comes. Sojot: My apologies. Been on this rock a bit too long. ::takes aim at the yacht:: They will be dust soon enough.. V’Tak: This assignment has been a difficult one, brother, but it will soon be worth our efforts. Hold the target lock until the last moment, I don’t want to give their pilots a chance to react. Sojot: Almost here. They are closing quickly. ::an soft audible beeping indicated range:: As the three craft drew near, V’Tak could hear the whine of the canon’s power pack intensifying. The barrel articulated on its mount with a worrying grind and V’Tak’s eyes narrowed. V’Tak: What is the problem? Sojot: Power pack is overloading. Auto fire is not responding. Have to take the shot manually. V’Tak ground his teeth in frustration. There were an ancient set of rules in their profession, handed down from time immemorial to assets and agents like him. Always among them was the reminder ‘Technology will always let you down.’ V’Tak: Very well. Fire when ready. Sojot listened as the beeping got more and more rapid. When the beeping was almost a steady whine, he pressed the fire button and two bolts of green disruptor energy flashed their way to the approaching craft. One bolt was a clean miss, while the other struck one of the smaller craft in its port nacelle, causing it to smoke heavily and veer off course. It was going down. Sojot: ::cussing in Romulan:: One of the support craft was hit. It’s going to crash. V’Tak: FOOL, that was not our mission! I have seen better shooting from a Ferengi garbage merchant! Quickly, fire again! Frantically tapping on the controls, the canon ground to a halt, its power pack expended. The still aloft Starfleet vessels began darting erratically and picking up speed, quickly moving out of their reach. V’Tak considered the magnitude of their failure and considered his sidearm...first for the fool who had doomed them both, and then for himself, but the sound of a screeching engine coming closer stayed his hand. One of the shuttles was pitched over, yawing violently as a nacelle belched smoke and flame. The shot had missed the crew cabin, but the vessel was picking up speed on its descent. It would hit the ground near their position. Perhaps there was a chance to still salvage something from this disaster. V’Tak: If any survive the crash, we will take them back with us for interrogation. For both of our sakes, pray their pilot is more competent than you are. Sojot: We’ll need to find them first. This forest is very thick and some of the locals say it’s haunted. I will make up for my failure, I swear it. V’Tak: The only spirits trapped here will be ours if we fail again. Quickly, destroy the weapon. We must get to the crash site before a Starfleet rescue team arrives. As the burning shuttle collided with the nearby treetops the two Romulan assets set off, leaving behind nothing but a large scorched area where their useless equipment had burned. Their only hope now was to capture someone valuable enough to offset their failure. Desperation added speed to their steps as they crashed deeper into the dense forest. =============================== Subcommader V’Tak Tal’Shiar Field Asset V239509GT0 (AKA Geoffrey Teller) & Subcommander Sojot Tal’Shiar Field Asset Z239308KP0 (AKA Krindo Pandorn)
  13. ((Klingon Territory, IKS O'griss)) Kregael: yaS! 'ar nI'qu' until latlh tlhIngan Duj ghom maH tlhIH'a'?! (Officer! How much longer until we meet the other Klingon ship?!) Morlic:::trembling:: It should not... be much longer… Our ship is unable... to get to its highest warp capacity. Kregael: Get back up, you insufferable tribble maggot! Keep pushing forward! P'leeta: The IKS Xiss is closer than we thought about a few lightyears away, sir. Kregael: About damn time you give me some good news! ::snarls a toothy grin:: Open a channel! Kregael: Why aren’t they answering?! Launch a warning torpedo at the side of their ship. ::chuckles:: That’ll get their attention. P’leeta: Do you think we need to decloak so we can get a better connection? Kregael: Gee, that sounds like a marvel idea! I’m sorry for thinking highly of my crew. I thought for sure YOU WOULD HAVE DONE IT ALREADY! P’leeta: All yours, sir. ((Klingon Territory, IKS Xiss)) ::The Klingon woman warrior growled like a wild targ when the O’griss appeared and the proximity bells start to dings. Normally that would happened in case of an attack, maybe a rival house that wanted to hit the Councilor ship to kill him and take his place in the Council.:: Kelas: Prepare for their boarding, we will defend until death the Councilor! Load the disrupters!!! We’ll reduce in ashes those honorless. ::She barked just a second before they opened a channel. After all they use to shoot before to say hallo.:: Kregael: =/\= HoD Kregael to IKS Xiss =/\= Kelas growled again. Kelas: =/\= Fek’hir is waiting for you in the Gret’hor! AK’tagh iihh yak a’ takk! Bahg! IK!! (What are you doing cloaked in our space?) =/\= Kregael: =/\= Isn’t it obvious that we’re about to meet one another? =/\= Kelas: =/\= Yes is obvious! Another second and we would destroy you! =/\= Kregael: =/\= Let me speak to Councilor Odex directly. I have no time to speak to a sogh. =/\= ::Kelas growled again, louder and showing not so kindly her teeth! She switched to the internal coms, kicking a console, like it would work better after that.:: Kelas: =/\= Councilor, HoD Kregael is here! =/\= Odex:/ Kregael:? (Tags-TBC) ---- Sogh Kelas Qevok House of Hok'Moc At the service of Councilor Odex IKS Xiss
  14. I've been meaning to post this for a full two weeks now. I absolutely loved this- such a fantastic insight into Kettick. Brilliant work @Kettick! (( Captain's Private Mess, Deck 2, USS Eagle )) In Kettick's admittedly limited experience, an invitation to dinner from the Captain was not something you received everyday, but the Remmilian hadn't been bred for idle speculation. Trusting the reason to become apparent in due time, he had replicated a fresh uniform to replace his utility jumpsuit, read up on dinner customs from the vade-mecum he'd been issued when leaving the homeworld, and replicated a box of Bolian chocolates as the prescribed offering to the host. He knocked on the door right on time, and was ushered in, noting that Misters Kano and Collins were already present. Kettick: Good evening, Captain, Lieutenants. I hope I am not late. The manual had brushed upon being "fashionably" late, pretending that it was considered acceptable, and even likely to project a positive self-image in certain circumstances. Kettick had decided he would have none of it. Oddas: Not at all, you're still ahead of the XO. Lieutenant Kano gave the remark a controlled laugh - possibly indicating that the Captain's remark was a subtle joke. Kettick opted for a polite smile, just in case. Kano: And here I thought the XO was supposed to be the early one. Collins: I think First Officer's adhere to the same editch as wizards. "They are never early, nor late. They arrive precisely when they mean to." Yet another mysterious koan to ponder over later, and the Engineer couldn't find one on the same theme that could earn him a place in the conversation. He chose to focus his attention on the food presented in front of him; apparently it was a great source of topic changes when the discussion didn't go your way. Oddas: Well, if he doesn't get here soon we can either send a search party or get started without him. Kano: I vote to get started without him, hasperat that smells this good shouldn't be left. Ah. Kettick had been wondering about the source of this particular smell. Apparently it registered as pleasant to Bajorans, and he'd been inspired not to offer his services in checking the air conditioning filters. Quentin pointed toward the SEC officer with the neck of his bottle. Collins: I have to agree with my colleague there, Captain. As they spoke, The Captain nodded behind them and raised her glass, heralding the entrance of their freshly mentioned First Officer. Shayne: Evening, all. Captain. Kettick offered a silent nod of respect to match the Commander's greetings. Kano: Oh, captain I made mapa bread. :: the woman passed over the small package.:: it's a family recipe, my sister is the baker but I tried my best. Oddas: Thank you Ensign, I'm afraid I have no cooking ability - I'm counting on others tonight to take care of things. She placed the bread on the table, near the center for the group to share. If Kettick's memory served, home-made offerings were assigned a particularly high value, and this one was a traditional Bajoran dish to boot. Kettick: I've brought some sweets for after the dessert. And the dreaded moment of coffee... he hoped he wouldn't offend, nor ridicule himself in front of his betters. Collins: If you don't mind me asking, sir, was it odd giving orders again? After your...momentary brush with being just a lowly Engineer again like these two? ::he said with a wry, knowing smile pointing toward Shayne and Kettick.:: He'd learnt his lessons from Ryan well - a smirk indicated that the speaker thought the opposite of what they said. Therefore, Collins' words were likely a veiled praise, and Kettick answered it by mirroring his smirk and nodding. Shayne: I’ll wager my pips that it would take more than a few days off the job for the captain to forgot how to give an order. Oddas: To be fair, I just assumed that by this point Mister Shayne would be getting used to the Captain's seat. Another smile. Another joke-lie. He hoped that he could navigate those all evening. The mess staff brought the dishes to the table, offering him an escape route once again. Shayne: That smells remarkably good. Collins: Way to undersell it, sir. ::He said again with a wry, playful smirk.:: Kettick had to agree, the dishes were positively mandible-clenching. The soufflé-looking thing that strongly smelled of salt must be the hasperat. Then there was a piece of meat and... Kettick: oO Oh. Oo Kettick seldom found himself at a loss for words, but the sight of the small, bulbous shaped stems with fractal appendages he knew so well filled him with something akin to reverence. This was a meal fit for a female, nay, a Queen. Either the cook had done his research but skipped on the social differences between sexes, or this was a mark of respect he felt utterly unworthy of. Eating it would almost be blasphemy. Then again, not eating something offered by the Captain was firmly into "can't even think about it" territory. Oddas: To the Eagle, the Crew, and the cooks of this very fine meal. Thank you, and don't let me stop you from getting started. Kettick raised his glass of water to join in the toast, noting from the corner of his eye that the XO had opened a bottle of something that smelled of fermented fruit. Thankfully not the kind of paint thinner some humans liked to indulge in, but there was definitely some alcohol in there. The guests savored their first bite of their food, Kettick letting one of his greens melt in his mouth. He could almost feel the quality of his webbing improving already. Shayne: You know, I always heard that our chef makes a mean spiderbird steak, and now I’ve got proof. Kettick was about to object, based on his own experience with the taste of cooked hemolymph, when a general bout of restrained laughter stopped him cold. The remark had been, once again, a joke, and he'd nearly made a fool of himself. Again. He offered the table a guarded smile and went back to his plate, firmly decided to talk only if asked to, in order to avoid further embarrassment. Collins: Can I just ask, how the hell does one even GET Altirian Spider-Bird eggs? They had to have been a nightmare to try and box up, right? Oddas: I hear you have to wait for the mother to leave the nest, snatch them, then run like hell. She laughed as she washed down her own bite. The laugh was shared by her SEC compatriot. Shayne: It’s the guy that tried it first that I want to meet, and then promptly incarcerate. Kano: I'm sure I saw a few eggs in the cargo bay I guess the chef could whip up a nice omelette if you fancy it? Collins: Well, in any case, if I never hear the words "spider" and "bird" in conjunction again, it would be far too bloody soon... Oh? Now that was a shame. When cleaning the cobwebs from the Jefferies Tubes, Kettick had noted that they were even lighter and stronger than the ones he could produce, and had considered asking Science to analyze and replicate them for engineering use. Oh, well, he could always set up a hatchery with the eggs he hadn't yet disposed of and harvest the webbing the old-fashioned way, he supposed. Collins: My immense compliments to the chef. Oddas: Indeed. Kano: Absolutely. Kettick nodded enthusiastically before taking a mouthful of his hasperat. The high salt content instantly made him feel like his mouth had grown a size too small, and he reached for his glass to wash it down. In front of him, others were using various drinks to do the same, so perhaps it was a normal reaction. He certainly hoped so; he was far too aware of the immense kindness the Captain did them by offering her table to offend her. Oddas: Just because I'm going to be stuck on the ship doesn't mean you need to be, any plans for doing something fun? The other officers looked at one another. Shayne: Far too much going on for me to risk it at the moment, captain. Kettick: We still need to get our Eagle back into shape, and to welcome a new Chief. But I have several potential improvements to our systems test out. :: Feeling bold once of a sudden, he went for an attempt at a joke. :: The perks of partially dismantling our ship every now and then. Collins: I, uh, actually have a Holodeck reserved tomorrow for a...erm...project I've been working on, but what about you, Risha? Any big plans? ::he said with almost a frantic energy:: The Bajoran seemed taken aback by the direct question. Kano: ::She swallowed her mouthful.:: Nothing exciting, although if you're thinking about karaoke again, there's some new arrivals that could enjoy it. His interlocutor smiled pleasantly. Collins: You know, that's not a bad idea actually. I could force a whole new class of recruits to hear me warble. It could be a killer rite of passage. The Lieutenant laughed at the thought of that. Kano: I would have thought the rite of passage for the Eagle would be not getting blown up on your first mission. Kettick: :: Nodding nodded with a wry smile; he was feeling like he was getting better at it :: It's not that hard. Apparently Starfleet Engineering's defensive design is advanced enough to withstand voluntary warp core destabilization and phaser shots through EPS conduits. Oddas/Shayne: Response Collins: As long as nobody tries to report to the wrong blonde Bajoran on the Bridge like I did on MY first day, I will be happy. Kano: Response Collins: Yes, I absolutely did that. The Captain and Commander Shayne can tell you all about it. This rube from Maine comes bumbling onto a Bridge and SALUTES the wrong officer. I thought I was going to evaporate, truly. Oddas/Shayne: Response He motioned with his bottle in a playful manner. Collins: See, they have to say that because I'm not eligible for transfer yet. Once I am though, watch, they are going to ship me away quicksmart, just to save me and themselves from further embarrassment and shame... The case of mistaken identity reminded Kettick of a minor event of his first day. Very minor, considering that the ship was otherwise under attack and without power, but still. Kettick: On a similar vein, Captain, is there any reason why you insist on "sir"? Oddas: Response Any: Response Kettick: I see. I suppose Betazoids face the same issue, coming from a matriarcal society as well. Or does telepathy make them less prone to social [...] pas? Any: Response Oddas: Response His circulatory liquid was coulourless, but that's all that stopped Kettick from blushing. Kettick: Well, if we are to share embarrassing moments from our first day, I *did* call you "my Queen" on the bridge, if memory serves. TAG/TBC -- Ensign Kettick Engineering Officer USS Eagle G239107LR0
  15. ((Ambassador’s Yacht Kirym - Somewhere in the Kaleth Woods, Tibro)) Thoran: Ambassador, how long do you think it will take for somebody to pick up the signal and make tracks towards us? Too soon for her liking. If she were General Asil she would have a special operations team waiting to depart Keibrom as soon as the distress signal was detected armed to the teeth. Thankfully she was not like such a contemptible officer. Perhaps he was in no hurry to confirm the success. But in her heart, she knew they were on the way. If Asil planned for the crash to kill her, he wouldn’t be so subtle as to switch off helm control rather than plant a bomb. Dels’an: Around an hour if they were ready to leave as soon as they received the signal. Perhaps we will be fortunate and the assassins are ill-prepared. At most I would expect them to make it here within two hours. It’s imperative that we are not here when they arrive. McKnight: We need to go, now. Whoever wanted us dead will most likely send someone to make sure we are. Dels’an: Indeed. Serala: About that plan of yours, Commander Revix. It’s very noble of you, Commander. Especially for a group of non-Rihannsu. However, in my opinion, sir, it would be best if we all remained together. The more of us there are, the better our chances of survival are. Divided into smaller groups they would only make it easier to pick them off one by one. Revix: Response Thoran: Commander Serala does make an excellent point. It would make us easier to track, presuming anybody comes looking for us, but our odds are better together. Dels’an: These will not be poorly-trained troops. If you are caught alone you’ll die. She could speak with authority on that point. Only two years earlier she had been the primary author of the new standards for Advanced Combat Training in the Valcarian armed forces. Serala: Sir, in my condition, this isn’t going to do me much good. And since our man has a weapon, it seems only right you should be armed as well. Especially if you have reason to believe your life is also a target for your enemies. Revix: Response Serala: Captain, Ambassador. It seems there may be a few more weapons if either of you would like one. But I sincerely hope they won’t be necessary. If we are fortunate, someone on our side will have noticed our absence and will find us before our enemy or enemies do. Thoran: Thank you Commander. Lorrein accepted the phaser she was offered. After switching it to a higher power level, she holstered the weapon and began to assist Jarol in collecting the final equipment in preperation for their departure. Dels’an: Thank you, Commander Serala. Revix/McKnight/Nehir: Responses ((Timeskip: An hour later.)) ((Abandoned Outpost - Somewhere in the Kaleth Woods, Tibro)) The trek through the woods had involved considerably less weapons fire than she had predicted it might. The wildlife had mostly remained out of their way and she had yet to hear the telltale sounds of engines that would indicate they were discovered. Even at the distance of the outpost, they would hear anyone approaching from a distance towards the crash site. Nobody was waiting to ambush them at the outpost itself, only a thick layer of moss and vines covering the door. Serala: Well, we’re here. Home sweet home. Thoran: Home. Yes. Lorrein looked around the outpost and saw exactly what she was expecting. The featureless metal walls were bare and most of the furniture and equipment not bolted down was gone. The engineers assigned to decommission the base had done a very thorough job. The Starfleet marine began searching the rooms ahead of them. McKnight: We're clear. Looks like no one's been here in a long time. Dels’an: This outpost has been out of service for nineteen years. The last people here were a team of technicians who removed anything left of value. Revix/Nehir: Responses Serala: :: looking at the wounded woman :: How is she doing? That trip could not have been easy for her. She had been checking on Commander Faris frequently, always careful to remain by the people carrying the stretcher when she was not doing so herself. The commander was her most trusted staff member, and Lorrein had no intention of leaving her side during the officer’s time of need. Isona had earned at least that much loyalty. Thoran: She is in critical condition. If she doesn’t receive medical attention soon then I doubt she will make it. Dels’an: When we find those responsible, heads will roll! Anyone who she found to be remotely connected to the sabotage attempt would be wise to find the farthest and darkest corners of the empire and hide there. Lorrein was furious. There would be no hiding place remote enough to keep her from finding them. And then she would find General Asil and Director Varus. Revix/Nehir: Responses Serala: Amuro, that fancy gadget of yours on your arm. Do you think you could use it to reach the ship? Maybe tie into your commbadge? Not trying to be funny here, and I know our supply of tools is severely limited, but I’m not an engineer and I am grasping for ideas here. McKnight: Sorry, ma'am. I can't even tell where exactly we are without navigational data. Hopefully, the Atlantis will know something is up, since we haven't checked it. Revix/Nehir: Responses Thoran: Regardless the idea has merit. It can’t make our situation any worse. I’d also recommend that we take the time to search the area for supplies and post a lookout in the observation tower. Nehir/Revix/Serala: Responses Dels’an: I am unsure what of use the decommissioning team would have left behind, but it might be worth the time to search. Commander Thoran removed the communicator badge from his uniform and threw it to Jarol, who caught it with one hand. Thoran: If you hear, see or even smell anything that seems out of place, contact us immediately. Dels’an: We will, Commander Thoran. Revix: Response Thoran: We will search the surrounding rooms, see if we can find any supplies. Nehir/Serala: Responses Dels’an: If you will excuse me, Commander Revix. I must attend to my wounded crewmember. Revix: Response Isona was barely clinging to life. The bleeding had stopped, frozen by the winter cold and the pressure of the blankets she had been wrapped in for the journey. Lorrein held the commander’s hand, which felt like that of an ice sculpture. There was barely any hint that she was still among the living. Dels’an: Asil and Varus won’t get away with this. Once we take the throne they’ll wish they never showed their faces in the Outlying Territories… The Outlying Territories had always been her domain. She had brought a few of the planets under the empire’s control herself in the many campaigns that she had waged. Lorrein had homes on each major world in the territories and had forged most of her legendary career in the region. Field Marshal Gatol had come to her realm, tried to kill her, and harmed her people. She didn’t realize her mistake until she turned to see the surprised looks of the Romulan and Starfleet officers who had been in the room to hear that little piece of information. Revix: Response Anyone: Response(s) Well, there was no way to unsay that... ((Flashback - The Imperial Grand Palace at Ghrandla - Valcaria - 239610.07)) The atmosphere in the War Council meeting chamber was even more tense than it usually was. The death of the Chief Advisor two weeks earlier had shook the entire upper level of Valcarian leadership. Everyone wondered who would be Emperor Altharra’s new right hand. And the loss of his most trusted advisor had only left the already-ill Altharra in an even more alarming condition. Lorrein was seated at the ornate round table on Altharra’s right. On his left was Field Marshal Gatol. Director of State Security Afflor, Commandant Kryon, and the new Overseer of Planetary Defense were also at the table. As always, two elite-troopers silently stood watch over the meeting from the door. They had just finished with status reports, and Field Marshal Gatol had been the first to bring up the looming question of the Chief Advisor post. Gatol: Your majesty, there is also the matter of appointing a new Chief Advisor. There are many candidates who… Altharra: No. There will be time enough for that later, Field Marshal. Field Marshal Gatol was a stubborn, narcissistic, and self-serving monster. But, just like a broken ship’s chronometer, he could still occasionally be right. Leaving the physically drained emperor with no clear heir was a crisis waiting to happen. Dels’an: Your majesty, I must concur with Field Marshal Gatol. It is important that the position- ::The Emperor was not following her words, seemingly incapable of keeping focus on anything in the room.:: Are you feeling well, your majesty? There was no reply from the Emperor, only a few attempts to speak followed by his imperial majesty collapsing on the floor. The two etroopers standing guard at the doors rushed to help him. Not detecting any vitals, they began emergency chest compressions in an attempt to revive him. Based on their expressions and the sounds of their scanners, they were less than successful. Trooper: He’s still not breathing! Someone alert the medical center. A wordless conversation was happening between the members of the War Council. They had failed to secure the appointment of an heir to throne only moments earlier, and now the Emperor lay dead on the ground. If they did nothing, the news would leave the room in moments and they would lose control of the situation. Something had to be done. Dels’an: oO Are we really going to do this? Oo The group had reached a silent consensus. Rebellions, declarations of independence, and all manners of destabilization would rock the Valcarian Imperial Republic to its foundations if they had no new leader to reassure the people and maintain control. Gatol: Now. Phaser fire stunned the two etroopers before they would spread the word to the medical center, the rest of the guard, and the Imperial Palace’s clerk to make the announcement to the public. Besides, having the most elite soldiers in the Valcarian Empire running around answerable to no authority was a frightening prospect. She, Gatol, and Kryon lowered their weapons and took their seats back at the table. Afflor: News of what we’ve seen here cannot be known to the public. The situation is too delicate already. Until a successor is in place we can’t risk it. We would have every governor, advisor, and every self-important admiral trying to be the one to be crowned. For the sake of the Empire and the war, this secret remains from the people. Nobody can know until continuity of leadership is re-established. Everyone in the room hated each other. Altharra had chosen his appointees wisely to ensure they could never unite against him in life. But that strategy fell apart upon the occasion of his death. It was going to be a fight to see who could secure their claim first. She knew that at least Gatol and Afflor liked their chances of personally taking the throne. But they all could agree that the fewer people who knew, the better. Dels’an: Agreed. Gatol: Agreed. Kryon: Agreed. Of course, news did spread through the upper echelons of power. But it was still a closely kept secret, with only enough people being told so that battle lines could be drawn up and the fight to put a successor on the throne could be carried out in secret. ((End Flashback)) Lorrein had hoped to tell everyone the news in a much more controlled and diplomatically comfortable setting. It would be more helpful in terms of gaining their support and future cooperation with her and her allies. But the cat was out of the bag and it was best to just tell them the truth. Dels’an: Everyone, please come in here for a moment. Revix/Thoran/Serala/McKnight/Nehir: Responses She waited for the Starfleet and Romulan officers to assemble in the main hallway before continuing. Dels’an: You deserve the right to know why I’ve been targeted, and it isn’t just because of diplomacy. ::She sighed, took a deep breath, and continued.:: Emperor Altharra died almost four months ago. He dropped dead right in the middle of a War Council meeting. That’s why I didn’t want the elite-troopers here for our meeting. And that’s why I was targeted. Other factions are also attempting to seize control. Revix/Thoran/Serala/McKnight/Nehir: Responses Dels’an: Myself and those who I’ve aligned with think that throwing endless troops and ships at the Caraadians and having no communication channels built up with foreign powers is not an efficient use of the empire’s resources. I do apologize for withholding this information, but the intention to build bridges is still true. And given the danger that the power struggle has brought upon us, you have the right to know. As she let the information sink in, she surveyed the crowd for their responses. She had no idea how past experiences with the Valcarians and the revelation that Emperor Altharra was gone would sit with them. Revix/Thoran/Serala/McKnight/Nehir: Responses Grand Admiral Lorrein Dels’an Ambassador-at-large Valcarian Imperial Republic ===as simmed by=== Lieutenant Commander Anath G'Renn Chief Medical Officer, USS Atlantis A239402AG0
  16. I've been meaning to post this in here for a while, and as my schedule just managed to wedge some space in it, here it is! @GhantXerix and @Samira Neathler did a fantastic job bringing to life this element of Xerix's life in a way that felt creative and real. I enjoyed reading this immensely, and while I won't past all seven parts here for a mammoth sim, I'll chuck in the link to the parts. Make yourself a brew, sit yourself down and strap in for a jolly good read! [JP] Lt. JG G. Xerix, Lt. S. Neathler - The Clash For Victoire (Part I) [JP] Lt. JG G. Xerix, Lt. S. Neathler - The Clash For Victoire (Part II) [JP] Lt. JG G. Xerix, Lt. S. Neathler - The Clash For Victoire (Part III) [JP] Lt. JG G. Xerix, Lt. S. Neathler - The Clash For Victoire (Part IV) [JP] Lt. JG G. Xerix, Lt. S. Neathler - The Clash For Victoire (Part V) [JP] Lt. JG G. Xerix, Lt. S. Neathler - The Clash For Victoire (Part VI) [JP] Lt. JG G. Xerix, Lt. S. Neathler - The Clash For Victoire (Part VII)
  17. ((Ambassador’s Yacht Kirym - Somewhere in the Kaleth Woods, Tibro)) The Kirym had been on the move for almost an hour, and things with the Romulans had not eased. He still hadn’t been able to ascertain their motives for being here. The Romulan Star Empire had not been present in the Par’tha Expanse for over seventy years, when they just up and left the region for reasons unknown. Jarred stood by one of the port side windows, drinking a second tea and enjoying the view, the snowy conditions only adding to the beauty. Whizzing beneath them was a majestic winter wonderland, a snow-covered forest. Suddenly Jarred was thrown forward, slamming into the wall, his tea spilling everywhere. There was another jolt, the yacht lurching violently. Jarred felt his stomach turn as the yacht began to descend rapidly. The view outside the window was obscured by clouds of black smoke. He held onto the wall to support himself, as he turned around to the others. Thoran: Is everybody okay? Dels’an: I am alive. Is everyone else alright? Revix: Response McKnight: Here! Nehir: Response Serala: I’m okay, just a small gash in my arm, but otherwise fine. I don’t suppose there’s a medical kit on this yacht, Ambassador? There was another series of shuddering, followed by the sound of breaking wood. Jarred presumed that they must be catching the tops of the trees. Thoran: Ambassador, what is going on? Have we struck something? Dels’an: I didn’t feel any initial impact. ::Her eyes narrowed in anger as she put the pieces together.:: ...if I had to guess the engines or helm control had a rather sudden “malfunction”. From the implied tone it seemed the Ambassador had her own suspicions about what happened. A sudden malfunction, as the Ambassador suggested, could mean that they had a saboteur on board. Jarred cast a glance over at the Romulans. Revix: Response McKnight: The ship is stuck on top of several trees...and the trees are giving way... Thoran: oO Excellent. Stuck on some trees with Romulans. Oo Serala: In that case, I suggest everyone hold on. We’re not done crashing yet. Nehir: Response As if on cue, there was the cracking of the branches as they reached their limit. The yacht plummeted the remaining distance, slamming into the ground. The viewports became obscured by the cloud of dust and snow kicked up. Serala: Just my luck. Stranded in the middle of a snowy wilderness. It’s a dream come true. Dels’an: Not ideal, but it is better than being dead. Jarred nodded at the remark. Almost anything was better than being dead. The question now was what to do about it. If they had indeed been the target of a saboteur, then those responsible may come to confirm their success. Revik: Response McKnight: And I forgot to bring a coat. Nehir: Response Serala: Well, I know several of you outrank me here, and, Ambassador, this is your yacht, but I did quite well in survival training at the Academy. So, if I may offer a few suggestions? He shuddered at the mention of survival training, recalling his own experiences. It had been a rather unpleasant experience, being stranded with only the equipment you had on you and left to fend for yourself for forty eight hours. Thoran: Certainly Commander. Revik: Response Serala: Yes. First we need to see if we can reach someone to let them know where we are and what our situation is. That is, assuming we actually know where we are. Then, we need to do several things. One, we need to secure shelter. It’s going to get cold in here with no power to run the heat. And this is most likely our best bet for now. Still, we should have one or two scout around nearby to see if there are any better prospects. We should also try and determine whether this was sabotage or not. We were under the impression, Ambassador, that you felt there might be some risk to you. Not to mention the fact that there might be more than one group who wouldn’t want to see an alliance between the Valcarian Empire and the Federation, or the Valcarian Empire and the Romulan Empire. There seem to be a number of reasons for such an act to have been staged. That will also lead to the need to determine just how safe we are out here, and not just from the wildlife, but also from other threats. Captain McKnight, do you think I missed anything here? McKnight: I think everyone understands the situation, commander. Serala: Captain Thoran, Ambassador, Commander Revik, do any of you have anything further to suggest? Jarred stroked his beard, going over everything in his mind. Serala had done a good job of covering of the situation, and he had nothing further to add. Thoran: Nothing from me. All I will say is that there is a lot of history between our people. Not all of it pleasant. Our best chance of surviving this is to work together, put aside our differences. Revik: Response Dels’an: There is some survival gear that we can use stored on the ship. I don’t know how much of it survived the crash intact. ::Pause:: But you are right that this was likely sabotage. And if that is true, we can’t stay here and we can’t call for help. Serala: And what about you, Counselor? Nehir: Response Serala: Well, sirs, I think that about covers it for the moment. Should we begin? It had only been by pure luck that none of them had ended up with serious injuries and would be able to move unaided. He could imagine Anath’s face if he had to fill out an injury report for himself. The Vulcan-Klingon doctor had concluded that Jarred was injury prone, given the numerous injuries he had sustained during the time together. Thoran: The longer we wait around, the worse our chances will be. Let us proceed. Dels’an: The sooner we get to shelter, the better. Revik: Response Nehir: Response As they began to take stock of their surroundings, Jarred heard McKnight trying to raise the Atlantis. Based on their surroundings it was unlikely a shuttle would be able to retrieve them, at least not without a trek. McKnight: =/\= Atlantis, Spartan One. The ambassador's yacht has crashed onto the planet. Please coordinate the Valcarians for an evac. We have wounded...Atlantis, respond. =/\= There was no response from the Atlantis, a fact that concerned Jarred. He knew that atmospheric conditions on the planet made communications from the surface to orbit difficult, but they should have at least been able to transmit a message to the Atlantis. Dels’an: Agent Jarol, retrieve what’s left of the survival gear and weapons from the arms locker. Of course, Commander Faris! An instant later, the Ambassador dashed from the room, Jarred and co quickly following suite. They still had no idea what exactly had happened to the ship, and Jarred didn’t want to leave the Ambassador alone for even a second. Thoran: Ambassador, wait. Serala / McKnight / Nehir / Revix: Responses He hurried up the stairs, navigating past the debris. He caught up with the Valcarian just as she forced the door to what Jarred suspected was the bridge open. Dels’an: Commander, what happened… Sat at what he presumed was the helm was a Valcarian, pinned by a broken console. Jarred moved further into the confined space, stepping over broken displays and other equipment. The Ambassador knelt down beside the wounded Valcarian and took her pulse. There was a flicker of relief and a moment later the wounded Valcarian moved slightly. She was still alive. Faris: ::Faintly.:: The navigation system became completely unresponsive, and the manual controls wouldn’t work either. It seemed deliberate. The automatic distress beacon worked though. ::So much talking was taking its toll on the injured officer.:: I should have run a more ::Pause:: detailed, diagnostic- Dels’an: No, it’s alright. ::She squeezed the pilot’s hand, who seemed to be drifting off.:: We’ve all survived the crash. Now we are going to get out of here. Get ready to move, Commander. Jarred took a few steps forward, broken glass cracking under his feet. Thankfully the main viewscreen had remained mostly intact. Otherwise the room would have very quickly turned into a fridge from the outside air temperature. From what he had heard from the injured crewman, the crash was no mere accident, but an act of sabotage. The distress beacon would be giving away their position and Jarred surmised it would only be a matter of time before those responsible found them. Serala / McKnight / Nehir / Revix: Responses Dels’an: We can’t stay here. The number of people who could pull an attack like this off isn’t long, and most of them are very dangerous people. I’d suspect General Asil or Director Varus organizing this. Neither of them would leave things to chance like this. Whoever arranged this crash will be here to make sure it did the job. Thoran: oO Asil? Oo It was a name he recalled. It took a few seconds before he realised where he had heard it before. Lt. General Rotork Asil had been the Valcarian representative sent to Arndall to negotiate an end to the Valcarian siege of the planet. It had been when the Kam’Jahtae had erupted from beneath the planet’s surface, leaving a wave of destruction in their wake, and the planet that Dairro had lost her life. Jarred’s eyes momentarily fell to the floor as he remembered the incident. ((Flashback)) Green flashes buzzed passed, cracking in the air as they flew past him. Risking a look back, he could clearly make out the creatures, four emerald green eyes glowing in the dim light. They let out a screech as Jarred reached for his phaser and fired a few shots towards them when he heard Dairro cry out. Looking to his side his saw his friend lay on the floor, blood oozing beneath her. He rushed over to her, continuing to fire towards the aliens. He crouched down beside her, ducking his head as he did so. From this distance the wound was obvious, a mess, as if she’d been shot by two different weapons at once. There was a dark red hole, blood pouring from it as if in slow motion, soaking into her uniform. She looked up to him their eyes locking, as he cradled her, each of them bathed in her blood. He could feel his face begin to crack as she smiled briefly, before her breathing became a noisy rattle and she began to cough, flecking Jarred’s face with blood. A split second later and she went limp in his arms. Jarred let out a roar, screaming into the walls. ((End Flashback)) He pulled himself from the memory, reminding him that now was not the time to dwell on the past. Serala / McKnight / Nehir / Revix: Responses Thoran: What do you suggest our next move would be Ambassador? Dels’an: The villa would be half an hour away on foot, but we can’t go there. That would be the next place they would check when they don’t find my body in the wreckage. ::She examined the frozen, corrupted navigational display and considered the surrounding area.:: If we go northeast from here, there’s an abandoned outpost we could use. Out of service for more than twenty years and not included on up-to-date maps. The Ambassador’s logic was sound. If they had been able to sabotage the Ambassador’s yacht, then it was likely they would be able to access the villa. They needed somewhere out of the way, for the moment at least. Thoran: Then that sounds like our best chance. Everybody, grab anything you can carry. We’ll depart in five. Serala / McKnight / Nehir / Revix: Responses Dels’an: Someone help me get her out of here. Anyone who’s still here when the saboteurs return to finish the job is dead. The wounded Valcarian would slow them down considerably and it was reaffirming to see that she held a no man left behind attitude. Even if it would make their own flight difficult. Jarred moved forward, taking hold of the console that pinned the Valcarian to their chair. Thoran: On the count of three, we’ll pull the console up. Somebody get ready to move Faris. One.. two.. Three. Jarred heaved with all his strength, the broken console barely moving. He could feel his face redden and his knuckles were turning white as he continued trying to hoist the console upwards. Finally they managed to create enough space for Faris to be moved. Once she was clear, they released the console, which fell to the floor, the display shattering. Thoran: We won’t be able to get far with her in that state. We need to make a stretcher. Take it in turns to carry her. ::He turned to Serala and one of the Romulans.:: Find anything we could use. Serala / Revix: Responses Thoran: Counselor, Mister McKnight, I understand you both have rudimentary first aid training. Are you able to stabilise Faris enough for transport? McKnight / Nehir: Responses Thoran: Ambassador, how long do you think it will take for somebody to pick up the signal and make tracks towards us? Dels’an: Response
  18. Being a recent transfer to Ops, I really enjoyed this bit of story arc regarding @Taelon. Great sim! ((Starfleet Intel HQ – London, Earth)) (time index: several days into shore leave) Once he’d looked at Earth from a frieghter’s window and been in awe of its beauty, its sparkling blue seas and rolling green. It’d been a contrast to the reddish dust and green clouds of his birth planet. The Academy had been the first thing he’d truly done on his own, and had seemed almost magical. Now he was back - and not as a welcomed newcomer. Now the looks he got were dark. They thought he’d done something he hadn’t. Taelon wasn’t sure what they even wanted him to reveal at his point; he’d told them as much as he could. Except he hadn’t, he knew he hadn’t. He’d been on a ship in contact with the Klingon military, seen the lists of dissidents and spies, even helped identify some of them. He’d helped Kaskis Ril for 15 years. The last time he’d seen Kaskis, she’d knifed him in the gut. For most people, this would have ended any loyalty they’d had. For Taelon, well, he’d deserved it, hadn’t he? He’d been lying to her for years, claiming to know nothing and to be some exile from Federation space. The fact she’d have skinned him alive for his command codes didn’t factor into his thought process much, but it did come to him on dark nights. He’d seen enough as part of her crew to know how Klingons got information out of people. If they’d discovered he was a ranking Federation officer from 20 years in the future... But they hadn’t. Instead he’d been a loyal follower, the bounty hunter’s mechanic and medic of sorts. He’d been with her for a long time, and that knifing had hardly been the first time she’d struck at him in what he considered justified retribution. He could use her backing now, he thought, standing in the dock. Despite his towering height, Taelon’s body language was hardly intimidating; if anything, it made his answers seem worse. He tugged at the edges of his sleeves, worried his lower lip, and held himself closely, tucking his arms up against his sides and curling in around himself. He struggled to maintain eye contact. This was quite normal for him when he was uncomfortable, and with the added stress, his nervous ticks grew worse; already he’d nibbled through his lower lip, blood visible on his tongue briefly. All this did, however, serve to make him seem evasive. About halfway through he seemed to realize that and tried to steel himself, but DeMarcus’ looks and body language made him shrink back and fail. DeMarcus: Do you deny you worked with this cult, despite having evidence that you were on Zeta Iomis IV? Taelon’s rising panic was clear to everyone watching. He saw Sal Taybrim and locked eyes with him briefly and that seemed to give him some measure of comfort; he took a few steadying breaths before he replied. Taelon: I’ve never worked with the Cult of Molor. Zeta Iomis IV was thought to be one of the hideouts for the Screaming Warriguls, so Captain Ril wanted it investigated. I merely - we merely did what she ordered. That might well have been the longest he’d gone without a small stutter, and this only seemed to make DeMarcus more doubtful rather than less. DeMarcus: That is convenient. Would you care to elucidate on what you were doing on the IKS Qulp’law? Taelon: I was - ::He stopped, fingers twisting together so tightly that his knuckles popped.:: I acted as her mechanic and maintained the crew’s w-weapons and assault vehicles. ::He stopped again, biting his lip before adding-:: I, I invented some new tech for them as well. To help with the - to help with their work. I’ve documented my time with them for the Temporal authorities…. DeMarcus: Seems convenient. Taelon clearly didn’t know what to say to that; he lowered his gaze again before he managed a reply. Taelon: W-well, it’s the truth... The Intelligence officer’s look was one of disgust. He paced, each click of his heeled boots echoing. DeMarcus: Also convenient that you left the Narendra and shortly thereafter the cult was able to infiltrate the ship… Taelon gawked at him, his gaze going to the crowd - to Sal, to others he’d talked to before. Whatever he’d guessed he was accused of, having put the Cult on the Narendra wasn’t included in that. He stammered. Despite his timid nature, it was clear he was offended. Taelon: Why would I - I’d never tell a group of killers where my colleagues were! Especially not after - not after - He fell silent, shaking hands holding the edge of the dock. His knuckles were white. DeMarcus: ::More forcefully:: Someone had to leak security details! Someone had to tell the Klingons! Taelon: Whatever it is I’ve done, or - or you think I’ve done… I wouldn’t h-hurt other members of the Federation - DeMarcus cut him off with a scoff, the man’s posture growing more intimidating. DeMarcus: Like you weren’t responsible for the death of undercover operative K’Tomj? ::He smiled with a vicious expression. He knew the Starfleet intel operative was killed after contact with the Qulp’law.:: Taelon’s mouth opened, but he said nothing for a long moment, eventually clicking his mouth shut. He looked around the room again. It was true he’d killed the man. It’d been a routine job with Ril’s crew up until he saw the reports afterwards. Taelon: I didn’t - I didn’t know about him. It was just a routine bounty, until we saw his intel… DeMarcus/Any: ? Licking his lips nervously, Taelon’s gaze dropped yet again. He didn’t know, how could he, it wasn’t like that at the time - he was keenly aware of his responses repeating over and over. But they were true. How could have known about a spy who was emplaced years before he’d even joined Starfleet? He should have seen the clues, but at the time it’d been a hostile planet and people had been quick to start shooting the moment things went south. He didn’t know what to say any more. Taelon: I’ve studied the cult under Captain Ril for years. And I might - I might make things you people - ::He stopped and quickly corrected himself.:: I might design things that, that the Federation doesn’t like, but I don’t - the Cult wants to hurt people. I want to p-protect them…
  19. This sim is a teaser for our upcoming mission. When I read it, I had a sense of deja-vu. It turns out that it was a flashback sim, the dialogue was lifted from a set of sims I was lucky enough to be a part of six months ago, but instead written from the point of view of two Romulans that went into the diner. This is very Pulp Fiction of you @Roshanara Rahman and brilliantly done! Love it. ((Welder's Diner, Ketar V - Stardate 239607)) Kivas shook his head at his friend and fellow Romulan Sajok as they both stood in the famous Welder’s Diner, home of the Shoals’ best burgers. The two refugees had found work at the nearby Livernois Shipyard, working on one of the Starfleet contracts. While there were plenty of shipyards across the planet offering work, many Romulans and Remans had taken up the openings at Livernois because Starfleet had specific affirmative action policies in place to ensure fair hiring practices. While Ketar V was technically a Federation world, Kivas had found that some of the residents of the oldest colony in the Shoals exhibited rather provincial attitudes when it came to his kind. Perhaps it was the distance and the slow communications or the history of the colony’s growth, with many early settlers having ancestors who had fought in that first Earth-Romulan war of so long ago, but whatever the reason, the former university professor had discovered that humans and other Federation citizens out here sometimes struggled to live up to their supposed ideals. Today, one human customer at the diner in particular was struggling. Human customer: This establishment isn't for your kind. Kivas gave Sajok a coy smile before looking back at the human man who was now standing a little closer to them. Kivas: It's always so humbling to see that great Federation enlightenment on display. Human customer: This ain't got nothing to do with the Federation. If it were up to me, none of you lot would be here. Yet despite what some of the refugees thought, Kivas knew not all humans were like this. In fact, he wouldn’t even say that most of them were like this. And case in point, their waitress came over to break up the commotion and kick out the disruptive customer. Waitress: Well, fortunately, it's not up to you. And if you're going to harass other customers, then I'm going to ask you to leave. ::She looked over at the Romulans and gestured to one of the open tables.:: I'm sorry gentlemen, please take a seat. Kivas and Sajok gave a polite nod to the waitress as they walked past the man, who continued to give them an unfriendly stare before he then looked over at a few Starfleet officers sitting in a both by the windows. Human customer: Meh, this place isn't what it used to be anyway. Too much trash piling up. Sajok grumbled as the two men grabbed their table. Sajok: I don’t know why you like coming here. Plenty of places we can go without being harassed. Unlike Kivas, who first arrived on Ketar with the first wave of refugees during the start of the resettlement program in 2388, Sajok was a more recent arrival. Previously a civil engineer, he’d lived on Ketar now for two years, but it still wasn’t home for him, and his wife had been pushing for them to move their family of four to another refugee settlement such as Bilire VI. Unlike Ketar, Bilire was previously uninhabited before the refugee colony there was established in the wake of the Hobus supernova that had destroyed Romulus and Remus. Kivas: I am a resident of Ketar, which means I can go where I please. ::opens a menu:: And so I will. He looked up from his menu, making a point to his dining companion. Kivas: It’s important we remind them that we have just as much a right to be here as they do. ::beat:: And that we’re not going anywhere. The other Romulan scoffed as he opened his menu. Sajok: Speak for yourself… I don’t see what’s so great about this place. Kivas: Look around you, Sajok. This is a world built through blood, sweat, and tears. It’s a rare colony world with actual history—it predates the Federation itself. We are but one new chapter in its story. Sajok shook his head. Sajok: I never realized you were such a romantic. Kivas: Well, and I like the Hawaiian teriyaki burger. This Earth fruit—pineapple. It’s quite something! His companion just chuckled as he continued to look over the menu. ((Later)) With their food ordered, the two Romulans were minding their own business waiting for their lunch when the human man from earlier returned to the diner. Except this time, he wasn't alone. As he and two others walked in, they glanced at the Starfleet officers before walking over to Kivas and Sajok. Human customer from earlier: Well, well, look who's still here... One of the man’s new companions, a human woman with olive skin and long blonde messy dreadlocks spoke up, while gesturing towards the Starfleet officers. Human woman: And your Starfleet friends here can’t help you. Human customer from earlier: It seems you didn't get the message that you aren't welcome here, Romulan. Sajok: We are just waiting for our burgers. The waitress addressed the human customer from earlier. Waitress: I told you to leave, sir. I don't like your attitude. Human customer: And I don't like having to work with these green-blooded snakes... ::chuckles as he looks back up at the waitress:: Sajok didn’t have the same patience as Kivas. He stood up and leaned forward. Sajok: Is that so! ::Looking around diner:: Is *this* how the Federation treats refugees? Then I would be happy to take this outside! Brushing her hair back, the female human stepped up towards Sajok. Human woman: Nope. Here’s just fine. Perhaps Sajok was right, Kivas thought. He was about to stand up to walk with Sajok to another establishment when one of the Starfleet officers from across the room called out. Starfleet security officer: ENOUGH! You have no authority to ban anyone in here. She :: pointing to the waitress :: has made it clear they can stay. :: To the Romulans :: And no, they're not a representation of what the Federation is. Another one of the Starfleet officers tapped his combadge. Starfleet engineer: =/\= Lieutenant Ukinix to any CCMS. Require presence at… ::looking at window:: …Welder’s Diner, opposite Livernois Shipyard offices, ::looking back:: there’s an altercation in progress. :: CCMS: =/\= Understood, we are en-route. =/\= The human woman with dreadlocks walked over to taunt the Starfleet officers. Human woman: Typical Starfleet. *Always* poking your nose in where it isn’t wanted. At this, the other Starfleet officer stood up to join his companion already standing. There was a third officer, a woman who remained seated. Kivas watched her curiously. She clearly was trying to keep the peace as well despite her distaste at what was going on. She wasn’t looking at him, but if she had been, he’d have exchanged a nod of understanding. All they wanted was to keep the peace. Starfleet security officer: We poke our noses where there are problems and right now, you're the problem. You have a chance to leave before the CCMS arrive. :: Looking at her eyes with all his height :: Your choice. Human woman: Hmmph. The woman seemed to walk away but then suddenly spun around to deliver a sucker punch. However, she wasn’t fast enough for the security officer to miss her telegraphing of her attack. He caught her fist in his hand and somehow crushed her knuckles with his grasp. The woman grunted before the man knocked her down with his other hand. As this was going on, the two other human men lunged at Sajok. Despite Kivas’ distaste for violence, he wasn’t going to abandon his companion. He stood up to face off against the attackers. The brawl in the diner quickly got ugly as fists and kicks were shot out. With the help of the Starfleet officers, though, they were able to subdue their attackers. The female Starfleet officer walked over to one of her shipmates. Starfleet command officer: Are you all right? Starfleet engineer: ::Panting, nodding:: Yeah, fine. The woman then walked over to Kivas and Sajok. Starfleet command officer: And you? Kivas looked over at Sajok, who nodded first, before he turned his head back at the woman and nodded. It was at that moment then that several Colonial Coalition Marshals swarmed into the building. Marshal: What's going on here? Starfleet security officer: Don't tell that I didn't gave you a chance to leave. :: to the officers :: I'm Commander Kelrod Chief of Security of the USS Veritas. This woman will require medical attention. Human woman: Marshal, we were just trying to have a meal when this [...] started shooting! ::She raised her arm up to show the marshal as his partner went to look over at the unconscious bodies.:: He crushed my hand! Sajok called out to the injured human and the marshal. Sajok: That was only after you tried to start a fight. You shouldn't start something unless you intend to finish it. The Starfleet security officer called Kelrod walked over to the two Romulans. Kelrod: I hope you're okay. I'll be happy to help you get medical attention if you require it. Kivas: Thank you... Kelrod: I personally consider Romulans a strong and intelligent people. In fact, Starfleet has Romulans or part Romulans serving. I hope that you are open to reconsider your … views of the Federation. But the man’s companion looked worried. Starfleet command officer: ::whispers:: Commander, I don't think this is over... Kelrod: I'm sorry for the mess. Please, give my compliments to the kitchen. I'll be sure to come back next time I'm around, if it's fine with you. Marshal: Not so fast! You all are under arrest. The female Starfleet officer fired back in either disbelief or indignation. Starfleet command officer: On what charges? Marshal: Disturbing the peace, discharging a phaser in public, assault... need I go on, little lady? Ukinix: “Little Lady”!! Who the fff- Her other shipmate didn’t appreciate that comment. Whoever these people were, they were quite protective of each other. Kivas admired that and recognized it in the Romulan spirit as well. Kelrod: Easy Wil... And Marshal, you're talking to a Starfleet captain. Show her the respect she deserves. Kivas: oO Captain? Oo The captain raised her hand again to try to tell her shipmates not to resist. Starfleet captain: We'll sort this out at the marshal's office. As the three were escorted in handcuffs out of the diner, Kivas continued to watch them with intrigue. Sajok walked up next to him to watch as well. Sajok: Well, you happy? You think you really made your point? Kivas continued to watch the Starfleet officers as they were placed into a CCMS transport vehicle before he looked back at Sajok. Kivas: I don’t know if I did. ::He gestured to the arrested Starfleet officers.:: But I think they might have. The waitress walked over to the two Romulans, looking apologetic. Waitress: Sorry again for this whole mess… ::She shook her head.:: Your burgers are ready… if you still want them, that is. Kivas just smiled. Kivas: Yes, of course! We cannot waste the pineapple! As Kivas made his way back to the table, Sajok just shook his head before glancing for one last time at the CCMS transport vehicle as it sped away back to the station. Kivas and Sajok Romulan Refugees, Ketar V I238705TZ0
  20. ((Starbase 118 - little Risa - Cabo Breeze.)) Dante watched the pleasant faces around him spin, or maybe that was the room? Hael: Nev’r have I ev’r …. Had a crush on’a teacher... Termine: Ouuh! I have! ::Dante took a big swig of his beer:: Dante's mind was awash with thoughts of one of his first music teachers. The Betazed woman was like a godess of warmth to him at a young age and in hindsight Dante realized she was probably aware of his affection. Dante tried to blush harder, but the alcohol had already done that for him. Hael: I had this one teach - she was younger - thought she was the our first gal I’d ev’r done seen Rustyy took a swig of his drink, and Max grinned at the thought of what a messy evening this was going to turn into. Termine: Thuh Shhtory? As Max answered, Rustyy laughed. Maxwell: True story. Hael: Come’on keep on’a goin’ ::he wanted to know more… and hopefully not reveal as much.:: Termine: Weeeell.. If you inshist…. Maxwell: Never have I ever blown off an Academy class tae go drinking. Termine: Unforshunately, deshpite my curent shtate, I wash never really that fun in the acAdeMyy. But that's what I've goth Friendhs for! Dante laughed and clapped his arms around his compatriots at the table. Hael: Alrigh’y! ::he slammed his hand down.:: Nev’r have I farted round’a group’s strangers! Maxwell: What about loud enough tae drown out the Comandant's speech at your graduation? Dante laughed bawdily, though he wasn't sure if it was a joke or a recollection. Either way, Dante just felt like laughing. This alcohol thing sure was an interesting experience! Termine: I've fhaarted a few times in groups buuut. *burp* mostly it wash to geve me an excush to leave! heheheHehe~ Max chuckled as he went next. Maxwell: Never have I ever been curious enough tae try a pets food. Dante took a big gulp Termine: N'aw look. You think AAAALLL you want, but I'll shay that Targ food looks a LOT like Guacamole. Max was starting to feel really devilish now, and he motioned for the bartender to give them shots instead of their previous drinks. He pointed at a particular bottle. Hael: Nev’r have I ev’r - gone streakin’ in public. Maxwell: It was pretty cold when I did it. ::He laughed at the memory of his drunken and shivering team mates piling into the pub at the top of the street. And the reactions from the people in there.:: Termine: Onshe again, I wasn't that fun! But I wonder that the regulationsh about pubblibic nubditidy are arounb here are! That comment got a rise out of the listening audience. Hael: ::he looked at his latest empty glass.:: We gonna be hur’in’ tomorrow. ::he ungracefully snort laughed.:: I got one! - an’ i’m’a purdy sure I ain’ nev’r done it either. ::uncertainly said.:: Nev’r have I ev’r ::dramatic pause.:: kissed a fella Safe again. Max put his shot back on the bar as he waited for the responses of the others. Dante poured himself a big shot of whatever liquid he had been offered and shot it back in his head. His thoughts were momentarily drawn to the black, bitter stinging sensation in his mouth, but they soon faded to be replaced with the memory of B'larin, one of his first crushes at the academy. It had been a hot romance when they first started seeing each other but cooled quickly as they both realized the heat they felt for each other was more about the newness of the academy life and sexual liberty ( especially in Dante's case who had just escaped a pretty strict home life) Still, you can never completely quell the flames one once had in youth. Termine: O'course I have! ! To Love! ::Dante clutched his heart:: Wha-'ere form it comes in! This proclamation brought with it another great cheer from the crowd, and with it went Dante, over the back of his own bar stool, crashing in amongst the crowd. ___________________________________________ ((OOC: There's definitely still more to be explored here but I'll leave it to Maxwell and Hael to decide if we want to continue the scene. I think with the ceremony it might be time to move ahead!) Lt. JG Dante Termine Diplomatic Corps, Starbase 118 A239503DT0
  21. ((Research Outpost, Giáng Sinh)) Jona stood up one last time from his chair near the fire and bobbed his antennae at each person in turn. ch'Ranni: Counselor, ... Commander, ... James. Thank you all for the talk. I think I know what I need to do now. Thank you all. Fortune: Ah! Thank you for joining us! If you need anything, just pop back by, okay? Colquhoun: See you later, Jona. Sevo: It was an...interesting sort of pleasure talking. Jona slowly moved off from the group and toward his assigned cabin. He had a lot of thinking to do and a couple of letters to write. ((Timeskip)) After a few hours of laying in the prefab cabin's bunk - wide awake - Jona sat up and activated the light switch next to the bed. He grabbed the PADD sitting on the side table and cracked his neck each side. The Andorian tapped away at the tablet, calling up his personal communication repository. His thin, pale blue fingers danced across the surface as he queued up a new message. It was time to get something off his chest. ch'Ranni: Record personal communication. Authorization ch'Ranni delta zero one nine two. Lieutenant Jona ch'Ranni, USS Gorkon, to Vexa zh'Lev, Dehner Base, Delta Vega I. Dear Vexa... Jona paused. He didn't really know how to begin. How was he suppose to tell her everything that was in her heart? Could he even do that? Did he himself even know what was in his heart? ch'Ranni: Vexa, I've missed you so much this past month. It was so hard saying goodbye. I think we were both worried that the long distance thing wasn't going to be easy. Believe me ... it hasn't been. He stopped speaking for a second as he pictured the impish smile of his girlfriend. They had believed they had all the time in the world and then life and duty slashed that naivete to pieces faster than a rookie at a bat'leth competition. It was done and over far too soon. ch'Ranni: I just wanted to say that ... due to recent experiences ... I have been thinking a lot about life and the choices before me. Am I happy with the way things are going, the way they've turned out? No, not really. The Q's skewering of his personality and sum of life choices had really gotten to him. More than he wanted to admit, especially to his new shipmates. Was he stuck on autopilot? Was he caught in the current of life, destined to make the same decisions no matter what? ch'Ranni: I want to see you. I want to make this work. I'm not happy without you and I hope you feel the same way. I'm determined to be there for you. Don't give up on me, Vexa. Satisfied with the words, Jona tapped the send button and immediately saw that a message had arrived while he was composing his. It was from Vexa! Jona grinned and remembered a Terran expression about great minds thinking alike. He quickly opened the message and his grin slowly began to fade from his face. Vexa: Jona, this isn't working. I care about you very much. But, this isn't working. This past month has been hard on me and I'm sure it has been on you two. You deserve better. And so do I. I've met someone, Jona. A new addition to Dehner Base's security personnel. I'm so sorry. I hope you find happiness and peace. Jona powered off the screen and clicked the room's light off. He lay his head back down on the pillow as tears wet his face. -- Lt. Jona ch'Ranni Chief of Operations USS Gorkon (NCC-82293) C239510JC0
  22. ((Security Complex, Deck 4, USS Atlantis)) The last few days had been a blur for Maddi after the scene of Esa running off she decided to just leave it alone and give Esa space. oO Was it me? I don’t know, but I’m going to leave it alone. Oo The best way for Maddi to forget it was to immerse herself in her work. It was the best medicine Maddi had and at the moment it was the only thing keeping her sane. She had been told that an important guest was coming. She had pulled all of her security forces to the complex for a briefing. She had prepared the presentation and the room was full of yellow uniformed men and women. oO This is really happening I’m Chief. Oo Hyden: Good morning everyone! I have called you here to prepare for the arrival of the Valcarians Ambassador. The security of the ship is of the utmost importance. Regardless of our relationship with the Valcarians it is our job to make sure the guests are safe and protected, but also that the ships vital areas are sealed off from prying eyes. As this is an important dignitary and we do not know how long they will be with us we will be working on continuous shifts. When they arrive I want Security to be on high alert. All systems are calibrated and set. The security complex will be locked to any and all guest unless properly escorted. If I am on the bridge I expect teams Alpha, Beta, and Charlie to be patrolling and guarding as shown on your PADDS. Maddi stopped for a minute scanning the room to see if there was any looks of confusion, as none were present she opened the floor to questions. Anyone: Response ((OOC: Happy to add to this part if security people want to jump in.)) ((Short Timeskip)) The briefing went extraordinarily well especially considering it was her first time doing it by herself. She didn’t have time to pat herself on the back though she had to go through and recheck all the vital security systems on the ship. She trusted the other personnel, but as Chief she wanted to make sure everything was set for the arrival of the ambassador. She headed to the armory and pulled out her PADD. She kept a strict inventory of the weapons on the ship and she was going to make sure that those numbers matched. It took her a considerable amount of time to check that the numbers were right, but after a few hours she felt sure her numbers were correct. She locked the lockers and made sure the security measures were in place before departing. She was running late to her next check, but then again there was no exact schedule; however it was one she adhered too and wanted to make sure she kept. She headed to the transporter room and began scanning the security measures in place, as the security chief she opened the consoles security measures and checked the systems everything was running correctly except the console was not recognizing the officer on duty. Maddi decided to help him out, as she looked through the systems it appeared the man had been somehow deleted from the system. It took Maddi a few minutes, but she reintegrated him into the security system and he was able to work the transporter. After checking the perimeter of the room for any anomalies and being satisfied there was not she moved on. oO Gosh I could really use some food. Oo Her stomach growled as the thought registered with the rest of her body. She needed something to eat, but she had so much to do she wasn’t sure she could take the time for food, but there was something she always had time for. She swung by the mess hall and replicated a mug of chocolate milk on the go. As she took a sip the sugary taste gave her a boost to continue. She quickly headed out of the mess hall and headed for the shuttlebay. The Valcarians were picky on the use of transporters and Maddi was unsure which one they would prefer to use so she would check both. She began her initial checks of the shuttlebay which brought up a few small issues. She was big on making sure the security measures of doors and interfaces were calibrated correctly. The security display showed discrepancies between the profiles allowed and the profiles restricted. As she scrolled through the list she noticed some officers of the restricted list and some guest who should not be accessing the shuttlebay granted access. oO I’m sure it’s just a mistake, but it’s one that needs fixed. Oo She began the tedious task of reassigning the permissions to the correct profiles. That task was easy, but tedious it took a lot of concentration and many drinks of her chocolate milk to get her through. A few officers had walked through while she was working and had given her a puzzled look. She smiled politely and continued her work. After a short while the profiles were set correctly and she was satisfied with the recheck of diagnostics. She looked at the time the day had flown by her time had been used appropriately, but it was nearing the end of her shift, but she still had to go look over the shuttle, check the systems on the bridge, and hand the final assessment to Thoran. oO Hopefully the shuttle doesn’t pose any real problems. Oo She headed to the shuttle and began the deep inspection of its systems. The initial checks were great, but the security systems on the ship had been rearranged to the specifications of the pilot who had been flying it. Maddi understood that sometimes the systems in place were a difficult barrier, but their reasons for being there were important and unfortunately it made Maddi have to do her job even when it wasn’t what she wanted to do. Hyden: =/\= Hyden to Teravalis. Could you come to shuttlebay two? =/\= Teravalis: =/\= Response =/\= Hyden: =/\= Thank you. =/\= ((Short Timeskip)) Maddi had decided to wait before resetting the systems to the correct setting. She was going to wait for Teravalis. She waited for a few minutes before the pilot slowly approached her looking slightly scared. Hyden: Hello Ensign! Teravalis: Response Hyden: There’s Nothing to be scared about just something you need to know. I was reviewing the Security protocols and saw you has changed a few to better accommodate you while you fly. As there are ways to help you it is not suggested to mess with the default settings. They’re in place for your safety. Teravalis: Response Maddi listened to the inflection of her voice and being able to tell she was sorry for what she did. Maddi also listens to her reasoning and decided to work with the woman. Hyden: Well let's see what I can do for you. I understand the reasoning behind why you did it and can see why it’s easier, but maybe we can change a few things, but keep the setting in the proper protocols. Maddi changed a few setting that she thought might make it easier for the pilot. Hyden: How’s that? Teravalis: Response Hyden: Excellent! Thanks for understanding if you need anything else just let me know! I will make sure this is implemented on all the shuttle for you. You’re dismissed. She smiled as the woman departed the shuttle. oO She is definitely skilled and I’m glad I can help her. Oo Maddi tried to take a sip of chocolate milk, but there was none in the cup she quickly replicated more and took a sip which gave her another boost of energy. oO This is probably not the best way to keep energy, but it tastes so good. Oo She finished up the checks after making sure the few changes were set in the shuttle and locked under her codes only, but she would inform the Captain in her report. She stopped and added this part to her report that was rather lengthy on the PADD. She was starting to feel tired, but she would press on. She headed for the bridge, but when she arrived it was empty except for the night crew. She smiled sheepishly to the group and casually slid into the security consoles spot. She began the lvl 3 diagnostics of all the ships security systems. The check came back good and everything was perfect on the bridge. It took her around 45 minutes to complete the task, but after completing it and feeling satisfied with the result. She headed back to her office to finish her report. She arrived at her office moments later, but the exhaustion began to sweep in and the hunger was worse than before. She had to eat if she was going to stay up. She went over to her replicator and requested a bacon cheeseburger and a giant glass of more milk. She ate the sandwich and began her report. It was much more detailed than she had expected, but that was how her job went and she made sure that all the information was apparent in the report. She stopped for a minute and Esa slipped into her mind, but Maddi continued her work. oO She needs space. I just hope she will talk to me. I miss her. She really laid into me that night. Oo She continued working on her report, as well as the many other that had stacked up on her desk. After hours of work she was done. She had finished all her backlogged work and the report for the Captain. She looked at the time it was already morning and she was pretty sure the Commander would be in his office. So she headed to his ready room. She took a deep breath to try and fight the exhaustion in her body. She waited after activating the chime to hear the words to enter the room. She entered the room and smile with the PADD tucked under her arms. Hyden: Hello Commander, I have finished my security assessment for the arrival of the Ambassador and the systems of the ship for you. Thoran: Response
  23. This was a brilliant piece of writing! Well done @Lael Rosek and @Toryn Raga. I couldn't stop reading it at work on break till I finished it. I think I was a minute late lol. ((Corridor, Deck 3, USS Atlantis)) {{Day 3 of shoreleave, Late evening}} It had been another long day of avoiding Toryn. She freely admitted she was attracted to him and that his company soothed her in ways she couldn’t begin to understand. That wasn’t the difficult part. Something about the situation between them made her wary of messing it up. She’d taken her space after the last away mission, not wanting to rush into things any more than they already had. There’d been very little communication between them in the way of getting to know one another. Most of what she did know about him had been gleaned either from his Starfleet records or from shrewd observation. There was no discounting what they’d been through together and the intimacy that they’d shared in the process, but she was nervous. She’d been hurt so much in the past and wasn’t sure if love was something she was interested in. It made her much different than other Al-Leyans in that she had considered monogamy. Al-Leyans weren’t monogamous by nature and yet, the idea of one person she could always rely on and didn’t have to share did have its appeal. There had been an uncomfortable feeling he’d been dealing with since the mission ended. He couldn’t place it, but Toryn had the suspicion that Ishka had been avoiding him. It brought back unpleasant memories of Serala, one of his two best friends, doing everything she could to put as much space between them as possible and being blunt to the point that it didn’t even feel as though they were close friends. Thankfully, that seemed to have passed, but to be honest the two of them hadn’t actually spoken much lately. His thoughts wandered back to Ishka as he realized he could feel her nearby. That wasn’t surprising. It was a small ship and he could always sense her mind. The only one on board that he could. It made him respect what their resident Rodulans must go through hearing everyone’s thoughts. He should have been focused on where he was going, as he rounded the corner he practically bowled someone over in his quick stride. She’d been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed the familiar presence of Toryn’s mind nearby until it was too late. As she rounded a corner, she made hard contact with something solid. Thankfully, she was able to keep her footing and as soon as she was certain she wasn’t going to fall, she glanced up to find herself staring into the impossibly deep blue eyes of the very man she’d hoped to avoid until she could sort out what she was feeling. That gaze felt like staring into a stellar nursery. Or a gravitic anomaly because for the life of him he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the vibrant emeralds in front of him. Framed by the fiery red mane she was breathtaking. Literally and figuratively as he stood there, trying to assemble coherent letters into words, then words into a sentence. Raga: oO Winds she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve met. Oo I’m sorry, doc. Are you alright? She wasn’t sure how to respond at first. The formality had her fighting back a wince. He’d been so free with her given name on multiple occasions while they were on the surface. Had it just been the heat of the moment? Adrenaline? It had been so freeing the couple of times she’d used his given name. Every touch had been more real for it. Something about the intimacy had helped her keep her focus. She’d worried that her personal feelings for Toryn would get in the way of her professionalism, but what had happened on Paldor II was proof that she’d been overthinking it. Or so she’d thought. Journs: ::gaze drops and murmurs:: I’m sorry, sir. It’s my fault. I wasn’t paying attention. Raga: It’s alright Ishka. I wasn’t looking where I was going either. Had she not lowered her gaze it would have been nigh impossible for him to look away. But he visually examined her from head to toe, not finding any signs of injury. Not that he expected there to be. Al-Leyans were a hearty bunch. However, he gently touched a crooked finger under her chin to raise her gaze to his again. Raga: I really wish you’d stop doing that. ::He whispered:: Your eyes are too beautiful to hide. A flush crept into her cheeks, one that she failed to hide despite her best efforts. The mixed messages made her even more timid than usual. Worrying her lower lip, she lifted her gaze to his, her mouth agape slightly as the tip of her tongue peeked out to moisten her lips. Winds, but he was attractive...and so charming. Any sense she had was scattered to the winds when he called her or any part of her beautiful. The compliment drew a shy smile. Journs: ::breathily:: I-- Any words that she’d managed to string together in her mind in response clearly hadn’t made it all the way to her mouth. What could she say to this beautiful man who had held her in his arms and worshipped her for hours? Part of him couldn’t help but smile a bit at her expression. The crimson that filled her cheeks could likely be detected by the ship’s sensors at this point. And that thing she did with her lip only added to her own allure. Eventually, awareness of things other than the radiant entity before him filtered into his perceptions and he glanced around with a grin. Raga: Were you headed anywhere in particular? ::He asked, clearing his throat slightly:: They were just standing there in the corridor and if she wasn’t doing anything, maybe they could talk. Clear up a few things or at least try to sort out this intense tension between them. Again, she worried her lower lip. Her thoughts had been focused on her couch in her quarters and maybe another night of movies and chocolate ice cream. Journs: Um...nothing specific. Why? His brow raised and a slight smirk curled his lips. The thought of spending time with her was enough to quicken his pulse by a warp factor of ten at least. Raga: Well, I don’t have plans. And I know that last mission was tough on all of us. If you want we could talk a bit. We haven’t really had much time to get to know each other much. Which was quite amusing if he took a moment to consider they’d already been quite intimate and that was just about the most, well, intimate way to know someone. Raga: My quarters are right over there and for once Kurt isn’t mimicking a statue outside. She smiled wanly at the memory of her and Toryn’s first night together when she’d had to make excuses to Logan in order to gain entrance to Toryn’s quarters. He wanted to talk and though she was certain he meant it, she also suspected that thoughts of their last intimate encounter were occupying his mind at that same moment. Despite fighting the desire to spend time with him alone these last few days, she couldn’t help the way her heartrate picked up at the thought of sharing that intimacy with him again. It was all she’d wanted on Paldor II. Journs: ::softly:: Okay. No matter how hard they both were trying to conceal their thoughts from one another it was impossible for him to not hear her heartbeat. It brought a warm smile to his face even before she agreed to spend time with him. Raga: Great! ::He felt silly just how excited he’d sounded and realized he was louder too:: oO You’d think I’d never gone through my season or something. Oo He chided himself mentally and turned on his bootheel. Toryn lead her back to his quarters, which were only just down the next corridor. Mid hull on the Starboard side. The door swished open and he stepped inside, gesturing for her to follow. A soft hoot came from the corner at their entry and he smiled at Sylara. Toryn looked back to her as he stood midway between the door and the replicator. ((Raga’s Quarters)) Raga: Would you like something to drink? Just being in his quarters again stirred memories of their passionate night and she felt a shiver race down her spine. It had been the most intense coupling of her young life, and that was saying something given how many lovers she’d had. Though they’d destroyed the majority of his quarters in their desperation to get as close as possible, there had been a tenderness to Toryn’s actions. She’d felt special and protected. Journs: Al-Leyan spiced tea. He gave a nod and stepped in front of the replicator if only to give himself a reprieve from having to actually think about how to start such a conversation. Raga: Two Al-Leyan Spiced teas. Hot. ::He looked back:: Make yourself at home. The replicator whirred and a moment later the requested beverages appeared in the usual swirl of blue and white luminescence. Steam rose from the mugs and he grasped them by the handles and joined her in the living area. Offering one mug to her before he took a seat on the large couch beneath the window looking out at Paldor II. For a moment, she sat still in the quiet, taking a long sip of her tea. Her racing heart missed a beat or two only two resume its normal rhythm. A nervous energy filled the space between them Something was developing...something serious...though it seemed neither wanted to admit it. Her gaze lifted to meet his. She wasn’t a risk-taker. Like most of her species, she calculated every possible risk before arriving at a conclusion. Not with Toryn. She’d done things these last few days that would typically be outside of her comfort zone. She’d followed him without a second thought, not stopping once to question the recklessness of his choices, and she didn’t regret a moment. Setting the mug of tea down on the coffee table, she lifted slightly shaking hands to cradle his face tenderly, running one thumb over the swell of his lower lip. Journs: You make me utterly crazy. Even when we’re together, I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m trying to go slow and not ruin a good thing before it truly has a chance to start, but… Toryn sat there, his own mug still clutched in his hand as he hadn’t decided to actually partake or set it down. And then he felt her soft, yet trembling hands cradle his face. The thumb brushing across his lips felt like electrical sparks the way his being reacted to the contact. Raga: So it’s not just me then? ::He muttered softly, as if he were one asylum patient confessing to another:: I’ve thought about you more in these past few days than anyone I’ve ever.. Slept with? Loved? Been attracted to? All of the above? He struggled how to finish that thought, his words trailed off as he couldn’t settle on any one in particular. He reached up to cradle her hands in one of his own and the other extended to brush fingers through her hair. Her gaze dropped to his lips and she leaned forward slowly, brushing her lips chastely over his before pulling back and staring into his eyes. She pulled one hand free and slid it up the side of his face, brushing the tip of his ear tenderly. It was an intimate gesture typically reserved for lovers as the location was one of an Al-Leyan’s most sensitive places. A soft smile turned up the corners of her lips as she leaned closer to him, longing to feel the weight of his body pressed against hers. There was something about his masculine strength that made her feel so warm and protected. It never failed to drive away any worries of the day. Toryn felt the chaste kiss and the brief contact of her supple lips to his was enough to steal his breath. He’d been longing for her company since the crisis on the surface. When she was facing a lost patient he wanted to pull her into his arms. Hold her until she felt better, or bring her to his quarters and pamper her with intimacy until she forgot. Seeing her smile, he couldn’t help but do the same and he reached out to set his mug down as she leaned in. With both hands-free he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him. He’d wanted to talk, they needed to but it was almost futile to resist or deny the magnetic pull he felt towards her. His hands caressed her back as he drew her against his chest. He stared into those emerald pools of hers and let his lips tenderly meet hers. A passionate kiss ensued, one that even took him by surprise. For a long moment, she allowed herself to be lost in it, closing her eyes and enjoying the way his lips felt against hers. She arched her neck, exposing her bare throat to his kisses even as she buried shaking hands into his dark raven locks. For a few moments, she allowed it, then sighed and pushed at his chest with one hand, the other on his shoulder to hold him firmly in place. Journs: ::breathily:: I thought you wanted to talk. Toryn lost himself in her for that long moment and then sense kicked in with one of them and she broached the reason for them visiting his quarters. The dutiful former Tac/Sec chief cleared his throat and nodded. Sitting back against the cushion of the couch, but still embracing her he licked his lips, Raga: Sorry. You’re right. ::He smiled:: I can’t seem to help myself around you. ::He muttered softly:: What is this we seem to have between us? Journs: ::touches her forehead to his and sighs:: I don’t know. It’s not like me to be so reckless. On Paldor II with the stampede--I just reacted. I saw you risking your life and I reacted. Hearing her say that he felt a twinge of guilt and inadequacy. Toryn was by far the least typical specimen of their species. Al-Leyan’s were so methodical they didn’t even accept transporter technology on their homeworld until long after it had been perfected. Favoring the reliability of magnetic rail propulsion and massive networks of trains that blanketed the planet. Every possible risk was assessed before an action was taken. And here he was, the record holder for purple hearts on Atlantis. Far more emotional than most Al-Leyans. They were a passionate species, but he was broken. The usual filters of his species weren’t present in him. It’s part of why he’d undergone two separate Attitude Readjustment Therapies. Raga: It’s because of me. I’m not a good Al-Leyan. ::He frowned and shifted his gaze away from her as if ashamed:: Journs: ::shakes her head and brushes her lips against his:: Toryn, I--All my life, I’ve stayed with the traditions and have never taken unnecessary risks. ::pauses:: I went outside of my branch, but I can’t say I’m sorry I did. ::brushes the backs of her knuckles over his cheek:: Winds only know what would have happened if I hadn’t. I would have regretted it if I’d just stood by and watched while you risked your life to protect those people. His eyes closed briefly when her lips touched his and he kept them closed, trying not to let his inner demons draw his thoughts away from the gorgeous redhead embraced in his arms. Raga: It’s my duty. One I’ve had to push to the limits more often than I’d like on this ship. So many enemies and all alone. ::He opened his eyes to look into hers:: I’m reckless, I know. It’s done as much good as it has harm. I made a rash, split second decision to save Captain Brell and spent three months with the Consortium as a result. She reached out, caressing his mind with hers. She should be running. This wasn’t what good Al-Leyans did. Not according to the Council and the traditions anyway. People had been exiled for less. While it wasn’t officially against the laws, many received therapy for chronic recklessness. But was it really so reckless? In her time enlisted in Starfleet, she’d been forced to redefine a lot of her beliefs in the context of the greater universe. Many species considered actions like Toryn’s noble and an indication of good character. He cared for others and was willing to go to any lengths to protect them. Maybe that was why she felt safer with him than she ever had with anyone back home. There was something comforting in knowing that he would fight beside her even through the dangers they faced as Starfleet officers. Journs: ::murmurs:: The duties of those within your branch come at a price. It’s not one to be taken lightly. In my time with Starfleet, I’ve learned that the hardest choices, no matter the price, can also lead to our greatest sense of purpose and satisfaction. ::pauses:: You’re a good man, Toryn. I feel safe when I’m with you. No one else does that for me like you do. The touch our their minds together, even brief was enough to relax him. It was soothing. And yet, Toryn had enough baggage to fill the Expanse. Ishka’s comments were, quite frankly surprising. All of this was. She should have run for the hills by now, called someone back home on Leya-I and have the Council pressure Starfleet into ordering him home to be treated again. Or worse, exiled from the homeworld. It never occurred to him that being brainwashed and conditioned was perhaps a far worse fate than never being allowed on the world of one’s birth. That’s just the way they were raised. Raga: I know. And I don’t regret any of the decisions I’ve made in regards to protecting this ship and crew. I...I’m ::He floundered:: You’ve seen the scars, I know you have. I’m not right. There’s something wrong with me, Ishka. Journs: ::expression softens and murmurs:: No, there’s not. You’re different, but that doesn’t make you wrong. People like you and I stand out from the crowd because we don’t blindly do what we’re told. ::pauses:: My uncle, though he wasn’t proud to be different, realized eventually that there was no shame in it either. It’s about time that we caught up with the rest of the universe in that regard. Toryn stared at her for a long while, just, surrounded by those emerald eyes and soaking in what she’d just said. She had a point. In his three years on Atlantis he’d struggled with the cultural upbringing of his species. Of the way he was different. He’d met others who were similar. Rune Jolara was one, who’d embraced her exile status and was a proud Starfleet officer. She’d been the first to tell him warnings of the Council. Raga/ART: ~Imperfect beings attract imperfect beings~ A cold chill ran right down Toryn’s spine as the voice he’d not heard in some time filled his mind. The voice, was his own, but twisted. Dark. Cruel. And for that brief moment it sickened him that he’d let himself be tricked into saying it aloud. ART: ~How many women must you ruin simply because you love them?~ He trembled as ART tormented him and he snapped his eyes shut, to focus on forcing the malevolent entity back into the fragile cage it was contained within his psyche. She felt him shaking beneath her touch and her brow furrowed. Journs: ::murmurs:: ~ Toryn, come back to me. I’m here. ~ Ishka’ voice was like a bright light in a stormy sea. The Al-Leyan shuddered a moment at the telepathic contact. For a brief moment Toryn’s usually high mental shields dropped. Giving her a glimpse of his psyche. Every telepathic species had their own quirks. Al-Leyans were different only in that as a whole their species rarely had members who possessed such a gift. Perhaps one in a few hundred million. And he was even more unique due to the nature of how he received such gifts. The center point of his psyche was, for lack of a better term, a room. A sanctuary for him to retreat to in times of psychic stress. In the center of that room was a large gilded cage, like an archaic prison. The walls and ceiling were slender bars of gold, though the metal had seemingly lost its luster. Cracks spiderwebbed throughout the structure, including the door. The interior, despite the appearance wasn’t visible. Obscured by shadows. A pair of reflective eyes looked out from the small, barred window in the door. Fingers gripped the bars as a face pressed against them. Toryn’s face. Yet not. His features were dark, sullen and there was an intense cruelty in the eyes that stared out at Toryn. They shifted over his shoulder and looked right at the light shining into his mind. At Ishka. ART: ~But for how long? She’ll abandon you like all the others.~ In her time, she’d seen some shocking things. But nothing had prepared her for the inner world of Toryn’s psyche. She could only assume that what she was seeing visually represented the brokenness she knew he felt. Instead of acknowledging the twisted version of him, she focused her attention on Toryn, cradling his cheek with her hand. Journs: ::murmurs:: ~ I’m real, Toryn, and I’m not going anywhere. ~ There was the faint registration of physical contact as he stared at her, into those emerald eyes. All while the telepathic connection pulled his focus. He struggled with what to say when a flood of memories of the last two years came to his mind in a flurry. He thought of Serala, how he’d told her how he felt for her but after it was already too late. She had been mated to Stevok. Of Lael Rosek. The memory of her hurt even more. How he felt himself a failure as an Al-Leyan and a person because they couldn’t reconcile the differences of their cultural upbringings. And then Ishka, she was new and he truly didn’t know how he felt about her other than the intense effect she seemed to have on him. She leaned forward, brushing her lips against his, the familiar flutter taking up residence in her abdomen. The things he stirred in her...she couldn’t even begin to explain what he did to her. Though she hadn’t had much of a chance to properly sort through her feelings, she knew he brought out a side of her that no one else did and for the first time, she felt truly free to be herself. There was no fear that he would judge her for not being a traditional Al-Leyan. There was a trust between them that she’d never known before. The adrenaline-like sensation that filled him when her lips brushed over his was enough to snap him from his psychic stupor and those walls of his came slamming up hard as if his own internal red alert activated. The last image and sound of ART staring at them both laughing echoed a moment before he sucked in a sharp breath of air. Focus returned to those cerulean eyes of his and they flicked side to side looking at each of hers. That laughter caused the aftershock of a shudder to course through him and he retreated from her a moment. Fear in his eyes. She’d just glimpsed far more than most got to see of his being, his thoughts, memories. She was a true blood, like him, and they were both raised to view what he was as being wrong. The thought of her rejecting him caused a painful ache in his gut that he couldn’t shake. Raga: ….. She slid her hand to the back of his neck and gripped it tightly, pressing into him. She wasn’t letting go. She couldn’t let go. The pain she’d felt at nearly losing him on Paldor II crept into her thoughts and, though she knew he wouldn’t feel it, maybe he’d be able to see it in her thoughts. She allowed the memories of their intimacy to come to the surface, allowing him to relieve it through her eyes and to see himself as she did. The smile that lit his face when he looked at her...the tenderness in his eyes. Even with his shields up he saw the surface thoughts, deliberately shown to him by her. That caused his brow to raise slightly and after he sorted through them he looked at her, head shaking slightly, given the grip she had on his neck. Raga: Why? We both know that I should be reported to the Council. How can you be comfortable being around someone who’s… ::He fell silent but the words Fallen Branch floated into his thoughts:: Journs: ::meets his gaze and murmurs:: After my uncle, I--I’m not so sure. I--oh winds, Toryn. ::tears gather in the corners of her eyes:: When she seemed to fall apart like that he pulled her closer, hugging her gently against him. Seeing her with that look in her eyes, he felt the impulse to protect her. Or at the least to comfort her. Raga: I’m sorry Ishka. I make a mess of everything. ::He closed his eyes to keep from showing the tears threatening to fill them:: Journs: ::murmurs:: The Council--I--There must be a better way than sentencing so many good people to death simply for being who they are. Toryn’s brow furrowed slightly when she said that. It was true, and yet not. Raga: Ishka. There’s a reason the punishment is there. To protect our way of life. If ever there was a pre-programmed response it was that. Toryn looked at her with a momentary glimpse of innocence before he shook his head and sighed, enjoying her warmth against him. Journs: ::exhales shakily:: I know, I know. ::worries her lower lip and blinks back tears, then murmurs:: But is it really worth so many dying? Isn’t there a better way? Raga: ::He shrugged slightly:: There’s really not many that actually die, Ishka. As far as I know anyways, but I barely know of the Exiles. Journs: ::brow furrows in confusion:: Exiles? Raga: ::He nods:: That’s what they call themselves. A colony of Al-Leyan’s who’ve been, well, exiled from Leya-One. She wasn’t quite sure how to take that news. Did the Council know? Surely if they did they wouldn’t allow its continued existence. Such a faction was the ultimate threat to their way of life. People like Ishka and Toryn already pushed those limits by being part of such a diverse organization that could hold so many temptations for even the most dedicated Al-Leyan. Journs: ::murmurs:: Does the Council know? That. Was a question he’d honestly never even considered to ask. Though, he was fairly certain he knew the answer. If the Council knew there was little doubt that they would leave them be. Such a group was contrary to the established way of thinking and way of life. Without the fear of exile, the Council would lose a great deal of its power. Or at least, influence. Since that was the utmost worst punishment on Leya-I even beyond execution. Raga: I have no idea, but I doubt it. They wouldn’t be able to let that stand if they did. Ishka nodded, suddenly becoming quiet. This wasn’t what she’d come here for. She didn’t want to think about home. She wanted to think about them. She’d had days to mull this over and had decided she wanted to see where things with Toryn went. It wouldn’t be easy given that he was her direct superior. They’d have to keep things discreet so no one found out. A part of her was nervous about how much she’d shared with Maddi. She only hoped that didn’t come back to bite her. Journs: ::murmurs:: But this isn’t why I came here with you. Raga: Oh? ::He asked curiously, for the moment he was mostly back to his usual self and smirked at her:: I don’t know if my quarters can survive another visit from you. ::he chuckled:: She blushed, recalling vividly the disaster that had been the aftermath of their last night together and her heart thudded rapidly against her ribcage. A shudder ran down her spine at the memory and her tongue peeked out slightly to moisten her lips. Journs: ::pauses:: What happened on Paldor II-- Seeing her fluster was enough to cause him to smile brightly, something about being able to elicit that sort of reaction in someone. He felt her shudder against him and he squeezed her gently, even as he pressed his lips against hers in a tender kiss. It only lasted a moment. Raga: Was a tragedy and one none of us are likely to ever forget. We just have to move on. We did what we could. ::He said, trying to comfort her not knowing precisely what she was speaking of:: Journs: ::shakes her head:: That’s not what I meant. ::pauses:: Was I imagining it or did something happen down there? Between us I mean. There was a moment where he was silent, just. Looking at her. Memories played through his mind of the surface of the world they were already parked on. The sky of the world they’d helped save could be seen out the window they were both sitting beneath. He recalled the patient she tried to save even after they’d died. Of him trying to comfort her. There had been something there. Raga: That depends entirely on whether or not a yes would bother you. He was the antithesis of his species, reckless instead of cautious. Impulsive as opposed to reserved. He was not what Al-Leyans were supposed to be. She should be running for the nearest shuttle, but here she was in his arms. Journs: ::whispers:: And what if I said it wouldn’t? He felt his heart pounding in his chest when she whispered and it was his turn to moisten his lips with his tongue. Raga: Then the answer would be yes. ::He stared into her eyes longingly and brushed his fingers through her hair:: But I think it started long before that. Journs: ::nods:: From the moment I first saw you on the bridge. ::blushes:: I can’t explain it, but-- Raga: I haven’t been able to keep you out of my mind. ::He finished her sentence:: Since you reported on board and I felt the presence of your mind. ::He shook his head, smiling:: She was like a Fekundeco plant, or at least that’s how he felt around her much of the time. The plant, whos spores had an affect on the libido of their species was potent. But it was more than just the physical attraction. Ishka was...something. Toryn just couldn’t put the word to it. Like she were something he’d been looking for and didn’t know he needed. Ishka pulled her hand away from the back of Toryn’s neck and laced her fingers with his, her gaze dropped to their intertwined hands. She reached out for his mind, gently caressing it with hers. They barely knew one another and yet she felt at peace and relaxed with him in a way she didn’t with others. Despite her initial hesitation, she found herself wanting to get to know him better. Journs: ::softly:: Would it be okay if we slow down a bit and get to know each other? ::smiles:: Don’t get me wrong. Our one night was amazing, but I think I’d like to see if this can be about something more than just satisfying each other’s physical needs. The telepathic contact was soothing, and he accepted it and her mind against his easily. He followed her gaze and wiggled his fingers between hers gently then nodded. Raga: I’d like that. Though, to be honest there’s a part of me that is afraid when you get to know me enough you won’t want me. Journs: Because of your past? Raga: ::He nodded slowly:: That’s part of it. Partly because I’m not...right enough to be an Al-Leyan and because well..::He sighed:: I don’t know. So far everyone I’ve loved has found someone better than I. ::He met her gaze:: I’m sure, if given time you’ll find someone better too. Toryn wasn’t typically self-deprecating, but that episode he’d just had a moment before with ART had rattled him. She studied him for a long moment before bringing their entwined hands up to cradle his cheek. It was clear he was very nervous and afraid of being hurt and abandoned. She had those same fears. This was still so new and she really didn’t have much to go on as far as if this was going to work. She cared for him a lot. What they’d been through together on Paldor II had made that exceedingly obvious. She wanted to see where this went and if they had enough in common to make it work. Journs: ::murmurs:: I can’t guarantee that one or both of us isn’t going to hurt the other at some point. We’re going to disagree on things and we’re going to get annoyed at each other. Maybe we make this work. Maybe we don’t. But I know this. If we don’t try, then both of us are going to spend the rest of our lives wondering what if. He thought on her words, and how right she was on the last part. Serala had been the first woman he’d developed feelings for and in his hesitation in dealing with his cultural upbringing, how she was a non-Al-Leyan, and his own uncertainties he’d told her how he felt too late. Lael had been a different story, but Toryn was certain that with how Ishka made him feel he didn’t want to look back and wonder what might have been. Raga: Agreed. He reached up to caress her cheek with the hand that wasn’t laced with hers and leaned in to kiss her forehead softly. Raga: ~There’s one way to truly get to know each other like no one else can.~ He thought to her mind and with the exception of the memories from his time as a Consortium prisoner he completely dropped his mental shields and let her see into his mind fully. The torture had been extreme and she didn’t need to see that. He was still coping with the trauma he’d endured and too much of his life was already traumatic.; She closed her eyes, lowering her mental shields. It was overwhelming at first, the strength of his mind, but she gradually grew used to it. Squeezing his hand, she reached up to cradle his cheek. Journs: ~ Where did you play most as a child? ~ There was a warmth, a tenderness to her mind being in contact with his. He smiled as they enjoyed each others company. He leaned against the touch to his cheek, smiling. Raga: ~Easy, the Sez Toural mountains. I had already shown a proclivity towards climbing things when I was young, so even after my tenth year I could already climb well enough. And my blood family are accomplished as well. But then, isn’t everyone from Sez Toural?~ She smiled, leaning forward so her lips were only a hair’s breadth away from his. The warmth of his breath caressing her lips caused her to shiver and moisten her lips, her gaze flickering up to meet his. Journs: ~ Show me. ~ His pulse quickened at her proximity and he felt her lips just barely out of reach. At least until he leaned closer, kissing her deeply. He let his arms slip around her back, holding her against him as he opened his mind to her. Sharing memories of his climbs, including the one when he was ten and caused the avalanche that orphaned Sylara and brought her into his family. He hadn’t climbed for several months after the accident but he went on to spend most of his time climbing alone, with his sister, or and a few occasions his whole family. He felt at peace alone on a mountain. She smiled behind closed eyes, enjoying seeing his adventures through his eyes, recalling her own. As his memories faded, she shared her own. It had been a typical morning. She’d snuck out early enough before lessons to explore the frozen forests of Sez Toural. The cold air stung at her exposed nose and cheeks, the brisk air filling her lungs as she crunched through the snow, wincing at the sound. It would scare all of the animals away and she’d so wanted to see them running free. It was some she longed for herself. Freedom from the restrictions of society, though she told no one this. Saying such things would result in an intervention, potentially Attitude Readjustment Therapy. They weren’t told much about what it was like, only that it was intended to correct those who fell off the branch. Suddenly, she heard it. The flapping of wings. She looked up in amazement to see a Seiuri gliding through the air toward a tree limb, reaching out and wrapping its talons around the branch to gain its balance. She’d never seen one in person before. Carefully, she tiptoed toward it, wanting a closer look. Unfortunately, she only got halfway to the tree where it was perched before it heard her and took off without so much as turning in her direction. A warm smile adorned his face as he watched her memory, and shared one of his own involving a Seiuri. As he recalled he was older, just barely into his teens at the time. He could feel the biting cold of the southerly winds whipping through the Western face of the Sez Tourals. His fingers dug into the frozen rock of the mountain known locally as the Spear. A singular peak that roze up a good five thousand feet higher than those around it. Treacherous. He pulled himself up over the lip, panting and straining from the climb. He flopped onto his back with his legs dangling over the edge. Staring up at the always overcast sky and the lone winged figure circling overhead. He heard the voice in his mind. Sylara: ~Toryn friend made it. Finally. Could have nested though.~ The teasing of the bird was enough to make him laugh as he rose to his feet on the top of the largest mountain in the southern pole. He admired the view a moment, as he shed the climbing gear he’d brought. Securing them back into the pack on his back. He could see everything from up here. High enough that several layers of clouds lay between him and the ground. But just in the distance, he could see the lights of the Capital, Sez Toural. Hundreds of kilometers away. A grin plastered his face as he broke into a run, snow crunching beneath his boots. A leap made without hesitation, but more than a fair share of panic as he jumped off the mountain. The rush of the winds whipping past him as he fell straight down for a few seconds as he held his legs together and his arms flush with his sides. A second more passed and several hundred feet before he snapped his arms and legs open, the fabric of his suit catching the wind instantly. The sudden jerk as his descent arrested quickly and he flared back, upwards a moment. Sylara swooped down passed him and he dove again. Limbs outstretched. It was incredible. The first time he’d ever used a wingsuit to get off of a mountain after a climb. And the first true flight he’d ever shared with the Seiuri. The bird flew beside him, keeping pace easily. It was an incredibly fond memory. She opened her eyes, disoriented at first. It was the first telepathic experience she’d shared with someone where the exchange had been mutual and intentional it was like nothing she’d ever experienced. Even with the absence of the emotions that she was certain were present for Toryn, it had been enjoyable all the same living the moment through his eyes. A slight flush filled her cheeks. Somehow what they’d just shared seemed more intimate than anything physical. Journs: ::murmurs breathily:: That was-- He stared into those amazing emerald pools when she opened her eyes. Though he’d had several telepathic exchanges before, and even shared a strangely unique psychic realm with another there as a sense of intimacy with sharing that memory that he’d never felt before. Sure, there had been times when he let someone else into his mind, see his memories but this was more direct. More visceral. Raga: ::He leaned his forehead against hers:: I’ve never shared a memory like that before. That was one of my favorite memories. The first time I’d ever flown with Sylara. Journs: ::smiles sheepishly:: That was the first time I’ve shared a telepathic connection like that with anyone. Raga: I’ve had a few, but none quite that direct. There are hardly any of our kind with our gifts. And I can only connect to our own kind. ::He smiled and kissed her forehead gently before looking into her eyes:: She recalled the statistics. Only 10% of the planet possessed telepathic abilities. That was one in ten if she was doing her math correctly. The odds of her finding another telepath outside Leya-I, especially with the very small minority that chose to leave home and serve in Starfleet, were astronomical. Journs: ::pauses:: I like you, Toryn. But I’m terrible at relationships. ::blushes:: I’ve spent so much time with my nose buried in a PADD… He smiled when she said that and chuckled, perhaps a bit louder than he intended. Raga: I like you too, Ishka. And I understand, believe me. When it comes to relationships, well...I’ve not had the best of luck. Anyone on the ship could probably tell you as much. ::He laughed, but there was sadness behind his eyes, how many times had he been heartbroken now?:: Her gaze dropped from his, her thumb brushing gently back and forth over the backs of his knuckles, her expression contemplative. She supposed it was a bit different for her. She’d never really specifically sought anything monogamous. With her eyes set on practicing medicine, she hadn’t had much time for a social life much less a serious relationship. She drew her lower lip between her teeth and worried it for a moment before releasing it. Al-Leyans lived such a long time that it wasn’t uncommon for some pursuing their branches to wait until later in life to have children. In fact, there were some professions that didn’t allow those in them to reproduce. Though the population as a whole wasn’t aware, birth control was available, but was severely restricted and was administered at the discretion of the Council. It was a side to their society that remained hidden from the general population. The only reason she knew was because of her uncle. He’d shared much with her that would otherwise have remained behind Council chamber closed doors. The fact that she was required to receive birth control innoculations as part of her contract with Starfleet--well, she was glad her parents weren’t aware of that detail. They would have called her home immediately and insisted on intervention by the Council. He watched her get lost in thought and refrained from prying. Unless she chose to share with him, it would be a violation to do so. Even still, surface thoughts were different. He could tell she was worried over something. Raga: Though, if I’m to be honest being the only Al-Leyan on board before now has made relationships...tricky. Even the one half Al-Leyan I care for...well it didn’t work out. I had to go back home to Leya-I for my season. He hoped that keeping the conversation going might help her relax a bit. Even if the topic itself was seemingly bothersome. To the both of them. You couldn’t truly know someone if you only ever sought out the pleasant parts of their life. Journs: ::smiles wanly and nods:: I admit...it will be nice not having to worry about that. Raga: ::He nodded:: Agreed. Though, I don’t think my season is due for another year or two. She paused. Most Al-Leyans had their seasons relatively young. However, her doctors were puzzled. She should have experienced her first by now, but hadn’t. They’d attempted to explain it away as her being a “late-bloomer”, but that had been less than reassuring. She was already seen as unusual because of her uncle’s strange ideas about revolution and a new way of things. Now she was even stranger. An Al-Leyan’s first season was a rite of passage of sorts, so many of her kind still viewed her as a child in spite of all that she’d seen as a medical officer with Starfleet. Journs: ::blushes and murmurs:: I’ve never… A few of her surface thoughts filtered through as he saw her blush and his brow raised slightly. Given the fact she was older than him it was a surprise that she hadn’t had at least one season yet. Raga: Really? ::He smiled to try and comfort her:: I figured with you being so much older than me… Toryn had lived among humans long enough to pick up at least a small fraction of their proclivity for humor. Especially using it to help lighten a mood, or for some good old teasing of those one cared for. Journs: ::drops her gaze to their entwined hands and murmurs:: My parents became concerned when my peers were entering their seasons and I wasn’t. I’ve been to a few doctors, but none of them have been able to figure out why. There’d been talk of infertility and an inability to have children, which had devastated her even though she was older before the doctors had considered the possibility. It was heartbreaking to think that she might never experience that joy. So she’d thrown herself into her studies and her career, hoping to fill the hole. The doctors hadn’t said she’d never conceive or have children, but they’d said it was best to be prepared for the possibility. Toryn held her hands gently in his and stared at her a moment. He wasn’t entirely sure what to say. He’d never really thought much on whether or not he’d have kids. Not that he didn’t like them, or want them. But when it was seemingly so impossible to find love, much less a mate that would want to have that deep of a connected relationship with him it never seemed a priority. Raga: Well, aren’t you a doctor? Have you tried running tests on yourself to see why you haven’t had your season? ::He asked, earnestly ignorant of what Prote-ses she might have:: Journs: ::grimaces:: I suppose I’ve been avoiding it...not really wanting to know the answer, afraid that it would be what the doctors suspected. ::closes her eyes and murmurs:: I--I’m not sure I can handle it. He pulled her into a gentle hug, holding her head against his chest. Raga: I suppose that would be difficult. But, isn’t the uncertainty worse? If...the worst is true as much as it will hurt, at least you can get closure and eventually move on. But if you live your life never knowing, missing out on the chance that they’re wrong and you can...well. Isn’t that worth the potential pain if they’re right? Journs: ::whispers:: Until now, I’ve never had a reason for it to really matter. Raga: ::His heart rate quickened slightly:: Oh? Doctor are you trying to seduce me for science? ::He chuckled:: A blush filled her cheeks as she realized the weight of her admission. Had she gone too far? She didn’t even know if this meant anything to Toryn beyond a casual hook-up like so many of their species had. She wanted to believe the intimacy they’d just shared meant it had the potential to be more, but it would be foolish not to guard her heart with her knowing so little about him and this--whatever it was--being so new. Though they had only known each other for a brief period of time he was certain that seeing her blush was one of his favorite things about her. Something about the softness of her expression and the fact that he could elicit a reaction like that in someone was always a pleasant feeling. He smiled warmly and lightly ran his fingers through her hair. Raga: In all seriousness, I’m humbled and flattered that you’d have such a consideration. But as you said, let’s pace ourselves and see what this...thing is between us. She nodded, leaning forward to lay her head on his chest and wrap her arms around his middle. There wasn’t any reason that she couldn’t enjoy the comfort of his physical presence, even if they were trying to slow that aspect of their relationship down. Having the solidity of a strong man to lean on was comforting and it gave her a peace that she’d never experienced before. With previous lovers, it had always been about physical needs. She’d never had this kind of connection with any of them before. He felt her lay on him, wrapping him up in an embrace and it brought a smile to the Al-Leyan’s face. Such contact was something that Toryn had rarely had in his life. Even when it was to save his life for mating season, his relationships had always fallen apart on him. And there was just something to be said about having someone to hold you. Journs: ::murmurs:: Can we lay together and just sleep? When he was with her, the nightmares of Paldor II didn’t seem as overwhelming. In truth, she’d missed having someone to hold her at night. Raga: Gladly. It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone to hold. He’d held Lael of course, but that had always only been in the dreamscape. Never in person as they’d spent so little time together, face to face. She’d need to set the chronometer to wake her in time to head to her quarters for a fresh uniform, but thankfully she was on second shift tomorrow, giving her plenty of time. She wanted to enjoy this...enjoy him. Raga: Stay as long as you like. ::He whispered:: Toryn embraced her gently as she lay upon his chest. With her hair so close her scent was unmistakable and reminded him of home. He smiled, then gently ran his fingers through her hair a moment before kissing the top of her head. He could feel her steady breathing as easily as he could hear it. This was nice. This is what he needed. What, he suspected they both needed. He wasn’t quite sure when he fell asleep, but it happened quickly. She was so warm and comfortable in his arms. It felt right. ===================================================== Lieutenant Commander Toryn Raga Mission Specialist/Second Officer USS Atlantis NCC-74682 Atlantis Staff Member Writer ID: A239410TR0 https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Toryn_Raga & Lieutenant Ishkabela Journs Medical Officer, USS Atlantis NCC-74682 I238110RH0
  24. Seeing a certain person @Geoffrey Teller is expanding his Brew Continuum Empire, it's only fair to show him that some people namely @Jo Marshall are doing all they can to promote the BC merchandise. (( Research Station - Giáng Sinh )) “My Dearest Parents. I put words to this communication on the hope your good selves shall receive it before you attend Giáng Sinh. First, the Admiral doesn’t like guests. Secondly, You’ll be quartered either on the Gorkon or down on the surface; it’s entirely up to you. Your original request for organic avocados has proved difficult. Smashed avocado on toast from the replicator does not constitute a war crime allegation. The coffee is plentiful and there’s a coffeehouse on the ship — Erin grows the plants. There’s snow down here and no, there’s nothing I can do about it unfortunately it’s just part of the weather system. Please don’t mention the Hawaiian shirt and leather jacket incident. Looking forward to seeing you. Take your time getting here. Much love.” Jo slumped back in the chair and wiped her hands over her face, wondering if she could get away with the slightest, smallest note going. “Please don’t come.” But they were already winging their way to the planet, both excited to see the terra forming activities taking place, spend Christmas somewhere that looked and felt like a Christmas of their homeworld back in their childhood years, and, time permitting, see their daughter. The blonde slipped her fingers through the handle of the travel coffee mug (Brew Continuum, Fastest Coffee in the Fleet!) and stirred it around with the power of centrifugal motion. She looked up out of the small window afforded by the Operations building, reminded of the administration centre back on Starfleet Academy campus, and the day she’d followed the then Captain out into the grounds after their return from Over There. It hadn’t been snowing. Quite the contrary, the sun had shone heavily in a blue sky and flowers bloomed beneath. Her parents hadn’t made it back for that, either, and Jo had disappeared from the Japanese Tea Gardens on her bike with one Erin Reynolds; the two taking off for the high hills of the San Mateo region. Erin drove, Jo had held on for dear life as the hybrid tested just how fast the engine could go up the winding roads beside the Pacific Ocean, illuminated by the blaze of sunset light streaming down from the horizon. Little did she know then that Erin would come to occupy her thoughts for the next two years. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise the Bajoran enthusiasts had refused the invitation. Lost in her thoughts, as she was, Jo lifted the coffee to her lips and took a quick sip, momentarily forgetting how hot the Brew Continuum branded travel mug (100% leak-proof vacuum, insulated for perfect heat retention, and a strip of silicone for easy carrying, available at all BC franchises) kept eighteen ounces of coffee perfectly sealed. A quick burn to her bottom lip and a reactive wince saw the mug fall from her grasp and roll onto the floor. She considered sending a message to Bear, entreating him to come back quicker from wherever he’d ended up with the former pirate for the backup, for someone to throw in front of her two life-givers like a ritual sacrifice or cannon fodder. What she needed was a swift distraction. Rescuing the mug from the group, and noting that it was completely and utterly leakproof (available from all good Brew Continuum franchises), Jo strolled outside. Snow lazily drifted down from the sky; large snowflakes covering the ground and surrounding decking. Containers hauled from the support ships for the colonists covered in the white powder, dry and beautiful, untouched in the thick morning air. Everything felt a little serene as Jo looked around, taking in the day's smell. Erin, with her wonderfully scientific brain, had informed her that snow didn’t have a scent, and instead what she could smell did not differ from a cold, dry day on the planet, or impurities in the frozen water, like dirt and salt from the water source. She’d also informed her of the stimulation to the trigeminal nerve in her face caused by the cold air they breathed, which stirred an all around sensory experience of snow. Those small things that Erin thought were perfectly mundane pieces of information delivered in such a simple manner were one of the many reasons Jo loved her. Her botanist could make the smallest things seem wonderfully magical. Across the way, Jo spotted Ghant Xerix, their pilot extraordinaire making his way across the town square, on his way from or to somewhere or other. The Betazoid had made some interesting relationships in his brief time on board the Gorkon — ‘Kos appearing in their quarters heartbroken, Erin because of that, Caedan as sad and dejected as if someone had stolen his happy, Valesha because of that, and those were only the ones she knew about. However, Jo liked the guy. He was a good pilot and operations officer, dedicated himself to his work when he wasn’t breaking hearts and taking names, and it felt like the young fella had been with them from the start. With that in mind, Jo placed the mug down on top of the container and watched for a second as the insulated one-hundred percent leak proof travel mug didn’t melt the snow at all. She scooped up a handful of snow in her hands, cutting a clear edge in the beautifully unblemished snow covering, and padded it up into a ball. Then, with the precision of her days playing endless games of springball, she threw it dead centre at her target. Xerix: Response Reactively, Jo ducked down behind the container crate before he could see her, her back pressed up against it as though enemy fire was about to come shooting toward her. She scooped up another handful of snow and looked over the top of the crate. Poking up over the top, she sent another ball of snow in an overarm angle toward the pilot and retreated to cover. Xerix: Response Another handful of powder scooped up, Jo couldn’t help laughing this time and glanced around the side of the crate. Marshall: Evasive maneuvers, Mister Xerix! Take up a defensive position! Xerix: Response -- Lt. Commander Jo Marshall First Officer USS Gorkon, NCC-82293 G239304JM0
  25. Short, but very very sweet. It was an amazing read! @Ben Garcia (( A Romulan Republic colony. Time index: several years prior to current mission. )) Rain clawed at the slated rooftops. The dank smell of damp leaves mulched under the heavy thread of cold, treacherous boots that trod along the midnight pavement. At the corner of the street, a light – a dull yellow porch light - flickered against the howl of the wind. Across the way, a gate slammed monotonously against its latch. Somewhere, a dog snarled. Rain beaded and trickled off the stiff, polished leather boots as they continued on and scurried their way down a side alley. A voice. Then another. A handshake. A packet exchanged. Several stories above, Koteel drew a fine, powderless wisp of breath. Koteel’s eyes narrowed as the cranium of her target found itself framed within the deadly web of her crosshairs. In less than two beats of the heart, the target would be neutralised. The accomplice? Perhaps two steps – or three if he was lucky – before the silky thread of Koteel’s crosshairs ensnared him in the oblivion of death. Koteel’s wisp of breath waned into nothingness. Now, through the crosshairs, Koteel marvelled at the pooling blood that trickled around the slumped carcasses. The packet? A dud, planted by the Republic to flush out the Tal Shiar vermin known to scurry these streets in the afterhours. Koteel’s counterpart nimbled along the alley way, secured the packet and secreted it into the folds of a heavy raincoat. The hatted figure turned briefly and dead-eyed Koteel through the crosshairs. The deed was done. End. MSPNPC Koteel Nk’htho Ambassadorial Attaché to Tr'Kenda (Political/Diplomatic Security) Romulan Republic ---------------------- Lieutenant Ben Garcia Second Officer/HCO Embassy Duronis II - USS Thor NCC-82607 Author ID number: G239102MR0
×
×
  • Create New...

Important Information

By using this site, you agree to our Terms of Use.