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Absolutely loved this SIM from @Marty Tucker and his Pops ( @Karrod Niac). I do love these little insights into characters and relationships with their family members, especially when it helps inform who they are. Wonderful!

You know how in wrestling there is the concept of "putting over" your fellow performers for the good of the whole? @Quentin Beck is so, so, so good at putting over his fellow simmers. Every character and situation they interact with always come away better, this latest sim with my character it just the latest example. ((Intensive Care Unit, Infirmary, Promenade, Deep Space 9.)) Beck: New idea. You wanna keep the scar, let's make it look good. This is gonna be a lot more primitive, but will give you more what you want, I think. Real frontier medicine. Carpenter: You had me at "primitive". What do you have in mind, Q? His gut feeling had been a correct one, confirmed by her wolfish grin and quick response. Leaning down to open up a small compartment, he slipped his hand inside and pulled out a needle and some medical-grade thread. Quentin pretended not to notice the attractive way her cheeks and neck flushed completely at this suggestion. Beck: I stitch this up just a little too tight and you'll have a brand new railroad scar. It'll take longer to heal, and it'll sting like hell, buuuut…. She nodded maybe a little too quickly at that, and although the red had mostly faded from her face, her cheeks were still a little rosy in that way that betrayed some excitement. Carpenter: You ain't gonna break me, Doc. He had to bite back his initial response, which… definitely would have been way too forward, even as a joke, and very likely would have brought the color back to her face and neck again. Grinning, Quentin unspooled a little bit of thread so he could slip it through the needle's eye, then moved closer to her. Beck: This is gonna take a little longer to stitch up, too. Hope that's okay. Carpenter: I got nowhere to be. Plus, gives me more time for my answer, I suppose... His eyes glimmered with amusement at that response, his brow arching keenly as he looked up at her briefly before focusing his attention once more on the split in her side that he was supposed to be stitching up. He laid his good hand against her skin, fingers slightly spread, to keep the scar tissue that already existed from bunching up, and after carefully lining up the needle, he pierced through the lower portion of healthy skin and then through the higher portion, pulling the thread gingerly but allowing it to have a little bit of slack so he could make the first throw. Beck: Sounds to me like you're stalling for time, Carpenter. :: eying her again with a smirk:: Then again, I've already started. And I always intend to finish what I start. The fingers of the prosthetic hand moved deftly, not faster than his original hand would have but perhaps a bit more precisely; Ohnari had been right, it hadn't taken much time at all for him to get used to the interface. It was almost like he hadn't lost the hand at all. He made the second throw, then the third, cut off the excess thread, then looped it through the needle to repeat the process a little further up the split. He pierced the needle through her skin again. It was impossible not to notice the way she shuddered with the way his hand was pressed against her side. Carpenter: No, I ain't welchin'. You held up your end, I intend to hold up mine. It's just...I ain't sure where I should start. Beck: Most people start at the beginning. Sometimes you can start at the end, but then you've got to start cutting to flashbacks and that can get pretty convoluted pretty quickly, y'know. She snorted. Carpenter: Yeah, thanks, smartmouth. If'in that's how you wanna do it, I should start by sayin' a lotta people didn't believe me at first. And also didn't realize how much I could hear in one'a them....::she twirled her free hand impatiently:: what're they called? The tank things? He paused in his work, arching a brow as he looked up at her curiously, then rolled his eyes upward thoughtfully. Beck: A hibernation chamber? Carpenter: Yeah, that's it. It all started with them talking about me like I wasn't there… Quentin finished the second suture, cutting the thread again and lifting his hand from her back so he could thread the needle again while she started the story. He listened intently, very curious to know more, though he kept the majority of his focus on the sutures he was delivering. His fingertips traced gently and slowly up her side as he worked, making sure to keep the skin as flat as he could so he could bring the tissue together as closely as possible; he also made sure to do as promised, the third throw always just a little bit too tight, but not so much the stitches would start to pull. Comparatively speaking, Quentin's life had been boring as all hell in comparison to just this story; he was a little surprised Kirsty was willing to open herself up like this for something that had obviously grown to define who she was as a person, what her goals were, what justice she sought. And while there was a part of him that did think she was a little crazy for wanting to keep the scars, and another part of him that did think she was very brave to face something like that and somehow stay on this side of sane… mostly he thought he understood her reasoning. The stereotype was always the Chief of Tac/Sec was a hardass who bore their scars as reminders of past victories, of challenges overcome; and while Kirsty certainly qualified as the former, he could see right away that these scars were not trophies, meant to trumpet those she had defeated in battle. They were an epitaph. By the time she was through, he'd completed nearly all of the sutures. She'd been focused enough on telling the story she hadn't shuddered the same way throughout, which left him feeling both relieved and maybe just a little disappointed, but he was honored she'd felt comfortable enough with him to share… that. That deep, dark secret of herself that didn't show up in her medical logs, wasn't available in any notes. He figured she was careful about what she let doctors do as it would be a lot easier to avoid questions in the first place rather than having to pick and choose what to say, and how to explain it. It left him feeling warm in his belly. Carpenter: So, from then on, any time I had something significant happen to me, I kept it there. My body, my truth. Nobody was going to tell ME what I had gone through ever, ever again. He nodded slowly, teeth scraping his lower lip. Beck: You decided to be the author of your own story, and you were gonna take what they did and make it your own. Her head dipped slightly in a shallow nod and when she finally looked at him again, he could tell it hadn't been easy for her to share that with him. Even if he'd somehow earned some measure of trust from her. Carpenter: And it's all I have left of them. Quentin was silent for a moment as he studied her, not quite sure what to say. He wasn't sure there was anything he could really say to comfort her, if that was even what she needed. Beck: I'm sorry you went through all of that. And sorry there's crummy enough people out there to try to pin it all on you. That's not fair in the slightest. ::a beat:: Y'know, I already had a helluva lot of respect for you, Kirsty, but hearing that and seeing this… I can't begin to tell you how in awe I am of you. Carpenter: Response He turned his attention back to her side, teeth worrying the corner of his lip as he laid his hand against her so he could deliver the next suture. He hesitated only briefly before piercing the skin again and since she wasn't distracted by the story anymore, she shuddered as she had for the first suture. Beck: ::voice soft:: You okay there, Chief? Carpenter: Response The corner of his mouth twitched a little wryly before he shrugged slightly, tongue wetting his lower lip thoughtfully. Beck: I just couldn't help but notice you seem to be… enjoying this a little more than most of my patients would. Carpenter: Response He snickered. Beck: No judgment. Just making a mental note to always put up a privacy screen for you if you need stitches again. And make sure I've got plenty of needles and thread on hand. Carpenter: Response Tags/TBC Lieutenant JG Quentin Beck Acting Chief Medical Officer USS Ronin NCC-34523 A238810SA0 Original Link: https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-ronin/c/XVx6Dx5pOaM

Such a good start to Brent's practical mission! Bravo, @Avander Promontory and @Josh Herrick!

(( Because I very much enjoy reading "Dark Laria" aka Kidha )) ((Bridge - Deck 1, USS Constitution-B)) Herren: Computer, Emergency Program 47. Herren 5-9-2-3-Zeta-Epsilon. As Kidha issued the command, they were on their feet and crossing the bridge towards the OPS console. They removed the concealed Type-1 phaser that the real Commander Herren had been carrying. Emergency Program 47, something they had quietly dropped into the ship’s computer, did exactly what it was supposed to do. It locked out the consoles on the bridge without their prearranged access code. T’Seva/Ch’Nilmani: Response Ignoring the duo of senior officers and their concerns, they finished crossing the bridge to be near one of the turbolifts and the ready room in case an escape route was needed. The Human woman at OPS (a different Human than the prior woman sitting at the OPS console when she was last at the bridge), looked up from the console in confusion. They reached out and grabbed her by the back of her collar and pulled her to her feet to stand in front of them. Anderson: Commander? A Vulcan man, who seemed like a tactical or security officer who had been milling around since the chief was on the bridge, was quick to get into action and point a phaser at them. Kidha grinned, amused by the solid. Siann: Commander, stand down or- The Vulcan junior tactical officer didn’t finish his command. The phaser beam made contact and the disruption effects of its maximum setting promptly disintegrated him into his component atoms. There was a moment’s scream before silence and an empty space where the goldshirt had previously stood. Which left three other officers still standing, along with the ops officer. Not the most comfortable odds. Herren: ::Her face twisted into a smile:: No respect for the chain of command, that one. While Kidha had the little “cricket” phaser at the ready, they didn’t particularly care who was being aimed at. Ideally, they would have gotten the first officer off the bridge. Leave some junior officers to handle before seizing control of the vessel. But the contingency was never the ideal scenario. Ultimately, they weren’t sure where things would go from there. Maybe the solids would retreat. Maybe Kidha would have to retreat. It didn’t really matter. Whatever was going on with their brothers and sisters, the ship’s systems had been secured. Formerly Lieutenant Commander Herren kept a tight grip on the operations officer as she tried to pull away. She looked between the first officer and tactical chief, curious what they would do next. T’Seva: I don't believe we have actually met. Oh, yes, so very clever of the chief tactical officer. Maybe the second officer who murdered someone in cold blood was an imposter. Did the Bajoran/Vulcan tactician want a gold star for figuring that one out? Kidha sneered at her dismissively. T'Seva: So...how about we talk about what you want? Herren: Well, at this point, I’m afraid I’m going to need you all to vacate your positions aboard the ship. Permanently. The impulsive desire to fire a grazing shot at one of the solids was nearly overwhelming. But they resisted it for the moment. There would be time enough to kill the solids after toying with the pair of officers doing the talking a bit. T'Seva: Tactically, you are on your own. Your emergency code will be dealt with soon enough. So...what do you want? What do you hope to get from this? Well… there was something to be said for confidence. Herren: On my own? On the contrary, T’Seva. We could be anywhere. You think I came alone? Besides, I think you’ll find this new emergency code to be rather… robust. You’d be amazed what you can do with the commanding officer’s access. Ch'Nilmani: And :: Nodding towards where the man had been earlier. :: That was a mistake. Kidha followed his head nod to the space formerly occupied by the defiant Vulcan. Oh boo hoo, somebody who didn’t know how to surrender to a superior foe had been disintegrated. A mistake on the Vulcan’s part, not Kidha’s. Herren: I’m not going to lose any sleep over a dead solid who forgot his place. T'Seva: Response Ch'Nilmani: Where's the real Herren? If you hurt a hair on her or anyone else of my crew, I'm going to be very unstarfleet when it comes to dealing with you. It was a difficult question to answer. Both of the command Trills had been unceremoniously dumped in a sensor-proofed maintenance junction beneath the captain’s office down on the station in case any more intelligence could be extracted from them. But Kidha didn’t want to say something that would cast suspicion on the outpost. The crew couldn’t know for sure how long Herren and Rajel had been replaced. So obviously, a lie was called for. But what to say? The changeling pondered that briefly. T'Seva: Response They decided on a tone for the answer. Mock sympathy followed by something guaranteed to really upset the first officer and throw him off his game. It was clear that the Starfleet officers were not eager to turn things into a firefight so the threat of behaving in a very unstarfleet like manner was an empty one to Kidha’s mind. Unless Ch’Nilmani intended to rush the armed person and get vaporized especially easily. Herren: Awww, are we worried about our Trills? ::Beat:: If it’s any consolation, I don’t think any part of her hurt. Not for long. If you clean out the nacelle plasma stream filters you might find a bit of her. Some stray particles here and there. Ch'Nilmani/T'Seva: Response Kidha decided to spill what plans she had for the bridge crew, phrased as a story. Herren: Listen, listen. Calm down. I have a plan. The news from Frontier Day was so distressing that the bridge crew began to suspect each other of being assimilated by the Borg and turned on one another. There were no survivors. And I’ll reluctantly take my place as first officer. The implication was clear. They would all be killed. Which was a real shame. Ideally, only the first officer would have to die for “Laria Herren” to replace him. But unexpected circumstances demanded sudden and aggressive action. So all of them would have to meet the same fate as the idiot Vulcan. The Human in front of them was starting to breathe faster. Ch'Nilmani/T'Seva: Response Herren: It seems like the entire ship is going a bit mad. Which is the beauty of the whole Frontier Day attack. Everyone will be so distraught by the deaths of everyone on Earth that Commodore Rajel and I will be able to keep this crew quite ineffective in the aftermath. Let the assimilated fleet spread across the Federation and finish what was started so long ago. Ch'Nilmani/T'Seva: Response As Kidha listened, there was a sharp impact to their stomach. The operations officer was trying to wiggle free and grab control of the phaser. That didn’t work out for her. The changeling quickly tightened their arm around the ops officer and squeezed. Infuriated by the meager escape attempt, they hissed out a threat while dreaming of all the nasty ways the Human woman could meet her end. Herren: Do that again and you’ll wish you were disintegrated. The operations officer whimpered slightly as Kidha tightened their grasp to send a painful signal that it was better for her to comply. Ch'Nilmani/T'Seva: Response Not Lieutenant Commander Laria Herren Not Mission Specialist/Not Second Officer USS Constitution-B ===as simmed by=== Lieutenant Commander Laria Herren Mission Specialist/Second Officer USS Constitution-B A239402AG0

((Federation Refugee Services, Ring 2, DS9)) Zenno double checked that he was in the right place and then entered the office. It was quite spacious with a large waiting room, a row of desks, and a large computer display hanging from a bracket in the corner that looked like it was about to fail spectacularly. A Zakdorn functionary sat behind the reception desk. Zenno made his approach. Zenno: Greetings. The Zakdorn seemed engrossed in his PADD and said nothing. Zenno: ::clears throat:: Greetings. I wish to inquire about a refugee child named Sabira and her companion Mister Quirkle-Birkle. They were displaced from Deep Space 33 after the recent invasion. The Bolian waited and the Zakdorn made no move, but continued to read his PADD. Zenno: Hello? With a snuff, the man at the desk reached out at patted a sign: “Take a Number.” All the while he was still reading his PADD. Zenno looked around and the office was completely empty besides him and the Zakdorn. Zenno looked at the number dispenser and took a slip. He held it up. Zenno: I have a number. May you help with my inquiry? The Zakdorn grunted, put down his PADD with deliberate and exaggerated slowness. Clerk: Now serving… Number 3 at Desk 4. Zenno looked at his slip. It had a large 38 on it. He looked up at the Zakdorn, then back at the slip. So be it. He took a seat in the waiting area. Clerk: Last call for Number 3. ::Beat:: Now serving Number 4 at Desk 4… ((Timeskip)) Zenno sat with his head in his hands. He would have come back later, but he was sure that this person would have used it against him in some way. Clerk:: Now serving… Number 37 at Desk 4. Number 37? No number 37? Very well. Zenno stood up since he was next. But it was not to be. The functionary closed a little glass slider on his desk and put up a sign: “Out to lunch” Zenno slouched back into the chair and rolled his eyes. ((Timeskip)) In the interregnum, no one else had come into the office. But the clerk sat at his desk and had eaten a lunch of some raw fish, avocados, and what looked like unsalted Karugu nuts. Clerk: Now serving.. let’s see here. Where did I stop? ::hums:: 37? Now serving 37? No no, that wasn’t it. Now serving Number 38 at Desk 4. Glad to be getting somewhere, Zenno went to the desk. Zenno: Greetings. I wish to inquire about a refugee child named Sabira and her companion Mister Quirkle-Birkle. They were displaced from Deep Space 33 after the recent invasion. The clerk sighed and looked at his computer console. Clerk: Are you the next of kin? Zenno: No, she doesn’t have next of kin as far as I know. At least, none that were on the station. There might be others elsewhere. The Zakdorn hit the power button on his screen and picked up his PADD. Clerk: Information can only be given to next of kin. Privacy issues. Please take our survey ::points to survey PADD:: to help us improve. Thanks for visiting Federation Refugee Services. Have a nice starday. Zenno wondered if there were any words he could use to convince this clerk to help him. Deciding that there were none he briefly considered some other options, but they were all just a mental exercise to relieve the tension that this clerk had created in Zenno’s head. Deciding he had to use some other avenues, he left and headed back to his quarters. END/NT LT Zenno Security Chief USS Khitomer A240006Z13

I love it when we get to the awards, and I love that we do it differenly every single time it comes around at the end of shore leave. Sometimes we go for a really intimate one on one, or one on two scenes and sometimes we get the whole ship involved. This time around we are going for the latter. Awards are also a great time for you to do a audit of who you have simmed with and who is left to reach out to and start a scene. They are also a great time to layout what your characters relationship is with each individual character and maybe even set up some future plot lines. Today, @Morro Caras does that masterfully. I knew, right away, who was important to Morro, I learned more about Morro's background and what these awards means to him.

The descriptions @Xiron added to the bar really brought this place to life. The two Frenegi honoring the 1929 Stock Market Crash is comedic gold.

Just endlessly impressed by the scope and talented simming on display here. Incredible work, @Lhandon_Nilsen, @Kimonzi Lahl, @Josh Herrick, @Avander Promontory, @Morro Caras, @Erik Johnson,and @Alora DeVeau!

STARFLIRT. IT'S FINALLY HAPPENING ON THE ARTEMIS! @Gila Sadar has brought in the poshest-of-posh representatives, and she is trying her damndest to break through the perception that a career in Starfleet has to put your love-life on hold. I'm so excited to see where this goes, and I LOVE her introduction.

Today, I made Lieutenant, but I wouldn’t have gotten there if it wasn’t for both my former mentor, @VLen Kel, when we were back on the Oumumuma, and my newer mentor, @Avander Promontory . Both have been sources of inspiration for me throughout my time here so far and have put up with all of my half-baked ideas and crazy schemes, helping me to find some semblance of sense in them, plan out my long-term storylines, and just being around when I need them. You're support and encouragement have been second to none and I feel like I have my own cheerleading team hyping Special shout out to @Alora DeVeau @Erik Johnson and @Josh Herrick who have been a mega source of support. They are three people who I often lean on or share the first draft of my ideas with. They have both had to put up with my shenanigans and been pulled into God knows how many schemes I’ve come up with. But more than that, I'm proud to call you all my friends. You folks rock, and I love you all. Right, that's enough sappy stuff, I'm now going to go back to writing some angsty teen drama that would air on the CW network.

It's nice to see @Gila Sadar settle in nicely while guesting and getting to know @Karrod Niac 😂 being tortured by Captains is becoming a true personality trait!

I lost it on the toolbox contents. (( Security Complex, Deck 11, U.S.S. Chin’toka )) Is’Kah entered the security complex, a PADD in one hand and a toolbox in the other. The office was rather busy for being in Spacedock, but that was one thing that always surprised her. One would think they really didn’t have much of a job, but as the crew proved on Frontier Day, it was better to have a full complement on duty, or else the ship would be swiped again. The Trican found the layout familiar, heading right for the office of the Chief of Security. She found it in the same location that Lieutenant Commander Carpenter had hers on the Ronin. The refit's similarities to the original were striking, but she continued to be thrown off when she discovered the differences. She pressed the chime to McGillian’s office. McGillian: Response Entering, Is’Kah wore her Vulcan mask and greeted Mac with a slight nod. Is’Kah: Good Day, Ensign McGillian. I wish to discuss a few things with you that will be pertinent to both of our futures. First, we will discuss the tools in this box. The ship's rumor mill suggests that you needed something like this. McGillian: Response After handing over the PADD she brought, Is’Kah placed the red metal box on Mac’s desk before opening it. Inside were a half-dozen wooden stakes. Is’Kah: Special delivery for one Van Helsing: In case Count Vulcula reappears, you’ll have proper weapons available. I hand-carved these just for you. McGillian: Response Is’Kah: A couple of other things that PADD had the report made by Doctor Beck on the Ronin regarding my preexisting conditions when I joined Starfleet, which includes my mechanical teeth. It also contains the report on the damage done by Borg T’Ama when she slapped me into next week, resulting in multiple ways the mechanisms were disabled. This should leave you with no more lingering security concerns regarding me, at least regarding this matter. McGillian: Response Is’Kah: I am a security risk to any away team due to my lack of knowledge of self-defense. On the Ronin, I attempted to teach myself hand-to-hand combat and with weapons. Commander Carpenter found me one night and forbade me from going to the Holodeck alone after that. She was going to teach me how to fight without dislocating body parts again and to prevent myself from getting killed or causing the death of others. Would it be possible to continue my training with you? McGillian: Response Is’Kah: I have nothing more than the standard cadet training. ::tilts head:: that is not exactly true. I have access to Andorian Imperial Guard training, but it’s locked away somewhere in my Katra. I am not sure how to make use of it at this time. McGillian: Response TAGS/TBC - - Ensign Is’Kah Xiron Engineering USS Chin’toka R240101I14 Pronouns: She/Her (Player and Character)

@Ras El Heem showing his writing chops with grace and loss. A true testament to talented writers, joining during the chaos of Frontier Day, and the lasting consequences of loss, and mourning. I am so pleased to be writing along side him and see more of what he brings. Well done!! ((Makeshift Infirmary, Medical Facility, Deep Space 9)) Rows and rows of biobeds stood lined up like soldiers at attention, their stark white surfaces gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. Scarcely a few lay empty but disheveled, representing the ghosts that once laid there. Nurses and doctors of various affiliations moved with purpose, their footsteps echoing in the sterile space, sharp against the backdrop of groans and somber silence. This section of Deep Space 9 had been cordoned off, a makeshift triage center, strained beyond its intended capacity to accommodate the wave of injured streaming in from the calamity at Deep Space 33. The flow of casualties was relentless, far surpassing what the station was designed to handle. Each moment counted. Each patient a life to be saved or that had already been saved and were taking up sought after space before they could secure transportation elsewhere. Yet, in this atmosphere of frenzied activity, Ras moved slowly. Deliberately, as if caught in a dream where time stretched and folded in on itself. His gaze was fixed on a bed at the far end of the room, where a familiar figure lay. As staff rushed past him, their faces a blur of concern and concentration, Ras turned his body to weave through the chaos, each turn of his shoulder feeling vital but detached. Each sidestep feeling like the delay of the inevitable. The world around him was a distant hum, the voices of colleagues and the beeping of monitors became a muted backdrop. He could hear his own blood rushing in his ears as a steady thrum of melancholy rising to drown out everything else. Closer now, he could see her. Not a picture of fragility but of resilience. Shadows flickered across her face as the overhead lights ebbed in time with his racing pulse. Each beat resonated with a quiet desperation, urging him forward even as the weight of the situation pressed heavily upon his chest. He was moving, but time felt as if it had slowed to a crawl. It stretched the space between them into an eternity until it didn’t anymore. Until he stood at the foot of the bed. Her sleep was one of twilight, medically induced and not all that restful. Her leg was wrapped in a bandage with a pink hue near her upper thigh where the rest of it used to be. Dark circles marred the skin beneath her closed eyes, the rest of her face pale as the petals of a lily of the valley. She stirred and the sound of the sheets moving snapped Ras from his stupor. He knew this moment was coming, in fact he felt obligated to live the moment. To offer a consolation for his perfidy. Her eyes fluttered for a moment before slowly rising like a timelapse of two moons lifting into the night sky. When consciousness slipped back into place, she swallowed and stared right at the Kressari. Unspoken words stretched the quiet between them. Like the dimming of a distant star his presence cast a shadow where no promise had been made, yet the silence felt heavier for it. True to her character, she spoke with a nonchalance that seemed almost artful. Her words uttered easily as if the elephant in the room wasn’t sitting on her chest. Bobbart: Doc. You came to see the gimp show I take it? ::she chuckled raspily and then coughed.:: He titled his head sheepishly towards the ground but forced his gaze to meet hers, a juxtaposition of their soft brown iris and the sharp pupils that seemed to cut right through him. He raised his chin respectfully. El’Heem: I had to come see Cargo Bay A23’s knight in shining armor… The sentence trailed off and all too quickly it bled into the next. El’Heem: I...I…I tried to- She cleared her throat again and her face twisted as she rolled over to face the wall away from the doctor. Her crescent form curled under the sheets with her sole foot peeking from underneath. He couldn’t see her face, but a silent sob racked her body as her back swelled and then trembled over and over again. She didn’t grace him with any noise. It was vulnerable enough for her to cry in his presence. El’Heem: He was a hero, you know? ::beat:: If it wasn’t for him…all of Ops would have been spaced. She had stopped moving altogether and there was a hush that fell over the two. After a while, she sniffed, rubbed her nose and cleared the tears from under her eyes. She turned to look at Ras over her shoulder without fully facing him. Bobbart: It’s just Alice now... I’m being honorably discharged and going back to earth. El’Heem: Alice… Ras nodded while staring at the ground. She turned back to face the wall. El’Heem: I’m sorry. The words tasted like chalk in his mouth. It wasn’t enough. There was yet another silence between them. Bobbart: Thank you Doc. It truly does mean a lot that you personally went back to recover his body. Ras placed a hand on an empty spot on the bed behind her. El’Heem: Get home safe Alice. She didn’t turn to see him off, just stared at the wall, her own body casting a shadow and creating a safe burrow to reside in. Ras walked off into the sea of doctors and nurses and beds and similar stories as this one. Other blips of loss. And even some of reunion and relief. Alice fell back into the rabbit hole, chasing her white rabbit. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Some time passed before she woke again. She moved into a sitting position with her pillow at the small of her back pulling her one leg up and resting her chin on her knee. As the cloudiness cleared from her vision, she saw a silver beaded necklace at the foot of the bed. A tear welled in her eyes as her hand slid down to pull the chain to her. Alice held it in front of her face and let it dangle. The tear slid down her cheek as the two dog tags of Alice Bobbart and Grayson “Jonesy” Jones clinked against one another. NT/END Ensign Ras El’Heem Junior Medical Officer USS Khitomer (NCC-62400) K240106RE3

The perspective written here by @Serala brought back memories of my reaction to being told that I had a Dad now at about the same age.

As much suspense there was in the build up of part one, @Jalana and @Dizmim ChNilmani really killed it with the drama here!

@Jalana & @Dizmim ChNilmani deliver an intense twist here!

It's been a day for @Randal Shayne, @Nolen Hobart, @Connor Dewitt, @Karrod Niac, @Toryn Raga, @Alieth, and @Kali Nicholotti and their respective crews. Thank you for this lovely coda.

(( Jeffries Tubes Junction, Deck 3, Main Compartment, Deep Space 33 )) The distant sounds of weapons fire echoed through the maintenance passage even two decks down. A testament to just how severe and intense the fighting was and had been for nearly an entire day at this point. They had few options left, but it was not in the Worene’s nature to back down from a battle, especially one they had no chance of retreating from. He’d climbed down two decks to hunt as many of the Lattice forces as he could before the end. One extra phaser would not make a difference up on Deck One, but here, behind their lines. It could do great damage. And he had many cubs to avenge this day. If this was his last, then he would ensure that it would be the most impactful of his life. Woman: Would you hurry up already, Jonas. There’s someone else in here with us! Jonas: I’m going as fast as I can, Genai! The Tholian or Sheliak that sealed this hatch didn’t exactly make it easy, you know. His ears perked up and shifted forward as he crawled through the tube and paused. His rifle was slung over his back for easier movement here. He had his sidearm as well, but based on the voices he doubted he’d need either. Osiris: You are not alone, but you are also not in danger from me. The Worene announced carefully as he approached the junction and saw a sandy blond, short haired head pop up to look right at him in initial terror. A cub, male. From the scent, Human. Barely two decades by his estimation and beside him with a shakily held hand phaser pointed at him peered a more calm faced older female. Fiery red mane to the shoulders. Bajoran. Three, maybe for decades. Slightly less of a cub, but still younger than he. Palen noted the male wore a tattered gold uniform and the other was in teal. The nearby engineering kit suggested the former’s occupation. Genai: Thank the prophets. We thought everyone else was dead or still stuck fighting on the upper decks. Jonas: Never thought I’d be glad to see a cat…Uh…I mean, it’s good to see a friendly face, sir. ::murmuring:: Please don’t eat me. A gentle smack to his shoulder from the woman forced the awkward cub to clear his throat and Palen bared his fangs in a smile that did little to prove whether he would or wouldn’t eat the cub. Osiris: I have bigger prey to hunt, Crewman. The cub nodded briskly at him and resumed their attempts to open the hatch that would let them enter deck 3. The Bajoran held the phaser in both hands as if it were a rope clung to to keep from falling off a cliff. Genai: Good. Here’s hoping you can take a few of them with you before we die. It was a bit morose a comment coming from a physician, but given the amount of death they’d seen this day it wasn’t unreasonable even for lifesaving practitioners to feel bleak. Jonas: Nonsense, Genai. The Lieutenant’s here now and everyone on the Ops deck is still fighting. ::He grunted mid effort to loosen something:: And we have two Starfleet ships outside right now defending us. We'll be alright. Palen noticed the woman’s smile directed at the back of the cub’s head and a slight flush of color to her cheeks when she noticed the large felinoid was looking at her. Osiris: The day is not yet done and many still draw breath. The statement was simple but effective. A triumphant huzzah escaped the cub a moment later and the hatch door retracted to reveal the ladder down. A shushing sound followed from, both Palen and the Bajoran. Jonas: Oh, sorry…I got excited. Uh, I guess after you sir? Osiris: Yes, I am hunting. I suggest you both find an escape pod and wait there. If we fail to hold the station it will be scuttled and you will want to be somewhere else. The human cub shook his head vehemently at the Worene who’s tail flicked slightly in curiosity. Jonas: We can’t do that sir, not if there’s something we can still do to help! We were going to try and see if we can get a transporter working to maybe beam some of them into the pattern buffer and thin their numbers. Genai: We didn’t get far since we got stuck here. Palen’s ears twitched slightly and he considered for a moment before another nod was given to the pair. Osiris: Very well, I understand the need to do something. I will clear the way. Without further comment he descended quietly down the ladder and then manually opened the door at the bottom to permit them onto the deck proper. It opened with a soft hiss and he pushed it aside with one hand, the other held his hand phaser. With this being two decks below where anyone on their side was fighting it should have been relatively empty and yet his ears twitched and turned, the sound caught of movement and voices. A quick glimpse let him see a Sheliak and the Worene immediately holstered his sidearm and pulled the long rifle slung over his back in hand. One ear shifted as he heard the cubs come up behind him. Osiris: Quiet. Enemies. ::He whispered:: Genai: Here? But we don’t have anyone on this deck. Jonas: Can you scan for how many there are? The Bajoran opened her tricorder and leaned out just enough to point it in the direction of the hostiles. Genai: Eight Sheliak and five Tholians. Jonas: Ohhh, well I’m sure that’s nowhere near enough for the Lieutenant here. The tone of the cub’s comment suggested he didn’t believe his own words, but was trying to. Osiris: I have faced more. Though even these will pose challenging. Palen knew if he opened fire it would draw all of them. This hunt would have to be a careful one, as all hunts should be. Osiris: We will go the other way and avoid them. I will come back and hunt these when you are locked in the transporter room. The doctor’s tricorder chirped angrily for a moment and it nearly drew the attention of their enemy. Genai: Prophet’s, please tell me I’m reading this wrong. Jonas: What’s wrong? Genai: I’ve never scanned one before but I think there’s a torpedo with them, or some kind of explosive. That got his attention and Palen glanced at her device. His tail flicked curtly from one side to the other. He was quite familiar with torpedoes and the brief reading taken he did not like what he saw. Jonas: That’s near the starboard hull, I think one of the airlocks maybe? Genai: If they set it off inside the station!! Both cubs looked pale but Palen had to focus. Osiris: Be calm. I will find a way to get through them and disarm the torpedo. Jonas: There’s no time sir, that looks like it’s going to overload. Osiris: More reason to not dawdle. Palen leaned around the curved corridor and fired his weapon. The beam struck a Sheliak in the head and they dropped like a rock fall. Then the corridor erupted in a maelstrom of disruptor fire in his direction. When he turned to fall back to better cover neither cub was in sight. He moved to the opposite side of the corridor and spotted the pair emerge from a maintenance hatch behind the enemy. Where he could not help them. He tapped his comm badge, Commander Raga and Ops needed to know of the threat. ((ooc: What follows is from the perspective of Genai and Jonas)) The two of them rushed up to the Tholian torpedo that rested on a stand of some sort near the outer bulkhead. Jonas immediately opened his kit and started to scan it. Genai: Jonas….this is insane, can you disarm this?! Jonas: I have no idea, torpedoes aren’t really my thing. That’s a tactical department purview but we don't have much choice. This thing has maybe two minutes before it blows and the Lieutenant might not beat them all before it does. Genai: What can I do? He pulled a hyperspanner from the kit and then started trying to remove the casing cover. Jonas: Well, seeing if your prophets could bless us with some luck couldn’t hurt. ::He smiled:: Genai looked at him and couldn't help but stare as he feverishly removed the cover and inspected the innards of the weapon. She never could understand how he could be so bright and hopeful all the time. She nodded and muttered any prayer she could think of. It wasn’t when she noticed he’d stopped working that drew her focus, it was the shaking in his hands. Jonas: I….I’m not going to be able to disarm this. It’s already in a cascade. Genai: Maybe we can beam it off the station? He shook his head. Jonas: That would just set it off and might make it worse. We have to move it, Genai…away from the hull. Genai: What?! Jonas: There’s no time…we have maybe a minute. We need to move it as far inside the deck as we can. Please!! Her breath caught in her throat at his pleading and despite the liquid in her eyes she moved with him. The whole thing was heavy and didn’t have wheels, but they somehow managed to pick it up and barely managed to carry/drag it down the passage. As soon as they could they turned down an interior corridor while the Worene seemed to be still fighting not far away. Panting heavily the torpedo began to thrum more and more. With the cover off she could even see the warhead glowing brighter. Genai: Jonas…how long? Jonas: Doesn’t matter, Genai…keep pulling we have…to get this..as far as we can to save the others!! She felt her arms giving out on her and stumbled a few times. Even Jonas, the sweet font of eternal hope could barely keep going and the nex time they both dropped to the ground he looked at her with tears in his eyes. Jonas: Genai…I’m sorry I couldn’t disarm it… Genai: …call me Raeya His eyes widened at her use of her given name and a brisk nod was given. Jonas: Raeya…::He said almost breathlessly:: Always thought you had such a beautiful na.. Ethan’s comment was cut short when her lips met his and ten seconds later the brilliant flash of the Tholian torpedo detonating ended everything for the two of them. But in that moment, those ten seconds felt like eons filled with regrets, fond memories, and realization of a kiss that should have happened years ago. Then, noise, violent destruction and devastation, but contained nonetheless. A gaping hole left as a shocking reminder of what could have been. And the mangled husk of a hyperspanner seemingly fused to what was left of a Bajoran earring by the blast. Picked up by a wounded and silent Worene. Held tightly in paw in honor of those who didn't stop until the last moment to save the station they called home. End of Act 3 for Osiris ========================================= Lieutenant JG Palen Osiris Starfleet Ranger - Scout Specialist As simmed by Commander Toryn Raga First Officer USS Ronin - NCC-34523 Writer ID: A239410TR0 https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Toryn_Raga

The ability of @Gila Sadar to fully portray manic self-conscious paranoia never ceases to amaze me. I love their writing!

There are a number of ways to mourn a friendship, nay, a brotherhood between two people that has imploded. While Lhandon has found his other friends and worked out his anger on the punching bag, @Erik Johnson's PC Toxin Arlill, takes a different approach. The stark contrast between the scenes tells its own story. I'll link Maxwell's sim from that scene here, so you can see the contrast yourself. This friendship between Arlill and Nilsen has been a cornerstone in each other's lives for over a year. They called each other brother and they held together the Operations department on both the Oumuamua and Octavia E Butler. They did so much together, they raced in the Denali Invitational, they constructed the new Operations Centres together and they even knew each other's families. And now that's gone up in smoke. This sim...even though I'm involved in this story and I knew that Erik was cooking, made me want to reach through the screen and hug Arlill. Erik is a phenomenal writer, and don't worry, we haven't fallen out IRL.

As a general rule, NPC usage during missions require skill to be done correctly. We don’t want to oversaturate our writing with NPCs, as our PCs are supposed to be the core crew, and the NPCs are just there for flavor. But masterful use of a one-off NPC can sometimes elevate a mission arc, and that is exactly what I feel Ensign Cecil Valo accomplishes over on the Ronin with this sweet Sim. In the midst of a violent battle with the Lattice Alliance, we’ve seen Ensign Haydd comduct his duties as a counselor in what ways he could, and in this Sim, we see him further humanized as he engages in banter with friends in a grim moment. Not only is the implications of a boardgame centered around Caitians eating Betazoids hilarious, but in typical Ronin fashion, this Sim uses humor ti effectively communicate the idea that your bonds with your friends provide a safe haven in even the darkest of times. Capital Sim, Ensign Valo!!

Oh. My. God. @Salkath LITERALLY just posted this but I was dying of laughter so I decided EVERYONE needed to see this as fast as possible. He writes such a good Vulcan, and such a funny one. Watch as he meets the designated Good Boy of Artemis, and tries to keep up his Vulcan Decorum in the face of just the cutest little doggo.

What started as a simple NPC they rescued in a sim developed into the most beautiful narrative of two family members connecting for the first time while living apart. Patty, the simmer behind Dr. Toz and the new NPC Barney Nilsen, has made me cry. She took bits of Gault lore that I wrote MONTHS AGO and brought them back, crafting a backstory for Barney that is a pleasure to sim with and creating someone who I just wanted to reach through the laptop screen and give the biggest hug. Patty, thank you so much for expanding the lore of Nilsen's and expanding the lore of Gault!!! I can't quite wrangle the Google group to highlight everything (ignore the T'Larn sim) but you can see the threads of where Barney started and the MASTERCLASS Patty has given up in character development and taking the time to pace that from their very first introduction! https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-butler/search?q=Barney Nilsen @Toz

I think I'll collect all the previous sim and the ones to come into a book. I haven't post the sims before this one, but they are great too. You can find them in the denali group mailing list

Here we have a perfect example of why we do what we do. May we all be as brave as Mister Quirkle-Burkle ((Passageway R-3, Deck 6, Main Module, Deep Space 33)) Zenno and Torado were climbing up the turbo lift shaft to get to Ops, where it seemed that Starfleet was making a last stand. The Bolian had got a glancing blow from an energy weapon on the arm, but he was making do. It hurt tremendously. But the fact that his caustic blood was eating through Torado’s uniform and skin was even more bothersome, to him at least. She seemed to be not be too worried about it. But there was nothing for it at the moment anyway. They had to clear the area and get to Ops. Surprisingly, they had not seen any enemy activity on the way up. They had expected some kind of action and it was disquieting. Clearing out of the shaft at Deck 6, they made their way down to the next junction. Their comms were down. They could occasionally receive. But the transmitting functions weren’t working. He desperately wanted to get a current disposition of the enemy forces. It ate at him at there could be a tasty target of opportunity in the next passageway that Ops had on the sensors and he wouldn’t know. But as they say on Earth, c’est la vie. He had read that phrase somewhere, but couldn’t recall the exact context. No matter. Torado interrupted his musings as they climbed. Torado: ::whispering:: How’s the shoulder? Zenno: ::whispering:: It moves. How is your face? Torado: ::whispered:: Not tingling as much anymore. Zenno: ::whispering:: Excellent, the tides are with us. He knew there would be discoloration on her face and hands at least. Perhaps analogous to a sunburn. It would heal, but he was upset at having caused it. They had arrived at the next junction. Torado looked for the controls. And this one was actually a manual access panel. It had a hand crank. How quaint. Perhaps they could send a message to Ops with a carrier pigeon next. She did her work and Zenno kept watch. Any enemies would be invited to get drowned upon presenting themselves, but none appeared. He looked behind and Torado was cranking the handle and it made a sound like the wailing of an angry Caitian. Perhaps an angry Caitian in a heat cycle. Zenno had heard such at the Academy a few times and it was reminiscent. And the doors opened so very slowly. Torado: ::cranking, frustrated:: If this was an actual emergency we’d be dead. Zenno: I am not such a naysayer. I have great faith in us! He wasn’t sure she appreciated his enthusiasm, but it was genuine, for whatever that was worth. But then he perceived a sound where there should have not been one.Alert, he froze and attempted to determine the location. He could tell that Torado had noticed it too. Torado: You hear that, too, sir? Zenno nodded his reply, still trying to discern what it was. An enemy? A friend? Something else? It was coming from behind the hatch to their left. Using hand signs, he indicated where it was and signaled a left/right approach. The sounds from the space beyond struck Zenno as plaintive, but he wasn’t sure. Giving the go signal, he and Torado made a dynamic entry into the space only to find a diminutive girl, sitting on the floor and crying. He wasn’t sure, but perhaps she was a Denobulan, certainly not in her adulthood. And she was most distraught, hugging a stuffed animal. Evaluating the situation, clearing the space was the priority, which was done. Nothing being found, Zenno put down his weapons and got down on his knees to the girl’s height. Gesturing to Torado, she kept a look out, but was still close by. Zenno: ::softly, with kindness:: What’s this now? How did you get here? ::Wiping tears, but careful not get any blood on her:: Girl: My… my.. ::sniffs:: my Mother owns a store. She didn’t want to leave. Zenno looked about and Torado did the same but there was no one else here. Zenno: Where is Mother now? Girl: She told me to wait here. She said she would come back for me. He felt a pain right behind his left eye. It was safe to assume she wasn’t coming back. But now wasn’t the time to adjudicate that issue. They had to get to Ops. But more importantly, here was a Federation Citizen… a youth. What was the Starfleet for if not to protect ones such as this? He wondered if Torado would object. Zenno: We…. We have instructions. We’re going to get you somewhere safer than here. He looked up at Torado and she had an expression that Zenno couldn’t quite classify. Torado: Responses? Zenno: ::To Torado:: It’s fine. ::To the Girl:: Are you hurt? Can you climb? We have to go up the turbo lift shaft. Girl: Where is my Mother? Torado: Responses? Zenno: Right. ::softly:: But you should come with us now. We can handle all the other things later. Would that be OK? Hold onto my arm. ::offers:: His arm complained in the most urgent manner that he wasn’t at full power, but he paid it no mind. The flesh obeyed. Girl: It’s scary out there. Zenno: You are in luck, young one. You happen to be with the two most scariest of all. ::Looking at the 1LT:: Isn’t that right? Torado: Responses? Zenno: And what’s your name? Girl: Sabira. And ::holds up stuffed animal:: Mister Quirkle-Burkle. Zenno: Well I think the team of Zenno ::points to self::, Torado ::points::, Sabira, and Mister Quirkle-Burkle will be unstoppable. TAG/TBC LT Zenno Security Chief USS Khitomer A240006Z13