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This sim broke me. When the simmer behind Maxwell messaged me to say that he has picked up my tags and rounded off the scene, I thought it would a nice fun ending to the party. I didn't think I'd be emotionally wrecked. To give some extra context, this sim is all about remembering all those friends we have lost along the way, and a big reason why this sim so damn epic, is that it stands opposite a sim where Nilsen, Tyber, Dahlquist and Arlill go on a spacewalk to sign their names on the hull, tick off an item on Oumuamua bingo and in someway, seal their friendship as a group. That spacewalk was a fun one and full off joy. The two big tough guys holding onto each other for dear life wanting to go back inside was so funny. Then we fast forward through the party thst happens a day or so later to this endont scene. Nilsen had no idea that Maxwell knew about their little space walk and at the end, as you can read, he asked how he knew and almost begged Maxwell to not tell Sherlock. And then we get this sim which is the perfect ending to this little story where Joy and grief can often be two sides of the same coin.

It's poket size vulcan, sir, even tin-can size even. But GREAT sim anyway

((Ensign's Joyride - Denali Invitational - Entering the Asteroid Ring)) The boxy shuttle took on a shimmer in the refection of the asteroid field making it actually like a streamlined fighter that it had actually been designed to be rapidly converting current models of ships ready for a defensive action. The crew of the Ensign's Joyride had worked hard building together the team and the freighter up from scratch to the fighting machine it currently was. Despite its age it was keeping up with the crowd. There were several ships entering the field at different vectors and various flakes of paint coming off them as they had near misses or actual collisions with smaller asteroids, not enough to take them down however would slow them whilst they made repairs. Inside the cockpit there were only two of the crew and both of them were staying away from the emergency transport system. Corey checked the harness wrapping around the chair. Wethern: This is going to be a challenging bit of flying Madison, strap in. I'm going to divert the power from gravity to inertial dampeners and thruster control to give you the most flexibility. Whoa! Did you see that ship clip that asteroid. Time to concentrate. Marsh: ? Corey watched his colleague clip the harness around her and he felt the adrenaline kick in, the buzz and attentiveness that kicks in with the risk of danger. The thrum of power flicked into the engines as he went through the warning alerts of switching off gravity. He flicked another switch and the cockpit darkened and the computer thrummed and alert "Tactical Overlay Engaged" as a red overlay engaged across the viewports highlighting the ships in front of them in green and the asteroids with trajectory plotting of incoming asteroids. Wethern: I'm glad we didn't take out all of the experimental systems this shuttle was equipped with, although we never did get out of Zel why this project was abandoned? Marsh: ? The shuttle clipped past another vessel so fast Corey couldn't make out its designation however it was an impressive barrel roll by Madison. Wethern: Nice flying Madison. Marsh: ? Computer: Warning Collision Imminent An alarm blared bringing the two ensigns back to where they were as an asteroid rapidly filled the screen growing larger and larger. Wethern: Madison, look out..... Marsh: ? Corey looked at his console as the his pilot tried to route around preventing an impact that even the shuttles shields at maximum would taken them out of race if not put them on the medical evac shuttle....which would be more than embarrassing being two medics. Wethern: No wait head straight for the bearing I've sent to your console and rotate 65 degrees port and floor it. Corey tapped his console and there was a sensation of your stomach flipping much like when you went on a roller-coaster. What in reality was happening was power was distributing away from the support systems to the shuttles minimal defensive systems. A bright beam from the Phasers blasted the corner of the huge asteroid making a shuttle shaped hole full of debris as they rolled through it harmlessly bouncing off the shields however the pull on the harness would leave a mark. Wethern: Woohoo! That is some fancy flying! Marsh: ? Corey ran his hand through his hair in relief. Not only had they managed to avoid dying they had also managed to get a step up towards the front just not the very front. Wethern: All I'm saying is Ksivi-Sava would not have approved of that manoeuvre and if we win we need to trademark it. Marsh: ? Tags/TBC -- Ensign Corey Wethern Medical Officer Starbase 118 Ops O240007CW4

Is there something called ‘Love at Seventh Sim’? @Talia Ohnari has got me completely head over heels with her CMO after this latest Sim, which just is so filled with personality, its just MARVELOUS! 😍

Everything about this sim makes me jump for joy. @Alexander Brodie has a wonderful way with words. I just want to highlight a few lines before I share the whole thing. Suddenly, every ops simmer is Brodie's biggest fan. He just got it. *chefs kiss* The simmer behind brodie knows what I am going for with this little arc and has set me up PERFECTLY for what I want to write next. An absolute gift he has given me Here is the full sim, I have been inspired to up my game. LOVE LOVE LOVE this

slice of life are my jam, and @Marty Tuckernails one here. Also, 100% that dinner is going to happen next shoreleave, @LuxaLoranaincluded ((Deck 14, Engineering Lounge, USS Ronin)) When one works double shifts, three days go by quite quickly. And Ensign Marty Tucker was running on less than zero sleep. He had a minute to himself, so he went into the engineer's lounge and got himself a raktajino, his third one of the shift. It was surprising that he hadn’t spontaneously combusted yet. But with all the repairs, the caffeine was needed; from readjusting the reflector dish to refitting the structural integrity generators on decks two, five, and seven, one had to be awake to repair them. He sat and pulled out his padd to review his forever-long to-do list. He could pass off some of it, but much needed his direct attention. Tuck figured after he finished his raktajino, he’d pop his head into Chief Corelli’s office and see where we stood. Then he’d need to meet with Chief Kiran about those generators. ((OOC: Andy Dahl is a Engineering free use NPC)) He looked up from his padd to see Crewman Andrew Dahl approaching him. Dahl came to a stop and came to attention. Tucker spied him over the lip of the cup of his raktajino; he waved him off. Tucker: ::he smiled:: It’s all good, Andy; you don’t have to do that every time.::he set his cup of coffee down next to his padd:: Dahl: ::shrugging:: Habit Tuck, habit. ::he sat down:: Tuck chuckled at this as he took another sip of his Klingon coffee. While he loved it, it didn’t compare to the stuff he got back home. The Pacific Northwest was known for its coffee and the shops dedicated to the beverage. Tucker: We’ve worked together for a little bit now; I can’t believe I haven’t asked where you transferred in from. Denali Station here. ::he sipped his raktajino:: Dahl: ::finishing a sip of his coffee:: I’ve been here since day one. You should have seen how all this looked before you arrived. This space:: arm sweeps out:: wasn’t even built out. It was a shell and now look at her. Tuck choked back a laugh. Tucker: ::hoping raktajino wasn’t coming out his nose:: Dude, it was pulled out of dry dock early. There are unfinished labs and the like. It’s a Starfleet cluster..::with a gulp, he finished his raktajino:: Dahl just nodded in agreement. There was one thing he couldn’t get out of his brain, no matter how hard he worked or buried his head in projects: that cute Bajoran quartermaster Ico. He still needed to get in touch about dinner. Tuck wondered if she had informed her roommate. He also needed to tell Mav about it; he was going to have to play wingman. Dahl: ::snapping his fingers in front of Tuck's face:: Hello? Anyone home? Tuck took a second before reacting to Dahl. Tuck: Yeah, I’m here. Sorry, I was lost in thought. I’ve got a ton of things to do, and sitting on my ass in the engineering lounge isn't getting things done. And he needed to stay on the good side of Lieutenant Corelli. Happy Chief, happy Tuck. They both laughed at that. Tuck picked up his padd and stood. Tucker: Alright, Andy, time to get back to work. ------- Ensign Marty Tucker Engineering USS Ronin - NCC-34523 D240008MT1

@LuxaLorana is GREAT at describing places and it's great to see all the work and time he has put into describing the Ronin's stellar cartography. Add to that all the insight and great storytelling and you have a sim I've been wanting to throw in your face for days. Enjoy! Great work! ((Stellar Cartography, Deck 10, USS Ronin)) Three days had passed quickly on the Ronin. Luxa doubted that she'd ever been as busy in her whole life. They’d spent entire days reconfiguring the science lab databases and updating various systems. Of course, this required more data processors to be installed and almost delayed the lab's completion. Yet, somehow, the engineers had managed to get them installed and they’d completed the refurbishment with an hour to spare before launch. She'd barely gotten any of her naps, which had led to her nerves being more than a little frayed. It had helped that she had gotten a pleasant and friendly roommate. Yet, in some strange way, she found herself missing the imposing presence of Zoyara. If Luxa was a counselor, she'd misdiagnose herself with Stockholm Syndrome. A smile began to form on Luxa's face, wondering how her new roommate was adjusting to her. Grayson: Did you feel that? Luxa had felt a slight rumbling beneath them. An explosion? ((OOC - Crewman 2nd Class Gregor Grayson, is an Astronomer and Science Lab Assistant and a General NPC, meaning anyone can include him in sims, he's the science teams Nurse Ogawa hah)) Lorana: The docking clamps maybe? It’s been a while? :: Luxa stretches :: You think we're ready to fire this up? Grayson: :: shrugs :: The engineers seem confident that the ship won't blow up. Luxa's attention fell across the strange Stellar Cartography suite that was shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the control panels that lined the walls, flanking either side of the entryway. She had never seen one that spanned one deck before, and found that she wasn't very certain about it. It didn’t feel right to have the large and expansive space taking up several decks. Lorana: Okay. I think now is as good a time as any. Grayson moved to one of the panels, and she heard the whole room buzz with energy as consoles blinked into life and the mapping grid appeared, blinking several times before a map circled around and settled on to the current sector they were in. It took up the entirety of the curvature of the far wall, which was three times wider than the working area they were stood in by the entrance. Holo emitters had been installed meaning that you could pull sections forward onto a raised platform, with a singular console to operate this particular part. Grayson: I kind of like it. Lorana: :: scrunching her face :: It'll take getting used too. They had fought and lost the argument to extend Stellar Cartography into the deck above or below. The drawback of an older vessel that was never designed for exploration or scientific missions. All things considered, she was proud of the work they had done utilising the limited space they had. The trill of a boatswain's whistle startled Luxa momentarily. Niac: =/\= Attention all hands, we are about to get underway. You have performed admirably in getting our ship ready for this mission and I'm confident we can face whatever is waiting for us out there. Secure your stations and standby for warp speed. Remember...a ship may be safe in harbor but that is not what ships are for. Niac..out.=/\= Grayson: Starting to feel real now? Lorana: :: nervously :: I just wish we weren’t heading straight towards the Sheliak. Luxa stepped a few metres in front and took the steps on to the raised platform, there was enough room for several scientists to work and confer if required. Grayson remained at the consoles behind, she could see that he was beginning to run diagnostics on the Cartography systems. Lorana: :: keying in telemetry, then hits her combadge :: =/\= Lorana to Alieth, Stellar Cartography is online =/\= Alieth: =/\= Response =/\= Lorana: =/\= Yes, commander. Lorana out. =/\= Grayson moved up the platform, taking a position beside Luxa, as she brought up the limited information of the Olidra System. Grayson: What now? Lorana: We do what we’re here to do :: nods towards the map :: we learn everything we can about this section of space. Every warp trail, rock, and line of record. Grayson inhaled a breath. Grayson: It’s a lot of space. Lorana: Which means we don’t have a lot of time :: nods to the console to his right :: You can begin by cross-referencing the databases on that system. We need to populate this map as best as we can with everything of note within the Alpha Isles. There might be something that can hint towards what’s going on out there. Grayson: I can pull some of the reports from the transport ships, you know the ones they send to Starfleet? Lorana: Most of them make them up, unless they know the Federation will audit them, which they never do. Check for warp signatures and energy readings, anything that can tell us what’s been happening out there. Start with the major powers - the Breen, Tzenkethi, the Ferengi and the Kzinti Patriarchy. Focus on any changes, routes that have been altered, unusual reports, distress calls and any new science vessels operating in that area. Maybe we can provide the Captain with something a little bit more than guesswork? As Grayson went to work, Luxa took a moment to look ahead, watching the Olidra System. In her mind’s eye she could feel it come alive. It was a mystery at the moment, a stranger in a crowded sky. oO not for long, Olidra Oo -- Ensign Luxa Lorana Science Officer USS Ronin A240004LL2

Most of us know that the last sim we write on a ship is always a tough one. @LuxaLorana has already said her goodbyes to the crew, but our mission that as taken us to another universe, with different characters, have give us such great scenes. And here we have the final scene from Lux, Lorana's alter ego, in one of the most heartbreaking goodbyes I have read. And I have read quite a few. I know you will enjoy the Ronin as much as you enjoyed the Artemis, but allow me the selfishness to say that I am sorry to see you go.

There were so many quotes from this that I wanted to post, so in the end, I decided to post the whole sim! ((Little Risa - Near Beach - Starbase 118)) Being aboard Starbase 118 once more, walking through those large man-made spaces, the people, the wonders, the lights, the fragrances, and the perfumes all flooded her senses. The sounds, conversations, and whispers echoed near and far. This sensory and empathic stimulation suddenly overwhelmed her with a cascade of emotions. All those people at once, and the telepathic shouting, it was something she wasn't accustomed to anymore. She almost laughed, almost cried, letting herself fully immerse in it once more. She deeply appreciated it, absorbing it with her entire being. Wow! How beautiful! Karen was happy. She strolled through the bustling commercial sector of the starbase, weaving in and out of numerous shops, each offering its own unique allure. Amid her exploration, she came upon a charming café adorned with a profusion of vibrant flowers—an enchanting spot that, in all likelihood, hadn't even existed three years ago. After some time, she reached her intended destination: Little Risa. Her desire was simple—to relax and take a leisurely walk along the tranquil beach. She was attired in a lovely and casual, yet vividly colorful dress, perfectly suited for the vibrant ambiance of Risa. It resembled a pareo, with its pink fabric adorned by graceful white wavy stripes. Completing her look was a broad, feminine straw hat and heart-shaped sunglasses, which added a touch of eccentricity—much like her own charming personality. Beneath her colorful dress, she sported an equally stylish bikini, perfectly complementing her figure. It was adorned in the same delightful colors, accentuating her beach-ready look. Who knew? She might just decide to take a refreshing dip in the water later on. As she wandered aimlessly, she suddenly sensed the presence of a familiar and friendly Betazoid mind, none other than the remarkable Sal Taybrim. A warm smile graced her lips, and her heart swelled with delight at the unexpected encounter. Taybrim: Counselor Stendhal? Stendhal: In the flash and bones, Captain... oh wait, is it Commodore now, isn't it? Congratulations on the promotion! She smiled, she smiled a lot! Taybrim: By the rings, it’s been ages! And you’re back here on StarBase 118! Stendhal: It's definitely been a while! I'm absolutely thrilled to see you again, Commodore Sal. You know that, don't you? Taybrim: Come. I’d like you to meet the amazing Haukea-Willow. Willow, meet Counselor Karen Stendhal. She felt an empathic tickle, a connection that went beyond words. She first looked at Sal, then her gaze shifted to Haukea, and in their presence, she sensed an empathic embrace of friendship enveloping her. What beautiful souls they were, and how fortunate she felt to be in their company. With a broad smile, she offered a graceful bow, genuinely delighted to meet and get acquainted with Haukea. It was evident that Haukea exuded a captivating beauty. Her presence was marked by both a lively, effervescent spark coupled with a profound, discerning and intelligent gaze. Karen immediately felt at ease in her presence, experiencing a strange sense of déjà vu, as if they had crossed paths before in some other time or place. Stendhal: Nice to meet you both, and please, especially in a place like this, just call me Karen. She said warmly and with a friendly demeanor. Karen couldn't help but appreciate the pleasant atmosphere and the genuine connection she was forming with Sal and Haukea. Willow/Taybrim: ? Stendhal: Oh I have to tell you that this is one of the best place in the Galaxy where to be in service... And of course one of the reasons is the Crew and the awesome commanding chain. Willow/Taybrim: ? Stendhal: Oh, I must share with you that this is truly one of the finest places in the entire Galaxy to serve. Of course, one of the reasons for that is the exceptional crew and the awesome chain of command. Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. Willow/Taybrim: ? Stendhal: Commodore Sal would a hug be too out of place? Rustyy's had his share, and when it comes to my hug list, you and Foster are high on it. She spoke theatrically, her hand tracing an imaginary list in the air. ~*~ tags/tbc ~*~ -- ================================= Lt Jg Karen Trisha Stendhal Counselor SB 118 ID: C239604KS0

((OOC: Just a small vignette for Remembrance Day. For those that don't know the background, you can read about it here: https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Starfleet_Remembrance_Day) ((Personal Quarter, USS Oumuamua)) The timing was poor. The night before, the party in 7 Forward would take some toll the next morning. Moreso because she had set her alarm to awaken her an hour earlier than she'd normally get up before a shift. It was a ritual she'd done only once before. But it wouldn't be the last. Really the day would be like any other. She went through her normal morning routine. A quick run around the corridors. When she got back, she had breakfast. Simple eggs and bacon this morning. Following that a shower. Maybe a little longer than normal, just some time to think. She laid out one of her new uniforms on her bed, flat so there wasn't a wrinkle to be seen. Knowing the night would be short on sleep, she'd skipped polishing her boots the night before. She pulled out the small box that contained a tin of polish, brush, and a couple rags. Sitting at the edge of the bed, one at a time, she gave them a once over with one of the soft cloths to buff the toes to a decent shine. Standing in front of the mirror in her bathroom, she brushed out her hair. Looking into her own eyes in the reflection she thought to herself that those eyes weren't the same as she used to see. In such a few short years, they'd changed. She took her time putting her hair into a tight braid against her scalp, bringing it all together in the back before tying it off as she normally did. Her hand slid down the back of her neck. The tips of her fingers ran over the tattoo she couldn't see but knew was still there. She donned her uniform one piece at a time. She fidgeted with the jacket like she always did. She always replicated them slightly too big. Just a little loose. The downside being that it never quite sat right. Today she wished she hadn't. She walked over to her nightstand and picked up the two solid silver pips and snapped them onto the chest of her uniform. Taking an extra couple seconds to make sure they were in line with the seam that divided the gold shoulders from the black body, centering them between the shoulder seam and the small square of gold that jutted down from the divide in the collar. The silver and bronze communicator went on the opposite side and just below the seam. She never felt she could get its placement just right. Pulling out the drawer of the nightstand, she reached in and picked up a small pin, one she only wore once a year. Back in front of the mirror, she looked down at the small round pin. The brushed gold inlaid with a deep blue enamel which in turn had white letters rising from it. Her thoughts went back. She could hear herself screaming "No!" as if it was happening again. When she closed her eyes, it felt like they were flooded with fiery light once more. As much pain as she still felt, she didn't cry anymore when she thought about it. She didn't even get angry like she used to. Sometimes she wondered if it meant she was forgetting. But those memories would never fade. She took in a slow deep breath and opened her eyes. Looking into the mirror, she clipped the pin onto her jacket, just above her communicator. Rotating it back and forth until the words U.S.S. Resolution looked centered. She ran her hands down the sides of her uniform to smooth it out as she let out the breath she'd been holding. Her right hand paused over the spot on her abdomen where there was still a scar. She pressed into it. The slight physical pain she felt was still there. A reminder...remembrance. End Lieutenant Aine Sherlock Security Officer U.S.S. Oumuamua R239712AS0

@Madison Marsh I just have to give a huge shout out to a writer and character that has been making me and my PC feel the feels since day one. We are now able to write in a scene together and it the fluffiest thing in the whole entire world. ❤️ I am so glad to have the writer of Madison Marsh as a friend. ((Main Sickbay, Deck 505, Family and General Practice Care, Starbase 118)) Madison had been working on building up her patient base. This process took time, but would happen quicker due to her assignment on a station. There are thousands that live and work on the station every day. She met Ensign Willow's apparent requirements and therefore she would not hesitate to add her to her client base. The medical field always was chaotic in the past centuries and it still was not perfect in the twenty fifth century, but much improved over the course of time. Her goal was to make it as simple as possible on patients so that they can get the quality care that they require if she had anything to do with it. Marsh: It sounds like I meet your specifications. If you are not opposed then I will list myself as your primary care Doctor. Willow: You?! I mean….I’m not opposed. You do have a great bedside manner. ::Haukea blushed:: She squinted her eyes in response to Willow's compliment. Did she really have great bedside manner? She would accept the compliment and continued onward with the medical business considering she had a patient to treat. Willow likely had a broken nose and Doctor Marsh was going to resolve the issue immediately. Marsh: Before I move on to the medical procedure, did you have any concerns? Willow: No other concerns. I’m usually healthy, don’t get sick often. No chronic concerns. She walked to another station to pick up a medical tricorder. All of the biobeds, medical tools, consoles, and equipment were in immaculate condition. Starbase 118 Medical definitely kept their brand standards for Sick Bays high. It was a privilege to be stationed at a state of the art facility like this one. Marsh: You stay there and relax while I grab a few supplies. Willow: Sure…Sure. You want me sitting or laying down? She turned to meet Willow's gaze and she appeared to be a little bit confused which was understandable. Most folks visit the Doctor once every couple of years and do not do procedures every day like Madison. Marsh: Lay down and relax. I will patch you up in no time. Willow: ? Madison returned over to the biobed where Willow was laying back. She began a scan of Willow's nose, read the feedback, and saw the imagery of a broken nose to mend. She thought that the nose was broken all along, but it was crucial for a Doctor to never assume a diagnosis. After a few moments, she set her medical tricorder down and filled her Hypospray tool with 10cc of Terakine. Before administering the Terakine she wanted to present the diagnosis and present the procedure to her patient. Marsh: You have a broken nose that requires minor surgery to repair the bone and cartilage. I will be able to remove all of the cuts on your face and the burning sensation will cease to be there. I will inject you with Terakine which will allow this procedure to be pain free. How does that sound? Willow: ? Madison nodded her head once in agreement with her. She tilted her head slightly looking down at Willow and a slight smile spread across her lips. Marsh: Did you have any additional questions before I start the procedure? Willow:?

I had forgotten that Sal had his telepathy repaired. I was reminded in this sim. This sim was so warm and fuzzy, just like the title says; it gave me the feels. I can't wait to be a part of this scene with Sal and now Stendhal. @Sal Taybrim ((Little Risa - Near Beach - Starbase 118)) It was an absolutely gorgeous day on the beaches of Little Risa. Sure, the whole weather system was programmed into the computer and nice days could be had upon request – and if Sal Taybrim had wanted it, he could have requested it. But not once in his seven years of being on StarBase 118 had he messed with the weather. That seemed like a petty thing to do. It was better to let the computer move forward with all its meticulously randomized patterns that carefully follow natural weather, and enjoy the surprise of absolutely gorgeous days when they came up. He was dressed in a warm sand color light wrap tunic with a simple tied belt and slacks. It was attractive yet casual Betazoid style which certainly made him look far more approachable than a Starfleet Commodore’s uniform. Willow: Commodore, Taybrim, Sal, Sal Taybrim, ::As usual her words flowed out of her mouth in a complete rush, attempting to keep pace with her million mile per minute thoughts:: I completely apologize, I did not see you there, I was lost in my head, on a mission so to speak. He smiled to her, bright like the dawning rays of the sun and fell into step beside the Risian security officer. Taybrim: We’re off duty, Sal is fine. He smiled, enjoying the casual connections. Of course some officers preferred formality at all times – Sal could understand that reliable separation of duty and personal. But he liked the warmth of connection. Taybrim: Where are you headed on this beautiful day, Willow? Willow: Well I was going to go to the beach. I know it is artificially created but it reminds me a great deal of home, the moon festival. Besides Ksivi-Sava kept mentioning it when in my body and the faded memories are hard to let go of. The body swap. It was funny how many things it brought to the surface. Since returning to his own body Sal had found that his recently repaired telepathy was now tingly – like it was on fire and ready to reach out and connect. A new sensation that he hadn’t felt since he was a teenager – and he was quite far from a teenager anymore. He rolled his mental focus back to Willow, and wondered what a Risian Moon Festival was like. Taybrim: I hear there’s festival on the beaches, though I don’t know much about it. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I assume that’s your destination? Willow: You are more than welcome to join me and in fact I would love it if you joined me. But I’m not going to force you. I’d hate to force you. I want you to be able to make your own choices, not be influenced by me. I mean I don’t let myself get influenced by others opinions and neither should you… ::Deep breath in:: He smiled warmly, calmly, reassuringly. Taybrim: No forcing needed. I would love to come with you! I haven’t seen this festival before and I want to learn more about it! Willow: ? He considered that. Things on StarBase 118 were – of course – not the same as they were on one’s home planet. But they were charming and community-affirming and wonderful nonetheless. Taybrim: I hear music and see swags of flowers, all of which is a good sign… Willow: ? They neared the slowly growing party on the beaches of Little Risa, and could start to smell grilled meats and vegetables, and the sweet smell of fresh fruits. The crowd started to get a bit thicker as people were weaving their way through local vendor stalls and the brightly decorated shops towards the beach. Sal was about to point out rows of decorative fire torches that looked like they were being readied for some sort of entertainment when a familiar presence brushed past his mind. And he noticed. That was the most amazing part – he noticed, with his telepathy, the mind of someone else. It had been over a decade since that happened. He turned, eyes scanning for that impression. Taybrim: Counselor Stendhal? The words came from his lips in surprise, partly at finding the correct person nearby, and partially because he had noticed this – him! The broken telepath noticed something with telepathy. For a split second he felt dizzy – almost giddy. Stendhal: ? Taybrim: By the rings, it’s been ages! And you’re back here on StarBase 118! He called out, delighted. Stendhal: ? He waved her over and waved Willow over. Taybrim: Come. I’d like you to meet the amazing Haukea-Willow. Willow, meet Counselor Karen Stendhal. Two fantastic friends. He hoped they would become fantastic friends. He induled a moment in his empathy and let the feelings of fun and friendship and frolic from the festival wash over him like a big fuzzy mental blanket. Stendhal/Willow: ?

Lower Decks, eat your heart out! Just remember @Corey Wethern, Gogi is an ex-Marine, so good luck! 😈😂 ((Deck 10 - Cargo Bay 46 - Starbase 118)) The slightly cluttered cargo bay sat on deck 10 amongst a number just like it on the station. However the stark metallic walls and large docking doors were countered by a range of comfortable number of chairs and sofas amongst some desks and tool benches by a semi built old type-6 shuttlecraft. Amongst the makeshift area was a hot-wired replicator as well as a dart board and several other games set up. Stranger still was the unofficial gathering of newly joined ensigns huddled around the space, drinks in hand. There was a clatter of different colour uniforms within the crowd each with a glass containing a fluid of some form some dark hues of a colour and others bright green and blues. Wethern: I guess this is the inaugural opening of the unofficial Ensign's club, everyone got a charged glass that wants one? Willow/Ksivi-Sava/Marsh/Ross: Response Corey looked around at the rag tag group of Ensigns that had gathered all of them had transferred onto 118 at roughly the same time and probably provided a good cross section to the departments that were across the station. He sat himself down on one of the shuttles partially assembled nacelles and poured another measure from the bottle of earth whisky that sat atop the engine just next to the precision hyper-spanner. oO I probably shouldn't be sitting here considering Zel mentioned the amount of radiation that bleeds off this thing when its online Oo Wethern: I was actually speaking to one of the Ensigns who came into sickbay the other day and apparently there is a tradition on 118 of station bingo, where new Ensigns complete a number of tasks which aren't....how can I say...on Starfleet's approved list of activities and without it coming to the attention of some of the more senior crew. Willow/Ksivi-Sava/Marsh/Ross: Response Corey waited to see some of the side conversations die down a little as this revelation piqued some of the slightly more mischievous of the crew before pulling out a PADD. Wethern: I also managed to get them to provide me the current list, which I have to say includes some pretty wild things. I mean who has ever heard of zero G bowling on the hull, putting a call out for the Operations Officer to Operations on the comm system and my personal favourite....sitting in the Commodore's chair in the command centre. The best thing is it is also tradition for each new intake of Ensigns to add a task to the list once they have successfully completed the current list. Willow/Ksivi-Sava/Marsh/Ross: Response Corey looked around and the spark of defiance ignited with the whisky that was flowing through him, or maybe it was the radiation from the plasma intermix reactor. Wethern: I don't know about you all but I'm going to see how many of that list I can work through during this shore leave. Anyone else up for a little bit of rule bending? Even better anyone up for some healthy competition? Willow/Ksivi-Sava/Marsh/Ross: Response Corey raised his glass. Wethern: Excellent then I propose a toast to the newest cohort of Ensigns of Starbase 118 Ops. TAGS/TBC -- Ensign Corey Wethern Medical Officer Starbase 118 Ops O240007CW4

((Interior. Deep Space 33, The Arboretum.)) Quentin Collins felt a stabbing sensation. Something he had never experienced before this very second, seeing the bright and vibrant faces of his Arrow family directly after their latest awards ceremony (where they all had been richly and deservedly rewarded for their recent honourable works across the Alpha Isles). He felt cowardice. The people he loved the most, the people he wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with were just across the way. They were talking and laughing and drinking and living. And Quentin couldn't bear to make himself a part of it. Because he knew, he knew deeper than anything he had never known in his life, that he would ruin it. That his life and existence with these beautiful, talented, kind, and loving people he had served and bled and toiled and gained a place in the universe with would come back around full circle and he would be the dark cloud over them all that he always secretly knew he was. It was total tripe, of course, and had Quentin the fortitude (and surety in his own ability to not immediately burst into tears as soon as anyone talked to him) to ask any one of them...they would tell him the same. But something else Quentin Collins knew was that self-loathing and doubt were some helluva things and better people than him have succumbed to it. That didn't stop him not-so-secretly hating himself for not simply walking the few feet it would take to actually TELL them goodbye. To tell them face to face just how much they all meant to him. How much they will continue to mean to him even back in Maine. How much he will think about them and worry after them and take a burning heart in the fact that they will still be out here in the Alpha Isles, fighting the good fight and continuing to bear the standard of the United Federation of Planets in a way that only they and they alone could. He could certainly say all these things. He had the words, the ability. The deep well of pathos and near idolization of his crew and superiors to back it further. And yet...still he stood back. A scared little boy in a too-big suit strapped with a bag of books that he thought of as his REAL friends. It was almost horrifying to him in the moment how cyclical life sometimes was. How cruelly recursive. He had come to space to find himself and then, for his sins, he had... Now it was throwing him backwards through time. Back to that red-headed scarecrow he was before Starfleet. With all the insecurities and self-doubts of that man-child to boot. The million-watt energy from the crew in the compartment beyond pulled him back from the dangerous brink. He took in their faces, their smiles, their anima in turn as he gazed longingly at their faces through a veil of gathering tears. Trying to store it like a battery in his soul for the long, tedious journey back home. Thinking their names like a litany as he gripped the strap of his knapsack for dear life. Shayne. Ash. Chloe. Ayemet and Connor. Serinus. Zabi and Zenno and Dr. Ohnari and Nol. Lana Morgenstern. Cassie. Reba Kester. Starrana and Stelok and the wonderful minds of the Science Departments of three ships. Captain Oddas. Irina Pavlova, Hal Mika, Professor Sotia Dano, Kayla Drex. An alert chimed on his comm. His shuttle was ready. Of course it was. He gave the crew...his real family one last look. A rueful, nearly cracking smile on his lips. oO Don't forget me, Arrow. Because I certainly won't forget you...Oo His smile widened. Thinking momentarily of the last thing he would leave them with, sitting comfortably in the Living History Annex. Then...Quentin Jaimson Collins, Third of his Name, turned and walked into the next phase of his life. Hopeful in the possibility that he could one day return to them all, once everything was done... ((U.S.S. Arrow, The Living History Annex.)) Standing, carefully placed and fully extended, was the sword of Chief Science Officer Quentin Collins. A note pinned to the top of the blade, addressed to the whole of the Arrow crew. "I love you all. Be extraordinary. -Q.C.III" -- Never The End. ((OOC: Thank you all for everything. My experience with the 118 has been so much richer and fuller having known and worked with you all. It's been...everything, really.)) -- Lieutenant Commander Quentin Collins III Chief Science Officer -- U.S.S. ARROW NCC-69829 ID: E239512QC0

Want to see the results of a First Contact gone wrong, and the hilarious things that can happen as a result? @Robin Hopper's sim is a masterpiece, with many moments that just made me chuckle. Originally I was going to put this in Amity's quotes thread, but there were many great ones from Hopper and I couldn't pick the best one. So here's the whole sim ((“The White Room”, Paak Military Complex)) Robin’s patience was being tested by this Paak lawyer and his inability to wrap his stubborn little brain around what seemed, at least to her, like fairly basic concepts – not to mention dancing around the facts rather than providing them with any usable legal counsel. Paak (Counsel): If you want my advice– Hopper: Obviously we want your advice. Why else are you here!? Ukinix: ::Gentle voice:: Hey hey, Commander, just step back a bit, let’s get through this. Wil’s voice brought Robin’s attention to the tightness in her shoulders. She sighed, trying to release her irritation at the counselor’s uselessness, but it only served to make her feel even more defeated by the situation they were facing. Hopper: Sorry… Sorry… ::Face in hands, frustrated groan:: Yes, I want to cooperate if it will get us out of this mess. The Paak counsel pushed his chair away from the table and stood. Paak (Counsel): ::Closing his dossier:: I will leave for a moment and speak with the Paak of this facility, see what I can arrange regarding the medical testing you mentioned. I can’t promise anything, ::pointing to his head:: but maybe we’ll find out you both have tumours in your paaks or something. That might help. I’ll also ask about this “warp” technology you mentioned, see if I can learn anything that might be useful about whatever is going on here. oO Gee, you think?! Oo While Robin’s face soured, Wil took the more ‘diplomatic’ route and thanked their Counselor for doing what she considered very much the bare minimum. Ukinix: ::Nod:: That would be most appreciated, mate. Paak (Counsel): I’m not your friend, or your “mate”. There’s nothing wrong with the translation of that word. I’m just doing my job. In fact, I want to get out of here so I can go to the Paak game tonight. North Paak are playing the Paak Rangers, and I don’t want to miss it. With that, the Paak left the room, leaving only Robin and Wil. She took in a deep breath through her nose and then grumbled in malcontentedness. Ukinix: I know as the ranking officer I’m meant to be optimistic and give a speech to rally the troops – well, single troop in our case – but that guy is a w@^&#r. Hopper: ::Rolling her eyes:: Honestly… It does make me feel a little better to hear you say that. ((Three hours and fifty-five minutes later)) The Paak medical facilities had been abysmal. First of all, they were hardly up to the standard that Robin was accustomed to – but she could have grinned and bore the poking and prodding with needles and ionizing radiation scans… if the room hadn’t been so cold. It was as if these people had invented space travel before they’d invented the space heater. Even now, hours later, she still felt the occasional shiver run up her spine as she recalled standing barefoot on the frigid stone floor while one of the Paak doctors examined her prosthetic leg as if it were made out of pure latinum or something. The chill had made its way into her bones and now refused to leave – the nondescript white room they were waiting in once again only marginally warmer than the medical offices. Robin sat on one of the chairs, her legs huddled up to her body, with her arms wrapped around them, getting what little insulation she could from the surrounding air – which was very little. The only thing keeping her mind off of how miserable she felt now was– Ukinix: “Red Hot Chili Peppers”. Look, I’m not an expert on genres because it seems music from the era I really like is just a mish mash of genres that came before it. But it sounds like it’s one part the music you like. ::Lifting:: With that heavy rock feel that I like. At least the two of them had plenty to talk about. She’d hoped this little trip was going to provide an opportunity to get to know her First Officer better… and boy had it ever. The two of them practically knew more about each other now than their Counselor probably did. (Okay - that was an exaggeration, but you get the point). Hopper: ::Tilting her head to the side:: They did that “Californication” song right? I remember the Kappa Delta Rho boys playing that on a loop during my orientation day at Berkeley… What other songs have they done? Ukinix: Give-ita-way, Give-ita-way, Give-ita-way now… Give-ita-way, Give-ita-way, Give-ita-way, now… I can’t really understand the words after that bit. She shrugged - barely able to understand the words he had been saying between the speed of the words and the accent they were being spoken with. Hopper: I’ll look them up when we make it back to Amity. ::Suddenly glum:: If we make it back to Amity… The door opened, and the Paak legal representative walked through. Outside were two military officers with no apparent gender, standing at attention and guarding the room. Wil got to his feet and Robin let go of her legs, placing her feet on the floor. Paak (Counsel): It’s time. Let’s go face the Paak. Ukinix: What was the result of the scans and the tests? Hopper: Surely they demonstrated what we’ve been telling you is true! Paak (Counsel): I don’t know, they haven’t told me yet. We’ll likely find out at the tribunal. Robin stood defiantly. Hopper: This is outrageous! I– But he cut her off, speaking in his irritatingly sing-songy voice right over top of her. Paak (Counsel): Look, I’ve already missed the game of the year advocating for you two. You got your examination, and it’s time to go. If you’re one minute late for the tribunal, they’ll likely charge you with contempt as well. Hurry up, let’s go. The counsel turned and walked out of the room before Wil and Robin could say another word. Wil put his hands on his hips while Robin crossed her arms and tried to minimize her outward pouting. Such things were unbecoming of a Starfleet Lt. Commander… But after nearly eight hours of waiting and worrying and being shuffled from one room to another, ultimately seemingly for nothing, she was beginning to lose her ability to maintain even the appearance of ‘calm’. Ukinix: You know what? If they want to play hardball on this “Paak” word, two can play at this game. Wil pulled off the combadge from his uniform, then placed it on the table. Robin looked at him somewhat baffled, eyebrows raised. Hopper: Huh? Ukinix: We’re struggling with the word “Paak” and they don’t give a crap? Fine. The judge or magistrate or whatever can truly find out what a communication barrier is. ::Gesturing to Robin’s badge with chin:: Leave yours on the table too, that’s an order. ::hands on hips, quick inhale through nostrils:: @#%& ‘em, Robin. Thinking through what he was saying, it began to make sense. Without their Universal Translators, they wouldn’t be able to understand what was being said to them – but the Paak wouldn’t understand them either. It would certainly be an impossible-to-ignore demonstration of what they’d been trying to tell the Paak all along… She nodded slowly, then more enthusiastically, as she ripped off her own combadge and flicked it onto the table. Hopper: Yeah… We’ll @#%& ‘em together! She paused, the smile fading from her face as she shook her head apologetically. Hopper: That’s… That’s not what I meant. ((Tribunal room, Paak Military Headquarters, Continent of South Paak, Paak, Paak System, Barossa Nebula)) Robin looked around the circular room with her eyes, moving her head as little as possible, doing her best to appear confident – even though the truth was, she felt anything but. Wil’s plan made sense, at least as a way to demonstrate they were, in fact, not Paak masquerading as aliens. Based on what they’d heard while the UT was doing its initial work, the linguistic sounds produced by the Paak would be entirely impossible to produce using Human, Centauran, or Betazoid vocal chords – and, conversely, a Paak would never be able to speak like they could… But once that initial point had been made… then what? Her worrying was interrupted by the entrance of a fancy-looking Paak in a red baggy robe. He strode towards the head seat of the encircling council, or jury, or whatever they were, and everyone else held their hands over their head in the ‘love triangle’ gesture (or whatever it was) before he sat. oO So, this is our judge… Oo Robin thought to herself, suddenly wishing she could have her translator back so she could at least understand them. What if the judge was more reasonable than the lawyer had been? oO What if this was a big mistake? Oo No time to consider other possibilities. The tribunal had begun. Paak (Magistrate): ⋆⋆⋆ ♪ ✧ ♫ ✦ ⋆⋆⋆ ♬ ✧ ✦ ⋆⋆⋆ ♪ ♪ ♫ ✧ ⋆⋆⋆ Paak (Counsel): ♪ ♪ ♫ ✦ ⋆⋆⋆ ♫ ♫ ✧ ⋆⋆⋆ ♬ ♪ ♩ ✦ ⋆⋆⋆ Paak (Magistrate): ✦ ⋆⋆⋆ ♪ ♫ ♩ ♫ ⋆⋆⋆ ♪ ♬ ✧ ✦ ⋆⋆⋆ The fancy Paak looked to Wil, then to Robin, and back to Wil with a critical gaze. Robin swallowed the lump in her throat, unsure of what to say – if anything – or what to do – if anything. Fortunately, Wil bit the bullet first. Ukinix: Yeah, it sucks when you rely on *our* technology to understand us, and yet still put us on trial, huh. The magistrate sat back in his chair, blinking his eyes for a moment, seemingly trying to decipher the sounds he’d just heard, let alone whatever it was Wil had said. Paak (Magistrate): ::To counsel:: ✦ ⋆⋆⋆ ♪ ♪ ♬ ♫ ⋆⋆⋆ ♩ ♬ ♫ ♪ ✦ ⋆⋆⋆ Paak (Counsel): ::nod of head to magistrate:: ♪ ♬ ♪ ✦ ⋆⋆⋆ ♪ ♪ ✧ ⋆⋆⋆ ♫ ♩ ♪ ♩ ⋆⋆⋆ ::turning to Robin and Wil, visibly unimpressed:: ⋆⋆⋆ ♪ ♬ ♪ ✦ ⋆⋆⋆ ♪ ♩ ♫ ✧ ⋆⋆⋆ ♪ ✧ Robin decided to take things a step further and addressed them all in Low Centauran – an archaic language ignored by the Universal Translator in favour of its more modern successor. One which ought to sound distinct from Wil’s Federation Standard, even to the Paak. Hopper: Ξυλόθι μιρομορ κανίζθι φελοχίν. Δρύσταρος αμίθρι καλιόρος ξυλόζα-θορ. ((Translation: “I do not like it here. Your facilities are cold and your doctors are handsy.”)) She smiled, confident that even Wil would have no idea what she was saying. Ukinix: Response? Paak (Counsel): ::Pointing a finger at them, then at himself:: ⋆⋆ ♪ ♩ ⋆ ♫ ♪ ⋆⋆⋆ ♬ ♩ ♪ ⋆⋆⋆⋆ ⋆♫ ⋆⋆ ⋆⋆⋆⋆ ♪ ♫ ♬ ⋆⋆⋆ ♩ ♪ ♬ ✦ ⋆ ♪ ♬ ♫ ⋆⋆ ⋆⋆⋆ Paak (Magistrate): ::Crossing arms, scowling:: ⋆⋆⋆ ♩ ♩ ♪ ♬ ✩ ⋆⋆⋆ ♫ ♩ ⋆⋆⋆⋆ ♪ ♪ ⋆⋆ ⋆⋆⋆⋆ ♪ ♫ ⋆⋆ ⋆⋆⋆⋆ ♩ ♩ ♬ ⋆⋆ Hopper: Άλθος θίρις λέξις άμος ίδυος. ((Translation: “Also, this lawyer is an idiot.”)) She turned to Wil, smiling. Hopper: I think it’s working… Now what? Ukinix: Response Hopper: Right, okay… I guess we’ll see how that goes… Ukinix: Response? Paak (Counsel): ::Empathically?:: ⋆⋆⋆ ⋆⋆⋆ ♪ ♪ ♬ ⋆⋆⋆ ♫ ♪ ⋆⋆⋆⋆ Paak (Magistrate): ::Accusatorily:: ⋆♫ ⋆⋆ ⋆⋆⋆⋆ ♪ ♫ ⋆⋆ ⋆⋆⋆⋆ ♩ ♩ ♪ ♬ ⋆⋆⋆ ♫ ♩ ⋆⋆⋆⋆ ♪ ♪ ⋆⋆ ⋆⋆⋆⋆ ♪ ♫ ⋆⋆ ⋆⋆⋆⋆ ♩ ♩ ♬ ⋆⋆ Ukinix: Response TBC ((OOC - The title of this sim is a reference to a lyric from Californication.)) == Lt. Commander Robin Hopper (she/they) Chief Science Officer, Amity Outpost Character Wiki Page V239806K11

Kammus is his own thing for sure & I want more XD ((Main Engineering - Deck 14 - USS Ronin)) Personal Log - Stardate, today? 2400 something, I don't even know what day it is - computer, fill in the stardate when you close this log. New ship, new family. Just when I was beginning to become accustomed to the old one, something made me decide it was time to try a new adventure. The Ronin seems a capable craft, although I have not looked through the entire ship myself; the bridge is intact, engineering exists, and the lights are on. Generally, people are happy with those three things. I need to properly meet the new staff, the technicians will come and go as they always do, and this pile of PADDs probably will not get smaller. We all seem to be getting to our feet, no one knows where anything is, who anyone is supposed to be, and the new faces in the halls has me looking at their collar more than their eyes. Three or four pips, great. Any less, ignore. My mind can't handle much more than that currently. 126 problems, most can be solved with a good level 3 diagnostic. Six issues are reported critical by the computer, and half of those can likely be programmed out. However, three issues have me worried. The Captain advised staff from the station was available, but I never liked ground crew. They always do things by the book, their book. That doesn't work underway. Ships become their own creatures. We need to listen to the ship. It will tell you when it hurts. Maybe perhaps my dream of serving on a very old museum piece, actually working in space, is not that crazy. Back to work. Kammus Corelli - Chief Engineer - USS Ronin END LOG Kammus sat at his new desk, shoved in the corner of a tiny office, with random boxes piled head high. Yet another pile of PADDs lay on the desk. No doubt a thoughtful technician from Deep Space 33 advised the crew to simply lay the problems on the desk of whoever was going to take over. That was Kammus. He sat, not thinking about anything, letting the gentle thrum of the core wash over his thoughts. He was trying to learn its intricacies. The soft den of technicians cursing under their breath made him feel a little more relaxed. Technicians were all the same. There were the ones that lifted heavy things and used their capable strength to correct foundation and structural issues that proclaimed their anger loudly, and then there were the ones that delicately corrected faults with tiny precision who focused all their spite inwardly and only flashed burning hatred with their eyes. This was engineering. Kammus stood, collecting the three PADDs in front of him in a neat pile. Exiting the office, a petty officer crossed his path. There was a gentle nod, but work was happening. Another over eager might have softly asked "anything I can help you with sir" but a still softer gesture from Kammus waved them off. No, he needed to set the tone, he needed to gain understanding. Corelli: =/\= Kammus to Engineering staff, senior engineering staff, primary crew, shift leads, department heads, please report to Main Engineering in 10 minutes. Corelli out. =/\= He neatly laid the three pads out on the console in the middle of the floor, and waited. Soon they trickled in one by one, and filled the area around the floor console. Tucker / Perez / Quinn / Any: Response He held up two pads, mostly to get the rooms attention. Corelli: Right, yes, I understand the whole ship is about to fall apart and nothing is correct, we're all gonna die, that's normal. What I would love to know is how we are going to tackle these three problems: Cracked EPS Main conduit subjunction T84; Computer power relay fault 30 through 34; Airlock compartment 12 deck 18 leak detected. So, the warp core is about to fall out the bottom of the ship, the computer's power feed is probably melted and laying in a puddle, and the main plasma feet to the port nacelle has a crack in it? And nobody from the station could fix these things? Who wants to go first?! Tucker / Perez / Quinn / Any: Response Kammus stood wide eyed listening to the excuses, but he was most upset with the station facility staff just being lazy. Once again, they did things by the book, and Kammus wanted to write his own book. Corelli: Well, this is not the morning meetings, so I won't call you to attention. But understand this, we need to get these problems solved. I'm sure your faulty isolinear processor in replicator four thousand isn't really going to affect the running of the ship. I know someone that outranks you told you it needed to be solved immediately. But, and just follow me on this, don't you think - I could be wrong - that the warp core falling out the bottom of the ship is maybe just slightly perhaps more important on the level of things that need to be solved immediately than a non-working replicator? He blinked slowly as those last few words trickled out slowly. It took a moment for his speech to sink in. Tucker / Perez / Quinn / Any: Response Corelli: Fine. Ensign Tucker? Lovely to officially meet you. Would you like to put on your cold weather gear and help me fix that airlock? Quinn, yes? Great. Can you, possibly, please, find it in your heart to fix the computer's power systems? Yes? No? Finally, staff from DS33, fix the EPS conduit. That should have been done first. Thoughts? Tucker / Perez / Quinn / Any: Response TAGS / TBC _____________________________________________ LT. Kammus Corelli Chief Engineer - USS RONIN Writer ID: T239807KC3

Such a wholesome and heartwarming sim from Karen Stendhal. ❤️ (OCC: A Flash ack about Karen's LOA and her recovery) (Chateau Stendhal, France, Earth) Karen Stendhal was exhausted. She had just emerged from a two-year period in a state of induced coma inside a stasis chamber on Betazed. Prior to this, she had been exposed to a deadly disease caused by an alien healing device found on P32X75. She had survived, thanks to the medical intervention of a team guided by Doctor Reventlov, but she had suffered severe physical and mental damage. She had lost most of her hair, her skin was pale and scarred, and her eyes were dull and lifeless. She had also lost her empathic abilities, which had been her greatest asset as a counselor. She felt numb and empty, unable to connect with anyone or anything. She had decided to take a leave of absence from Starfleet and return to Earth, to her ancestral home in France. She had hoped that the familiar surroundings and the loving care of her grandad Julien Stendhal would help her heal and recover. Julien was a retired Starfleet officer who had served as a diplomat and a historian. He was also a wine maker who owned a chateau and a vineyard in the countryside. He was a kind and gentle man who adored his granddaughter and welcomed her with open arms. Karen arrived at the chateau and was greeted by Julien, who hugged her and kissed her on both cheeks. Julien Stendhal: Bonjour, ma chérie. I’m so happy to see you Trisha. You look beautiful. He lied, of course, but Karen appreciated his effort. Karen Stendhal: Bonjour, grand-père. I’m happy to see you too. You look well. She lied too, of course, as she noticed his wrinkles and his gray hair and he was worried about her. They entered the chateau and settled in Karen’s old room, which was decorated with pictures and souvenirs from her childhood. Julien Stendhal: I’ve prepared everything for you. You can rest here as long as you want. I’ll bring you some food and wine later. :: He smiled and said.:: And don’t worry about anything. You’re safe here. You’re home. Karen thanked him and lay down on the bed. She felt tired and sleepy, but she also felt restless and anxious. She closed her eyes and tried to relax, but she couldn’t. She kept having nightmares and flashbacks of the disease, the pain, the fear, the isolation. She woke up several times, sweating and shaking, crying out for help. Julien heard her cries and rushed to her room. He sat down on the bed and held her in his arms. Julien: Shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s over. You’re alive. You’re here with me. ::He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead.:: I’m here for you. I love you. He sang to her 'Le Mon chat', an old French lullaby that he used to sing to her when she was a baby. Karen felt his warmth and his love. She clung to him and sobbed into his chest. Karen: I’m sorry, grand-père. I’m sorry for being weak. I’m sorry for being broken.” Julien: No, no, you’re not weak. You’re not broken. You’re strong. You’re brave. You’re amazing. :: He said.:: You’ve been through so much, ma chérie. You’ve saved so many lives with your courage and your compassion. You’ve made me so proud of you. ::He said:: And you’ll get better, I promise you. You’ll heal and recover. You’ll find yourself again. He said these words over and over again until Karen fell asleep in his arms. The next day, Julien took Karen outside for a walk in the vineyard. So Karen recovered from her illness gradually, with the help of her grandad Julien and the natural beauty of the vineyard. She walked with him every day, breathing the fresh air and admiring the green leaves and the purple grapes. She listened to his stories and his wisdom, learning about his life and his heritage. She helped him with the wine making process, picking the grapes, crushing them, fermenting them, bottling them. She tasted the wine and enjoys its flavor and aroma. She felt alive and connected to the earth and to her family. Like Julien Stendhal often sais: Nothing better than the warm hug of a glass of red wine to heal your soul. ... (TBC) ‐-- Liutenant JG Karen Trisha Stendhal Counselor Starbase 118 Ops ID: C239604KS0

It's always fascinating to meet a sim of a species seldom seen on screen/in sim, and I think @LuxaLorana nails it with Briza-Kar. It's a short sim but we already see a lot of his personality and it makes me want to know MORE about him. Keep showing us more of the ginger giant! ((Deck 11, Briefing Room, Security Complex, USS Ronin)) There was a lot to be said in silence. Briza-Kar leaned against the back wall, looking towards the new Chief. He was an individual of little words, spending a lifetime around alien species and other sapients who either judged him or misunderstood him. He was several heads taller than most, and as wide as most of the doors. His large Kzinti frame dominated most rooms, even if he himself would rather disappear. His fur a burning orange, and eyes a bright shining green. He was aware that he resembled the stuff of nightmares to most. He was relieved to see Carpenter, if not a little surprised to see that she'd be the chief if not only tactical but security as well. This kid had made good. They had served together when he was given a temporary assignment to marines several years ago. They weren't friends but he had always thought of her as true to what she said and that's enough for him. Carpenter: I wanna start by saying welcome and I appreciate you bein' here. I'm Lieutenant Commander Kirsty Carpenter and I'm yer new Chief of Security and Tactical. I know I don't much look it right now, but that says more about me than it does y'all. An equally polite chuckle, Breeze, as his friends nicknamed him, looked to the young ensigns and enlisted crew. Most of them were fresh out of the academy or some remote test centre somewhere. That explained why they'd be in the Alpha Isles. He wondered how many would transfer out within the first couple of months. Some, believed Starfleet was an easy job compared to the alternatives. In some ways they were right. He had worked just about all of them. Didn't make Starfleet any less dangerous. Carpenter: I'll be meetin' all of ya eventually, but I want you to know that I'm around and I plan to be for the duration. If you got a problem or you need something our Quartermaster can't provide, you just come see me. I don't cop much for passin' the buck, so...I'm here. She cleared her throat, bringing up the map of Olidra on the room's display screen. Carpenter: In the meantime, our first op. The Olidra System. Brass thinks the Sheliak are usin' the system as an illegal stockpile grounds for...somethin' and Cap Niac intends for us to find out the what and the where. We set out in three days. In those three days, I want a full Tactical and Security Assessment of the system. As well as any and all information we might be able to get ahold of on the ships in and out of Olidra. Holler up at the Science Department if you need to since they got the scopes and the scanners... She leaned forward on the podium. Carpenter: Any questions so far? Breeze only nodded, tipping his head towards Carpenter to indicate he understood. He sensed the nervous energy from the younger team. Briza-Kar: Maybe best to run some simulations :: looking at the new ensigns:: Make sure they know the right end of the rifle? He had a deep voice that seemed to boom through the Briefing Room, a young Bolian ensign jumped, looking back at him with wide pale coloured eyes. Breeze just glared at him. Kenmore/Hopkins/Carpenter: RESPONSE Briza-Kar: ::nods:: Of course, Chief. ((OOC - Just wanted to leave this here, happy to do some sims in the holodeck or whatever or just doing stuff)) Crewman 1st Class Briza-Kar Security USS Ronin A240004LL2 As simmed by: -- Ensign Luxa Lorana Science Officer USS Ronin A240004LL2

This one really hit home with me. The dynamic and situation are 100% relatable!

Oh no... Oh no, @Karrod Niac. 😨 My sincerest condolences to all Ronins in need of counseling when Dekas is otherwise occupied...

Being in command of one's own ship seems like a daunting task, and an in reality, is probably far more taxing than us new Ensigns can even imagine. This aspect of Starfleet Life, I feel, our various Commanding Officers manage to transmit to us with extreme clarity, and often in quite hilarious ways. Nevertheless, this Sim was a lovely read, because it not only hammers home the fact that the lunatics enjoy the work, but that while Command can be a heavy burden to bear, it is not one our Captains carry alone. And just as Captain @Randal Shayne, I ended the Sim with a smile on my face. I'm sure I speak for the entire fleet, when I say we hope for a good and fun-filled transitional period for all Ships who've lost crewmembers to the Rampage of the Ronin, and that we all share in the excitement described in this Sim!

I'm really enjoying this glimpse into our junior Security Officer's trials as he is thrown into the deep end of the pool as we say farewell to Lt. Cmdr. Serinus. Sim below: ((Location unknown, time unknown)) The sea raged against the shore. Spray went in high looping arcs in every direction. The sun was low, deep, and showing an angry orange as it dipped behind the horizon. Zenno sat on a lounger and looked at the water as it pounded the sandy beach with wave after furious wave. A giant one, larger than the others by far spent itself against the land. The edge of waters washed up and just touched the leg of lounger… ((Zenno's Place, Deck 3, USS Arrow)) Computer: BOOOOOP! Good Morning, Ensign Zenno! The time on deck is 0600. Your number is zero. The Bolian, suddenly awakened from a deep slumber shot straight up from the chair behind the desk, smacking his head on the wall behind. Zenno: Ow! ::rubs the back of his head:: The computer, oblivious, continued on with a chipper attitude. Computer: You have 17 new messages, 4 unread files, and 3 reports from the Security Office. Message one from Ensign Saava, USS White Pine, message two from Crewman Astrid, message three from Lieutenant T’Lyra, Deep Space 33, message four from Ensign Grall, Starbase 88, message five from… Zenno: Halt, stop, cease. ::still rubbing the back of his head:: He wanted nothing more than to hear from his friends, and T’Lyra too, he supposed. But there wasn’t time this morning. It was going to be a quick workout, breakfast, and then to the Commander’s Office. Zenno: Computer, hot tea. Very strong. 500 milliliters. The replicator whirred and Zenno got on with his plan. ((Security Office, Security Desk, Deck 3, USS Arrow, 0700 Hours)) Serinus: Come in, Mr. Zenno. The Ensign came in carrying several PADDs, as was consistent with Starfleet protocol. All meetings with the boss must have PADDs. Many PADDS in different sizes. Some that go bleep and others that go bloop. oO Stop it, you are getting punchy because you didn’t sleep hardly at all last night. Oo Zenno: Good Morning, Commander. oO I could probably count how many ‘Good Mornings’ are left. Three? Two? We will be at DS 33 soon, the Commander will leave, and that will be that. It will not be a welcome transition. Oo Serinus: Have a seat. Would you like a beverage, Zenno? Zenno: Very thoughtful, yes please. A hot tea. oO Two is probably enough for any morning. Oo The Commander engaged the replicator and returned with the drinks. Zenno took the tea but waited for the Commander to sit and drink his espresso first, which he did in short order. Zenno: I have many thoughts and so much I want to ask about. :: sips tea:: I’m still in somewhat of a state. Big news. I’m still trying to understand it all. The Ensign didn’t think they could possibly cover even a portion of what they needed in the time they had left. It would be up to the Commander to decide what was most necessary and to start there, so Zenno was careful to not direct the conversation at all. He waited with patience. They locked eyes. To Zenno, it appeared that the Commander was tired, as if he had not slept well either. Serinus: It wasn't supposed to end this way. I had to split the responsibilities of a Security Chief from the very beginning of my career. When I got here, and had it all put on my shoulders, I swore I wouldn't let any of my Officers go without a duty post mentor like that. Zenno considered his next words carefully. He didn’t wish to dismiss the Commander’s experiences. But it was important to acknowledge the effects they had had on him. Zenno: We haven’t talked about this, but I read and write poetry. I was reading some the other day. From Earth, of all places, and from long ago. “Walker, there is no road, only foam trails on the sea.” I find that line applies to our current predicament. There is the plan, and then the world happens to us. And then there goes the plan, right out of the airlock. I think in this moment, that it applies to us both. I think it is also the way of things in the Alpha Isles in particular. ::beat:: If I may ask, are you regretting your choices? The Commander shook his head sadly to indicate the negative. Serinus: We have a lot to cover in only a few days, I will have to table my regrets for later.::break:: Have you had the time to review all of the tactical plans that we made a few years back? oO It’s to be all business, then? So be it. Oo Zenno: I had reviewed them all when I first came here. I had arrived when everyone else was on shore leave, if you recall, so the ship was near deserted. This suited me very well, since I could examine the entire ship, memorize the layout, and review all the files in the Security Computer without interruption. Serinus: Good. Those will yours to modify at your discretion, I'd advise to ask the Petty Officers for help. You will need to do one for The Starboard Bow, since it wasn't established yet. Zenno took out one of the PADDs, one of the smaller ones that went “blooop” and started making notes. There were multiple things that needed updating now, and this was just the start. It was going to be a long time until he got everything sorted and he was resigned to his fate. Zenno: Of course. I’ll see to it first thing. Serinus: As you've probably recognized as shift lead, most of our work is administrative. PADDwork, and the hell that is bureaucracy and red-tape. On top of forms, this includes training plans, scheduling and the like. Questions so far? Zenno: Many. Last night I was trying to prepare as best I could and I came across this planning form in some training materials called the “Division Officer’s Checklist” and I’m sure it’s missing a few things. Might we take a look at that? ((Time Skip: Some 12 hours later)) Zenno’s vision was getting blurry and his little PADD had run out of storage, somewhere between list item CCXLIII.R.47.k.iii, “Petty Officer uniform lockers must be inspected for infestation at least monthly, see logs Stardate 240004.15 for reasons” and list item CCCIII.X.11.b.iv, “Crewman Astrid never to be assigned Phaser charging duty again. See numerous incident reports for details.” Big PADD had to take over. His poor sleep from the night before was not helping at all either. But he was trying to be a good sport about it and keep up. He looked up at the Commander, ready for the next item… Serinus: Get some rest, Ensign we'll resume same time tomorrow morning. They'll be plenty of time for overwork when I'm gone. Zenno: A wise idea, Commander. I think some rest will serve us well. But I do believe we made a big dent in the work to be done. Thank you for letting me know about the trouble on beta shift. I’ll certainly keep an eye on that. If it festers, it will be an issue. Have a good evening. The Ensign made his goodbye and headed straight back to his quarters to answer some messages and then to get some rest. NT/END Ensign Zenno Security Officer USS Arrow A240006Z13

I particularly love the jabs at my character! ((Counseling Offices, Deck Eight, USS ‘Oumuamua)) On her way out of sickbay Rox had made sure to leave the chair askew, knock over the supplies cart. and topple a stack of PADDs. She marched into the counseling office and paused. She was supposed to go and talk to Salo, but she was not interested in talking to V’Len’s little crush. Instead she turned sharply and marched over to Rivka Brzezinski’s office. The door seemed to be open and she pounded loudly on the wall. Rox: ::yelling:: Hey! Anybody home? Rivka had been finalizing her reports and was about to hit ‘submit’ when a piercing voice interrupted her concentration. Rivka: What the dickens!? Rox smiled; she had seen the woman sitting and working at the desk and the way she had jumped when Rox had yelled ‘hey.’ Rox: You should calm down, you seem jumpy. ::chuckling:: Rivka: You startled me, is all. Is it time for drinks? Rox: Sadly I’m not here for drinks, V’Len sent me down for an ::mocking tone:: attitude adjustment. Rox flumped into a chair with her PADD in her lap. Rivka frowned. No drinks and more counseling work. This didn’t sound fun. Rivka: And why should your attitude need to be adjusted? In Dr. Brzezinski’s mind, many people greatly overestimated the need for therapy and its potential efficacy. Like the sign said above her monitor, folks should “live and let live.” Rox: It’s because of that stupid old cow. Rivka: The BulleRox officer – what’s her name Varoo–something? Rivka was confused. She didn’t know many of the officers, but a large bovine one had just popped in earlier that day for an annual check-up, but Rivka couldn’t remember the details or understand why she would be referring Rox to counseling. Rox: ::insulted:: No not V’Airu. The old heifer in sickbay Miash. Rivka: You have a cow in Sickbay? Rox: NO! Miash is the new Ferengi head nurse. She’s always ::mockingly sweet:: “oh dear” this and “you’re so clever doctor”. Oh right. Rivka had seen an old Ferengi woman too. She had been a bit of a doter. Rivka: Look, I’m really not on the clock any more, Nesre should be available… Rox frowned. Rivka stopped mid-sentence when she saw the daggers Rox’s eyes made at the mention of Dr. Salo’s name. Rox: Pass. Rivka: I think you’re the first person I’ve met who doesn’t love Nesre. Rox furrowed her brow. Rox: I don’t dislike Nesre, I just can’t deal with her stupid tribble and her flipping tea right now. Besides she’s got V’Len wrapped around her little finger and I don’t want any part of that. She had a good point about all the animals, but the latter comment drew Rivka’s full attention. Rivka: Oh! Oh really! Now that’s interesting. You know what? I do think I have some time for you after all. Rox could not help but chuckle. If there was one commodity on the ‘Oumuamua that was more precious than time, it was juicy gossip and Rox prided herself on keeping up with the juiciest. Rox: ::looking at Rivka slyly:: I thought you might. Rivka: So Nersre and the CMO?. After all the times Nesre had gotten on Rivka’s back about ‘professional ethics’ this was rich! Rox: Nesre and V’Len is an open secret. ::leaning in:: I can trust this stays between us right? Rivka: Yes! Anything you say in this room is strictly confidential. (beat) And I take professional ethics very seriously.. Rox: So do I, ::pausing:: that’s why I’m asking. Let’s just say you may have two patients soon. Rivka: Wait, two patients!? Rox: They may both need therapy after V’Len executes his latest caprice. Rivka: :: leaning in conspiratorially :: Go on. Rox: I don’t have all the details mind you, but he’s been collecting ingredients for weeks and I saw him looking over a recipe yesterday. Rivka didn’t know the doctor well, but had suspicions about his neural chemistry being unbalanced. And he seemed to have some sort of criminal past. Maybe he was cooking up some more deviant behavior, perhaps an explosive device? Rivka: Sounds dangerous. Rox: Two slips of latinum says it blows up in his face. So it was a bomb. This could be bad. Maybe one of those times when a dire situation required breaking confidences. Rivka: So a dangerously unhinged man is making an explosive device to attack Nesre? Rox: ::laughing:: No. I mean the plan blows up in his face. Though, I won’t argue that he’s unhinged, at least when it comes to Nesre. Rivka: Oh. Well that’s better, I guess. (beat) Rivka thought back to the med team meeting when Rox had almost bit off the head of that marine medic lady. Rivka: Wait, aren’t you usually a little more protective of him? Rox realized Rivka was right. Normally she thought of V’Len as a friend and generally rooted for him. But he had crossed a line. Rox: Well I’m mad at him. Rivka: Because of Nesre? Rox: ::waving her finger:: I am not jealous of Nesre. I don’t want any part of her, V’Len and Jack’s little “bizarre love triangle”. Rivka: ::trying to follow along:: So… Nesre was seeing both the Doctor and that other guy as patients and romantically… OK, if not jealous, you’re mad at him because…? Rox: Because I ::pausing and pointing to herself:: was head nurse. V’Len didn’t need another. Now I’m stuck taking orders from that sicky sweet old bitty Miash. oO Uh-oh. Oo Rivka shifted in her chair uncomfortably. This was swerving dangerously away from gossip and towards actual therapy. Rivka: ::hesitantly:: So it’s the new female authority in Sickbay is the problem? (beat) Like mother issues? Rivka hoped it wasn’t mother issues. Rix bristled. She hated her mother and her father. They had exploited her powers to make themselves wealthy. Then they had abandoned her. Rox: ::grimly:: Not like that. ::cheerier:: She’s like Aunt Susie when I was in trouble. Rivka: Oh. (beat) An Auntie? Rox: Aunt Susie always used her sweet voice when I was in trouble. Rivka paused to consider this. Rivka: ::unconvinced:: I guess that’s better than swearing. (beat) The Lieutenant looked around. Unsure what to do or say next. Rivka: So… Do you need something? Rox: I need Miash to have an airlock accident. Rivka: um… I have …. sedatives? Rox: No I’m good there. I’ll just drink. Rivka: :: brightly :: The good kind of therapy! Rox: Is there any other? Rivka:::conspiratorially:: Not that’s as effective! Do you want some company? Rox: Yes, but what am I supposed to do about Miash? And for that matter why does V’Len need another head nurse. What’s wrong with me? Rivka slumped back in her chair. Apparently this session might take a while longer. Rivka: Does it have to be something wrong with you? Rox: I was a fine nurse. Just because I sent the whole ship back in time doesn’t mean I’m bad at my job. Rivka: Wait, that was you? (beat) Look, I did the psych intake for Mi–the Ferengi earlier today. She wasn’t requested by our CMO. Rox: So if V”Len didn’t request Miash who did? Rivka: Oh, I don’t know. People can request transfers y’know. (beat) I assume the CO approves such things. Rivka’s thoughts turned to the consideration of her own transfer request when the nurse in front of her got more agitated. Rox: ::punching her palm:: That bitch. She would do that. You know she left V’Len and I behind on earth. V’Airu left without us. Rivka: Weren’t you being detained by the time-cops? ::pursing lips:: Seems like you might be a little sensitive around the issue of abandonment. Rox: What do you mean abandonment issues? Rivka: Well, just that you seem to be a strong, capable, independent woman. What does it matter if the CO or CMO or anyone does something without you? Rox froze and stared blankly at Rivka. She’d never thought about it in quite that way. She’d never really thought of herself as a capable person, but Rivka’s words rang true. What did she care if Miash was in charge? She could still do her job. Rox: So I’m good on my own. I don’t need to worry about Miash. I should just do the best I can. Rivka: Uh-huh. Rox: ::amasement:: Wow, you’re good. Rivka sat up a little straighter. Maybe this counseling thing wasn’t as bad as a kick in the teeth after all. Rivka: So what do you want to do next? Rox started to answer but her PADD suddenly chirped and she looked down at it. Her eyes scanned the message. Suddenly she stood straight up. Rox: Dang it! Rivka: What now!? oO Don’t break again–you just got fixed! Oo Rox was so upset that she was shaking like a child. Rivka’s voice brought her back to the room. She slowly turned the PADD around for RIvka to see. Rox: I’m being transferred ::sighing:: to something called the USS Ronin. Rivka: Oh. That would mean Rox wouldn’t be around much longer. Rivka wasn’t at all prepared to feel let down by that news. Rox: ::sitting down again:: I guess we better get that drink now. I’ve only got a few more days here. Rivka: ::smiling weakly:: Yes, let’s. Lt Rivka Brzezinski Utility Officer–Counselor!? USS ‘Oumuamua O239910AP4 & Roxanne Queen Nurse USS Oumuamua NCC-81226 T239811VK2 -- Lt Avander Promontory Intelligence Officer USS Oumuamua O239910AP4

With the new ship up and going now, it's time for an appreciative quote thread. Did someone write a quote that was hysterical? Absolutely soul-destroying? Or maybe just the best thing you've ever seen? Well post about those little quotes here. I'll go first. This little interaction between @Karrod Niac and @Toryn Raga from their intro JP made me snort. 🤣

What a great read this was! It actually had me feeling rather nauseous at points! 😂 Funny, well-written, dramatic, thought-provoking, engaging. Just all round brilliant! Well done and thank you @Ksivi-Sava! 👏🏻 ((Sannin VII - Cardassian Embassy - Corridor)) Willow (as Ksivi-Sava): I’m just glad we got a good look- I mean fantastic medical staff. That was it! Medical staff! That’s what this had been all about. She needed help… In fact, she was almost sure this was why everybody was here in the first place. But there was still an open case, and there were still potentially dangerous suspects around… or were they? The short kid, the one who had stolen her communicator, was certainly gone. Ksivi-Sava (as Willow): ::breathing and leaning rather unsteadily at an unwavering Cardassian wall:: I believe Ksivi-Sava is right. Say, now that the short kid is gone, can we, by any chance, speak candidly? Because I don’t think I know where I am. I think it has something to do with his mother, or his blood or something. ::pointing at his own body:: Iru: Wow, and here I thought you’d never admit to being insane and unsound. ::her tone was condescending.:: This particular civilian was arguably one of the most confusing aspects of this case—whoever she was, her remark did remind Ksivi-Willow of some other aspect of this perplexing situation, though, which was… insane and unsound? Yes, insane and unsound. That had been an issue for a while now, hadn’t it? Willow (as Ksivi-Sava): We are holding a double edged sword. We are slowly going insane without realizing it. Yes, that must be it then. Even Ksivi-Sava realized they were going insane, and she had the distinct feeling something about that creepily grey Vulcan/Orion hybrid was very important. Something that she had told herself to not forget under any circumstances… If only she hadn’t forgotten it. She took a very deep breath, holding on to that tastelessly oppressive-looking wall; they were not on Risa, were they? Renot (as Tito): Response Garev (as Renot): Madam, I can only apologise for any distress you may have experienced here. I am confident that my colleagues would not have deliberately caused you any harm under different circumstances, but it is clear that they’re not feeling…themselves. Iru: Look ::she waved her empty hand.:: I don’t care what you do with these two - all three of them need their heads checked. As for one of you - ::she pointed at the two new people.:: That was right, they needed their heads checked. Ksivi-Willow certainly did. And her nose. It had stopped bleeding, but relaxing breathing techniques were still out of the question. Renot (Tito): Response Garev (Renot): Please try to understand… Willow (as Ksivi-Sava): People who live in glass houses should not throw stones. And you Ms. Are one of those people. Throwing stones at glass houses, did she catch that right? Well, that would certainly make for a good reason why everybody seemed so inimical towards the civilian lady. Was Ksivi-Willow supposed to support her… fellow officers? Yes, they were her fellow officers, she was sure about that. Was she still on duty, though, with whatever was wrong? She had to presume that. She had to keep it together! Ksivi-Sava (Willow): ::at Iru with glazy eyes, but in a schoolmasterly tone:: Ma’am, do you even begin to realize just how dangerous that is? Criminal property damage aside—and I can assure you that is no trifle in and off itself—have you thought about what would happen if a stone accidentally hit an inhabitant? You should— Iru: I’m going to stop you right there. Make this right, or I’m going to make things worse. ::she pinched her lips.:: I am not the one who is insane in this. I will be heard and you are going to make that happen. Right, insanity. They had already started discussing the insanity, so the property damage was likely of secondary importance at this point. Still, throwing stones at glass houses... the nerve some people had! Renot (Tito): Response Ksivi-Willow vaguely noticed the Lieutenant join her at the wall. Equally vaguely, she felt that his rank and Starfleet affiliation was of some relevance to her. But more than that, she felt sympathy for the poor guy who seemed somewhat unwell; a pair of goldshirts having to steady themselves against on obscenely tacky wall, trying to hold up against… something? Something. Garev (Renot): Madam, we are under strict orders *not* to disturb our Commanding Officer. Surely you can understand that it is our duty to follow those orders? Willow (as Ksivi-Sava): Even if you cannot understand the power of duty orders, I suggest you pay attention to this: You are equally going insane. You keep expecting to see them while we continue to deny such a request. You are doing the same action over and over expecting vastly different results. Right, there was the matter of insanity again… They were trying to hold up against insanity, that was the important matter here. That must be why she felt Ksivi-Sava was particularly important: He kept bringing up the things that mattered… Obviously a rather steadfast man who wasn’t nearly as easily perturbed as she was. Or was he? On an intuitive level, something about that conclusion felt plain wrong, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on any particular reason why. They kept talking about a commanding officer? Perhaps Ksivi-Sava was that commanding officer? Could the others shed some light on the matter? Ksivi-Sava (Willow): This might be an odd thing to say, but I can’t seem to recall who my commanding officer is. Iru: I don’t care - tell him to expect me at your Starbase then. ::her laugh was dark and forced.:: Because this isn’t going away. I am an Intergalactic journalist! And I think you’re going to want a better light than what I’m about to write. Renot (Tito): Response Garev (Renot): ::struggling to keep himself calm:: Very well. Iru: I fought for my life - as these … well now two because the one just left! ::astonished.:: literally lost their minds. So yea, do that. Unless someone else wants to point a phased at me, I’ll go. ::pause, she shrugged.:: After you called your commander. No, it couldn’t be Ksivi-Sava, then. They wouldn’t have to call him, he was right there. Besides, Ksivi-Willow seemed to remember that he was an Ensign. She would have pondered what it was that struck her as so important about a mere Ensign, but her thoughts were startled out of cohesion by the goldshirt Lieutenant’s sudden outburst: Garev (Renot): ::shouting:: FINE!…::breathing heavily and trying to contain himself, but speaking through gritted teeth:: Fine. Lieutenant, perhaps we can arrange an appointment for this…lady to speak with Commodore Taybrim on Starbase one-one-eight at some time in the near future. Willow (as Ksivi-Sava): I think it would be wise if she - oO Shut your mouth dear woman. Oo Renot (Tito): Response Ksivi-Sava (Willow): ::in a mildly outraged-sounding short-circuit of synapses:: Well, a citizens’ concerns should at least be taken seriously! Garev (as Renot): I am aware of that, but we can not stand here all day debating with her. Willow (as Ksivi-Sava): I have come to the conclusion that it is illogical to continue this argument. Perhaps we are to simply part ways. ::There she went again with that ingrained Vulcan logic:: For just a moment there, Ksivi-Sava had sounded almost like his mother. Her wry smile at the amusing thought froze as a worrying thought erupted in her brain: Why did she and Ksivi-Sava share a mother? That was strange, wasn’t it? Was he her brother? Being half-Vulcan, half-Orion, he simply couldn’t… Yet, they somehow also had the same father! That was staggeringly strange. Good thing there was this wall to hold on to. Renot (as Tito): Response Garev (as Renot): The more time we waste…::he paused, not wanting to give the reporter any more ammunition than she already had:: Look, we have got to get Ensign Willow to a doctor. Willow (as Ksivi-Sava): The most logical solution would be for you to merely walk away. Ksivi-Sava (as Willow): ::leaning on the wall ever more sluggishly:: Quite honestly, I’m not confident that I currently can. In fact, I can’t seem to hold my balance very well, and even if I could, where would I find that doctor? I couldn’t even find my own way back to the beach at the moment. Renot (as Tito)/Garev (as Renot): Response Iru: Response? Willow (Ksivi-Sava): We would prefer it if you did the going away first. However if neither of us do so we are back to square one with another stalemate. Perhaps that was why the unfriendly lady had plummeted to her posterior earlier. Had she tried to walk away, even though she had been dizzy? Ksivi-Willow didn’t and wouldn’t know, as the bottom-plummeting incident was a mere isolated memory, briefly washed to the surface, swiftly to be drowned in the churning sea of random associations again. It was dizzying. Very dizzying. Renot (as Tito)/Garev (as Renot): Response Iru: Response? Willow (Ksivi-Sava): Solution. We both walk away at the same time. Solution. Important. Ksivi-Sava was somehow important, she remembered. She was dizzy, but she remembered. There was something about this person that she was supposed to never forget… Well, he would probably know best, wouldn’t he? And he said that he had a solution! Ksivi-Sava (as Willow): Very good, s… ::eyes seeking and failing to find a horizon:: Sir? oO Is he my commanding officer? Does he know that I’m not feeling very well? oO Inside and outside, everything was fading, but this man seemed to be some sort of constant. She simply had to trust him. Trust his solution. Trust her own memory of his significance. Walk away. Respect those confidence-inspiring words of his: We both walk away at the same time. With a single, deep breath did she try to muster all her courage. Her nose being clogged, though, she tried again through her mouth, and this time actually did muster that courage. She took a valiant step forward. Away from the wall. Away. The oppressive Cardassian architecture spun around her; orbited just out of her reach like the washed-out impressions of his own past. The ecliptic tilted ever so slightly, then toppled with a start, and Ksivi-Sava fell. Like a ship in a dive with no inertial dampening, no artificial gravity. Free fall. Those were the things that came to his mind, because… because he was Ksivi-Sava. Yes! It occurred to him a mere instant before he hit the ground: He knew all that because he was a pilot! And a physicist! Goodness gracious, that had been the important thing: He was Ksivi-Sava! And it wasn’t his own chin that hit the corridor floor in a Cardassian embassy. Renot (as Tito)/Garev (as Renot)/Iru/Willow (as Ksivi-Sava): Response? -- ============== Ensign Ksivi-Sava Helm Officer Starbase 118 Ops O240007KS4 ==============