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@Vylaa (along with Gnaxac and Doz, and Stoyer's fancy flying) have had me cackling through the Borg crisis.

Slightly different appreciation today, I love this article from @Samira Neathler and I so wish I thought of this article. Who would have thought the Borg have such a good PR department? I'm convinced to join. https://www.starbase118.net/2024/new-community-recruits-people-from-all-over-the-universe/

Too many quotes to pick out and put in the quote thread, so the whole sim comes here instead... ((Deck 6, Sickbay, USS Khitomer)) El’Heem: So uhhh…ready to get back to… ::looking at the captain.:: the couch maintenance? Shayne would be lying if he said he’d been able to follow the conversation particularly well. He’d gleaned- mostly from expressions on people’s faces- that there was a general consensus of not talking about what was really going on, which Shayne could, in an uncharacteristic fashion, wholeheartedly endorse. The fact that someone was still trying to include him, however, was cause for whatever passed for alarm in his stupid state. Shayne: Yes. Couch. Good. Beck: Careful with those couches, they aren't all standard. Some of them recline unexpectedly. Shayne’s stomach did a sudden and unwelcome twist that told him that couches weren’t the only things that might recline unexpectedly. Ohnari: ::tilting her head:: Ensign El'Heem? I trust you will return any unused medical equipment to its proper place when all is...maintained? In the back of his mind, Shayne was pleased that Ohnari was taking her duties so seriously. El’Heem: Yes of course Doctor! I’ll make sure the medkit is returned to the supply closet when it is ultimately not used! It’s just a precaution after all. Beck: I definitely always bring along equipment I might not need because there should be emergency kits available in every quarters. Might as well have two. For a moment- a brief, instantaneous moment- Shayne’s cogent mind returned, rousted from its stupor to take note of a very good idea. Rodan: We'll only be a jiffy… Shayne: What he said. He hadn’t yet processed what Rodan had said, but he trusted him enough to go along with it. Ohnari: Try and hydrate between rounds of furniture repair, aye Space daddy? Don't go breaking my new Ensign now. It took several seconds for Shayne’s slowed brain to process what she had said. When he looked down at her, and caught her grinning, sly features, his own lids descended into a scowl. Shayne: That’s never gonna go away, is it. Beck: You boys stay out of trouble. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Shayne began to exit, and tossed a dismissive “yeah, yeah…” hand at Buck. Or Back. Or whatever the ruddy bloody hell his name was. Shayne: oO Quentin. Oo That thought stung. El'Heem: Oh of course not! ::pausing to think about what he may have just insinuated. :: I mean we’re just doing some repairs. What trouble could we even get into? Shayne glanced at El’Heem warily. He liked the young fidgety ensign; but that was perhaps the most naive question anyone had ever asked in four centuries of Starfleet. Shayne: Something something… than a question is an answer… Rodan/Ohnari: Response Shayne had never been so ready for a hypospray in all his life. Beck: Loathe as I am to depart, it seems like you may need time to prep for furniture maintenance related injuries. I'll take a rain check on the conversation - maybe over coffee and breakfast sometime soon? El'Heem: Leaving so soon?! ::Ras overexaggerated his feigned surprise.:: Oh look at the time, we should probably get to back to your quarters Captain! Shayne glanced at the ensign, who was breathing harder. The captain knew anxiety when he observed it, and though he was soused beyond most reckoning, he was not beyond empathizing. Shayne: I think we can take it from here. Ohnari: Response El’Heem was starting to crack; they had to leave, all for different reasons, but with a similar urgency. El'Heem: OH NO! Not at all doctor! Ｉ’ＭＪＵＳＴＲＥＡＬＬＹＥＸＣＩＴＥＤＴＯＷＯＲＫＯＮＴＨＥＣＯＵＣＨＩＡＬＭＯＳＴＢＥＣＡＭＥＡＮＥＮＧＩＮＥＥＲＹＯＵＫＮＯＷ．　 Shayne: Fellas. Sickbay’s getting a little crowded. He wanted to move, but he momentarily forgot what to do to activate his legs. Ohnari: Response Suddenly he felt a yanking on his sleeve, and instinct offered him opportunity to change his footing before he crashed into the floor like a mannequin in a department store. Rodan: Nice leg. ::To Ohnari.:: Nice job! El'Heem: Captain! Maz! The captain staggered along, eager for what had been a pleasant buzzing to be long over. Shayne: Space Daddy, away! Ohnari: Response ((Transporter Room, Deck 4, USS Khitomer)) The puff of a hypospray was like a blessing and a pronouncement of guilt. Shayne could feel himself almost being dematerialized, and built from the ground up to smell and taste the fresh air again. His head roiled for a moment, and he shut his eyes forcefully to wait for the spinning to stop, thanking his lucky stars when it did. Rodan: Ah! That was fun. El'Heem: I could hear the blood rushing through my ears! What a rush! His scowl of resigned grump returned. Shayne: Glad you two had such a blast. And I thought the damn moonshine still was bad… Rodan: I'll find an appropriate place on the Khitomer to set up another Living History Annex. We'll definitely have more things to add to it on this ship. When Rodan said things like that, it was difficult to tell what was an aspiration, and what was a threat. Shayne: The next person who stashes booze on this ship gets a court martial. He pawed at his head; just because the accelerant had removed the worst of the symptoms did not mean that the effects in their place were gone. El’Heem: You mean that inebriant was from the Arrow? The essence of memory is encapsulated within the spirit. Right now, the spirit it had encapsulated was kicking Shayne hard in the meninges. Alvarez and her stupid booze and stupid smile and stupid joyful self… Shayne: I need a pot of black coffee. Rodan: ::Brightening.:: So, what now? ::Beat.:: Space Daddy? The pair of them finally fell apart, nearly hitting the floor in their mirth. Shayne’s scowl would have lowered his brow past his nose if he’d been physically able to permit it. Even when he’d been drunk off his ass he’d known that it was going to linger, perhaps permanently, in the echo chamber of the Alpha Isles, and aboard the Khitomer specifically. Shayne: I trust that will be staying between us, on pain of court martial. And possible death. Rodan: ::Between chuckles.:: I'm so sorry! I'm 178 years old and that is literally the funniest thing I've ever heard! Oh boy, I love this crew! The captain turned away- the last thing he wanted to show the world right now was a smile that refused to heed his will. Shayne: We’re a special bunch, I’ll give you that. And he thought Starbase 80 had a reputation to keep. El’Heem: Well Captain? Where to? What Shayne really wanted to do was head to his quarters, beat the bottle against the bulkhead, and find the aforementioned pot of black coffee. But it felt wrong to simply abandon the two others here to explore on their own, especially after everything El’Heem had done on their behalf. Besides, an impressionable newcomer being led solely by Maz Rodan? Shayne shuddered at the thought of what the Kressari might become. Cheerful? Spontaneous? Sociable? Shayne: The station. Preferably somewhere quieter and close to hangover cures. Rodan: Response. In a few moments, the Kressari had found something suitable, and seemed excited to usher them onto the platform. Shayne was in no condition to protest. El’Heem: Can I say it? Shayne: Say what? The captain was baffled until he looked at Rodan, who, as per normal, cleared everything up. Rodan: Response. Ah. They stood on the platform, facing forward, and waited to be turned into information. El’Heem: ::In the deepest voice he could muster.:: Energize. ((Somewhere on Deep Space 33)) Shayne: Well, this is new. They’d materialized into a darker, niched section of the station- that much was evident. Talking, laughing, clinking of glasses could all be heard easily through the bulkhead, but they were subtly muffled, as if there was something purposefully obscuring the sound. Light was dim in what appeared to be a storage closet, large enough to fit some fairly large equipment. Rodan/El’Heem: Response Shayne didn’t pretend to be an expert on the structure of the station- he was still coming to grips with the internal layout of the Khitomer. God, there was a lot to learn. Shayne: I know I asked for somewhere quiet, Mr. El’Heem, but this going above and beyond really must stop. El’Heem/Rodan: Response Suddenly, a hissing, squawking sound heralded the opening of a pair of double doors. It was not a sound typically made by Starfleet double-locks, and something gave the captain a very uneasy feeling. Quickly, he crouched behind a row of crates, and encouraged his companions to do the same. Voice 1: I didn’t have a choice! You think I liked putting it in there!? It was gruff and yet whiny, as if it had never learned that sometimes, life just didn’t go the way you wanted it to. Voice 2: They’re going to be here in two hours; we don’t even have access to the damned ship! Shayne’s heart plummeted. Was something bigger going on here? And- good lord- were they trying to get aboard the Khitomer? The bastards! It wasn’t even paid off yet! El’Heem/Rodan: Response Tag/TBC… Captain Randal Shayne Commanding Officer USS Khitomer NCC 62400 G239202RS0

(( Bridge, Deck 3 - Primary Hull, USS Chin’toka )) Three of Twelve (T’Ama): Computer, download and install Fleet Formation software upgrade. Authorization override: T’Ama six-four-three-five. oO Who is T’Ama? Is that me? Oo oO WE ARE THE BORG. YOUR DISTINCTIVENESS HAS BEEN ADDED TO OUR COLLECTIVE. Oo A large progress bar appeared on the main view screen showing the download progress at 1%. Sherlock: ::to McGillian:: We need to move! Now! Serala: Computer. This is Commander Serala, Commanding Officer. Disregard order to download and initiate emergency bridge lockout procedures. Authorization Serala Sierra errr lli hwi kre ehrie. Execute. A flicker of anger ignited in Three of Twelve. That was rude. She had just started that download and already it was thwarted. They were resisting. oO RESISTANCE IS FUTILE. TAKE THE BRIDGE. Oo Chaos reigned on the bridge between the assimilated and unassimilated. Serala: Sherlock, get in. Now! Sherlock: On my way! McGillian: SEAL THE DOOR!!!! The captain and other officers had retreated to the ready room. They were still resisting, but Three of Twelve knew resistance was futile. She would take the bridge from them now they had given it up. The first problem, of course, was that all the consoles had gone dark. That would have to be fixed. Three of Twelve (T’Ama): Computer, end emergency bridge lockout. Authorization T’Ama Epsilon seven-zero-one-four. The bridge resolutely did not respond. Anger flickered inside her again. They were resisting. oO RESISTANCE IS FUTILE. Oo Three of Twelve turned away to reassess how the bridge might be retaken when the word filled with blue… ((Brig, Deck 11 - USS Chin’toka)) Three of Twelve and the rest of her unit rematerialized in a brig cell, along with the unassimilated. Turnbull: =/\= Petty Officer Turnbull here, someone just beamed Borg into the brig. =/\= McGillian: =/\= Turnbull, that was us from the bridge, have you managed to secure the area? =/\= Turnbull: =/\= Were all safe here, security is locked down. =/\= McGillian: =/\= Good job Turnbull, keep them detained. If they somehow manage to get out, your orders are to retreat, seal security, and contact me immediately. McGillian out. =/\= The brawl had shifted and continued as the Borg had reacquired new targets. Neshala: Somebody help me!!! The Borg drones set upon her, delivering blows with sickening thuds. Turnbull: Hold on! I’ll beam you out! A few more agonizing seconds while the security officer tried to lock on to Neshala’s signal before she was whisked, bloody and bruised, out of the fight to in front of the cells. Turnbull: Are you okay?! Neshala: response Three of Twelve watched this unfold, on the surface dispassionately, but underneath roiling with anger. oO The bridge has fallen. Oo oO ELIMINATE THE UNASSIMILATED. Oo oO Or perhaps we should escape the brig? Oo She challenged the thousands of unified voices speaking in her brain. She was better than being wasted punching the unassimilated to death. The Collective was quiet for a moment before a new directive was handed down to her. oO ESCAPE THE BRIG. Oo She dialed the setting of the type 2 phaser they had so foolishly beamed her into the cell with all the way up past level 8, which would vaporize a person, to the levels that would destroy walls. She aimed it at the edge of the door frame, where the force field emitters were and fired. The wall between the two brig cells and their associated doorways both exploded and vaporized leaving a gaping, steaming hole and ruining two of the brig cells. The force fields fell, and so did Turnbull. In the smoky, fiery aftermath he lay, terribly burned, on top of Neshala. Neshala: response Three of Twelve allowed herself a self-satisfied smirk before stepping over the smoking debris and leading her unit out of the brig and towards the adjacent armory. They were about to become a whole lot deadlier. -- Lieutenant JG T'Ama Acting Chief of Operations USS Chin'toka C240004T11

((Intel Office, USS Constitution-B)) Ellie scowled as she pressed the chime to the Intel Office where the computer had told her Nugra was. After she had dispersed from the others at the meeting, she had huffed and made the determined trek here. Nugra Tk’Moong was lost in thought as his eyes read the lines to the quarterly intelligence review for the Marchlands. Starfleet Intelligence had some concerns and were updating all Intelligence officers. Some of the data was weird but nothing substantial yet. That was why the Gorn did not look up when he heard the door hiss open and someone walk in front of the desk. Ilix: Expecting someone, sir? Nugra: ::without looking up:: Yes? Ellie looked at the Gorn and spoke low, far more aggressively than her normal self. She may be normally a chill person, but she had 3 brothers. She wasn’t afraid to stand up for herself. Park: YOU! The Gorn’s head shot up to see the furious face of Lieutenant Ellie Park. He was confused and very amused about this adorable five foot eight mammal trying to look intimidating. He kept his face neutral. Nugra: Lieutenant. She leaned over his desk and began to poke him in the chest. Park: ::poking him with an accusing finger:: YOU ::poke:: LIED ::poke:: TO ::poke:: ME! ::poke:: Nugra: ::confused:: What? What are you speaking of? Ellie huffed and rolled her eyes. Park: You know what! Just when were you going to tell me you were a.. Lying liar of a Gorn? The lizard was absolutely confused at the moment trying to remember the last time he had spoken to her. Ilix: ::He murmured:: Computer, make a personal note. Never refuse an order from Doc Park. Nugra: You have me at a disadvantage, Mister Park. Ellie gave another scowl and crossed her arms. Disadvantage? As if. Park: Then allow me to refresh that lizard brain of yours. ::she started doing what was, honestly, a horrible impression of Nugra as she paraphrased what she remembered of his doom speech:: “I have seen quite a few terrifying things, Lieutenant, but do you know what the scariest thing I have ever seen? It's when Commodore Rajel loses her temper. I would rather face the Dominion on my own than anger her.” Ellie pointed another accusing finger at the Gorn. Park: So explain, Sir, why does everyone seem to think that she’s nice? Why she.. ::blushing:: has been nice to me?! Ilix: Don’t mind me. ::He munched on a crisp:: Oh! That was it. It was so hard not to break into the largest laugh of his life. She had finally learned the truth of the bubbly commanding officer of the USS Constitution. It seemed that Ellie Park had believed his story about her being a nightmare to work with. For a moment, Nugra thought to laugh and apologize but another thought crossed his mind. He stood to his full seven foot height with a serious look on his face. Nugra: Commodore Rajel was nice? To you and everyone? Park: Yes! Tann’s brow raised while he enjoyed another crisp, everyone knew Jalana was nice. The crew often referred to her as Mama Bear over how protective she was of them all. Ellie raised her hands in exasperation and rolled her eyes. Was he really that dense? Without hesitating, he swiftly moved over to the built in safe, tapped in the security code and reached in. In his claws, he pulled out two phasers and turned to the medical Officer. Nugra: That’s not the Commodore. We have a security breach. It took everything in him to not break out in laughter. Ilix: Understood, sir. Ellie’s eyes widened as she watched Nugra move to grab phasers and tried to process his statement. He wasn’t serious. Right? …Right?? She looked over at the other officer that she was finally registering then looked back at Nugra. Park: Wha-? The Gorn tossed her the phaser and marched towards the door. Nugra: ::lying:: There were rumors in Starfleet Intelligence of androids are on the loose. If it has taken the ship, the rest of the command staff cannot be trusted. Never in his life would he have expected a Gorn to be the sort to pull a prank but there was no way he wasn’t going to witness this. Bag of crisps in hand he followed a few steps behind. Ellie held the phaser in the palm of both her hands, looking down at it as if it was something gross that she didn’t want to touch. Park: A.. android… Ilix: Can look and sound like anyone. ::He muttered whilst chewing:: She mumbled, trying to figure out just how the tables had turned from her scolding the Gorn to being told that there was a security breach. That somehow meant she needed to help him.. She briefly wondered if she had hit her head somehow. Nugra: You and I need to go to the bridge and secure it. If we must commit mutiny, that is what we will do. Park: A mutiny.. ::she repeated:: Tann looked behind them if only to conceal the absolute grin on his face and stifle the chuckle that almost escaped. The Gorn waited to see if his ridiculous hyperbole began to dawn on the woman. Something clicked inside Ellie and she made a point not to show it, instead deciding to play along. Park: You’re right! We could all be in danger. Nugra:Good that you were onboard. The Gorn was not an expert at reading facial expressions but the inflection of her voice was easy to pick up. There was a good chance she had realized what he was doing. Ilix: Mutinies for everyone! Park: But.. ::frowning:: How do I know you aren’t one of them? Nugra: What do you mean? Ilix: Androids can be anyone, but we have tests for that. ::Munch:: Ellie shook her head emphatically and pointed the phaser at Nugra. Park: No, there’s no time for tests. The crew could be in danger! I’ll just have to stun you and lock you in the brig before taking the bridge myself. ::She looked him in the eye, challenging.:: There was a reason that he handed out dead phasers that needed to go to engineering for repairs. Nugra: You think threatening a superior officer is the correct solution? Do you understand your duty to this ship? Ilix: ::munch:: Tann leaned against the wall and watched with amusement. Park: No, no. I understand my duty. It can’t be helped. You understand of course? Nugra: If you feel that you are cold blooded enough. Tann looked down at his bag, which was now mostly empty. He was running out of crisps. Park: And of course, you must also think I’m a FREAKING IDIOT! Ellie yelled and threw the phaser at his head, knowing that it really wouldn’t do any damage. The Gorn had survived an explosion to his torso. A medical officer throwing a phaser at him was surely laughable, but dang if it didn’t feel good anyway. The phaser bounced off his head barely making sensation. His scales were extremely tough so it would take a lot of abuse to get through. The Gorn let out a deep bellow which was his species equivalent of a laugh. He hadn’t laughed that deep in a long time. Tann did allow himself to laugh this time, this was a story he would cherish forever. “Did I ever tell you about the time I witnessed a Gorn prank?” Nugra: You are quite amusing to toy with, Lieutenant Park. Ellie scowled, crossing her arms in frustration. She did not enjoy being the butt of jokes. Park: Oh I am, am I? You are gambling with someone who could bench you from work you know! Ilix: For your sake sir I hope you don’t end up needing to go to Sickbay anytime soon. ::He smirked:: Ellie nodded and tried very hard to look serious. As if she would ever mistreat someone in need of care. Nugra: Oh? Someone had once told me that I had to learn to lighten up and laugh at things. I remembered that my people used to have jokes like this so I thought you would enjoy it. Park: ::sighing:: I think you need a lesson on delivery… Ilix: Gorn jokes? Definitely not what I expected, and yet even your jokes are dangerous. Nugra: I see comedy does not cross culture that easily but for the record. The look on your face is something I will treasure for quite some time. Park: Well I’m glad you enjoyed my suffering. I really thought I had to be worried about getting into trouble! Tann chimed in whilst still smiling, though he was out of crisps now the experience had definitely been worth it. As someone who was far from skilled at social interactions this was a learning experience. Ilix: To be fair, what Senior Commander Nugra said about Jalana is true. Her temper is worthy of aw, but it’s never once been directed at any of the crew. More than a few enemies of Starfleet have witnessed it though and it is both frightening and also heartening to know how much she cares about us. Nugra: Mister Ilix makes a good point. Park: Well that I can handle. ::glaring at Nugra:: I’m starting to think maybe you gave her reason to raise hell at you! Something I can relate to. The Tandaran smiled innocently at the two of them while he crumpled up his now vacant bag of crisps. Ilix: From a zoological standpoint this was fascinating. Who knew that a Gorn’s natural predator would be any woman under six feet. ::He chuckled:: Nugra: I have known Jalana quite some time…I’m not surprised. Park: Well you should be scared! Revenge is a dish best served cold my friend. Ellie glared at Nugra. She wasn’t angry anymore- annoyed yes, but now that she knew it was a joke she didn’t have it in her to stay mad. Still, that didn’t mean she couldn’t get the Gorn back somehow. ---- JP by: LtJG Dr. Eleanor "Ellie" Park Asst. Chief Medical Officer USS Constitution-B A238908T10 & Senior Commander Nugra Intelligence Officer USS Constitution-B As Simmed by Lt. Commander Diz'mim Ch'Nilmani First Officer USS Constitution-B NCC 9012-B V238008N10 & Lieutenant JG Tann Ilix Intelligence Officer As simmed by Lieutenant JG Lystra Tactical/Security Officer USS Constitution-B NCC-9012-B Writer ID: A239410TR0

((Flores & T’Ama’s Quarters - Deck 19, USS Constitution-B)) ((Time Index: Two days into shore leave)) Rachel set down the PADD, at least having enough self-restraint not to throw it across the room. Dunsel had been patched up and she didn’t want to give T’Ama another reason to think that she was unstable. Wherever her roommate was. But it didn’t make her any less disappointed and disheartened by the results of the engineering competency test on the PADD screen in red letters. 62 percent. She had aced all her technical exams during retraining at Starfleet Academy. There was no excuse for this! The door opened and T'Ama entered pushing a hovering anti-grav trolley with a packing crate on it. She tucked it along one wall. T'Ama: Computer, set lights to 20% brightness. The lights immediately dimmed. Did she care that her roommate was working in here? Not particularly. Rachel wouldn't be her roommate much long anyway. Rachel looked up when the lights suddenly dimmed by 80% with a moment’s warning. She looked up and took note of T’Ama’s presence. But she’d seen T’Ama hundreds of times, that wasn’t an unusual sight. More interesting was the anti-grav trolley carrying a large crate. Flores: ::With a hint of irritation:: No, it’s fine, I wasn’t using that or… what’s in the crate? T'Ama removed her eye patch and looked around. Her right eye wasn't quite exactly the same as the other one anymore. Perpetually squinting to try to minimize the double vision. She grabbed the crate and dropped it on her bed. T'Ama: I'm moving out. That was news. Rachel just stared at the tabletop for a long minute of silence. She had guilt tripped T’Ama over this possibility the second she mentioned getting promoted to lieutenant junior grade. She was upset. Angry. Scared. But she took a moment to collect her thoughts and only gave the simplest acknowledgement of the news. Flores: Oh. T'Ama: I have been transferred to the USS Artemis. The way she said it was very, very Vulcan. Devoid of emotion, matter of fact. Anyone who knew her well would know this usually meant she was upset, or grumpy, or stressed. Flores: Right, sure. T’Ama: ::grunts:: Mm. Had Rachel been Vulcan this is probably where the conversation would have ended. A Vulcan would have accepted the news, maybe said something that mildly implied they might miss her if they had been particularly fond of her. But her roommate was not Vulcan, and lately hadn't been particularly stable even for a human, so she kept talking. Flores: Without wishing to say I told you so, I did say as soon as you told me you’d gotten promoted that this would happen. Granted it’s to a different ship and not just another room. At least it finally- ::She trailed off.:: So much for being calm and collected and giving a well-considered response. Rachel stopped herself and held up a hand to indicate T’Ama shouldn’t say anything until her damaged brain caught up with her mouth. T'Ama turned from her packing to see the hand up, and waited in silence, squinting a little to try to eliminate the double vision. Flores: No, I’m not gonna go there. Not again. ::Rachel frowned:: We’ve kind of been avoiding talking much since that little discussion. And I want to clear the air. I regret saying what I said. I just felt like life was, and is, collapsing around me. I’m still not on duty, my brain is still healing, and I’ve driven off one of the few remaining sources of familiarity. It’s scary. T’Ama: It's not personal, and it was bound to happen eventually. Both of those things were true. It was illogical to think their careers would progress at the same pace. Flores: You might have wound up here by accident. But I like you, I’d like to consider you a friend. And I don’t have many of those here in this time. It’s been nice to have somebody who ::As she looked at her roommate, something finally caught her attention about her roommate’s face. And realized she had been wearing an eyepatch:: By the Great Bird of the Galaxy, what horrible injury happened to you? T'Ama stared, head tilting slightly. Rachel liked her and considered her a friend? She didn't have many of those either. She felt like crying if the mere thought of doing that in front of someone wasn't deeply mortifying - and who knows how her eye would take it. T’Ama: ::quietly and bitterly:: Something stupid happened and they say I should have it removed. Some misfiring neurons deep in her brain took pleasure in that. Ha! So she wasn’t the only one to wind up horribly injured by dumb luck and stupidity. But the more rational part of her had regular person concerns like why T’Ama was losing her eye and how she needed support. Flores: Removed? Why? T'Ama: It's sensitive to light. ::gestures vaguely at the dimness:: Sees double. Painful. Can't keep it patched all the time or the optic nerve will die and then I won't be able to replace it. Rachel sighed and shook his head. They really were having the worst of luck recently. Flores: Aren’t we just two birds of a feather? Getting injured by stupid things. T'Ama: I'm just not… ready to lose a body part. It's… scary. It wasn't quite as awful as Rachel's situation. There were good things happening too, things she'd dreamed of and wanted, but also this huge thing that would alter her body - her life - forever. Everything was happening at once and she was just so tired. She wanted to be angry still about T’Ama’s not-abandoning abandoning her. Her blood was still boiling over her minimal competency on the engineering exam. But the news had taken a lot of the wind out of her sails. Maybe now wasn’t the time to yell at her soon-to-be-ex-roommate. She was having the best and worst day of her Starfleet career so far simultaneously. Rachel fumbled for something eloquent or comforting to say. Scary. She understood things being scary. Flores: I know what you’re going through. T’Ama: ::raises an eyebrow:: Losing a body part? A fair point. Rachel looked down at her own body, as if to remind herself that she had no artificial implants or body parts. That wasn’t what she meant. She should have thought through what she was going to say a bit more. Flores: No, well, of course not. I mean, not directly, but I- ::Rachel paused:: I have watched a friend go through this before. Just with a hand and not with an eye. T’Ama: Lystra? Flores: Yeah, Lystra. She likes to brag about it, so you might already know, but I designed her prosthetic hand. You know, back when I was… smart. Worked with Doctor Whatshisname to test the design. I sat with her while she was getting prepped for surgery. Until recently I did regular maintenance on the hand. All that to say that when a friend needs me and is going through something like this I’ll be there. Wherever, whenever. Rachel wasn’t really equipped to give T’Ama good support. They were both scared, both dealing with injuries that posed a serious change to their life circumstances. Nothing was ideal about this. But that was life in Starfleet. T’Ama: Even if we aren’t on the same ship? T’Ama paused her packing and sat next to Rachel on the couch, pressing both hands together with her knees. Flores: If you want someone to be with you when… or to come visit after, or anything like that. ::She paused:: Not like I’ll be missing out on all the duty shifts I can’t do if I come visit. T’Ama was a proud person, so Rachel wouldn’t be surprised if she would say no and not want anyone to see her in that state. But if she needed her she would be there. T’Ama blinked at her for a few seconds and then did the most outrageously un-Vulcan thing she’d ever done: she threw her arms around Rachel and hugged her. T’Ama: ::hugging Rachel:: I’m gonna miss you! She was a bit surprised to see this side of T’Ama. The hugging, the crying, the earnest emotional admissions. Rachel returned the hug, trying to be the cool and collected one and failing miserably at it. Flores: Hey, don’t cry, or I’m gonna- too late. ::Rachel trailed off, letting the tears do as they pleased:: I’m gonna miss you too, T’Ama. T’Ama pulled back and wiped at her eyes. At least it didn’t sting her bad eye to cry. T’Ama: Sorry. ::sniffling, weepily:: Thank you for being a friend. Rachel shook her head while using her sleeve to wipe away the tears still pooling in her eyes. Were she not playing with one brain lobe tied behind her back there were so many more thoughtful and cogent things she’d like to say. T’Ama had been the accidental roommate she didn’t know she needed, someone who was there to pull her out of her shell whether she wanted her to or not. Another person on the ship besides Lystra she could call a friend. Flores: No, thank you for being mine. I’ll always be your friend, T’Ama. Please don’t be a stranger. You know how to get in contact with me. ::Her voice cracked a bit:: Go show people on the Artemis how it’s done, ma’am. Raining on T’Ama’s parade over her initial promotion was a regret she still struggled with. She’d never given her the proper due for earning her promotion to lieutenant. So, for the first and hopefully not last time, she addressed her properly and composed herself long enough to give a salute. Then she scurried off to her room to let her friend pack in peace without her blubbering. So much for a dignified goodbye. No, not a goodbye. A “see you later”. --- Lieutenant JG T'Ama Acting Chief of Operations USS Chin’toka C240004T11 & Ensign Rachel Flores Engineering Officer USS Constitution-B ===as simmed by=== Lieutenant Commander Laria Herren Mission Specialist/Second Officer USS Constitution-B A239402AG0

A lovely, touching sim from @Vesela Pace, with scientific expertise and emotional depth. I loved seeing Pace pull herself together and carry on with saving lives.

Reading the Astraus sims, @Kris Fianna wrote this excellent sim, hitting those emotional beats perfectly for me.

I have been absolutely loving the sims coming from our new bunch of drones!! And this one from @Gila Sadar just hits the spot for me! Excellent!

We are not all heroes, sometimes we do mistakes or be in our best shape. @ArthurStrathmore simmed a very realistic situation. I just don't understand if he is really at the Engineering console or not, but if it is the case, he is a genius.

@Karen Stendhal presents her alternative version, giving us a view on her past.

As this is a 10(!) part JP, it's a little cumbersome to put each sim into either one thread or their own; but all of them deserve to be placed here, so I've attached links below. I highly encourage you to read all of it; this is some of the most excellent, out of the box, intriguing and satisfying reading I've done in a very long time. John, Tim- outstanding job. 🙂 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Something to be scared of... @Alora DeVeau @Karen Stendhal @Alix Harford

A thrilling and sublime sim here from @Tahna Meru who takes us from moment to moment without missing a trick. She's mastered the art of giving us a real time perspective from her characters point of view, and yet still manages to cleverly thread words and ideas from other characters into her sim in a way that really makes the whole scene come together. Lt. Commander Tahna Meru - Borrowing From The Resistance (google.com)

There is such a novelesque quality to this closing sim, which is no surprise knowing that it came from @Quinn Reynolds. Solkon suspects that the equipment in Sickbay may have been sabotaged when it starts acting up, and Taeval gently steers him in another direction with a shift in tone that was beautifully done and a thoroughly enjoyable read. "The crew are coming to terms with an existence in a Borg dominated galaxy. Almost everyone’s acting out of the ordinary. Half are in a daze, and the other half are manic." [Backsim] Taeval - A Close Call With Catastrophe (google.com)

And sometimes you can't really explain why you find a sim good. Or at least consider it better than its own writer... Right @Gila Sadar? Let me put it out and let everyone else judge

We have all seen such great assimilation sims, so I am going to drop a few more here. First this 3 part that I will compile into one from @Gnai. I have a great admiration for someone who is writing such an alien character and giving us so good stories. Thank you.

Parallel universes always show us reality from very different points of view. But some things remain unchanged, like the feelings of two soul mates @Oddas Aria

I enjoyed this flashback sim from @Sasch Kreshkova. Always good to get a peak into a character’s past. 🙂 (( USS Narendra - En Route to the Mess Hall )) Sasch wound her way from her quarters to the turbolift. Both her eyes and her ears were functioning, but they didn’t hear or see much of what was actually going on around her. She rubbed the spot on her nose where she had unceremoniously dropped the PADD where she had read Starleet’s “Missing in Action” notice. Her memory of the day that she met Armand was still so vivid. ((Time Index: Three Years Ago)) A cadet with green hair sauntered along the cliffs on the edge of the SanFrancisco bay. The salty spray from the waves crashing at the base of the rock ledge thirty feet beneath her had left her with both a slightly damp feeling as well as a notable gritty feeling from the salt left on her skin once the water had evaporated. The first year cadet should have been back on the Academy grounds cramming for the same finals everyone else with her specialty was, but she couldn’t focus. She kicked at a pebble sending it catapulting over the precipice and continued plodding along as her thoughts sprinted in ten different directions. Sure, her grades put her at the top of her class, but she felt like that was the only thing she had going for her. She had no real friends or social life to speak of - not from lack of being friendly, but because no matter where she went, it was whispered all around her, that she was Admiral Kreshkova’s daughter. She would catch snippets of conversations. Person 1: So that’s why she’s getting an “A” in Flight Dynamics. OR Person 2: It’s so obvious to everyone that she’s getting a little ‘help.’ The comment would be followed by a twitter of laughter. Or after one particularly stunning maneuver during one of her flights, she heard … Person 3: I’m sure daddy is giving her some one-on-one coaching on the weekends. The eighteen-year-olds face contorted into several different looks in quick succession - though not out of anger. If she had been watching someone in a similar situation as to what she was in, she may have thought the same thing - but she would have been wrong. Lost in her thoughts, Sasch didn’t hear the approaching footsteps.. From behind her, she heard the words… Delacroix: Twain really was right when he said the coldest winter he ever spent was a summer in San Francisco. Startled from her reverie, Sash spun around. Stepping close to the edge of the bluff, she nearly lost her balance and plummeted over the side, but a strong hand grabbed her by the arm and yanked her back. Standing in front of her holding onto her arm was Armand Delacroix. He would be a rising senior in the same focus that she was in - Flight. Kreshkova’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. Once he was sure she was steady on her feet, Armand released her arm. There wasn’t an overt smile playing on his face, but it seemed like it was just under the surface and could break out at any second. After watching the green-haired ensign for a short span he said… Delacroix: Walk with me, Kreshkova. The first year cadet paused, but as he started walking, Sash moved to catch up and then fell into step beside him with a silent nod. The two walked on in silence for a little while. Finally it was Armand who broke the calm between them. Delacroix: How many times have you spoken with your father this year? His tone was purposefully neutral, but he could see Sash’s jaw clench at the question. Delacroix: It’s just a question With her gaze straight ahead, she simply answered … Kreshkova: Vonce. Delacroix: And what was the topic of that conversation? Sash continued walking. She wasn’t refusing to answer his question, but she was afraid of what he might think of her if she answered it honestly. After several long, slow breaths, she said … Kreshkova: I asked him not to contact me again during zhe school year. The senior of the cadets nodded. Delacroix: I thought as much. ::He paused. I’ve been watching you. Kreshkova: ::Blurted out in frustration:: Everyvone’s been vatching me! Instead of irritation, Armand laughed, which brought a scathing look from Sasch. But Sasch’s outburst was followed by a good-natured … Delacroix: Yes, but I’ve been watching you in a different way for a different reason. Sash cast him a sideways glance. Kreshkova: And vhat have you discovered? Delacroix: You’re a hard worker. You’re the first to arrive and the last to leave. You don’t complain. You don’t ask for favors. You don’t kiss anyone’s backside. ::Smiling over at her.:: You’re the real deal. All the frustration that Sash had previously felt evaporated, and this time she blinked several times in rapid succession. Raising her chin, she asked … Kreshkova: But you’ve been vatching me …. To what end? Delacroix: ::Said matter-of-factly:: Two reasons. First, I think you need an ally. Sash’s mouth opened to protest, but Armand cut her off. Delacroix: Not a nanny. An ally. Someone who can tell people to knock it off - when you can’t hear what they are saying or when you’re not around. Someone who can make sure that you’re getting a fair shake. The first-year cadet tilted her head sideways at him as she considered his words. Kreshkova: And second? Delacroix: I want you to join Nova Squadron. Immediately her whole visage brightened. Kreshkova: Vhat? Nova…Seriously? Delacroix: Seriously. Kreshkova: But can second years? Armand slowed both his pace and his words. Delacroix: Not usually, but exceptions have been made often enough in the past. You won’t stand out as if you’re the only one, and if I hear anyone say that it was your dad who pulled the strings, I will set them straight. ((Current Time)) That one conversation had changed the whole course of her Academy career. Delacroix had pushed her - sometimes more than she thought she could handle, but he was fair and even handed. And he kept his word. Sasch no longer heard the whispers about who her father was or how he was helping her. But now he was gone - her mentor and her friend… Suddenly, broken from her reverie by a fit of laughter, the young woman paused her walking. Somehow she had made it from her quarters to the mess hall without really remembering the journey. ~*~ tags/tbc ~*~ Ens. Sasch Kreshkova Helm SB 118 OPSO240103SK2

((Bridge - Deck A, The Good Ship Lollipop)) ((Time Index: The 27th Century)) Rachel always found herself nodding off since her head injury. Especially bad as first officer of the Lollipop. She sat up in her chair on the bridge, looking around. How had she fallen asleep on the bridge? She looked over at Captain Rex McMillan. Glad to see him alive again after his dying on the Forthwith. And now in command of the Lollipop. It was a good ship. She turned to the panel off to her left side to get a status update. Which was difficult, the text seemed to change to gibberish every time she tried to focus on it and read it. McMillan: Uniform inspections! Everyone line up. She looked up from her control panel in confusion. Flores: Uniform inspections? Captain McMillan glared at her as the rest of the bridge crew stood up. He was a gruff captain. How she ended up going from chief engineer to first officer still mystified her. She felt like an imposter on the bridge. McMillan: Of course, Commander Flores. What kind of first officer forgets about the uniform inspections? ::To the assembled bridge crew:: Everybody, line up! If she had remembered she really would have put a bit more effort into her appearance. Rex was going to find so much to criticize her over. Flores: oO Why did I forget about uniform inspections, I should have shined my boots. Oo Rachel stood up and went to one end of the line, dreading when he came to her. Captain McMillan started with the Betazoid chief science officer. His uniform was spotless, as usual. McMillan: Very good. Next up, a Caitian comms officer. How did she never have any fur on her uniform? She had to have a lint roller stowed away beneath the communications console. It was the only explanation for how she always did so well. McMillan: Nice work. The chief tactical officer was up next. He put them all to shame. McMillan: Mirror polish on your boots, ensign. Excellent work. Then it was her turn. McMillan: Commander Flores, you’re in the wrong uniform. You’re out of date. She looked down at herself and realized that it was indeed the wrong uniform. Everyone else’s silver metallic-looking fabric uniform with division color piping on the cuffs looked the same. Not her. She was wearing her old blue jumpsuit with yellow colored stripes on the shoulders like some kind of primitive astronaut from a time before gravity plating and good food in space. A visual marker that she did not belong. Flores: Oh! Well, I… The captain scrutinized her further as she spoke, looking alarmed. McMillan: And your teeth, half of them have fallen out! Get to sickbay. Flores: They’re what?! Rachel turned to a console and shut off the display. In her reflection she could see half of her teeth missing and others starting to fall out. How had she missed it? Flores: ::Meekly:: Yes captain. She was confused. The uniform, the teeth, the feeling of being out of place. Why did everything bad happen to her? She left the line of officers and made the walk of shame across the bridge to the turbolift to report to sickbay. ((Primary Sickbay - Deck F, The Good Ship Lollipop)) Their CMO, a Klingon transfer officer still in full Klingon uniform, was waiting for her. When she entered sickbay, Rachel immediately got an ugly look from the doctor. She sat down on a biobed and waited for Doctor G’Renn to approach. G’Renn: And what are you here for this time? Another accident you got yourself into? Flores: My… teeth. Another annoyed huff came from the doctor, disappointed in her propensity for getting injured. G’Renn: Right. I see you’re out of uniform again. Rachel, Rachel, Rachel… always out of time. Always out of time. Why did this always happen to her? She was a good person. She didn’t deserve to get zapped around time and space by the vengeful universe. It wasn’t fair that she was out of time. And she didn’t need to constantly be reminded of it and punished because of it. She didn’t choose to have this happen, short of not killing the future Starfleet away team that tried to send them to the future. She sighed and tried to push back on the doctor’s criticism. Flores: I don’t think that’s entirely fair. I’m trying my best. But adapting fully to this new time takes time. Plus I’ve been under some other stress lately. G’Renn: Yes, that number you did to your head. What were you thinking? Of course the doctor wanted to chastise her about that. As if she hadn’t heard enough about it and been reminded of it by everyone at any opportunity, or that every day brought fresh reminders that she’d done possibly irreversible damage to her head. It hardly seemed relevant to her current issue. Flores: ::Mumbled:: I wasn’t. But I really don’t appreciate- Ow! Rachel flinched, feeling a fresh pinch of pain. Flores: Can we just focus on fixing my teeth? G’Renn: Of course. I think that the easiest treatment would be to simply remove the affected area. You don’t really need your jaw. You stay here and I’ll go get the medical bat’leth. Rachel’s eyes widened in horror. Remove her jaw? Medical bat’leth? As soon as G’Renn had moved off to go grab the aforementioned tool, Rachel got up from the biobed and made a cautious but rapid advance towards the exit. She walked backward, keeping an eye out for anyone trying to stop her from leaving sickbay. Flores: You know, I really don’t think that’s a good idea! The Klingon doctor called out from the medical armory with an order. G’Renn: Nonsense! Sit back down, I’ll be right with you. Flores: Yes, but I really should be going back to work… She passed by someone else standing by the sickbay door. It was one of the servers from the Saloon back on the Conny. Dressed like an old west cowgirl and carrying a tray of plates and hyposprays. As Rachel tried to back out of sickbay, the server chimed in with her own suggestion. Server: Of course, but first you need to wake up. That made sense, it was a good- wait a second, what was a server from the bar doing in sickbay? And wake up from what? She looked back at her in confusion. Flores: What do you mean? Server: Rachel, wake up! ((The Saloon - Deck 10, USS Constitution-B)) ((Time Index: Day after the mission - 1300 Hours)) Rachel woke up with a start. She wasn’t stranded in yet another time that wasn't her own, about to have her jaw removed. She was at the bar in the Saloon, face planted on the counter. Her dreams had been so vivid since she had suffered her head injury. Vivid but nonsensical. And sometimes terrifying. What did it mean… and the nodding off in public. That was a problem too. Especially if she wanted to get back into her usual duties in engineering. The chief was never around. But she knew that the one time she napped on top of one of the warp core power transfer conduits would be the one time the chief would show up. Server: Rachel, you need to wake up. ::Pause:: Are you alright? Obviously she had fallen asleep. So obviously she said: Flores: Sorry, did I nod off? Server: Yeah, about twenty minutes ago. I was going to leave you in peace, but you seemed like you were having a nightmare or something. She nodded. Flores: Thanks. The waitress left to serve other customers while Rachel tried to regain her composure. It was awkward, falling asleep at the bar. She was sure that talk of her condition had started to spread throughout the ship. Still, some might assume she was either working herself to exhaustion or quite possibly very drunk. She was distracted from her worries by a flashing indicator on her PADD. A message. =/\= Private Message =/\= To: Ensign Rachel Flores & Lieutenant JG Ellie Park From: Lieutenant JG Lystra Pleaaaaaaaase tell me you both saw T’Aven’s shipwide? If you haven’t, buggy race. On the demon planet. We can have up to three people. Soooooo, who’s with me? The three of us on a buggy would be badass, dangerous and nigh unstoppable!!! I’ve been stuck in Sickbay for almost thirty hours. Pleaaaaasee say yes!! Lystra P.S. Since this is a normal race and not holo training for an insane mission I’m guessing the buggies won't have phaser cannons. So I call dibs on driving. =/\= End Private Message =/\= That sounded like a great bit of escapism. Rachel immediately started writing up a reply. =/\= Private Message =/\= To: Lieutenant JG Lystra & Lieutenant JG Ellie Park From: Ensign Rachel Flores Absolutely! I am so with you. You should definitely drive. You or Ellie. I for one wish to live long and prosper. So I will not be driving. I’ll handle any phaser cannon installation, though. I can probably manage that. Assuming I can remember to show up. - Rachel =/\= End Private Message =/\= Rachel was excited to do something fun rather than simply sulking in her quarters with engineering 101 flashcards to help retrain her brain. Leave it to Lystra to help get her out of the dumps. Her Boslic best friend had been a constant presence by her bed in sickbay. Although she hadn’t reached out to her in the weeks following. And Doctor Park would be there too, just in case. Although she had learned one important lesson from the hoverboard incident. Wear. A. Helmet. The waitress stopped back by with a slice of pecan pie. Either something she thought of on her own or a directive from Kincaid. Regardless, she smiled and started to dig in. Ensign Rachel Flores Engineering Officer USS Constitution-B ===as simmed by=== Lieutenant Commander Laria Herren Mission Specialist/Second Officer USS Constitution-B A239402AG0

I cannot express how amazing this work is. Every inch of our ship has been recorded and on display for all to see. First, Joel created deck plans, not just for key areas of the ship, but for every single deck. We know where every room is in relation to each other. I can trace a route from the bar to sickbay. Isn't that beyond amazing? https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=OEB_Deck_Layout As a visual person, this really helps me to bring my sims alive and make the ship feel more real. Then Erik came along and worked out an entire numbering system for every room and created this awesome tabber which is so fun to use and flick through. I do know Erik wants to make some edits and updates but it's still worth showing off https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=OEB_Room_Assignments Then using Joel's deck plan, he made an interactive tool that lets us see exactly what section each room is in. I'm not 100% sure if I can share that link here, so I'll refer to Erik So already, that's weeks' worth of work from them both, But did they finish there? Nope. I want to also highlight that Joel made each of our quarters, in detail, to our specifications. I am beyond in love with these. https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Special%3ALog&type=upload&user=Jack+Kessler&page=&wpdate=&tagfilter=&subtype=&wpFormIdentifier=logeventslist I was just glad that I got to help out with little things here and there. Erik and Joel have set the bar so darn high, and both IC and OOC. I love these two cool cats, @Erik Johnson @Jack Kessler

@LuxaLorana writing @Karrod Niac's mother is probably the more terrifying thing in the galaxy. But also effing hilarious. I'm re-reading it to reply and i've laught more than the first time, and it really deserve to be here!

This sim by Daniel "Mac" McGillian's writer offers something different in the stream of borg assimilations happening through the fleet. No spoilers, just read to the end... error... Message Recieved... Error (( Bridge, Deck 3 - Primary Hull, USS Chin’toka )) Standing behind the tactical station on the Chin'toka was both an exhilarating and stressful moment for Mac. He was currently the highest ranking tactical and security officer on the ship. While he firmly believed in what they were doing, on some level he felt like he was a fish out of water. He barely had any combat experience, and fewer still his experience behind the tactical station on the bridge amounted to the small amount of time he had been standing at this very station. No pressure or anything. Serala: So, you mean we don’t have a full store of supplies, correct? Perkins: That’s right, Serala. But this ship wasn’t meant to launch yet. We aren’t expecting those supplies until Thursday. The Captain blew out a frustrated breath and gritted her teeth as Sherlock dropped her head to the side at Perkins response. Serala: Fine. We’re not planning an extended launch anyway. If that’s all there is, we will be fine. T’Ama: There’s also no tractor beam, captain. The Captain grimaced again and turned to her Operations officer. The XO's lips tucked, eyebrows raised, and then she looked down at her PADD. Serala: No tractor beam? T’Ama: It’s low priority on the load order. Neshala: Captain, we’re getting a transmission. The parade is starting. Admiral Shelby is broadcasting to all the ships. Captain Serala nodded at the Orion woman. Serala: Very good. Place it on viewer. Mac looked up at the viewscreen. Shelby: =/\= A quarter millennium after the NX-01 took that first vital step, we gather on Frontier Day to take another; as we demonstrate our newest advancement, “Fleet Formation”. =/\= Serala spun and looked at T’Ama. Serala: Please tell me we were able to keep that from being installed. T’Ama: I removed it from the update scripts before we booted the computer. The Captain breathed a sigh of relief then turned back to Perkins as he began trying to defend himself. Perkins: It wasn’t supposed to be installed until Thursday, Serala. I swear, you act like we knew you would be launching this ship today. Was there anything this guy could say that wasn't going to annoy his CO and XO? Mac was beginning to have serious doubts that it was possible. Shelby: =/\= Our next demonstration is the summation of decades of technological advancements. =/\= Serala turned to her First Officer, determination clear on her face. Serala: It’s time, Number One. Prepare the ship for immediate launch. oO And here we go... Oo Sherlock: Aye, Captain. ::standing and addressing the bridge officers:: All stations, ready for departure. Serala: Lieutenant T’Ama, open a shipwide channel. T'Ama tapped at her console. T’Ama: Channel open, Captain. Serala: =/\= All hands, this is the Captain. Prepare for immediate launch. Engineering, I need those engines online now. All stations, Red Alert. =/\= The lights on the bridge dimmed and red lights illuminated even as alert klaxons began to sound throughout the ship. Xiron / Is’Kah: =/\= Responses =/\= The sound of the klaxons brought back childhood memories when the ship his parents served on would be in a dangerous situation. None of those memories involved himself being on the bridge. This was one of many firsts Mac expected he'd be experiencing in a very, very, short span of time. Serala: =/\= We don’t have four hours, Lieutenant. Give me impulse power. We shouldn’t be going to warp anytime soon, anyway. Once we’ve launched you can continue working on getting the warp engines online. I’m sending Commander Ilsam down to assist. =/\= She nodded at Ilsam to go ahead and head down to assist. Islam: Response, if any. Xiron / Is’Kah: =/\= Responses =/\= Serala: =/\= Counselor Brodie to the Bridge. Commander Kel and Lieutenant Doucet, prepare sickbay for potential casualties. =/\= Kel: =/\= Kel to Bridge. Understood Captain. =/\= Brodie / Doucet: =/\= Responses =/\= As the Engineering team brought the engines up to full power, the hum throughout the ship intensified. Mac felt goosebumps run down his spine. He wasn't sure what he was more excited about, the familiar feeling of being on a ship, or the fact they were stealing it in order to protect the Federation from one of the gravest threats that may have ever presented itself. On second thought he was sure, it was the latter. Moving to her seat in the command center, Serala turned to face the viewscreen briefly before slowly sitting in the chair for the first time ever. She paused for a moment. Mac noted the importance of this moment, and a smile escaped. As quickly as it had begun, it was over as the Captain began to issue orders, starting with Mac. Serala: Mister McGillian, bring weapon systems online. Arm torpedoes and standby. McGillian: Already? She turned to face him. Mac felt his eyes widen for a moment. Serala: I am aware this is supposed to be a celebration, Ensign. But trust me, it’s about to go very badly. We don’t know what the Borg and Changelings have planned, but it has something to do with this celebration and I want to be prepared. McGillian: Uh, yes Sir. We... ::pause:: don't have any torpedoes. The Captain turned to Perkins, her irritation showed, perhaps it was escalating beyond mere irritation at this point. Mac was just glad it wasn't directed at him. Serala: Let me guess. Thursday. Perkins tried to say something, but quickly closed his mouth and shrugged apologetically. The Captain turned back and looked at Mac. She had his full attention. Serala: Very well, we’ll have to make do with phasers. But let’s see if we can’t beam at least one load of torpedoes off the shipyards before we get too far. We can load them in the bay as we go. With a nod, Mac quickly punched in the necessary actions to bring their phasers online and ready. McGillian: Phaser's at the ready Captain, I'm sending a message down to the transporter room to get us some proton torpedoes. With the clock ticking before they left dock, Mac quickly scrambled a message to the transporter room closest to the torpedo bays. He made sure to indicate that it was a direct order from the Captain, and was priority one. Sherlock: ::turning to face Serala:: Captain, all stations reporting ready. Mac looked up from his sent message to see the Captain give the XO an approving nod, then she sat forward. Serala: Then let’s get out of here. Lieutenant Neshala, clear all moorings and take us out, one-quarter thrusters until clear of the drydock, then ahead full. We don’t have warp yet, but we’re not going to need it anyway. Neshala: Aye, Captain. :: tapping some buttons to disconnect the umbilicals from the shipyard :: Clearing moorings. Ahead one-quarter thrusters. Mac grinned as he watched the ship begin to inch forward. A message popped up on his station as the Captain ordered the ship to set a course for the parade. Mac smirked as he read the message from the transporter room. They had torpedoes. The grin faded as he suddenly felt fire in his veins, and in his head. Mac stumbled back from his station. oO We..... Borg......We...are..the.... NO! What in the hell! Oo One hand on the side of his forehead, Mac looked up in horror. He felt his other hand moving towards the phaser at his side. Several of his crewmates had stopped moving, and the black lines on their faces... and their eyes suddenly looked like his own. Borgified Crewmen, including T'Ama (in unison): We are the Borg. oO What in the hell? Oo Serala: Security alert! Computer, secure the bridge. Serala pulled out the hidden phaser in her armrest and immediately rose to her feet. Lt. Cmdr. Sherlock immediately tossed her PADD towards the nearest wall and made a dash for her chair, presumably to retrieve the phaser from its compartment. The Captain had now opened fire. Sherlock: Protect the Captain! The fire in Mac's veins and head was still there as he felt himself draw his phaser, but it wasn't really himself drawing it... Was it? McGillian: I'm on it! Any: Responses Seeing the XO draw her phaser, she then turned to look at T'Ama. Mac moved towards the Captain. The pain was dizzying, and he nearly tripped as he moved past his station. T'Ama (in Unison): Eliminate the unassimilated. She stood, raised her phaser, and pointed at the captain. Sherlock: Lieutenant! Stand down! The XO fired a shot into their Operations Officer, who in turn fired into CO. oO Elim.. unassim..... error.... Oo Sherlock leveled the phaser again but she'd become target focused and hadn't noticed a crewman come from behind and suddenly dropping his arm atop hers, knocking the phaser out of her hand. She turned to face the new threat, stepping back just enough to give her room to think for a split second. Mac watched in horror as his arm raised, pointing at the Captain. McGillian: NO! Using his other arm, he redirected his arm so that the shot that came from his phaser went directly into another Borg infected crew member. One who had been coming directly at the Captain to her right. The Borg hit the ground, and stopped moving. Serala: response Sherlock lunged at the crewman, keeping her shoulder low, she shoved into his abdomen, pushing him towards the wall. For the moment he was pinned, but his strength felt immense and she knew she wouldn't be able to hold him long. Sherlock: Mac! Get the Captain to the ready room! Sherlock was pressing her shoulder into the crewman as hard as she could, digging her feet into the deckplate. The pain in his veins began to subside as Mac wrestled his phaser out of his right hand, and into his left. Any: Responses McGillian: Captain, with me! Moving up next to her, Mac realized his phaser wasn't on stun. He flipped the setting as he moved, keeping himself between the Captain and anyone who would try to take a shot at her. Serala: Response Mac fired a few shots into another Borg that had just stepped onto the bridge. His right arm loosened, and he felt like he was once again in full control of his limbs. The ready room door opened as Mac approached it, and to his surprise he was immediately grabbed, and slammed into the wall by a Borg, sending his phaser bouncing into the ready room. McGillian: ::pained and surprised:: Ahhh! Mac put all of his strength into pushing the assailant off of him to give the Captain a clear shot. Serala: Response McGillian: Thank you Sir. Let's move! Any: Responses

@Quentin Beck really trying to get the Evil Dead Bruce Campbell look.

This 2 Part Borg Assimilation sim is my favorite that I've read so far. Fianna's writer did a wonderful job showing the trauma and emotion of the moment and taking me to the edge of my seat with gut wrenching horrors. Part 1- Assimilation (( Sickbay Complex, Deck 12, USS Astraeus )) Kris had left the briefing room with a determined face. Fear was coursing through her veins, but that was being overridden by her confidence in her commanding officers and the sheer weight of the importance of everything. People were relying on them. So, she'd buckle down and do her part. For the next couple of hours, Kris whirled through Sickbay with a small contingent of nurses, restocking and preparing the ship for whatever they might face. Medicines were replicated, biobeds restocked, trauma kits built and distributed throughout the ship, and finally, as everything was cleaned, she turned to her team. Fianna: Alright. Take a short break while you can. Having so dismissed the team, she took a moment to turn back to the console before her and begin updating the inventory log and indicate to the Bridge that Sickbay was prepared. She never got to press send. A searing pain split her head, and paralysis gripped her body as a noise ripped through her, vibrating within her. She tried to bring a hand to her head to brace, but they didn't answer her. Choking on the very air she was breathing, Kris began to panic. oO What's going on!? I can't do anything! I'm scared, Papa... Oo Kris stared helplessly at the console as her vision clouded and faded into nothingness, all in a split second. She began to feel a heat flash through her, searing her veins as the feeling of tiny insects crawling everywhere overtook her. Her insides felt contorted and twisted, and had she eaten anything at all, she would have sworn right then that it was coming back up covered in spiders. But nothing did. Her body was completely frozen, and she was alone in her plight. oO Someone help me! Please! Oo And then, the rush of endorphins hit her like a truck. A sense of euphoria like nothing else she'd ever experienced, an accomplishment at having found a purpose. oO Purpose?! Oo A drowsy warmth soon enveloped her. She straightened as all the burning cooled to the same temperature, her vision suddenly clearing and her limbs moving all on their own. Try as she might, nothing she wanted was helping. She struggled as hard as she could, but whatever was happening, had her in its clutches with a grip stronger than anything she'd ever known. Fianna: WE ARE THE BORG. oO The Borg!? Nonononono I can't be Borg! HELP ME PLE-- Oo Silence. Kris could feel so much. See so much. And, one thing became immediately clear to her. oO Resistance is futile. Oo Fianna: ELIMINATE ALL UNASSIMILATED. SEIZE THE ASTRAEUS. Internally, Kris wanted to cry. To scream, kick, fight, and run as far away from this as she could get. She would have to settle for a front row seat to the worst horrors of her life as she watched her hands set her phaser to kill, and fire at the panicking crew. She made her way to a weapons locker, retrieving a phaser rifle, before turning it on her crew as the sounds of fighting filled the Sickbay, the screams of her crewmates filling her ears. But Kris' body didn't linger. It proceeded with purpose down the hall to the turbolift. Fianna: DECK 35 - ENGINEERING. Part 2- Directive: Secure Engineering (( Main Engineering, Deck 35, USS Astraeus )) (( Warning: Some readers may find the following to be disturbing. Discretion is advised. )) (( OOC: Naprim and Yelchin are General NPCs - which means that anyone may play them. Feel free to answer their tags! )) Borg-Kris walked into Main Engineering, firing without hesitation at those not assimilated. Pin-point accuracy guided her aim, and it didn't take very long for Borg Reinforcements to arrive with her, entering the doorway. Fianna: ELIMINATE ALL UNASSIMILATED. SECURE ENGINEERING. SEIZE THE ASTRAEUS. Among those assembled in Engineering when Kris arrived were Crewman First Class Tarva Naprim, Crewman Third Class Yelchin, and Lieutenant Commander Wyatt Ral. Ral / Yelchin / Naprim: Responses Fianna: WE ARE THE BORG - RESISTANCE IS FUTILE. Kris, meanwhile, watched horrified from within herself as the blood was spilt, her Oath was violated, and her life continued to be a nightmare. oO Please, help me! Someone stop me, I can't do anything! Papa - I'm scared! I -- Do not resist. You will be assimilated. Oo Ral / Yelchin / Naprim: Responses Kris answered them with more fire from her phaser as she continued her killing spree. The Borg-crewmates continued to flank her as she navigated the ship, and made her way towards the main Engineering console... Kris fired at the poor crewman hiding under the desk, before proceeding to ruthlessly step on his windpipe. The cut-off scream from the crewman was enough to send what little of Kris' consciousness remained into a box, hiding from the horrors before her. oO I'm so sorry... I can't stop - I can't help them... Papa, Mama... Someone... Save me... Oo Ral / Yelchin / Naprim: Responses