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@Karrod Niac has created a need in me to have Bail as a recurring nuisance for Ronin and the Alpha Islands. And his flask. It is just great. Great job! Part 1:

Loving this intro sim for @Karen Stendhal 's latest villain. Looking forward to reading more! 😈 (( Miranda VII - Dodgy bar )) In the sultry underworld of Miranda VII, bathed in the flickering glow of neon lights, Zara Saan, a cunning Orion woman, prepared to embark on a dangerous mission for the Saan family. Miranda VII, once under the firm grip of the Saan's dominion, now danced to the tune of independent factions that scorned Saan authority, leaving the family frustrated and seeking retribution. Draped in an enticing disguise, Zara entered a dimly lit bar, the rhythmic beats of music weaving through the air. The stage beckoned, and Zara, with emerald-green skin that sparkled under the neon lights, transformed herself into a pole dancer. Her mission: to eliminate Jaxon Marik, a key figure in the independent factions that now controlled Miranda VII. As Zara's mesmerizing dance unfolded, a dialogue of suspense unfolded in the shadows. Zara: Tonight, Marik's reign ends. She whispered to herself. The patrons, unaware of Zara's true intent, watched in captivation. The tension thickened as Zara swirled around the pole, her eyes locking onto Marik. Marik: Enjoying the show, Saan? He said, smirking at her. Zara: Just getting started. She smiled. The stage was set for the deadly encounter, but just as Zara prepared to make her move, a mysterious voice interrupted. Voice: Zara Saan, a dance to remember. Zara turned, dagger concealed, to find a cloaked figure in the shadows, the glint of disruptor catching her eye. Cloaked Figure: Killing Marik won't bring back what you've lost. Zara: I'm not here for your counsel. Stay out of my way. Cloaked Figure: There are alternatives, Saan. A path that doesn't lead to more bloodshed. He said intrigued. Zara: (snarling) Bloodshed is the Saan way. The tension in the air reached its zenith, but just as the confrontation seemed inevitable, the bar door swung open, revealing the silhouette of a new player. Unknown Figure: Zara Saan! Starfleet's on the way. We've got to move! Zara's eyes widened. She had no intention of tangling with Starfleet. The Orion woman had to think quickly. Zara: Change of plans. We're leaving. Marik and the cloaked figure exchanged confused glances as Zara swiftly disengaged from her dance, leaving the stage and making her way toward the exit. Marik: You think you can escape, Saan? He shouted. Zara: Watch me. She said disappearing with a smirk. As chaos erupted in the bar, Zara, the unknown figure, and the cloaked stranger disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind a trail of uncertainty and unfinished business. Zara Saan slipped away into the cosmic unknown, her fate entwined with the shadows that concealed her family's legacy. -- Zara Saan - Member of the criminal Saan Family from Orion. as simmed by ================================= Lt Jg Karen Trisha Stendhal Counselor SB 118 ID: C239604KS0 =================================

Alright, starting up a thread for the Denali Invitational specifically. See a quote or five that you want to appreciate during the Invitational? This is just the place for it. I'll go first. Really loving the sponsor slogan on @Connor Dewitt and @Nolen Hobart's little ship. I gott a little giggle out of it.

Top nocth work here in this action driven sim. Great work @Ian OConnor !! ((USS Rhine, Within the Barrier, Approaching the Array, Olidra System)) Ian adjusted the internal audio controls of the Rhine and cranked up the Klingon opera, yIruch, through the speakers. Things were uneventful for a few moments and Ian kept running through the upcoming sequence in his mind. The background vocals of the opera help him concentrate. If C’iri minded, she gave him no indication. Comms then lit up indicating a transmission from Lorana or Alieth. Lorana: =/\= O'Connor, be careful we don't know what security defenses they may have? =/\= Suddenly, several warning klaxons sounded overriding the opera music and automatically putting the runabout into a red alert status. O’Connor: =/\= I’m not sure either but think we’re about to find out. Are you two okay? ::not that Ian could do a darn thing about it if they weren’t:: I’m about to drop warp and well you know. Anyway, I’ll be back to grab you in no time. =/\= Alieth: Response The second officer’s voice cut off abruptly leaving Ian wondering if something happened to her and Luxa. However, he identified the issue fairly quickly. O’Connor: Well, I guess jamming is one of those defenses oO Damn. Oo Although really no one could have been sure that transmissions would have worked in the array structure anyway. The few minutes or so time seemed to slow. The Rhine dropped abruptly from warp cutting power to almost all systems. The small ship then glided its way along the array’s surface; thrusters and inertia providing the only propulsion. Ian deftly drifted the runabout along only engaging in microbursts when absolutely necessary. Meter by meter, they crept along until the target was finally in sight. oO Just a bit farther. Oo Ian adjusted pitch and yaw hitting a few more bursts on the thrusters. So far all was going according to the plan, at least the re-re-re-revised plan for this part. The Rhine continued to float and rotated slightly. Without sensors he couldn’t get a target lock so he was eyeballing it. He gave a quick glance to C’iri indicating he was ready and confirming she was as well. For as much of an eternity the last few moments lasted, the next few were a blur. Ian’s finger tapped only one control and the whole pre-programmed sequence initiated. The Rhine surged to life with power, the console bleeped warnings of several small craft, Ian felt a tingling that was way more intense than the previous times, all sorts of blinding lights emitted from the array, photons shot from the runabout… …and then nothing. oO Where’s the kaboom? There’s supposed to be an earth shattering kaboom! Oo Ian tried to sneak a quick look at the readings to see what happened. His console showed that the torpedoes were just floating right in front of the impact point in an out-of-phase state. A small bunch of strands forming an energy web was protecting that area. Seemingly anything that touched that web “phased out.” oO What the… Oo Ian had no time to finish the thought as one of the defensive craft cut off his path. He quickly adjusted and avoided the second incoming vessel. They were trying to box him in. Ian jerked the Rhine hard to port then rolled upward away. He’d free himself for a second giving him time to glance at the readings for the small energy web again. He noticed several emitters that formed the web in approximately a 15 meter radius around the target point. oO No time to think this through. Oo Ian angled the shuttle on a direct path straight on with the target point. He adjusted the phasers to a continuous fire aimed at one of the emitters then spun the Rhine counter-clockwise creating a circle of phaser fire destroying all the emitters. The photon torpedoes then phased back in impacting with the array. Ian immediately dove hard and leveled the runabout with the path of the wave that was beginning to emerge. He jumped abruptly to warp, pushing the Rhine way over several safety limits knowing he was only seconds ahead of the wave and needed those to retrieve Alieth and Luxa. Hopefully they were ready... Alieth/Lorana: Response Tags/TBC ((OOC: Who don’t love a good Marvin Martian quote from time to time?)) ___________________________ Ensign Ian O’Connor HCO USS Ronin NCC-34523 R240009IO4

I'm a big fan of @Kirsty L. Carpenter writing from day one on the Ronin and this sim just displays why. The characterization and the building of tension just hits the spots here!

I love Sm'uf so much. Good job @Toryn Raga ((Control Center, Cargo Freighter S.S. Sabrina's Delight, Somewhere in the Sunjat System)) This was it. This was going to be how they died. Slowly bleeding atmosphere into the void while ruminating on which system would fail first like some sick game of chance. At least the current climate within the Delight was favorable to the Andorian. Rather, it was tolerable to him for the moment. Sleep had come quickly and the benefit of slumber, even as light as it was, brought a form of escape. Bail: Before we die...I think you should know something. He glanced over at the obnoxiously reclined Human wrapped in an emergency blanket with an even look, though his antennae snapped towards Bail as if he’d insulted his mother. Sm'uf: Finally going to admit that you were wrong? There seemed to be a momentary consideration, very minute, before the Human rebuttled. Bail: Wrong? Me? No, of course not. I was going to tell you I've always hated you. The Andorian looked at him with a dry expression, though his antennae twitched in irritation. Sm'uf: That makes two of us. Now that we cleared that up, let me enjoy what peace I can, please. Bail made some kind of sound, or mix of sounds. Had he finally broken as much as his ship? Bail: Oh sure, you must be loving this, probably a damn...pleasant spring day on Andoria. Sm'uf: More like a mild summer. ::He said dryly:: Sm’uf watched him shift miserably and both antennae swayed in mirth. Bail: Well I hope your antenna freeze and.... Bail broke off abruptly as a loud clunk translated its way through the hull. That was an unexpected sound, but not the, ‘we’re all about to die’ sort or so he hoped. The Andorian sat up and his antennae turned in opposite directions and in a slightly upwards manner. Bail: Did that sound like...a good clunk? Or a bad clunk? Sm'uf: At this point does it matter? Bail snuffed and pulled his blankets tighter about himself. Bail: Well, I don't want it to be a bad clunk. We've had enough of those already. Go see to it, won't you? An antenna whipped in his direction shortly before the Andorian looked at him. Sm'uf: Sure, ice forbid you actually do anything productive when we’re hours away from death. Bail: Response The Andorian brushed off the Captain’s grumbling and stretched the slumber out of himself before he started to search the interior of the freighter. The clunk that had alerted them felt to him like something had touched the hull or maybe come off of it. Though, he could feel vibrations in the air coming from the bulkheads. Almost like when the ship was in a tractor beam. It wasn’t an overly large vessel and it didn’t take long before he saw the flash of a light source ahead. They’d been boarded. But by whom? Sm’uf side stepped to a locker and opened it as quietly as he could, despite the audible creak of cold metal. He pulled out a disruptor that was as old or older than the freighter. So, who knew if it still worked. It was likely as useless as the Captain. The Andorian moved back towards the source of the light. Kel: Hello? ::activating his wrist light and shining it around the room:: Hello is anyone here? Tucker: ::pulling out his engineering tricorder:: Power fluctuations on all decks, and engineering seems to be three decks straight down. Where do we want to start, commander? Raga: Priority is going to be… Kenmore: Response Sm'uf: You can start by stating your names and intent. ::He said evenly from the darkness, archaic disrupter pointed at the group:: The tall one that he’d cut off mid sentence spun around and seemed to be armed, but he didn’t draw his weapon. Raga: Lieutenant Commander Toryn Raga. First Officer of the USS Ronin. We detected signs of a recent battle and came to see if we could render assistance. ::He glanced about then added:: From the looks of it, we’re just in time. Kenmore/Kel/Tucker: Response The Andorian lowered the disruptor of questionable operation and stepped closer to look closer at the group. Starfleet. Say what you will about them, when you were this close to death’s icy embrace they seemed to have an impecable timing. Sm’uf: Starfleet. Good. Yes, the ship is falling apart. The Captain was taking bets on what would fail first, power, life support or shields. All of which are below ten percent functionality. Raga: Well then, we should see about stabilizing your power and life support. Our runabout’s shields have been extended around your freighter. So if yours fail we won’t instantly die. ::He smiled:: And you are? Kenmore/Kel/Tucker: Response Sm’uf: First Mate, Sm’uf. Kenmore/Raga/Kel/Tucker: Response Sm’uf: Right. This way. The Captain is in the Command Center impersonating a frozen vegetable. Kenmore/Raga/Kel/Tucker: Response A quick walk back to where he’d left the Human to sulk in misery and he announced in an alarmed tone. Sm’uf made sure he was a step or two ahead of the Federation team. Sm’uf: Captain, we’ve been boarded! Bail: Response Sm’uf: It’s fine, they’re Starfleet. Here to help. I just wanted to see if you were still capable of moving. There was no smile on his face but those antennae twitched in abject amusement. Bail: Response Kenmore/Raga/Kel/Tucker: Response ((ooc: Wanted to get this out first. I’ll fill the rest of Raga’s tags in my next sim.)) ============================= Sm’uf First Mate S.S. Sabrina’s Delight As simmed by Lieutenant Commander Toryn Raga First Officer USS Ronin NCC-34523 Writer ID: A239410TR0 https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Toryn_Raga

Karen/Stefania shared this with me and I knew I had to share it here. I love the creativity, of order and logic through music which, especially with certain styles, is very orderly and logical. I found it a fascinating idea and felt it deserved to be here. **** ((OCC. inspired by the awesome Aly's Haukea music description 😉 I had to do something about Vulcan music and about a Vulcan ritual to find the pure logic trough music : The Vulahar. )) ((Little Risa - On a secluded beach - Starbase 118)) T'Paun, a youthful Vulcan musician and composer at the age of 63, served as an apprentice to the deputy priestess of the Vulahar temple on Vulcan. Notably, she possessed a striking beauty that even surpassed human standards. Over the course of several years, T'Paun dedicated herself to intense preparation and the nomination process for the revered Vulahar ritual." The Vulahar is a Vulcan ritual and a mental discipline that aims to harmonize the mind and the body with the universal order through musical expression. It is not common for all Vulcans, but only for those who have a natural affinity for music and seek to transcend their individuality. The Vulahar can take several decades of study and practice, and it is usually performed at the Temple of Vulahar in the Vulcan's province of ShiKahr. The final ritual involves a musical performance with a Vulcan master, who evaluates the candidate’s musical skill and logical purity. If successful, the candidate receives The Vulahar medallion as a symbol of their achievement. T'Paun's candidacy was repeatedly rejected in accordance with Vulcan tradition. In fact, throughout Vulcan history, acceptance had never come easily to anyone. For some, their applications were perpetually declined, and it was customary to attempt up to 99 times without ever achieving success; 99 was indeed the maximum acceptable limit, even for a Vulcan. Even the founder of the ancient discipline, the esteemed priest Svok, nearly a millennium ago, restrained himself by refusing 98 times before ultimately awarding himself the medallion of the Vulahar. In the final ritual, Svok performed the flawless musical composition in complete solitude. At that time, he was the sole follower, the only priest, and the exclusive master of the Vulahar. On Earth, he might have been deemed a misunderstood and forgotten individual, but on Vulcan, over the centuries, he had earned recognition as a highly acclaimed master of logic and musical purity. His composition, "Gok'shiv n'pana", is still played and repeated with each candidacy, serving as a test of purity to separate the less dedicated. ((OCC "Gok'shiv n'pana." = "The Flock's Starling.")) The Tradition had nearly faded into obscurity, surviving only through the sparse notes of a few monotonous songs and rare melodies carried on the winds of the desert plains of ShiKahr. It had only been rediscovered almost 200 years prior and had finally gained acknowledgement and respect from the Vulcan Music Academy, ranking second only to the realm of science—perhaps even higher, some might argue. After T'Paun's fourth application was rejected, she spent nearly two years deliberating over the perfect instrument, torn between the harp and the Vulcan flute. Ultimately, she chose The Vulcan Flute. It is a wind instrument made of metal, with a cylindrical body and a conical mouthpiece. It has six finger holes and a thumb hole, which allow the player to produce different pitches and tones. The Vulcan flute has a range of two octaves, and can produce both soft and loud sounds. The sound of the Vulcan flute is clear and pure, with a slight metallic timbre. It is often used to express the inner thoughts and feelings of the player, in a subtle and refined way. The Vulcan flute is considered a difficult instrument to master, as it requires precise breath control and finger coordination. Following her fifth rejection, in accordance with tradition, she opted for self-exile, leaving behind the familiar comforts of her home planet, Vulcan. Thus, she found herself at starbase 118, seeking solace in a place far removed from Vulcan's temptations and distractions. Here, she sought refuge in the unfamiliar, drawing inspiration from the chaos that surrounded her, ultimately discovering inner peace through the stark contrast. She began to play a monotonous, detached melody, a tune devoid of emotion—a painfully dull composition. Could this, at last, be the solution she had longed for? The sought-after goal? Surprisingly, the melody possessed a poignant quality, although it remained true to the typical monotony and flatness associated with Vulcan music. Its purpose was to clear the listener's mind, inducing a state of deep meditation, effectively lulling them into a state of profound boredom. At a considerable distance from the vibrant center of the festival, on a secluded and isolated beach, T'Paun found herself playing her instrument in an atmosphere of profound solitude. Only a handful of Vulcans stood as her audience. With a few deft touches on the panel , the instrument seamlessly continued the melody on its own, creating a repetitive loop that provided a steady backdrop. This allowed T'Paun to transition seamlessly into her own vocal performance, her voice weaving effortlessly through the recurring notes, enriching the musical tapestry with her hauntingly beautiful vocals. Wuh eshikh panu. (The Desert World) This is the world where we belong. A world of sand and stone. A world of harsh and dry A world of strength and will. This is the world where we survive. A world of challenge and struggle. A world of danger and risk. A world of skill and wisdom. This is the world where we thrive. A world of order and harmony. A world of logic and reason. A world of peace and balance. This is the world where we meditate. A world of silence and calm. A world of no emotion and no distraction. A world of mind and soul. This is the song of the desert world. A song of flat and steady. A song of no melody and no rhythm. A song that only we can hear. The song concluded with a jarring, discordant final note, reminiscent of the abrupt sound of an alarm clock or a burglar alarm. This disruptive noise served as a mechanism to snap the listener back to reality, occasionally jolting them awake in a rather unsettling manner. -- ================================= Apprentice Priestess of the Vulahar Temple T'Paun SB 118 ID: C239604KS0 =================================

There are many reasons you should all be aware of LtJG @Jovenan. The thought that goes into developing not only her character, but the periphery details that make the character and her developmental process so incredibly believable are astounding to me at times. I'm often struck first in awe, followed by inspiration and aspiration by these sims. In the sim linked below, she uses the Edo language to flesh out a particularly tangled bit of plot while pulling us readers deeper into the richness of the universe being built here. Not for my sake or even hers, but for your own, give it a read. You're a freaking legend, Jo. ❤️ https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-artemis/c/Q_AcRthh46Q/m/RZq8BhflBQAJ

I'd like to highlight @Alora DeVeau and @Etan Iljor; 2 outstanding simmers: They have a great ability to write out descriptive and immersive scenes that get me 'perpetually refreshing' my inbox waiting for the next one They advance the plot line and leave enough room for any simmer to take it in the next step Masters of 'yes, and' Excellent canon use I also think in general, the arc I think also nicely highlights how we can interweave 2 separate story lines, while keeping them distinct. Without further ado: &

In this sim, @Alessandro Ferrucci treats us to a wonderful blend of narration and dialogue as the USS Kahnrah makes its tricky descent down onto Sargasso V. All in all, really enjoying Ensign Ferrucci's contributions to his away team so far 👏 Ensign Alessandro Ferrucci - Dive into the unknown (google.com)

This one from @Gogigobo Fairhug made me cringe and laugh in all the right ways - Ross trying to hint that the game is rigged and Gogi being the absolute best. That's why it's important to learn your vocabs, kids! 🤓

((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

I really enjoyed this comparison between life on the Santa Maria with Christopher Columbus and life on a starship. Well written!! ((Holodeck, USS Astraeus)) Shore leave is coming to an end, which means that life is returning to the rhythm Slav is used to. After organising the cooking competition, he was completely exhausted mentally and spiritually. He needed to rest. On the bright side, he got to know many of the crew members and made himself known in such a good way. Along with the return of his regular watch schedule, the need for rest has also increased. This is exactly what he was doing now. The holodeck again. Today, he doesn't have much free time, so he chose the shortest and most interesting programme available to him (after all, service comes first). Shewytch: Computer. Run the programme HistoryShewytch020 It immediately became dark and cloudy. The ground began to sway to one side and then to the other. Well, how to say the ground, the wooden floor. And if you look around, you can see that Slav was on a ship, an old Earth ship. oO I don't really like the app because of this wobble. Oo That's why he didn't run this programme often, or to be more precise, he ran it only once, before he was sent to the ship. Maybe he was superstitious then? After all, he was also going to new worlds, new territories, just like Columbus' Santa Maria. Yes, this programme was a programme about the "great" geographical discoveries, well, they cannot be compared to the discoveries made after breaking the speed of light, but it nevertheless had a great impact on history. Slav walked around the deck and turned to the man who seemed to be the most important of all the people around him. He had spoken to him only once before he had come here to Astraeus. He needed to hear some words of encouragement, or just what he wanted to hear. Because it was not a real person, but just a set of algorithms. Shewytch: Captain, I'm leaving soon on a research vessel. :: pause :: As part of your squadron. And I'd like to ask you a question, if you don't mind. How can you go to a place where you're not even sure if the land exists or not? NPC hologram of Columbus: ::Turning away from the map table:: Well, young man. The only thing you need to understand is that the land is ::he jumped up:: where the ship is. oO That time, he said the same thing. Oo At this point, it finished playing the programme for the last time. But today he was in the mood to continue. Shewytch: But this ship ::he nodded towards the water:: floats. That is, there is still something under the ship, and it is a hulk of water. What if there is nothing, not even water, beyond the horizon? The sailor was thinking. Columbus: Hmm, an interesting thought. Will the ship be able to sail in this "nothing"? Because if you pick up water in your hands, it is also nothing. He demonstrated how water flows out through his fingers if you pour it into your hands. Columbus: Do you see? But if there is a lot of water, then even my carrack holds on, does not sink. Maybe "nothing" will be enough? oO The ships that travel through the void of space do the same. Oo Shewytch: You're right, I agree. Everyone must believe in their ship and in the crew that will take it through everything. That was enough for him. He heard everything he wanted to hear. Indeed, he was on a spaceship precisely to go somewhere where there were no other ships, and to explore it all. At some points, you forget about it, the routine. But at such moments, the thirst to see something new increases. But before he left, he decided to see what would happen next, and of course he skipped it. The weather changed, the air changed, it was noticeable. The ships were in a line. And he was on one of them. And suddenly he heard a shout. Stranger: Land! oO They have found their destination. Now it's my turn. Oo After closing the program, he left the holodeck in the direction of the scientific laboratories. Now he needs somewhere to put his great reserves of enthusiasm. ----- Ensign Slav Shewytch, Junior Science Officer USS Astraeus, NCC-70652 A240008SS2

Loving this scene from @Ksivi-Sava and @Corey Wethern. So much fun! ((Maintenance Airlock 17 - Starbase 118)) A tinge of nervousness crept in on Ksivi-Sava as the EVA suit sealed itself with an audible hiss. Not that he had reason to assume anything might be wrong with his suit—or Corey’s, for that matter. Those were likely meticulously maintained and perfectly safe. There wasn’t anything terribly unsettling about the idea of stepping out into the near-perfect vacuum of interstellar space, either. In fact, Ksivi-Sava appreciated any opportunity to experience free fall—if only in scientific terms, as the magnetic boots would reliably prevent anything remotely resembling a layperson’s conception of a “fall”. The everyday experiences of a Starfleet officer, pilot or not, were virtually sanitized by artificial gravity and inertial dampeners. Opportunities to bodily experience classical physics in all their beauty were rare, and usually limited the EVA training. But this was no EVA training, and therein lay the gist of Ksivi-Sava’s flurry. It was the sheer audacity of their project that worried him. Sure, the slim chance of getting caught doing something moderately unwise (and having lied about it) was unsettling enough. Yet, that wasn’t the worst thing. What Ksivi-Sava found himself most seriously brooding over was the notion that he might be losing his focus on the essential. Losing himself in frivolous petty indulgences with no regard for their net utility… and possibly enjoying it. Wethern: Ksivi-Sava can you hear me? comm check. Ksivi-Sava: Reading you loud and clear. I suppose this would be our last chance to reconsider. Corey dismissed the concern with a vivid wave of his hand before he picked up their case of decidedly non-regulation equipment. Wethern: Relax this is a rite of passage and if anyone asks I've logged this as part of our EVA hours competency. While no serious reconsideration had been expected, Ksivi-Sava still raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. It wasn’t readily apparent to him why viewing this as a juvenile rite of passage would be preferable to viewing it as a juvenile petty indulgence. Then again, his contact with human cultural sensibilities had been as high-intensity as it had been brief, so there were still plenty of blind spots left to uncover. Well, as far as Ksivi-Sava was concerned, leaving it at a petty indulgence and the mildest suggestion of a shrug was perfectly fine for now. When Corey opened the outer bulkheads, the view certainly reimbursed Ksivi-Sava for suffering through that minor intercultural headache. Barely noticeably did the hull of Starbase 118 curve away from them in the distance, reflecting the pitch-blackness of interstellar space as if physically soaked in it. Rhythmic flashes of navigation lights broke up the darkness over a timidly gleaming artificial horizon. Out here, light years from the nearest sun, it took a keen eye to reveal the faint hulls of all the different craft and starships between their blinking beacons, glowing engines and sprinklings of windows. Ksivi-Sava’s steps along the metallic ground were weightless and inert. A lack of external forces, not contaminated by the flurry of sensory stimuli that humanoid bodies had evolved to suffer through and make sense of. Very much an artificial environment, and yet so close to the being the most natural of them all; a visceral experience of raw nature that not even the sound of their breaths and the clanking of their boots could truly spoil. Wethern: Here we are this is the right point we can get to work. Ksivi-Sava: ::faintly smiling at the horizon:: This is very much the right point to be, indeed. But alas, they weren’t here to enjoy the experience. In a way, it was with rather admirable efficiency that Corey turned his attention to the matter at hand and revealed the 10 bowling pins out of the equipment case. Wethern: Aren't they beautiful? Ksivi-Sava: Not to be a… how might one say… “party pooper”, if you pardon my Terran, there, but this environment feels almost inappropriate for something as trivially indulgent as this. Wethern: Relax they all have short range transported chips, at the push of a button they lock onto the suit wearer and beam back. Well, as a medic, Corey had never made any secret of his hands-on approach to problem-solving, so he very much seemed his proper self as he walked out to set up the bowling pins right away. Wethern: I think you should be the one to kick start our Ensigns Bingo. First to 30 points? Ksivi-Sava accepted the bowling ball presented to him in a rather significant-looking gesture. It also didn’t escape his attention how eagerly Corey seemed to cross an item off the list he had brought. Ksivi-Sava: It shall be my pleasure. Judging by the hull plates, Ksivi-Sava positioned himself at an appropriate distance before he wound up ever so slightly and took aim at the arrow formation of pins in the distance. He kept taking aim for a while longer, before inquiring: Ksivi-Sava: Does it say anything about having to actually hit any of the pins? It still qualifies as a successful Bingo activity either way, correct? Wethern: Response Ksivi-Sava: Well, that goes without saying. Once again, Ksivi-Sava focussed his attention on the pins, wound up to feel the inertia of the projectile, then focussed his attention back on the pins. Wethern: Response Ksivi-Sava: I am. I very much am. Finally, Ksivi-Sava swung his arm forward in slow motion, releasing the ball at what he felt would be an appropriate moment for launch. Inertia carried it onward on a trajectory subject to such little gravity from the Starbase below their feet, it was indistinguishable from a straight line. Beyond that, it was also very slow. Ksivi-Sava: ::shifting his position and squinting at the slowly drifting ball:: I predict it will hit at least some of the pins. Wethern: Response Ksivi-Sava: Nonsense, we are looking at no more than a few seconds, now. With no inertia or gravity to worry about, precision should certainly be prioritized over velocity. See, there it is, closing in on the targets. Any moment now… Aaany moment. A few moments later, the ball grazed and dislodged two pins just insistently enough to knock a third one off its miniscule magnetic link with the hull. Once clear from the target area, both the projectile and its triplet of targets were beamed back into the their case, leaving a total of seven pins unscathed. Ksivi-Sava: ::arms crossed, rather pleased:: See? So, one pin is equivalent to… how many points, again? tags/tbc -- ============== Ensign Ksivi-Sava Helm Officer Starbase 118 Ops O240007KS4 ==============

This was beautifully and elegantly written @Lt Aine Olive Sherlock. A stunning piece of prose! -- ((Sherlock's Quarters, Deck 4, USS 'Oumuamua)) How many times in the last few years did she say to herself, "This is home now?" Although just a handful, there was no point in counting anymore. Nonetheless, each time, it was the truth. And the 'Oumuamua was home now. After the awards ceremony Aine had made her way back to her quarters. It wasn't an event for her so much as the crew that was there before her. She'd done her part to show her support, but she left before there was any further celebration. Coming back to her barren quarters, it appeared that Operations had received a crate of her belongings that was deposited into the center of the room. When she left 118 it was on fairly short notice. She'd had less than 24 hours to get her affairs in order. And there were many. She'd seen Talar to tell him that their...arrangement...had to change. But she wasn't even sure what they were at that point. She had to set a plan in motion for her sister, Shevon. Currently an enlisted technician in Engineering who was taking classes at the remote campus on 118 to become an officer, but now choosing to test out and take her credits to work on becoming a Warrant Officer. She wasn't sure when she'd get to see Shevon again, but she left her the apartment and everything in it, only asking her to pack up some personal things of Aine's and send it to her. And now here it was. She reached behind her and unzipped the small zipper on the back of the neck of her uniform's jacket so she could pull it over her head. She tossed it to the nearest chair before going over to the crate. When she popped the top she looked down and it was as if the past was looking up at her. A couple holo-photos lay there in their frames. Both of her as a cadet, one with Madison and the other of her and Mel. She picked them up and set them on the table. Next was one of her old uniforms. Though it was only weeks ago, the grey shouldered uniform seemed old already. A past that was now just images in her mind like a video-holo she'd once watched. And packed between the uniform and some of her civvies, a pair of knives. One was an antique ceremonial knife from Cardassia that Sil had given her shortly after he'd arrived on the Resolution. That and a Bajoran earring were what he had given her after the crew vacationed on Bajor during the Gratitude Festival. The knife was the only possession of hers that had survived the destruction of the Resolution. Her friend, Meidra, had been running past Aine's office during the evacuation and ran in to see if there was anything she could save, and that was it. The other was a traditional Romulan honor blade. One that had been in Talar's family for countless generations, as he told it anyways. He had gifted it to her shortly after they had moved their friendship to a level just above being friends. As she looked down on them, she got almost a sinking feeling. One she'd felt before. That feeling was one she hated. It was more the idea of living in the past. Ever since she'd left home, she always wanted to be moving forward, but sometimes the past sunk its claws in, dragging itself along for the ride. She snapped out of that frozen moment and put the top back on the crate. Picking up her PADD from the nearby table which lay next to the pictures she'd setup, she searched the database for her playlist of music, mostly traditionals, and queued it up. The one thing she did like about deep space explorers was the creature comforts, especially the fact that senior officers quarters had the most luxurious of those comforts, a water bath. Sherlock: Computer, illumination to thirty percent. The lights dimmed. The crate could wait. And a nice hot soak seemed the perfect first step forward into her new future. fin Lieutenant Aine Sherlock Security Officer U.S.S. Oumuamua R239712AS0

I've been a massive fan of @Alieth for a while and hope to keep learning and growing from her! This sim brilliantly showcases her ability to truly embody her character, even when a lot is going on! I am humbled!

This is it, guys, gals and pals. This is how you make a girl feel like a princess (both the character and the writer)! I knew where we were going and agreed to it, but it still surprised me positively! Thank you, @Vitor S. Silveira For the context, a ship from an alternate universe suddenly appears in front of the Artemis, including the counterparts of the crew. Alternate universe Jovenan tries to spy on the Artemis by "convincing" the Prime universe Silveira to give her information on their weapons, but it backfires gloriously.

((Promontory’s Quarters, Deck 4, ‘Oumuamua)) Avander hadn’t stayed too long at the awards ceremony. It was just all too much. And it was still too soon since they had lost Jack. No one had talked much on the return trip from the failed mission to find Jack’s parents. They hadn’t been pursued, but it might have been a nice distraction if they had been. No, instead, everyone just sat in numbed silence. The debrief hadn’t offered much relief either—they reported their experiences to the Commodore, who, as always, took things in stride. The recovered FO from the Caboto had been taken in for more interviews, but Avander had given up hope that that would be a profitable avenue of inquiry. And then there was tonight's awards ceremony. For a minute or two he had been able to forget about the loss of Jack as they celebrated the accomplishments of the rest of the crew. But Avander didn’t want to forget. It was like a betrayal to Jack for everyone to be celebrating while he was… What? MIA? Dead? As much as Avander didn’t want to think about it, the pain felt right—like the only appropriate way to honor Jack and his sacrifice was to be miserable. It’s not like Avander didn’t know that there would be risks, even losses, with missions. Intellectually, he knew that. Expected it even. If you had asked the fresh-faced cadet if he might lose colleagues—friends—over his Starfleet career, he would have answered all too quickly, “Of course.” But that was in theory. Experiencing it was another thing altogether. Avander was suddenly very hot. He ripped his jacket off violently and threw it with all his might—without bothering to take off his combage or awards or anything—against the nearest bulkhead where it gave a soft, unsatisfying *flop*. He sank to the floor, eyes aflame. Promontory: Computer, play “See You Again” by Wiz Khalifa. It was the song that his mom used to play when she was thinking about her dead husband. He fell asleep, crying softly, as it continued to play on repeat. -- Lt Avander Promontory Intelligence Officer USS Oumuamua O239910AP4

Just want to show my appreciation to @Alora DeVeau and Lt. Stendhal for a couple of additional Halloween Avatars that I am unable to check in with. The first being 2PC Lt. Jerra Dagaz of Denali Station and the second being PNPC Ensign Nagazi of Starbase 118 Ops. Thank you both for these amazing images! 😊👏🏻

@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 cannot This joint post...AMAZING. I must tell all...READ THIS NOW!!!!!!! Part 1 https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-oumuamua/c/R-aKoVFbRa4/m/otfXi5qpAQAJ Part 2 https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-oumuamua/c/XKrW6D5bJkE/m/Gu0n_mFQAAAJ Part 3 https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-oumuamua/c/lEhwYn2sSM8/m/lkBGdzQuAgAJ Part 4 https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-oumuamua/c/GLY_jOu4p7k/m/ytbNy96wAgAJ Part 5 https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-oumuamua/c/qdRjN9JXbls/m/pf0WPwW_BAAJ @Jack Kessler @Tony, aka VAiru @Etan Iljor @DrPsyPhi @VLen Kel

I'm also a sucker for some good old-fashioned backstory, like this from @Korras. 🙂👍🏻 ((Outside FO’s Office, Deck 7, Command Center, Starbase 118 Ops)) His meeting with commander fairhug over, Korras decided his next stop would be the medical center. After all, it was on his way to his new quarters, and he was fairly close to the medical center right now already, relatively speaking. Of course, on a station this size, any distance that was less than the size of a small city was considered close. As he walked to the nearest turbolift, he spent some time thinking. Mere days before, he was waiting for his final exam to begin, in this very station. At that time, he was still a Cadet. Now, he was one of the freshest ensigns in the station. The small amount of personal belongings he had he had already packed, not expecting to be assigned to the same station he had spent the last couple of months in. Either way, it made the move into his own living space all that more simple. For now, this would be home. A small pang of melancholy. He knew he would probably never see his real home anymore. Nor did he expect to ever see his family again. He shook his head. Years ago, he had made the choice to take the blame for something not of his doing, but by doing so had prevented his family from being unjustly branded a traitorous family. While in the epic sagas, most klingons would have fought tooth and nail against such things, no matter the cost, the truth of the matter was far different on the backwater planets. There, there were no great houses with fabled histories. There, while honor was still considered a virtue, there was much more of a grey area. There, the one claim to fame his homeworld, Kerret'raa, had was that Kahless had once visited it. There was a shrine to him, and some from Qo'nos visited there occasionally, which led to a slight amount of trade, but otherwise, most of the planet was as backwater as it could be in this time and age. There was no unlimited energy to replicate everything they would want. Not everything was as bright as it was on a Starfleet starship. They had learned to make do with what they had for the most part. He did what he had to do for his family to make it through. Maybe that was what had made him a decent hand on the freighter that had hired him in. If it had not been for a pirate attack, he probably would have made a life for himself in space. Instead, fate had taken him to the federation, and eventually into Starfleet. His arrival at the turbolift station shook him from his reverie. He stepped in with the others waiting, and gave his destination. Korras: main entrance, medical station. While in the lift, he decided to look forward as opposed to backward. He had made it this far, and he would be successful at it. First things first, to see the doctor. ((brief timeskip, to deck 505, Medical lobby)) Korras walked in, and headed to the nearest nurse station. Once it was his turn, he spoke up. Korras: Hello. I’ve been newly assigned to the station, and have been instructed to schedule a visit with doctor Shar'Wyn Foster to go over my medical record. When does he have time for this? Nurse: Response ***** Ensign Korras Ops Officer Starbase 118 Ops O240010K12

I'm a sucker for a "slice of life" sim and here's one I particularly enjoyed from @Vitor S. Silveira. 🙂👍🏻 ((Starbase118, Habitat Ring, Tito’s apartment)) Tito swept slowly the brush, in a meticulous sequenced gesture finishing the miniature outer wall. In an unusual change of theme he had decided to start a new project, stalling the other two he already began. Instead of the more bellicose minis he usually painted, or the ones belonging to the board game he already replicated, he decided for something more… Simple. Truth be told it had a deeper meaning, perhaps it was his way to avoid the new Counselor. All things considered the future looked… Difficult. Too many things had changed. But he had found that he wasn't so easily dropping down as before. There was something that, despite the loneliness, still kept him moving forward. And more importantly, safe, comfortable. That was why he began this new model. It was a little bigger than he was used to. The base was 70 by 50 cm. The house itself was 40 by 30 in width and length, being 50 cm tall. It was a Terran country house, two floors high with red roof, and filled with details both inside and out. He dropped the brush down looking at the several pieces he had worked on. Tito smiled and he tipped the tiny rocking chair, making it swing slightly. He raised his head and looked around his place. The thought made him smile. “His” place. So for once Sil was right when he gave him his former place. It was becoming his home. Tito stretched and slowly stood up. Looking at the outside view he chose to take a little break. Cleaning up the brushes, but keeping his paraphernalia on the dinner table he decided to go for a run, and headed to the bedroom to change. ((Timeskip, about an hour later)) ((Starbase118, Little Risa)) Tito walked alongside the beach line. With full jogging gear, t-shirt, trunks and trainers, he adjusted the little backpack filled with water bottles and small energy bars. He recalled the first time he was there before sharing a meal with Commander DeVeau, Alora. She had also moved and although they had clashed a bit, he still had a good impression of her. A family with a little toddler passed by him. He kept walking. Unlike before he wasn’t troubled by it. Tito frowned before smiling. That was new. And pleasant. Still smiling he started quickening his pace, until it turned into proper jogging. No TAGs/TBC Lt. Vitor R.S.Tito Science Officer Starbase 118 O238907VS0

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