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  1. @Hutch @Quinn Reynolds - Thought this was really well written, guys! Lovely look at two old friends! -- ((Earth, Copenhagen)) Jhen Thelev yawned as he lifted the ice-blue teapot from the kitchen counter, pouring hot amber liquid into the glass teacup. Replicating tea was quicker, sure, but he preferred the little ritual of a proper brew. He was looking forward to having the next few days off after a particularly gruelling week of work. Although ‘gruelling’ could also be read as ‘tedious’, ‘dull’ and ‘repetitive’. The Andorian sipped his tea and drummed his fingers on the work surface. It was time, he decided, to do something he’d been putting off for quite some a while. Thelev: =/\= Computer, open a channel to the USS Gorkon, Admiral Quinn Reynolds. =/\= As the Federation logo spun lazily on the screen, Jhen found himself hoping that Quinn wouldn’t be around so he wouldn’t actually have to ask her in person. He had no idea what the time would be on her ship — she could be asleep, or off the ship doing… things. More likely, crawling around in a Jefferies tube fixing stuff on the sly. The thought made him chuckle, and even if he wasn’t exactly thrilled with his reason for contacting her, Jhen still thought it would be good to catch up with an old friend. The Starfleet logo blinked away, replaced by the sight of a mousy-haired woman sat in the panelled mushroom-grey ready room of a Sovereign-class starship. Light reflected off the admiralty brass on her collar, jacket discarded in favour of the grey-yoked vest afforded to command officers. The comm channel established, her eyes and smile came alive when she saw who was on the other end. Reynolds: =/\= Jhen! =/\= Her freckled face was little different to when he’d last seen it and very different to when he’d first seen it, all those years ago. He couldn’t help but smile. Thelev: =/\= Rear Admiral Quinn Reynolds, head of the Tyrellian Sector Taskforce… that’s quite a title you’ve got yourself there. =/\= Reynolds: =/\= It's a mouthful. ::She grinned.:: But you're a sight for sore eyes. How the hell are you? =/\= Thelev: =/\= I’d like to say older and wiser… but just older. It’s good to see you, Quinn. I’ve been meaning to get in touch for ages, but always something gets in the way. And I’m sure you’ve been more than busy out there. =/\= Her expression turned wry, an eyebrow lifting while her head dipped in a nod. Still, the delight continued to dance in her hazel eyes, beyond pleased to see her old friend and academy classmate. He was one of the few people still in the fleet who'd known her back then, in all her easily startled, stammering, and awkward glory. Reynolds: =/\= That's a polite way of putting it. =/\= Thelev: =/\= I know the Gorkon spent some shore leave on Earth last year, but I got called away to Bolus at short notice. Bad timing. =/\= Reynolds: =/\= I know. ::Her grin returned.:: You missed my wedding. =/\= Thelev: =/\= You got married?! ::Jhen was genuinely speechless for a moment:: But… how? Wouldn’t that have meant a whole day being the centre of attention? =/\= Reynolds: =/\= Yes. Yes it did. ::She chuckled.:: Although it turns when you throw a really big party it's fairly easy to hide in the crowd, even when you're the guest of honour. =/\= Thelev: =/\= Wow... I’m sure you were thrilled with that part. =/\= Jhen shook his head as he sipped his tea. Clearly there was a lot he had missed and he felt even more regret for not keeping in touch. He used the pause to regard Quinn for a moment - there was a lot more confidence about her now, hardly surprising given her rank and the fact she’d been commanding starships for years. But there was something else, a sadness maybe, that he couldn’t quite identify. He wondered briefly what those hazel eyes had seen… and thought it best that he didn’t know. Reynolds: =/\= I survived, just about. ::Her smile refusing to budge, she sat back in her seat.:: What about you? It's been forever since we last spoke, what have you been up to? =/\= Thelev: =/\= Me? Oh, I’ve been around here and there. After the Achilles was decommissioned I came back to Earth, spent some time working as a Starfleet liaison at the Federation Treaty Office. I even had a secondment to the Department of Temporal Affairs for a while. I’d say that I couldn’t tell you more because it’s classified, but really it’s because I had no idea what was going on most of the time. ::She grinned and he sipped his tea again, his antenna dipping in the Andorian equivalent of a shrug:: But last few years I’ve been part of Starbase Command. =/\= Reynolds: =/\= Stuck in an office. ::A finger pointed upward and performed a circular motion.:: I know the feeling. =/\= Thelev: =/\= That’s why I was contacting you, actually. Although I’d been putting it off because it felt too selfish. Hells, it feels even more selfish now…. ::Jhen sighed:: I want to get back out there, Quinn. Sitting in an office planetside, attending the odd meeting is, well, let's say it’s not exactly exciting. I miss being on a starship, on a bridge. I put in a transfer request months ago, but I’ve heard nothing. So… I was wondering if you had any ships that needed a new Chief of Ops or something...? =/\= He left the question hanging, his azure features turning a little plum-coloured with embarrassment. Her smile softened in reply, a gentle amusement creeping into her expression. Quinn hadn't been asked for many favours in her career, usually only by those in desperate situations seeking an equally desperate escape. Perhaps she didn't seem the type, and perhaps she wasn't; the last time she'd pulled a significant favour for a friend, it had backfired to say the least. Come to think of it, the last time she'd been asked for a favour was over a year ago now, when Sienelis — resigned to what she'd thought had been an early doom, or at the very least, exile — had asked if she could let Johns' insubordination toward a JAG officer slide. Quinn had done that and one better; she'd promoted the young Petty Officer. A decision that in retrospect, had really turned out quite well. Reynolds: =/\= I'm fairly sure I still owe you for hauling me and my ship out of an ocean, so... =/\= Thelev: =/\= Ha! You know, I had actually forgotten about that. ::He shook his head slowly.:: So many crazy adventures, you need the memory of a Cardassian to keep track of them all. Or just be a highly organised flag officer. But that’s exactly the sort of stuff I miss. =/\= Reynolds: =/\= Let me see what I can do. The Hawking is due to join our taskforce and the crew roster isn't finalised. How does an Oracle class sound? =/\= Jhen’s dark eyes sparkled and her smile widened again, delighted to have delighted. Intentional or not, he'd picked the perfect time to ask and she was more than willing to oblige. Perhaps she'd accumulated a bit of a reputation for it, offering positions in the taskforce for officers like Walter and Harry, Sienelis and Bjarnadottir, who for various reasons had asked her or been asked by her for a posting in the task force. Thelev: =/\= Well now! That would be quite something. ::he held up one blue hand:: But you know you don’t owe me any special treatment. If I was offered the job of technician on a prison transport right now I’d take it, just to get back out into the black. =/\= Reynolds: =/\= I'm just offering a posting to a good officer. You'll have to do all the hard work. =/\= Thelev: =/\= Ha! ::he laughed again:: Seems reasonable, Quinn. I’d like a challenge more taxing than sourcing a thousand stem bolts for Starbase 118. Although don’t get me wrong, those stem bolts can be tricky to find. ::The Andorian finished his tea with a flourish and placed the cup down on the surface in front of him.:: I appreciate it more than I can say. Thank you. =/\= Reynolds: =/\= You're very welcome. =/\= Thelev: =/\= Well, with that out of the way, I think there’s a few things you have to bring me up to speed on. Such as who is Mr Reynolds? =/\= Reynolds: =/\= Well. ::She grinned, a familiar touch of pink colouring freckled cheeks.:: I don't think you ever met Walter Brunsig... And so the conversation ran on, two old friends with a great deal to catch up on. Conversation, laughter and reminiscence ran on long into the small hours, counted in cups of tea and aching cheeks, until the two friends bid each other good night, to meet again soon. -- Commander Jhen Thelev Simmed by Lt (jg) Loxley Medical Officer USS Gorkon R238401JT0 & Rear Admiral Quinn Reynolds Commanding Officer USS Gorkon T238401QR0
  2. Nicely framed, @Randal Shayne. Gentle hand as you tame that unruly yet majestic beast.
  3. ((OOC: This JP with Noelle has been in google drive for a LONG time. So it is finally time to post it )) (( Quarters D'Sena )) The announcement about the Vacation planet had been ship wide, so Akeelah had heard it too. She couldn't imagine that the planet was suitable for her visit in the wheelchair and she was not yet stable on her legs. But what had really occupied her mind since then was the invitation towards families. Her own family was too busy to get all the way out here and the only family that she wanted to see even more was across the galaxy on Starbase 118. She sat behind her desk, the small box in her hand open, displaying a Jade ring she had not yet sent back to Jack. It had been surprisingly had for her to do so because it felt like she had a piece of him here. Her mind went back to several months ago when he had sent it to her. (( Flashback - about a year ago )) ((Starbase -118)) There’s a lot of work that goes into planning a wedding. Seriously - like a lot. And with so much distance it’s astronomical. At least for most people. However this was Jack Gard and Akeelah D’Sena we’re talking about. There were things to decide, however, both big and small. Decision of big and little consequence. First and foremost, the ring… something not so easy. Jack had gone to various little shops looking for just the right ring. Something that said… Something that was ‘Akeelah’. Which seemed harder then he had originally thought. They were too small, too flashy, too… everything. Anything. Nothing was right. Computer replicas, by the thousands, took to long to sift through causing him to abandon such endeavors. It was bordering on frustrating. Why couldn’t he find what he wanted? It wasn’t until he received a little package in the mail. In a hand made box with ornate oriental patterns all about it. It was small and could have easily gotten lost, and yet many took care to bring it to his personal quarters, hand delivered. He sat quietly, simply looking at the box. Jack knew who it was from, the only people in his life who would send such a box. What he didn’t know was what was inside it. He took a sharp breath in, held it for a long moment while his hands reached out. One on the lid the other hold still the rest. Like a bandaid, he opened it swiftly. There was cotton-like material stuffed inside. He curiously pulled out the stuffing, a small clater fell on his table top. His heart nearly skipped a beat, as his eyes fell upon the small jade rings laying tied together. Those were the wedding bands that belonged to Tabby’s grandparents, before they renewed their vows and gave each other two new rings. These were old pieces of jewelry, handed down to each generation. It had been discussed that Jack and Jessica were to get them. But he had been stubborn, insisting on something new, bright and dazzling. Believe it or not, but he had been a bit foolish in his younger years from time to time. He swallowed hard, picking them up and holding them in the palm of his hand. They felt… heavy. This was not only approval of the marriage, but also an unspoken question to carry on their tradition, to keep their part of the family apart of his… apart of Tabby’s. He squeezed them tightly as his chest clenched too. It had been a long time since he thought of his passed wife. Was it selfish? Foolish of him to let his mind wonder to her, knowing he was working getting to ready to marry another… he hoped she would be happy for him, that he’d finally moved on and found such happiness and joy. He would send them to Akeelah, seeking her approval. There was no way for him know if she would see the honor or the taboo in keeping the rings. He wrote her a long letter, talking of all sorts of things; his had, how Tabitha was doing, and school. He asked her of her day and her health. And at the very end, before signing off, he asked her about the rings. . ((USS Constitution, Marchlands, Akeelah D’Sena’s personal quarters - a little while later)) It had been a busy day full of work and rehab. Akeelah had finally returned to her quarters. She had gotten used to gauging the distance between the wheels of her chair and the doorframes or the furniture. Such a long time in this thing would do that. As always her first way was to the desk in the corner, where she pressed a button to activate a small holoimage that flickered into existence. The piercing warm eyes of Jack looked right at her, beneath him the sparkling bright eyes of his daughter Tabby. Akeelah smiled gently, running her fingers through the apparition, tickling over her skin as they went right through it. Computer: One message waiting. The reminder of the computer, which had noticed she was around, pulled her out of her melancholy. She missed both of them. D’Sena: Play message. Computer: One delivery for Akeelah D’Sena has been placed on the table. She pulled her brows together and turned her head, noticing the small package on the table top. While she wasn’t a big fan of strangers entering her quarters without her being here, she appreciated that the delivery had not been delayed or taken back to the service offices. Placing her hands on the the wheels of her chair she moved to the table and picked up the small package. Opening it she found a letter first and a smile played around her lips as she recognized Jack’s handwriting on the paper. It was as if she could hear his voice, telling her about his day, all the things that he and Tabby did. Her cheeks flushed at some parts that went into a lot of detail about how much he missed her. She couldn’t pretend that she didn’t feel the same way. As the letter prompted her to open the package inside, she pulled it out and opened the box, revealing two circular objects made of a green shiny stone. She pulled one of them out and noticed that they were heavier than expected, the light from the ceiling reflected on the smooth surface. D’Sena: ::mumbling:: Beautiful… but what is it? She went back to read the letter and her brows raised when she read the explanation Jack had included. Her eyes went back to the rings, forehead furrowed in confusion. D’Sena: Computer, what is the meaning of wedding rings? Computer: In various cultures a wedding ring or wedding band is a finger ring that indicates that its wearer is married. It can be manufactured from various materials. Depending on culture, a wedding ring is typically worn on the base of the left or right ring finger. Many spouses wear their wedding rings day and night, causing an indentation in the skin that is visible even when the ring is removed. Certain cultures consider it unlucky to remove a wedding ring once it has been placed - D’Sena: Stop. ::She watched the ring curiously.:: Why is it important? Computer: Due to their design wedding rings are seen as a symbol of eternal love and has been an emblem of love through time, a symbol of devotion and an agreement between two parties to love and cherish one another. D’Sena: Huh… It was the first time she actually had heard about wedding rings. The time off her own home planet had been limited to the Academy, the Apollo and the Constitution. She was aware of married couples, but hadn’t known that they wore something to show their unity. Since Rodulans didn’t marry this was all new to her. She still held the ring between her fingers and in the spur of the moment pushed it on her left ring finger. Raising her hand, she looked at the contrast between the jade green and the dark skin. The heavy material did its own to make her realize that something was on her finger. She could imagine it to be a constant reminder of her bond with Jack. Was this why people wore these? She couldn’t help but smile. D’Sena: Computer, establish connection to Lieutenant Jack Gard, Starbase 118. The computer beeped in compliance and the screen popped into a rotating Starfleet logo. Since it had to go through all kinds of relays she knew there would be a delay but she didn’t mind those few seconds of waiting between answers. Gard: ::somewhat concerned:: Akeelah? ::he scanned her face. He hadn’t expected to hear from her.:: Is everything alright? D’Sena: What? Can’t I call my fiancée out of the blue? His features softened, giving her one of his ‘just for you’ smiles. It was nice - more than nice really. Gard: Fiancée? ::he teased her lightly.:: D’Sena: I looked up the term. I used it right, didn’t I? ::She was worried to have learned the wrong term for a moment.:: Gard: ::a single nod.:: Yes, you did. ::he assured her.:: D’Sena: Good. ::Relief washed through her:: I got your package. Ah, so that was the reason for the call. They were from two different worlds - meaning there were differences and one could make the other uncomfortable if they were cautious. Gard: And? ::he asked.:: D’Sena: Did you buy them? Gard: No, ::he sighed slightly.:: Tabby’s grandparents gave them to me. D’Sena: Your parents? Gard: No… ::he repeated.:: Her mother’s parents. ::hesitantly.:: Akeelah tilted her head ever so slightly, a gesture that anyone but Jack wouldn’t even have noticed. D’Sena: Are these the rings you and your late wife wore? There was no judgement or anger in the words, just sheer curiosity. Gard: No, we didn’t take them at the time. ::curiously.:: does it fit? She looked down to her hand, the ring embracing her finger was out of camera view. With a material like that changing the size would have been hard, and how big was the chance of it actually fitting like that? It was like it was made for her. She raised her eyes again and then her hand followed, showing him the jade ring on her finger in a beautiful contrast to her dark skin. D’Sena: It fits perfectly. Gard: ::better question.:: Are they acceptable? The gaze of her pitch black eyes softened, something only noticeable when one had spend a lot of time looking into Rodulan eyes. She knew he tried hard. Since her people didn’t marry they both didn’t have a script to go by. There was no example on how to deal with these two cultures and traditions entering this kind of situation. All they had was their love and their compromises to make this special for both of them. D’Sena: They are beautiful. He was relieved. Part of it because he couldn’t seem to find anything he liked better and partly because of what it meant to Tabby’s grandparents. Jack offered a soft smile in return. He wished he could see her in person, how he missed her. There was a Terran saying that fit this feeling: distance made the heart grow fonder. He must have gotten lost in thought as she spoke up again. Her voice low with a hint of the emotion that bubbled just beneath her surface. If he hadn’t known her so well, he might have noticed. D’Sena: ::Lowering her hand again:: I will return the box to you, to keep them until we need them. Gard: Is there anything you’d like - something specific from your world or beliefs in regards to the wedding? They hadn’t had much chance to talk about such things in details. So it was a lot of guess-work and trying to find a happy balance. While he’d gone through the process once before, Akeelah was a different woman and her needs were vastly different from his first wife. Something he appreciated. D’Sena: My people do not have traditions or rituals like weddings. ::She thought:: But we have a bonding ceremony. Since I honour your traditions, maybe we can implement some of mine. Gard: Absolutely. ::as if she really needed to ask.:: I just need to know what. Akeelah began to speak of her own traditions and Jack listened to her description of something she wished to bring into their wedding. It would be a mixture of Terran and Rodulan and them. Which seemed more than fitting. He smiled softly as she explained yet another facet of her people’s culture. Gard: I think that will fit nicely. D’Sena: I am glad. He gave a long pause, studying her face. Memorizing her features. It would be some time still till he could be close to her. Before he could hold her again. Distance was a terrible thing in reality. D’Sena: I wonder where your thoughts are. If he had been here, she would know. But this was how things were right now. He had duty to uphold far away. Gard: Hmmm? ::He was pulled from his inner thoughts.:: I’m sorry - I was just thinking about … how much I wish there wasn’t so much distance between us. ::he admitted.:: D’Sena: ::A more open smile, she placed her hand on the screen.:: I wish the same. I can't wait to see you again in person. ((/Flashback )) She took a deep breath and brushed her fingertips over the smooth surface of the ring. She missed him so much it was painful. But it would be worth it in the end. If the time apart had shown her one thing it was that her heart didn't easily change. Maybe someday soon she could tell him in person. ---- Lieutenant Jack Gard Engineer simmed by Lieutenant Commander Nijil Executive Officer Starbase 118 Ops USS Narendra A239202RH0 & LtCmdr Akeelah D'Sena Security Officer - Momentarily off duty simmed by Commodore Jalana Rajel Commanding Officer USS Constitution B Image Team Co-Facilitator A238906JL0
  4. This kind of stuff is why we can't have anything nice on the USS Thor... and why I love hate writing with those nerds Good Job Guarantee @Geoffrey Teller
  5. This is a direct punch in the feelings, you are warned. This is Mr. Walsh's first (and so far only) SIM, the view of what is happening on the USS Thor from the viewpoint of one of those nondescript characters that fill the background of our scenes, that manages to summarize, rather promptly, the emotional cost of what the "officers at the top" are trying to fix. Really, really well written and an excellent sample of the good work of @Wes Greaves I won't forgive you this, sir.
  6. Two appreciation posts from me in a week but I do have to say I’m a huge huge sucker for lots of fine, intricate description. I absolutely loved the atmosphere. MOAR please 😂And I do also have to say sailing ships are fantastic. @Jarred Thoran ((Somewhere in the Atlantic, HMS Destiny)) ((OOC: Just a little something from Jarred's unconscious state)) Jarred stood on the quarterdeck, a sweeping view of the ship in front of him, men busying themselves with work. The ship in question was the 32-gun fifth rate frigate, HMS Destiny, a 19th century Royal Navy ship.It had a deck composed of great wooden planks, with three huge masts protruding from it. Each of the masts was furnished with great off white sails. Above were clear blue skies and below dark blue water. The swell of the waves caused the ship to roll gently, creating an almost calming effect. He took a deep breath, feeling the sea air filling his lungs. He’d always felt more at home on the sea, the oak planks beneath his feet than he ever had on land. He had been fascinated by the sea from an early age, the mysteriousness of what lurked in the depths, the adventures to be had in distant lands. A sudden sway caused a splash of salt filled water to hit his face and a moment later the peacefulness was broken as a voice called out. Callan: Hands to quarters. Hands to quarters. Enemy ship to larboard. The previously quiet humdrum on the deck now becoming a hive of activity as the crew hurried to their stations. The air filled with the sounds of shouting of orders, the drumming of the marines and the piping of the whistle. In mere minutes the entire crew had turned onto the deck, many racing up from below. Standing beside Jarred was Lieutenant Callan, who was presently occupied with the telescope, keeping track of their enemy. The deck rumbled and groaned as the 12-pound cannons were rolled out into position. A contingent of red coated marines had joined Jarred and his officers on the quarterdeck, their muskets aiming at the ship now bearing down on them. Thoran: Fire as we bear Mister Stanway. Stanway: Aye aye sir. A moment passed and Jarred smiled to himself, pleased with how swiftly his crew had run their guns out and had prepared for action. There was a certain thrill with the anticipation of battle. The Destiny had been assigned to patrol the shipping lanes after a spate of pirate attacks against the merchant shipping in the region. After two days on the hunt they had finally found their prey. The ship on the horizon was larger than the Destiny, but Destiny had the advantage of the weather gage on their side. With the weather gage, Destiny would be the one to dictate the terms of engagement. They were upwind of their opponent, meaning they would be able to manouvere at will towards them downwind.. Stanway: FIRE! As his First Lieutenant gave the order, it resounded down the ship, each officer repeating the order for the gun crews to hear. The fuses to the canons were lit and a couple of seconds later the deck was awash with smoke, the sound of cannon fire filling the air. ------------------------------------------- Commander Jarred Thoran Commanding Officer, USS Atlantis NCC-74682 A239405JT0
  7. ((Holodeck 23, StarBase 118)) German had been feeling rather nostalgic about the moment when he started training as a cadet two years ago up until more recent days. A little over a year ago, the Denobulan was given the opportunity to become a training officer himself which was one of the more exciting things he enjoys doing. Any time the Academy Commandant would allow him to be either the training commanding officer, first officer, or disguised as a mock cadet, he’d waste little time to get ready to teach the future officers of Starfleet. One of his most memorable classes was with a Risian female cadet named Charlena Vanlith who he had read that she was making a name for herself in the Shoals aboard the USS Veritas. Knowing that there’d be a rough connection due to the tetryon fields that more often than not blocked any way of communication to be sent, German waited for a freighter to be shipped out from Ops to the Shoals. He had spoken with the owner of the freighter if he could send some communication beacon like probes and have them be placed in the direction he went out in space to hopefully be a temporary way to meet with Charlena. As he waited, German had figured up an encryption code so there'd be no way for anyone to break through the firewall. First, he typed in his Denobulan language, translated the first bit of coding to Klingon, and finished with a mix of Trill and El-Aurian. After a few weeks of radio silence, he had been given confirmation that the probe breadcrumbs were set and ready to be turned on. German approached the holodeck and punched in his encryption codes to turn on the bandwidth frequencies inside the probes and transmitted the data between his location to where the Veritas was. He glanced down at his PADD and watched with anticipation as each light illuminated signaling it was working, then German walked into the holodeck. Galven: Lieutenant Vanlith? Can you hear or see me? Vanlith: Commander Galven yes I can hear and see you. How is it on your end? They both had to configure their respective systems to get better holographic imaging software which gained momentum as it began updating. A few seconds went by and while it was still fuzzy in some areas, German could definitely make out the officer in front of him. Galven: Much better. ::smiles:: You're looking more exquisite by the day. Vanlith: ::smiling:: well it is good to see you. It's been far too long. Is it a year? Galven: I believe it has. Since then when we last saw each other during Mei'konda's promotional party, I'm now on Ops. ::chuckles:: Time flies. How have you been? Vanlith: I've been good. There's been some changes around here since then which took some getting used to. Teller and Addison leaving and now G'var is off. All for what is best for them so it's not too sad but it's definitely different. Less sea shanties in engineering now. He definitely could still hear Teller's sea shanties in his head whenever German tried to sleep. Being roommates was certainly an adventure. Galven: I understand how you must feel. My first post was the Veritas, then transferred to the Montreal which led me to the short lived Astraeus when just after a few short months, I was transferred to Ops without knowing a single person. It's certainly hard, but remember what you trained for. Sorry for talking so much. How are you holding up? Vanlith: I'm doing well. Engineering keeps me on my toes and with us just having dealt with pirates I'm happy that shore leave has come now. Gavlen: Pirates? What happened there? Vanlith: It's all rather complicated but some pirates turned up on the Veritas with a Blake from a different universe that they had cotton due to a spore drive. The spore drive had been stolen by a different pirate so we had to get it back. It's all rather weird. Charlena's hologram started to flicker a bit and every now and then while she was talking, there was a noticeable pause in between sentences. While German studied Terran history in primary school, a few of the holo-videos from the mid 20th century until the early 21st century had the same issue on Earth whenever the news was interviewing someone on a different continent. Galven: ::chuckles:: That's the nature of the game. We get involved with some rather… "unique" situations in our line of work. You mentioned an alternate Commander Blake, right? How's she and Captain Rahman doing? Vanlith: I’ll be honest I should probably get to know both of them better. I tend to keep relatively to myself or engineering so I need to branch out to say the least. From what I’ve seen of them they seem good. I know through the grapevine that Blake wasn’t happy with an alternate Blake on board. So I guess she’s still not happy as we still need to get her home. Charlena shuffled slightly and looked down. Recently she had realised how little time she spent with others on the ship and she knew she needed to do something about it. Having been on the ship for over a year she barely knew her own captain's first name let alone anything about her. And she was sure she somehow knew even less about Blake. Vanlith: Urm anyway what's going on for you over there? Even though they were many lightyears apart, German could hear the tone in her voice that Charlena sounded like she was disappointed by what she said. He could relate because there were plenty of people who were missed opportunities for him to get to know. He glanced down at his PADD as his fingers tapped on a few commands which materialized a couple chairs and the holodeck transformed into his apartment's living room on Ops. Although, it caused a few more energy sources which didn't help with the grainy, flickering hologram that was the young engineering officer. Galven: We've actually been on shoreleave for a couple weeks now. ::pauses, then takes a seat:: You're more than welcome to take a seat if you like? Vanlith: ::sitting down facing him:: And how has that been? Galven: ::nods:: Pretty eventful. We just recently received quite a few new ensigns as well as a Lt. Commander who actually served on the Veritas as well once upon a time. Did you ever get to meet an Alora DeVeau? Vanlith: I recognise the name, not sure we ever met. Galven: Well, as you know, I'm always one to help people adjust so I've unofficially become the starbase's tour guide. ::chuckles:: If you're ever this way, I'd love to give you a tour too! Vanlith: ::chuckling:: Tour guide Galven, you’ll be like Teller next. He gets confused as a bellhop, you’ll be a tour guide. Maybe I should open a hotel and hire you both. But in all seriousness a tour does sound nice if we are ever out your way. I would be nice to actually see you again. And no borg tribbles this time. A smirk formed on the right side of his lips. One of his more memorable training classes in the Academy was with Charlena when she took her final exam. Everything was going just as it was programmed to do until a slight curveball came into their way. Galven: ::chuckles:: Hey, I think that was a nice addition to a fairly boring class up until someone couldn't help herself when she picked up that tribble. Vanlith: ::chuckling pretending to be defensive:: Hey it was cute and fluffy. For all I knew it posed no threat. Galven: No, it didn't have to be a Borg tribble. ::smiles:: The look on your face was priceless when you first saw it. Have you come across any more troubling tribbles? Vanlith: No tribbles as of yet. It would be funny but I think I’d get in trouble for trying to keep one. Galven: ::rubs his ridged chin and sticks his index finger upward:: Tell you what! I believe there's a supply freighter about to leave drydock soon heading to the Shoals. The starbase has a pet store that has tribbles. Would you like one? It's a gift from me to you so I'm not taking no for an answer. ::pretends to appear stern by furrowing his eyebrows, but smiling in the process:: Vanlith: Are you serious? Charlena could feel the shock written across her face. She couldn’t believe that he was actually offering her a pet. She was sure BAXTER wouldn’t mind and that was the only possible hesitation to her. A pet tribble would be a brilliant fluffy companion and she could imagine the look on Wil’s face if it turned up in engineering with no warning. She was sure that would be a laugh. Galven: Which part? That there's a supply freighter or the tribble gift? Vanlith: You’re going to get me a tribble? Galven: ::nods:: Of course. I'll send you the shipping information and its expected delivery date. Vanlith: That's amazing. I’d love a tribble. And it sure would be a story to explain why to everyone. Plus as I recall the Borg tribble loved me so I’m sure a normal tribble would too. German was enjoying how excited she was which he got a kick out. Just as he was about to speak, a holographic chronometer illuminated up and behind Charlena's head which started a countdown at a minute and a half. It seemed like their meeting was about to run its course. Galven: Also, I want to let you know that the tribble I'm sending you is "fixed" so there's not going to be a million little furballs once it gets to you. ::smirks:: Vanlith: Just because I now know that doesn’t mean I won’t amuse myself in engineering before I tell the others ::chuckling:: Galven: ::laughs:: Let me know what happened when you tell your colleagues about it. ::clears his throat:: Listen, we don't have much time left because the tetryon levels seem to be affecting our connection. I noticed that the Veritas is just starting shoreleave, correct? Vanlith: Yeah that's right. Why do you ask? Galven: Given how intense the mission was for you and the crew, I would suggest that you try to connect more with everyone. It really does help, at least for me, to decompress by collaborating with others. Would you mind doing that? Not just for my own sake, but for you as well. Vanlith: Still giving me advice and direction even now. For you, sure. I really should get to know the others better. Maybe even have a chat with someone I don’t really talk to outside of being on duty. Galven: ::smiles:: Perhaps that someone could be your Captain. I know that whenever we came back from a mission, she would either take a nightly stroll to the library and Rahman loved it when a certain Ensign would bring her coffee. I mean, where else did Teller come up with the Brew Continuum? ::points to himself, smirks:: Vanlith: Coffee to the Captain. Is it really that easy? Galven: Of course! Roshanara is very approachable. Even more so when there's that fresh aroma hitting her nose. Vanlith: Well, I will remember that. Fresh coffee in the library. Thanks Charlena smiled rather thankful of the advice, she was more nervous of the Captain then she was willing to admit. It wasn’t because she was scared of her but more that she was worried she would say something wrong. Galven: It looks like our time is up so before we're disconnected, let her and everyone else I said hello. ::stands up:: Also, don't be a stranger and maybe we can send PADDmail back and forth between us. Oh, and Charlena? Vanlith: That sounds good. What? Galven: Optimism, Lieutenant! ::dons his signature Denobulan wide grin:: Vanlith: ::smiling herself:: And you Commander, hopefully we can see each other soon. ---- LT. JG Charlena Vanlith ( @Sophie290999 ) Engineering Officer USS Veritas V239604CV0 & Lt. Commander @German Galven 2O/Chief Science Officer StarBase 118 - USS Narendra V239507GG0
  8. A really lovely character building JP, showing off what can be accomplished with a little teamwork during shore leave! ((Atmospheric Lab, Deck 510, StarBase 118)) DeVeau and Kudon had just ended their meeting with Galven and were about to proceed along a few tracks to determine the best way to neutralize the Death Fog leftover on Vankoth II. One was to separate the silicon from the silicon platinum chloride. The second was to add ascorbic acid to chemically neutralize it. And there was the third possibility of a combination of breaking the Death Fog molecules apart and adding something. One way or the other they needed to get rid of the SiPtCl2. There was also the matter of getting more accurate data from the Klingons on the level of Death Fog in the atmosphere Kudon: So, Commander DeVeau, shall we go to a containment holodeck or do you want to work on the models first before trying them out? DeVeau: Best to take things carefully I think. Let’s work on a few models, then test. The two of them headed to the Science Main Office on Deck 506 to develop the models together. Once there, the two sat down at a computer station and started exploring possibilities. Kudon: I would recommend that we first translate the algorithm into Klingon and send it to them and hopefully get their data soon. The more accurate our data, the better our models will end up being. DeVeau: And the sooner we get that information, the sooner we can find a solution. Agreed. Kudon: After that, I would be most interested in us starting on a model on your idea of adding ascorbic acid to see what effect that may have. While he was genuinely interested in DeVeau’s theory, Kudon also knew it was smart to defer to one’s superior officer. He would get a chance eventually to try out his model. Better to show respect first. DeVeau: We can run more than one model at a time. ::Alora pointed out.:: So let’s be efficient, eh? Making the best use of their time would get to an answer sooner rather than later. Alora focused her attention on the task at hand. Translating was made a little more difficult by the fact that some of the vocabulary used was not common. Some words didn’t have straight Klingon translations. Eventually, however, they accomplished that task. Then they went about setting up the models. If they gave promising results, they would then take them to the holodeck and run some tests. While they waited, Alora leaned back in her chair and studied the man across from her. DeVeau: So please tell me about yourself, Kudon. This took Kudon quite by surprise. He was not used to superior officers, especially ones he just met, to want to get to know him. After a moment of hesitation he replied. Kudon: Well...what exactly do you wish to know. DeVeau: Whatever you’re willing to tell me. He wasn’t sure where to begin, so he just went with the basics. Kudon: I am 22 Terran years old and fresh out of the Academy...plus one mission obviously. I am from Vulcan. That wasn’t surprising to Alora. While not all Vulcans were born on Vulcan depending on what their parents did, most were indeed from their home planet. DeVeau: How did you end up in Starfleet? Kudon: I’ve always known I wanted to be an Engineer. Or at least a science officer. At the Academy, I focused on maximizing the efficiency of fusion and warp core engines when they are operating together. He was presenting what was his usual stump speech about what work he had done. He usually assumed superior officers cared more about his resume than his personal life. With Hael as quite the exception...in many ways. DeVeau: Surely there’s more to your life than that. Vulcan’s weren’t generally known for being forthcoming, but Alora did prefer to get to know her comrades. After all, they worked together, they lived together. They fought together. They were family - maybe not biologically, but family none the less. Kudon: I spent little time off planet growing up on Vulcan. My youth was rather immersed in a number of different Engineering projects. I entered many science competitions and I will be honest that I won most of them. If I may, Commander, if we are aquainting ourselves with each other, may I ask what brought you to Starbase 118 Ops? DeVeau: Why certainly. I was assigned here. Before that...well, I can’t say, classified, but before /that/, I was in the Shoals on the Veritas. Kudon: Interesting. That must have been quite different than here. DeVeau: Yes, very. Being on a base is quite a bit different than being on a ship, but not only that, the area was different, the people different. Atmosphere in general. The way you live is… Just then, an alert went off on the computer and Kudon took a look, Alora following suit. Kudon: The first iteration of each of our three models has completed. The two of them scanned over the data results on the screen. DeVeau: Oh, this looks promising. Alora pointed at the information on the screen, though it was quite unnecessary. Kudon: Yes, it appears that Silicon can break off from the platinum chloride, as long as the temperature is kept within reasonable range. The model with adding ascorbic acid is also successful. What readings do you have on the model with both splitting the Silicon and adding the ascorbic acid? DeVeau: Same - results show in an effective break down of the Fog. Kudon: So all three seem like effective methods to neutralize the gas. The trouble is figuring out, which one is best. And I don’t like the p-value of breaking off the Silicon only being .03. 97% chance of success is good, but a lot can go wrong 3% of the time. While Kudon certainly wanted to go with whichever model produced the best outcomes, part of him was very hopeful that his Silicon model would work. This algorithm that had now been modified multiple times to detect, and now destroy Death Fog, was his ongoing project and if his theory of breaking off the Silicon were correct, it would help him feel somewhat redeemed for the limitations his algorithm had faced during the mission. DeVeau: True. Alora broke off, pondering the information they were presented with. Kudon: We can recalibrate and try another model run, but I think we need that data from the Klingons before we can do so. DeVeau: I concur. The more information we have, the better we can prepare, the better success we’ll have as well. We’ll, unfortunately, have to wait. Kudon: Very well, Commander. While we are waiting, I understand you are from Earth, correct? Alora leaned back in her chair, crossed one leg over the other, then used the foot that remained in contact with the floor to twirl around. When she was facing the Vulcan again, she nodded. Kudon was rather taken aback that his superior officer was twirling on a chair in front of them. Not that he necessarily minded, but it was not what he expected. On the other hand, she did seem to want to get to know him. He could show her the same courtesy. DeVeau: I’m an Earthling, born and bred in Georgia, spent quite a few years in Japan. Some of my family still lives there. Question. Kudon: Do you want to ask me a question? DeVeau: What kind of music do you like? Kudon: That is a..surprising question, but I am happy to answer. In fact, Commander Hael is the only person I have spoken with about music since I arrived. We both appreciate an old Terran group called Metallica. If you haven’t heard of them, they were what was called metal. Very emotional music. In fact, I like most music that expresses deep feelings. At that point, Kudon wondered if it made sense to tell her that he was a Vulcan that had chosen to experience emotions. It helped fit with his like of emotional music. But he hardly knew DeVeau and he did not want to seem like he was confessing or giving up some dirty secret. So he kept quiet about it for now. DeVeau: Do you like to dance? Kudon: Well, metal is not exactly the type of music to dance to. But come to think of it, I have never danced to any type of music before. What do you ask? DeVeau: Just curious. So what type of things do you do when you have downtime? What floats your boat? Kudon: What floats my...what? Alora giggled and twirled around, this time in the opposite direction. Kudon felt strange that she did the twirling again. As someone who chose emotions, coming from a culture that does not, he usually struggled with ambiguous social situations. And here he was not sure what the line was between professional and personal communication and behavior. He found DeVeau to be a very nice person, but nonetheless he felt awkward. DeVeau: It’s an earth saying - it means, what interests you? Kudon: Oh I see...I enjoy cooking a variety of different dishes. Sometimes I’ll replicate certain ingredients, but I like to make things from scratch as much as possible. It feels very creative. I like to cook dishes from a variety of cultures, not just Vulcan. I also read a great deal, about engineering of course, but I took a number of Academy courses on interstellar diplomatic relations, so I enjoy reading about how different planets, empires, and so forth both cooperate and compete with one another. What about you? What...floats your boat? Alora grinned. A Vulcan who expressed emotions /and/ adopted idioms. She knew they existed, but she’d never met one before. Very interesting. DeVeau: Oh, lots of things, really, but I’ll just choose one. Singing. Kudon: How long have you been doing that? DeVeau: Since I was born. Alora grinned and shrugged. DeVeau: My mom’s a musician, I heard it in the womb, evidently, I came out singing myself, so to speak. Kudon: What is your favorite part about it? That was not a simple answer. Alora leaned back further into the chair pondering the question. She forwent twirling about and, instead, just turned it from side to side a little as she considered the question. What was her favourite part? About singing? DeVeau: I guess...being able to express one’s self in a way that’s augmented by the music. Pain is more painful, joy more joyful when music is added. And then...being able to become someone else and something else, even just for a little while. Not because I dislike myself, but because it’s interesting to explore different thoughts, ideas, and situations. Which...kind of goes along with another thing that floats my boat - acting. Kudon: Wow, that does sound very enjoyable. You should get some of the other crewmates together and we could all do it as a group. I almost forgot to ask you, what kind of music do you--- He was cut off by the computer alert, just as DeVeau had earlier. The Klingon data had come in. Kudon: The Klingons certainly sent us the data very quickly. It is not like them to be so immediately cooperative. At once, Alora was all business. As much as she enjoyed learning about people, she also knew there was a time for chit chat, and a time for work. She eyed the data on the screen and nodded. DeVeau: Sounds like they want to get rid of this stuff as soon as possible - which is understandable. Kudon: What I’d like to do is have the computer translate it back from Klingon and then run our three models again. DeVeau: Okay. Alora didn’t argue though she was fully capable of translating it. Perhaps he wanted it written down, which she could understand. As he started the translation, Kudon was starting to fill with excitement. There was just something about the combination of abstract mathematical analysis with real life data. Kudon: Reverse translation complete. Ready to input the data into our three models. Let’s see what kind of light we can shine on this Death Fog. Alora took a few moments to read over the information, though she chose to do so in the original Klingon. DeVeau: Let’s input the data on all the models and see what happens. Best not count our chickens before they’re hatched. Kudon: I agree that would be the best approach...I must say Commander, ::getting more and more animated:: and I think you can appreciate this as a Science Officer, there is just something so exciting about creating an algorithm and seeing it work in the real world. It may seem silly, but I actually am nervous about what the results of our models will be. Accurate, inaccurate? Worse, better? So many think of science and engineering as just brainpower, but there is real creativity and, dare I say, emotion involved. Don’t you agree? So he had let her know about his emotions after all, albeit indirectly. Alora’s verdant eyes twinkled. Little did he know she’d already seen that he allowed emotion - after all, Vulcan’s didn’t use terms such as ‘like’ and enjoyment when referring to themselves. That display, however, showed that he did indeed allow his emotions to the forefront for more than simply descriptive words. When she didn’t answer, too entertained by his excitement, he queried again. Kudon: There must have been a time when you felt like this? DeVeau: Oh definitely. And I agree. More creativity is needed than people suspect, you have to think outside the books, look at things from different angles - like an artist. Kudon could not contain himself to sit down so he started pacing behind the chairs they were sitting in. He was about to respond to DeVeau when the computer did one final alert to indicate the three models had finished running. Kudon: What are the results? Alora didn’t answer right away. She perused the results for a moment, then turned to the pacing Vulcan. DeVeau: It looks like a combination of our ideas would work best. It offers the most stability, and it actually speeds up the process by a whopping fifty percent! Kudon: Fascinating. I think we should let Commander Galven know immediately. DeVeau: Yes, yes we should. I also think we should run it through the holodeck and test it out that way, but I suspect we’ll get the same answer. Alora stood, allowing the chair to finally go still. Kudon: I must say, Commander, I have enjoyed working with you. Still standing, Kudon put out his hand to shake hers, with a small, but quite obvious, smile on his face, thinking how their teamwork had led to potentially very positive results. Alora’s smile lit up her face and she accepted the hand warmly, though surprised as Vulcans were usually uninclined to touch due to their telepathy. At least, that’s what her experience had been. DeVeau: I feel the same, it was a pleasure working with you. I look forward to doing so more in the future. Ensign Kudon Starbase 118 Ops Engineering Officer O239703K10 & Lt. Cmdr. Alora DeVeau Science Officer Starbase 118 Ops M239008AD0
  9. OOC - This sim has mention of abuse, not graphic. All thoughts and opinions are of that of my character. ((Sal Tybrim’s Office - Starbase 118)) Sheila would not deny that she was scared to talk to Sal. Sal was her commanding officer and about the 4 person she was going to tell about what happened. This time however she was planning to outright say it. It would make things easier. Plus she even had to tell them how the thoughts pretty much almost got in the way of her work on the mission. How she felt over run with panic. It wasn’t that she couldn’t handle going on missions or even being in Starfleet but it was a matter of how much those feelings got in the way. Sheila stood outside of Sal’s office wearing her 1700’s style flats, a pair of black leggings and a dark sunshine yellow long sleeve sweatshirt. The sweatshirt had an image of flowers, mainly sunflowers, in the middle, with the words ‘Plant These’ [top] ‘Save the Bees’ [bottom]. The pink of her crutches complemented the dark sunshine yellow of her sweatshirt. Sheila rang the doorbell. Taybrim: Response Bailey: ::entering the office:: I’m sorry to be so forward. I want to thank you for meeting with me. Mind if I sit? Taybrim: Response Carefully Sheila took a seat, setting her crutches down on the floor. She was ready to go out and say what was on her mind yet she had to take a few deep breaths before she spoke. It rattled her brain to outright say what had happened to her. Bailey: I wanted to let you know of some personal details that could affect my work. So far it hasn’t but in this most recent mission I felt like it could have. She didn’t mention how it had affected her work during her appointment with Glaven but that wasn’t she was here to talk about. Taybrim: Response Bailey: I would like to mention this to my friend not my CO if that’s okay? She was asking for Sal to put away his CO persona for a minute. She hoped this would help him see the situation with compassion and not authority. She could do her job, that wasn’t in question. The question was how much of a problem it would be. Taybrim: Response Bailey: Thank you. My Uncle, Marc Clarence, was not a nice guy. Not nice to me. He spent his life physically and mentally abusing me and my sisters. During this mission I was reminded of those instances while fighting Klingons and treating Commander Galven. Reminded me of how I had failed. Taybrim: Response TBC/TAG Lieutenant JG Sheila Bailey Medical Officer Starbase 118 Ops M239512BG0
  10. Aly - I know I'm writing this scene with you, but I want you to know that you are doing a wonderful job of realistically portraying Sheila and her struggles. Your narrative here is growing ever stronger, and more compelling and I am so engaged in her struggles. You have done a fantastic job! <3 OOC - This sim has mention of abuse, not graphic. All thoughts and opinions are of that of my character. ((CO’s Office – The Hub – StarBase 118)) Bailey: It should. Sheila knew that she was sliding backwards. When she left home for the academy she didn’t have a reminder of her Uncle. Maybe that was because she was getting used to a whole new level of gravity. Her Uncle didn’t even come up when she was first posted to Federation starship. She guessed that her mind had just been strong for too long and it was finally time to face what he had done to her. Overall she was in a constant internal battle where she had a desire to be strong. That was now coming up against that small voice in her head that threw back everything her Uncle said to her; put it right back into her face. Taybrim: ::Gently:: And why would you say that? Bailey: I’ve struggled, in my younger years, to not believe all the abusive things my Uncle told me. Not hurt myself in similar ways. Sal nodded, showing that he was listening. Sheila appreciated that. Taybrim: That is one of the most difficult things you will grapple with. But you can overcome it. Could she overcome what he had done to her? In a way it would always be with her but she could get to a point that it would no longer bother her, that the thoughts would no longer come up and that she would no longer feel she would have to tell her commanding officers what had happened. Those thoughts didn’t come as a surprise to her. She knew the medical science behind what she was going through as she studied it in her training. Sal however made it all that much more real. He spoke reassuringly. He didn’t sugar coat anything. Bailey: I feel that if someone tells you, you are a failure so many times one can not only start believing that but acting like that as well. Taybrim: It is, most unfortunately, a natural part of a being’s ability to learn that means that if you are taught something with enough repetition – including a destructive lie, that the brain will pick up that pattern and absorb it. You are not weak for that, you are simply sentient and capable of learning – a trait that your abuser took advantage of. Sheila was now feeling very uncomfortable. She had told other people but never in this much detail. It physically hurt. Not like the panic she felt during the mission but much more like someone was squeezing her. She pulled off her sweater leaving it on the floor by her chair. She also realized that yes her Uncle had taken advantage of her. He took advantage of her in so many different ways. He had told her that no one other than him would want her. That she couldn’t outshine others; that would draw too much attention to her. Lead to mistakes. And everytime she did something he didn’t approve of he showed her physically that she had messed up. Usually what he did was pull at her hair and throw her around. It would give her a loss of control. These uncomfortable thoughts had her telling her friend, who was sitting across from her, about the worst thing he had done to her. Bailey: I have a permanent reminder of what he did. Under her sweater she was wearing a simple white tank top which made it easier for her to show Sal the small white but still visible scar that she has on her upper spine. She turned around in her chair to do so. The scar didn’t hurt anymore but it left a slight phantom pain anytime she brushed her fingers along it. She was only glad that it was in a hard to reach location as well as in a place that she couldn’t see when she looked in the mirror. Bailey: You see that there? That small white scar? He did that to me and it won’t go away. ::her voice sounded desperate:: Taybrim: I am so very sorry, Sheila. ::His voice was tender, soft.:: No one deserves to have that sort of pain and abuse done to them. No one deserves to have that reminder carried with them. No one as bright or as compassionate as you ever deserves to have their world twisted by an abuser. I am so very sorry. Sal wasn’t faking his honest sympathy. Bailey: I know I don’t deserve what he did to me. ::she turned to get more comfortable in her seat:: I just...feel like I’m stuck in this endless loop of failure. It feels hopeless right now. Taybrim: No ::He shook his head gently, watching her move back into a more comfortable position.:: I don’t think it is hopeless or that you will fail in your career. I think you are farther along the path to recovery than you think you are, but I also know that yes, the road ahead is difficult. Bailey: It’s going to be hard. I know that for a hard cold fact. I studied about the subject in medical school. It’s however not the same thing as fighting the criminals of Starfleet. We go after then as we have strong evidence as to them committing criminal acts. My Uncle, he not only hurt me but after he would tell me how good I was or how much I wanted it. Words like that. Working in Starfleet was easy as they had clear reasons to go after the people they did. Bailey herself knew that the “death fog” was deadly based on its chemical makeup, so in her mind it was a clear black line of bad. With her Uncle however he seemed to go back and forth between black and white so quickly and easily that she wasn’t sure if it really was his intention to hurt her. What she later learned was that yes he did have a reason to hurt her and her sisters. Of course he hurt them less then her but that never made that any easier. Taybrim: I believe in you. I know you can do this. Again, you’ve already taken the first step – you recognize what your Uncle did and you called it out – abuse. You can see it, and you can talk to people about it – that’s not easy and it shows you are strong and brave. Sal’s tone was firm, reassuring. Bailey: I’ve told those I felt had a right to know. I still find it hard to tell myself that I was told lies my whole life. Even when I do it doesn’t make it better. Taybrim: You learned these abusive things through repetition, continually being taught them. You can unlearn them through repetition and continually being taught something else. And, you’re right – simply telling yourself that it’s a lie won’t help. You can know that it’s a lie and still feel those emotional welling within you because you’ve been taught that guilt and shame by a horrible person. You have to unlearn those basic responses. The Elaysian woman hardly knew what to say at that. In all honesty she felt a bit choked up. Her body was cold but if she put her sweater back on she felt like she would overheat. With that she left her sweater on the floor. It was a silence that seemed to stretch on forever. Sheila could feel the anticipation of what Sal was going to say. Throughout their conversation it was the first time she hadn’t spoken which got her mind thinking in a million different directions. Taybrim: This may be the hardest part for you. You are a medical officer, a compassionate soul who is dedicated to caring for others. But you need to re-establish your own sense of self beyond what your Uncle taught you. That means setting up a sense of self-preservation where you reinforce the self you believe in when your Uncle’s voice haunts you. ::He leaned forward a bit to explain.:: The reason this will feel so difficult for you is because you will need to be a little selfish. You may not be able to endure other’s emotional trauma while you are protecting yourself and re-establishing a new sense of self outside of your Uncle’s abuse. Sheila Bailey didn’t completely freak out at Sal’s words. From the tension she felt she thought he was going to tell her that she was going to have to step away from Starfleet for a time. If she left she was going to break down fully no doubt about it. But was that what Sal was meaning? She wasn't sure. Sheila figured that he didn’t but thinking about it she in fact didn’t know. Her brain was torn between what she knew and what she felt. In the end her feelings won out. Her feelings won out to the point that she started tearing up. Bailey: You're not asking me to quit my job are you? Taybrim: Response Bailey: I...I don’t understand. Taybrim: Response Bailey: Okay..Okay..::Sheila was taking deep breaths as she spoke. Her breath was shaky however, making her feel slightly more uncomfortable:: Let me backup. My Uncle abused me. That is a fact. Sheila was trying to recap some of what they had talked about in order to try and understand what Sal, her friend, was asking her. Make sure those feelings that had her thinking she was going to have to quit could lose. If she broke it down then they would lose and she would be left knowing what she knew all along. That Sal was only asking her to limit herself and know her boundaries. And throughout their conversation he was guiding her through finding herself in a way that didn’t connect to her abuser. Taybrim: Response Bailey: I know it could affect my work, not that I’m going to let it. I am a compassionate person and work strongly in helping others. You’ve just got my brain fighting against my heart. I know your not asking or even telling me to quit right? Taybrim: Response As she listened to the man in front of her talk she went about wiping her eyes, her breathing slowing. She had just been confronted with her biggest fear but she knew the right outcome even through the confusion. Sheila was glad that she had taken a step back and asked for clarification. Bailey: Thank you. I’m just so scared. How do I move forward when I work in medicine? Taybrim: Response TBC/TAG Lieutenant JG Sheila Bailey Medical Officer Starbase 118 Ops M239512BG0
  11. I haven't laughed so hard in a long time! 🤣 Great job, Nyka! ========================================== ((USS Juneau - Sickbay)) Wyss: I gotta know… gotta know if it worked. There was no way she was going to rest until she found out if the syphon was a success. There was also no way she could fight the hands that were ushering her back to the biobed. All she could do to resist was kind of cling to the person so that she didn’t take an embarrassing nose dive straight to the floor. Bellweather:::pulling the blanket up:: Relax Kid, Cadfael has things well in hand, we're all safe'n'sound...thanks to you ::squeezing her shoulder. As soon as Nyka hit the biobed, she gave up the fight and reached for her aching head. Wyss: Uhhgn… why do I feel like I drank the warp core? Bellweather:::smirking:: more like swam through it Luv. ::patting her arm:: you're lucky Karise was here, she saved your life. The use of Doctor Indobri’s first name caused a hiccup in Nyka’s brain for a split second. Personally, Nyka had never called the Rodulan Karise so it took a moment to figure out who she was talking about. That alone added to the crap factor of how she felt. Wait… what the hell was a Cadfael? Was it an acronym for something? Was this dark haired woman named Cadfael? There were so many questions running through the Nyka’s fried head in that singular moment, but she was only able to pluck the most important one from the muck. Wyss: What happened? Indobri: oO You died! That’s what happened! Oo The engineer winced at the painful words. Each one seemed to pierce her skull like a stabby little icepick. The origin of the voice wasn’t clear, but she gathered it was her own conscious yelling at how stupid she had been. Bellweather:::raising a brow:: Outstanding question. I'm not a hundred percent sure what happened but the CHENG was able to keep us from blowing up. As for you, you're out of immediate danger, but will need a lot of rest. My hope is there is no permanent damage ::smiling warmly:: time will tell. Cheng? Was that a person? No, not Cheng. THE CHENG. The Chief Engineer. They had a Chief Engineer? Since when? Just how long had she been unconscious? Wyss: ::sighing:: Ugh. Nothing makes sense... She was trying to recall the events in the M/ARA, but the fragmented information she was hearing only made things more fuzzy and confusing. Nyka’s tone was lit with a heavy shadow of gloom. Her brain felt like it was in a thick fog. Bellweather:::holding her hand:: Hey, I'm right here and so is Karise. ::squeezing her hand:: I don't give up on my patients and I don't expect them to give up on themselves. ::smiling:: You're never alone. Wyss’s hazel eyes drifted up to the… was she a doctor or a nurse? There were two full pips on her collar. She was a Lieutenant. Bingo! That had to count for something. But having come from a place where medical types weren’t to be trusted, Nyka found herself reverting back to that way of thinking. In that moment she actually found herself wishing that Indobri was there, even if it meant tip-toeing around awkward subjects. Wyss: You sound like a stalker. A flat joke. It was the best she could muster to hide her uncertainty about the woman, and well… every-damn-thing. Bellweather:::laughing:: I may have gotten a little jingoistic ::winking:: all the best Doctors do Kid. ::smiling warmly:: As for you just sit back and rest, the Ship is fine, so I'm giving you permission to focus on yourself. ::digging into a pocket:: Here take this and I'll be right back with something for you to drink ::holding out another blue lollipop:: Trust me I'm The Doctor. That answered that question. She was a Doctor. Her name was Doctor Cadfael. Nyka absently twisted the stick of the blue lollipop in her fingers, and then gave a lopsided frown at the cartoon Band-Aid on the back of her hand. She almost smiled at it, but pulled her gaze toward a familiar voice. Indobri: Well, look who has returned to the land of the living! The smile Nyka gave her was soft and welcoming. She was actually grateful to the Rodulan for the humor, and a great many other things. Indobri: You know, if you wanted to get my attention, all you needed to do was buy me a few drinks. Stopping your heart probably wasn’t the best choice. Was Indobri flirting with her, or was Nyka delusional? It was probably best to give a neutral reply. Wyss: Sorry about that. She looked down at the lollipop, and then it registered what was said. Wyss: Wait, did I die? Indobri: ? Nyka was entirely buying it. She remembered passing out a couple of times, but dead? Wyss: Like… a little dead? Or a lot dead? You mean, somewhere in-between dead and not-dead? Like undead? Indobri: ? Wyss: Oh. That kinda sucks. Yep. That sounded seriously serious. The redhead paused in thought and then gradually started to ease a smile. It was customary in her universe to do one thing every time something like this happened. Wyss: So, good news. That makes today officially my new birthday thanks to you. There will be a mandatory party when I get out of here. That definitely wasn’t the standard reaction after having left this plane of existence. Usually somebody might pause and reflect, or somber at their own mortality. Maybe it would hit her harder later, but right now she was feeling pretty dang lucky. She held up a finger to stop any comments. Wyss: But for now… can you sit with me for a moment? oO Don’t say no, don’t say no, don’t say no. Oo There was something she needed to say, and if she waited any longer it was just going to become awkward again. What was coming probably was a bit of a reflection on her life, or better yet a correction. Indobri: ? The redhead scooted over on the bed allowing a space for her to sit. There was a moment of hesitation, mostly to gather her nerve, but also to find some strength physically and mentally to put the words together. Conversation wasn’t exactly easy to produce, but if she didn’t say it now, then it might not ever get said. Wyss: I’m… oO Don’t be an [...], just say it. Oo Wyss: I’m sorry for the way I left things the other morning, ::frown:: and every day after. Like ripping off the Klingon band-aid on her hand. Fast and more painful than it’s supposed to be. Indobri: ? Wyss: Wait, just let me finish. ::beat:: I like you. Like, really like you, and I enjoyed our night together. ::blushing:: Like, really enjoyed it. Oh, for frak’s sake she sounded like a stupid teenage girl. She quickly ran a hand over her face in frustration. This was going poorly. Time to make a course correction. Wyss: Okay, I’m just going to lay it all out. I suck at relationships. I avoid them like the plague. They usually end horribly for me, and I freaked out the other morning because well… If I’m being honest, I don’t usually stick around that long afterwards. Not that I do that kind of thing a lot, but… oh hell. ::it just went from weird to humiliating:: Forget that last part. So here it is, I’d like to get to know you better, and I don’t know maybe we just don’t label it anything right now. You know, in case… I don’t know whatever. ::beat:: That sounded better in my head, and this was a bad idea, and I was dead so I’m not sure what I’m saying. You probably have patients to check on. There. That was an easy out for both of them. Ensign Nyka Wyss Engineering Officer USS Juneau Author ID I238301T10
  12. @Dassa Alexander-Dalton I thoroughly enjoyed all of the descriptions in this sim! I found it thoroughly gripping and I just wished I could keep reading. So intense! ((Outside the Service Entrance, Conference Center)) ((Short Timeskip)) The closer they got to the place where Lyra had last seen the assailant, the more nervous she became. Her gaze flickered around the area near constantly, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon in case she needed to defend herself. She was more likely to [...] them off than to do any real damage, but at the very least she could provide a temporary distraction while someone with more training incapacitated them. She jumped at the sound of voices around her. She’d been so lost in thought that she had forgotten who was around her. th’Koro: Doctor, you okay? Journs: ::exhales a shaky sigh:: I’m fine. This whole situation was making her very nervous. They were all exposed and there was no way to predict the lengths the spy would go to in order to keep from being found out. Clearly, whoever it was had a poor moral compass and likely wouldn’t think anything of killing anyone who got in their way. Journs: ::to Lyra:: Through that entrance? Tralan: Response th’Koro: Looks good to me. Thoran: Let us continue then. Remember, keep your guard up and watch for anything. Bjørge / McKnight / R’Val / Tralan: Response Her ears perked up at a clicking sound from the door and she heard shuffling that sound like someone dragging something along the floor. She turned to her commanding officer who was putting in a good deal of effort to open the door. She allowed Amuro to enter first before she followed behind. The others were behind her. A faint chirp caught her attention and she turned. A commbadge. th’Koro had been on the verge of entering the room apparently when it had sounded. Kiax: =/\= Kiax to Lieutenant Knight, Ensign Lephi and Ensign th’Koro; I have a request to make of the three of you. =/\= While th’Koro took the comm call, Ishka took the opportunity to study the room they were in. Nothing about it really stood out beyond the posters along the walls. However, she was too distracted by her thoughts to pay much attention to the contents. They were in a semi-dark room with no way of defending themselves. th’Koro: You probably heard that, sir. With permission I will need to head to the MSD and complete the shutdown. Without the virus, it is unlikely that the spy can complete their mission. She grimaced, feeling even more nervous. Of the group, the Captain, th’Koro, R’Val and McKnight were their most experienced fighters. Having one of them depart, regardless of the reason, increased the chances whoever they were tracking could cause one of them injury before they even knew what was happening. Thoran: Carry on Mr. th’Koro. Stay safe and keep comms open. Watching th’Koro leave, she felt her heart jump to her throat and her stomach plummet. She released a shaky exhalation in an attempt to calm her nerves. Her first semester at the Academy had been rough. The officer put in charge of her group of incoming cadets had given no quarter. She’d always suspected that he’d been applying pressure to see if she’d quit. A few around her had packed their bags for home within the first week. Some had lasted a few weeks longer, but in the end they’d done the same. The recruiters had put stars in their eyes with promises of exploring and meeting new species. However, those realities quickly dissolved as they learned just what they were committing to when they’d signed their papers. She’d come from a world of order and peace, so naturally hearing about the wars and incidents throughout the galaxy over the centuries had been a shock. If it hadn’t been for the fact that she really didn’t have much of a home to return to, she’d have likely followed in the footsteps of the departed. Studying their current surroundings, she had the distinct feeling that was nothing to what she could come face to face with here. This was a real danger. It wasn’t some holodeck or battle simulation. Lives were really on the line here. Thoran: Lyra, do you recall which direction they headed in? The Captain’s voice drew her attention back to the situation at hand and she mentally shook the thoughts from her mind. She had a duty to perform and couldn’t afford distractions. Tralan: Response Bjørge / McKnight / R’Val: Response She followed silently, reaching for the tricorder holstered at her side. They hadn’t brought weapons, but as a medical officer, a tricorder was an essential piece of equipment. Her medical kit was back in their suite should they need it. It was her sincere hope that they didn’t. The sound of shattering glass caused her to wince. It was loud, but not loud enough to keep her from gauging the distance. She stopped, listening closely for any other sounds that would give more clues as to what had broken the glass. There were voices, distant and indistinguishable, but they were there nonetheless. Her gaze narrowed as she tried to determine from the timber and the tone if they were male or female. Thoran: Any idea what that room is? Tralan: Response Bjørge / McKnight / R’Val: Response She saw the Captain’s gaze shift in the direction of the sound and her grip tightened on the tricorder. A glance at it revealed two lifeforms, but something was interfering with the device’s ability to get a clear read on their physiology and their exact location. The others lined up alongside the wall beside the door and she followed suit, adjusting the settings on her tricorder all the while keeping an ear out for trouble. A loud noise disrupted her focus and she looked up. It all happened so quickly that she wasn’t entirely sure what had occurred until she looked down to find the captain lying on the floor in a pool of liquid. Her eyes widened and she sucked in a sharp breath as she scanned the liquid with her tricorder. Blood. Journs: ::to the others:: He’s bleeding heavily. We have to move quickly. ::to Tralan:: Look around for some kind of clean fabric to apply pressure and slow the bleeding. Tralan: Responses Journs: ::to McKnight and R’Val:: I need something sterile to create an incision and something to cauterize the wound. Something hot. McKnight / R’Val: Response Journs: ::to Bjørge:: I left my medkit in our suite. Run as fast as you can to get it. It has medicines that we need. Keep an open comm line. Bjørge: Response As the others got to work on their tasks, she studied the captain and noted a tear in his uniform on his abdomen. Grabbing the edges, she used her strength to rend the fabric to get a clear look at the injury. Journs: oO Sorry, sir. I’ll replace it out of my rations. Oo She exhaled slowly, trying to focus. There was a lot of blood. Studying the dispersal, it was mostly from the abdominal wound. She’d been worried that some came from the collision of his head onto the hard floor. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t hemorrhaging there. Picking up her tricorder again, she began scanning his body for injuries. It wasn’t as detailed as a medical tricorder, but it would have to do until Ensign Bjørge returned with her kit. She noted all of the landmark symptoms of intracranial bleeding, but due to the severity of his injuries, she just couldn’t be sure until she either had a medical tricorder in her hand or until she beamed him back to the ship for a more detailed analysis of his condition. Journs: ::taps her commbadge:: =/\= Journs to Serala. =/\= Serala: =/\= Response =/\= Journs: =/\= The Captain has sustained serious injuries. I’m still working on determining the extent of them. But there’s a lot of blood. He needs to be stabilized quickly and beamed back to the ship. =/\= Serala: =/\= Response =/\= Journs: =/\= He might very well need surgery. If I had the weapon that caused the injury, it would go a long way toward determining what happened. =/\= Serala: =/\= Response =/\= Journs: ::nods:: =/\= Understood. Journs out. =/\= ::turns to the others:: How’s it coming? We really need to hurry before he bleeds out. Tralan / McKnight / R’Val: Response Bjørge (if present): Response --- Lieutenant Ishkabela Journs, XnP/GS Assistant Chief Medical Officer USS Atlantis, NCC-74682 I238110RH0
  13. As a HCO officer, I dig procedural sims - it's great to see how the ship ticks over. This post by our talented Chief Engineer @Sirok and mighty marine @Wes Greaves ticks lots of boxes for me. I like the inter-departmental collaboration, the fact that we see a team struggle to get the basics right and two department leads having to figure it out for the benefit of the ship! Nice one! ((Marine Quarterdeck, Deck 9, USS Thor)) The quarterdeck was oddly quiet for being mid-morning on a duty day. Hannibal’s reassignment had been abrupt and equally as shocking to the Marines as the move to the Thor. Despite the ever present need to train, the detachment had gathered to give the Major the proper send off he deserved before his departure. For yet another morning after their last mission, Wes regretted the alcohol related decisions of the previous night. Come to think of it, most of the detachment was probably regretting the choices of the previous night. Wes whistled softly to himself, and immediately stopped as the piercing noise caused a shooting pain in his head. Reading a training report on his padd, he was enjoying the abnormal quiet of the quarterdeck. The Marines were hardly rowdy in the near sacred room, but it was uncommon to be able to hear the dull hum of the engines so clearly. The man was lost in his own thoughts, no longer focused on reading the words on the device, when a notification caused the padd to beep and vibrate softly. Puzzled upon receiving a message from the newly appointed Chief Engineer, Wes opened the communique and read through it quickly. Wes looked up from the padd and gave a mental shrug. Now was as good of a time as any to run such drills. Well maybe not this specific moment, with most of the detachment hung over. Regardless, most of the crew would be in reduced working hours or off ship. The officer looked up across the quarterdeck to the empty office once occupied by Major Parker. The reassignment had been so sudden, no one had spoken to Wes about the change of command. He was reluctant to occupy the office intended for the Detachment Commander until someone told him he was the new boss. Even so, Wes was the ranking Marine aboard the ship now, and as Commander of Troops, it was his call to make. ((Main Engineering, Deck 20, USS Thor)) Sirok was waiting in engineering for Greaves. The activity in the huge chamber seemed to be what it should be. All the repairs had only been completed a few days ago. They had been exhausting. After them, the engineers had had to take mandatory shifts, including the chief engineer, in order to get back to normal, physically and mentally. Once the repairs were completed, the space in the cargo bays where the Azcou and the colonists had been, could also be fully recovered. Therefore, the cargo bay the Marines had assigned themselves had to be shared. At the time Ensign Sirok simply told him that given the small space of a starship it was practically impossible for anyone to be assigned such a large space. For the same reason he had to talk to the captain one day about the bowling alley, it was totally illogical from the point of view of the available space. Sirok: Lieutenant Greaves, welcome. ::Without further preamble or ceremony, the Vulcan turned on his holographic table, displaying a three-dimensional map of the ship.:: Wes smirked as the chief offered a greeting. Greaves: Nice display you’ve got there. Excited to see me? Wes wasn’t surprised that his friend decided to ignore the joke and he listened attentively as the Vulcan dove directly into business. Sirok: To simulate a situation in which your men are deployed, I have chosen a yellow alert situation, which will turn red once the simulation begins. It's practically impossible to know where they might be in a normal situation, some in their quarters, recreational or training areas. So I think it's best to start in a controlled situation. Greaves: A logical decision. Wes studied the holographic layout of the ship. The Vesta class really was large, and the detachment was just a drop in the bucket that was the manpower of the ship. There was no way they could cover even a portion of the vessel’s emergency responsibilities themselves. The moment struck Wes with the weight of the need for teamwork in the bleak hostility of space. Sirok: The engineering team is distributed near the most important locations, shield control, deflectors, weapons controls, thrusters... You can see it on the map. Unless the command officers order otherwise due to circumstances. As you know, security usually sets up teams on different decks, to protect key locations. Greaves: Right. They’ll make sure that no unauthorized personnel are about, and defend the critical ship functions are protected in case of being boarded. Sirok: I do not know the deployment of your men in a situation like this. Reinforcing security work and a strike team on standby in case they have to go after a target? Wes turned inward in thought and crossed his arms as he wracked his memory. Honestly, the precise reactions in the different alert states needed review as they hadn’t been discussed in detail since the Thor was an auxiliary vessel to the Embassy and most the Marines were assigned to the Thunder-A. For not the first time, he missed Major Parker’s expertise and experience. He tried to remember how they did it back on the U.S.S. Hood when he was there. Greaves: If I remember the S.O.P. right, during yellow alert the Marines report to the armory and don combat gear. On red alert, the squad on duty sets up as a quick reaction force on the quarterdeck. They are responsible for repelling boarders or rushing to emergency locations. The other squad reports to main security to reinforce their positions. Sirok: I will set up the teams for the simulation as you say. ::The Vulcan started typing on the console and the marine teams showed up in the yellow alert simulation.:: Greaves: We could rewrite our procedures so our medic reports to sickbay and our combat engineer leads the fighter maintenance personnel as damage control teams. Wes paused as he turned the idea over in his mind more. Greaves: Actually, it might be better to keep the medic with the reaction force as an emergency trauma team. . . Regardless, that’s a discussion to have with our medical department. Our combat engineer is the perfect leader for a damage control party. Sirok: I do not know how many doctors you have but I would keep them distributed near their equipment. Except in an extremely serious situation, the infirmary should be able to proceed very quickly. In many cases your medics should not even give them time to stabilize the patient if the transporter is available. But as you said, it would be better to coordinate with Dr. McKenzie. ::Sirok spoke as he entered the data to place the teams as Wes had said in red alert.:: Sirok: As far as your combat engineer is concerned, their knowledge should be taken very seriously by the teams they are on. Greaves: Agreed. So what were you thinking for drills? It’d probably be smart to start with some classes and demonstrations on the appropriate tools and responses before we dive into some full scale drills. Sirok: It would be convenient. I would start by teaching them the operation of the systems closest to the areas to which they are sent. Security protocols for the most common damages and ways to disconnect that system and to switch it to the secondary if it has not been achieved remotely. Obviously in that process they would be taught how to use the necessary tools and where to find them on the ship. Wes nodded along as Sirok described his plan of attack and made his own mental notes on how best to organize the classes before turning to some live drills. ((Training Holosuite C, Deck 9, USS Thor)) It was a strange feeling to step out of the quarterdeck, walk down the hall, and then step into a holographic representation of the same quarterdeck. Immediately upon starting the simulation Wes determined he did not like it. It was disorienting. How could he even know if he ever left the holodeck if the simulation looked and felt exactly like being aboard the ship. Wes visibly shook his head to clear the thought. Surrounding him and anxiously chatting with each other were seven Marines in full equipment. The lighting of the simulated room was normal, but diodes built into the walls gently flashed yellow indicating the alert status of the ship. This was going to be their first try at a damage control simulation after Sirok’s classes and Wes was sure the chief engineer was going to be putting his Marines through their paces. For their part, the teams talked amongst themselves and watched the officers calmly. At least as long as they thought Sirok wasn't listening to them. Sirok: We are on yellow alert, move on. :: Sirok: It was hard to tell if the Vulcan was saying it in an informative way or half a lecture, because of his monochordly tone. :: At the sound of the Vulcan’s voice, Wes and most of the Marines turned to face the Vulcan. Sirok: For the purposes of this training I will not act as chief engineer, someone must supervise. We can use a more impartial arbiter later, perhaps Commander Teller. Given our current area of operation on the Thor, it simulates a battle with tzenkethi ships. Greaves: Sounds like as good of a plan as any. Let’s get started. Wes turned to the group of Marines and began addressing them. Greaves: Alright, here’s the deal. We just hit yellow alert while in Tzenkethi space. Per the regs, you all were on duty and raced to the quarterdeck, geared up. What happens next is on you, and the simulation. Take Chief Sirok’s classes to heart, and we’ll do just fine. ::motioning to Sirok and himself:: We’ll be monitoring your progress from here. Any questions? Wes looked about the room at the assembled group. Aside from a few glances, and one imperceptible comment in the back, no one made any indication of wanting to speak. Greaves: Very well then. Computer, begin simulation. Immediately the room shook as if the Thor had taken a violent impact and the yellow flashing lights on the walls shifted to an angry red. Wes shot a dirty look toward the Vulcan who designed the training simulation. Greaves: oO He’s not giving us any down time in this sim Oo All the rooms turned red followed by the alarm buzzing indicating that the ship was on red alert. Sirok: Now everyone must go to the designated red alert stations. :: The Vulcan had configured the simulation so that the physical effects of the simulation would not affect him, so that when the ship had a first shock, he stood still, like a column, looking at his padd. He had never looked so much like an artificial being as he did at that moment. :: Another teeth rattling tremor rocked through the room and the Marines looked back and forth between one another, not exactly sure what to do. Sirok looked up from his padd when he noticed that the Marines were not moving. Sirok: If you studied the documents that have been administered, you should be able to know where you have to go. If you have not, think, act logically. But move on. ::He looked at Greaves in case he wanted to add anything else.:: Wes didn’t exactly shout, although his voice was no longer at a conversational volume. His face and body language wasn’t that of a furious man, but he obviously was not relaxed. His words and his posture suggested something else altogether. Something that the assembled group had no desire to discover the true meaning of. Greaves: It’s not play time. You’re Starfleet Marines and your ship is under attack. Do something. It was obvious the group hadn’t studied or prepared for the exercise and cold rage burned within Wes’ chest. He had a certain style of leadership that centered on mutual respect. He treated all of his subordinates like the grown men and women they were, and he expected them to adhere to their responsibilities as such. The obvious lack of preparation was a spit in his face and Wes intended to correct that attitude following the simulation. Fortunately, a few of the group had studied, and they quickly took charge, snapping the trainees out of their stupor and into action. Within a few seconds, the simulated quarterdeck emptied for all but Sirok and Greaves. The Marines broke off into two teams and scattered across the holographic recreation of the ship. Sirok: Both teams are far behind their designated position. They're not taking the optimal route. :: He shook his head slightly, foreseeing what would happen.:: Greaves: :Stroking his chin:: Seems so. It’s pretty obvious they aren’t even remotely ready for this duty yet. ::gazing off into the distance:: Oh, we’re going to play games after this... Sirok raised his eyebrow at Greaves' comment. Sirok: I just think they have decided not to read the protocols properly. Immediately after his comment, a huge impact was felt on the simulation.The Vulcan waved his hand from his padd to one of the walls, where the contents of the padd were projected. In the large projection, a diagram of the Thor could be seen, with colored dots showing the position of the Marine and engineering teams. A yellow area of the ship was shown on Decks 4 and 5, due to the impact of a Tzenkethi weapon. Wes tapped a few buttons on a nearby wall console, and holographic screens appeared to either side of the diagram of the Thor. After a brief pause, the floating screens faded from a dark gray into a video feed of the yellow indicated area. A long corridor stretched off screen, with the camera focused in on an intense blue and yellow jet of flame just outside of a turbolift. From what Wes could gather, his best guess was a ruptured EPS conduit. Greaves: Here comes the first big challenge. Let’s see if they remember how to deal with this. Sirok: At the moment they don't seem to know what to do. ::He touched the padd a couple of times to save that precise moment, for later evaluation.:: The screen showed the damage control team approaching the inferno. Now clad in heat resistant EV suits, the Marines of the ad hoc team attempted to spray flame retardant on the EPS rupture. Sirok: They are only delaying the real problem, they must go to the panel in the next section to make the derivation. Greaves: ::Shaking his head in disappointment:: Yup. They didn’t pay attention at all. The ship took another big jolt, this time the damage was to the secondary hull. Closer to the antimatter containers. Apparently the battle was not going well for the Thor. Sirok: So far the damage would only cause some personnel casualties and damage to secondary systems, but if they don't help contain the problems near the antimatter, the simulation will be over. Greaves: Agreed. They’re not going to put out the fire from that EPS conduit until they redirect the flow anyway. If they don’t start thinking…. Wes trailed off as he watched the pair of video screens. While the left most screen continued to surveil the team battling the raging inferno on deck five, the other monitor clearly showed another Marine damage control team approaching the antimatter storage tanks. The teams approached the danger without hesitation, perhaps because they knew it was a simulation. But there was a sense of improvisation in tackling the problem, rather than knowledge and organization. Greaves: If containment is lost on that storage tank, it’s all over. At least one of the teams is thinking right. Sirok: The antimatter leaves virtually no room for improvisation. The floating diagram hovering in front of Sirok clearly showed angry red indicators surrounding main engineering and the antimatter storage tanks. Multiple EPS conduits spewed jets of plasma into the compartment, flickering brightly in high winds. The environmental controls fought against a small hull breach that hadn’t been sealed by a force field, and the oxygen being pumped into the compartment created a harsh wind as it was sucked out into the simulated vacuum. Greaves: Did you program that or is it a random simulation? Sirok: There are a number of base situations that appear randomly. Depending on how they help control damage, Thor will either improve or worsen her combat performance. If the damage is not controlled, the ship will be destroyed. Greaves: That’s pretty challenging for their first run through the gauntlet. Sirok: The events they faced, for the most part, appeared as examples in the technical documentation given to them. The more complicated ones, but those that will appear less, require using their technical knowledge in an inferential way. Greaves: Fair enough. You’re the chief, and they’ll be working for you if we find ourselves in a situation like this for real. Wes watched as the Marines braced themselves against the wind. One stand out in the group pointed enthusiastically toward the hull breach. Greaves: Seems like with the ruptured conduits, there isn’t enough power for the automatic force fields to engage. Sirok: Cascade failures begin. They can still divert power and get the force field going. Wes watched in surprise. As the pair of officers spoke, the Marines hurried to reroute power in the compartment. Almost as soon as they had mentioned it, the EPS conduits stopped spewing plasma, and power was restored to the compartment, sealing the hull breach. A smile grew on his face, his chest swelling with pride. Greaves: Well, I’ll be… they managed it well. Wes noticed a new indicator on Sirok’s diagram. A long snaking line that ran directly underneath the antimatter storage was now flashing red. Sirok: A plasma fire is reaching the power system of the containers. ::He didn't have to explain to Wes that a failure in the containment field would cause the antimatter to touch the matter in the container itself. Which would result in an uncontrolled release of energy that would destroy the entire ship. Sirok: They have one minute to put out that fire. Wes watched the right most video feed as several of the Marines high fived each other, oblivious to the simulated problem below their feet. On the left screen the damage control team still attempted to suppress the plasma fire on deck 5 with flame retardant to no avail. A silent countdown slowly ticked away the time remaining to containment failure on Sirok’s overlay. Greaves: They’re too busy celebrating their small win to even notice the new problem. Wes watched in silence as one of the Marines near main engineering finally recognized the imminent failure, too late to matter unfortunately. Both screens flashed bright white momentarily. Computer: Simulation Complete. Antimatter containment field failure. USS Thor destroyed. The room in which Sirok and Wes were standing, which had previously been an immaculate representation of the Marine Quarterdeck, was replaced with the black walls and orange grid pattern of a holodeck. In one far corner of the huge room was the damage control team from engineering and in the other corner was the team from deck 5. Wes shook his head in awe. The number of calculations and the sheer processing power it took to allow three groups of people to explore a ship in a single holodeck without bumping into each other, or the walls, was impressive. The two damage control teams took a moment to reorient themselves to the change in the environment before making their way over toward Wes and Sirok. They knew they had failed miserably, and they approached with bowed heads, not wanting to make eye contact with the two officers. Greaves: ::sternly:: It is exceptionally obvious that you all disregarded the classwork and technical reading that Chief Sirok assigned. Your performance was down right awful. At any moment we could be thrust into a combat situation, and one way you’re going to keep the Thor fighting is to make sure it doesn’t explode. Wes paused his lecture to size up the Marines and let his next words sink in. Greaves: Usually I’m proud to serve with each and every one of you, but today I’m overwhelmed with disappointment. Wes let his gaze sweep across each Marine, none of which were willing to return the look. Finally he turned to Sirok. Sirok: The task at hand was not easy. But a lack of knowledge has been noted. Improvisation is useful up to a point, but to use it correctly you need to have enough knowledge. Still, congratulations on solving problems 3A and 6C. ::Sirok used a technique to help sentimental beings accept criticism. Start and end with something positive. It was something he was trying to use with his own crewmen and so far it wasn't giving him bad results.:: Greaves: ::glowering and with a reluctant voice:: Agreed. Sirok: If you have any doubt about the material, or need to practice any particular circumstance do not hesitate to consult. What you are learning will help you to work better with other crew members, not only on the Thor but on any other starship or space station where you are posted. The assembled teams still refused to make eye contact, but seemed to have regained some of their composure at the Vulcan’s reassurances. Greaves: There’s a saying I’m fond of. Amateurs train until they get it right. Professionals train until they can’t get it wrong. ::Looking over the Marines:: We’ve got a long way to go until we can’t screw that up again. Looks like we’re just going to have to keep practicing. End ========================= First Lieutenant Wes Greaves Acting Marine Detachment Commander USS Thor - NCC 82607 E239702WG0 & Ensign Sirok Acting Chief Engineering Officer USS Thor NCC-82607 Fleet Captain A. Kells, Commanding E239702S10
  14. ((Counselling Suite, Deck 7, USS Gorkon)) Trepidation forming like a stone icicle in the pit of her stomach, Jo Marshall, ever the effective evader of most things emotionally explaining, slipped into the Counselling Suite with her hands clasped behind her back. Some while since she’d last had anything that approached near to counselling, despite sending new Ensigns and fellow officers off for their heads to be shrunk, the guilt of that hypocrisy had finally reached a little pinnacle and toppled over, which led to Jo standing there, which led to Jo feeling uncomfortable. An appointment made with the bubbly Counsellor, Jo pressed the button for the contact on the side of the door. Fortune: Come in! Inside was the usual style of Corliss’ office, various colored chairs, her plant at its home on a shelf, and herself settled in a seat with a PADD, one leg slightly bouncing. Fortune: Jo! It’s nice to see you. Marshall: You too, Corliss. Feels like it’s been an age. The blonde took a quick glance around the counselling office, a representation of the internal workings of their unique counsellor. Fortune: Well, it feels like decades between missions sometimes. It’ll take a bit for my internal clock to reset itself. She chuckled, sweeping a loop of pink hair back behind her ear, gesturing at a chair. Fortune: Come, come, sit, sit. Need anything to drink? Leaving the safety of the doorway behind, Jo walked inside and took up a seat where instructed. Ever comfortable on a ship she knew like the back of her hand, coming for an appointed talk was something that set her on a bit of an edge. With a heavy exhale, Jo relaxed into the chair and smiled. Marshall: Coffee would never go amiss, but I think I’ll go for green tea, this time please. Influence of the better half. Fortune: Strangely, I’m not at all surprised Erin drinks tea. Some people have that feel to them, I suppose. Anything added to it? Marshall: I’ll take it how you have it. ::Said with a grin.:: Show me the ways of the tea. Fortune: A roommate showed me the glory of a dab of honey inside, and I’ve never gone back. Corliss happily replicated them a pair of cups of tea, slipping the steaming cup onto the table between them towards Jo. Her own cupped into her hand, the steam warming her face a little as it curled up. Across from her, the blonde picked up the mug and cradled it in her hands; the little warmth was welcome. Fortune: So! Here to chat things out, I take it? Marshall: If you’re willing to have your ear bent in all kinds of directions. I’m not one for sticking to a particular topic when the flood gates open. Fortune: Everyone likes a listening ear, sometimes just as a sounding board, or just to reason things out to themselves. ::she cooled her tea with a breath, taking a sip.:: If walls could talk, I’m sure they’d report me to Quinn for losing my common sense...and, sometimes, a random object. They always end up on the dresser… Marshall: Always the dresser. Or the coffee table. I’m half convinced there’s a blackhole down the back of the sofa that just randomly drops things back onto various bits of furniture from pockets. Sipping at the warm tea, Jo relaxed a little further into the chair. Never one to sit in a chair like a normal person, she tucked a leg underneath her and leaned to one side. This was just a conversation; nothing to worry about, no hidden depths to probe, no hidden meanings to discover. Just a conversation with a friend over tea. Marshall: It’s been a while since I’ve sat down for this, you know. Last time wasn’t long after we came back from Over There. I’m a bit rusty. Fortune: Momentum is a funny thing like that. Once you get going, there’s no stopping. Marshall: I’ve never found it easy to do, not about me anyway. ::She hazarded a smile, motes of nerves threading through it.:: People can be usually persuaded to talk about themselves more. Anyone who does find this kind of thing easy to do are right up there with those who eat salad for breakfast. Fortune: ::she wrinkled her nose at that thought.:: Salad? I’m more of a waffle person. ::she grinned.:: Actually, a lot of people find it hard to talk about themselves. They’re not sure what to say, or how to say it, until they’re asked questions or something pertains to their interests. Nodding, Jo dropped her gaze to the tea in her mug, floating there without a care in the world. Marshall: What do you suggest? Fortune: Well, your bike...or talking about Erin...oooorrr maybe something you’ve done on shift lately? Maybe anything with the recent mission…? Jo pursed her lips for a moment, teeth chewing on the inside of her cheek, mind revolving around several things simultaneously. Despite the appearance of being as shallow as a teaspoon sometimes, there were hidden depths in there, as deep as the oceans of the planet revolving beneath them, as expansive as the space around them. Marshall: I’m finding it harder to… ::The false start didn’t help and she rolled her eyes at herself.:: Do you ever find yourself so angry with someone it just sits there? Fortune: Ah, stewing anger? ::she popped her lips in thought.:: Sometimes, if I’m frustrated. It’s a normal response to certain events, but it’s not healthy to keep it rolling around like a hot ball in a pan, you know? Marshall: I’m aware completely ignoring these issues is an unhealthy coping mechanism, ::she took a sip of tea and exhaled,:: so I’m ignoring that fact, too. Fortune: Ignorance may be bliss, but only up until whatever it is sideswipes us across the face. The young blonde exhaled again, this time through her nose as the tea mug came down away from her lips and rested in her lap. On the out breath, her shoulders relaxed and she willed her heart to stop beating so fast, like a drum behind her ribs, solid and consistent. Marshall: I— ::She bit her lip at the false start again and closed her eyes.:: When we were trapped in the dreamworld, ‘Kos and Erin did a mind meld to get back and wake the Admiral up. They… I don’t know, merged minds? Is that a thing Betazoids can do? Fortune: Not…::she paused, as if trying to work through her words.:: Not...really...in a way. Marshall: It’s a difficult one to explain, ::she exhaled with a self-deprecating smile,:: I’ve thought about this in so many ways. Is it like how Vulcans share their melds? Like how Deltans do? Or something else entirely. Fortune: Not like Vulcan melding, in...a way. So. ::She sighed, raising her hand up, then placing it back down in thought.:: So there is something, like bonding, but it’s not something any one Betazoid can do on their own. A blonde eyebrow raised as Jo took a sip of warm, fragrant tea, enjoying the soothing effects of it more than anything else, though still surprised she hadn’t tried to drown in the contents of the mug. Marshall: You guys do this in groups? Fortune: Oh you need priestesses, some people from the Houses to stand over and ensure all goes well. ::she flittered her fingers in the air.:: But not like how Vulcans can...reach in and grab someone’s mind. I...suppose our difference would be like...well, like a river. ::she placed her cup down, lacing her fingers together.:: With Vulcans, they’re fisherman. They can reach in, grab up someone’s thoughts, and physically touch them. With us, or rather, in my experience, it’s like...grazing the river. You can touch the river, but not the fish. Marshall: And you make a bond with the river or the fish? ::She scratched at her cheek with a slender finger, confusion bouncing around on her features.:: I’m not sure I understand. Fortune: There’s not a bond as much, unless a familial link of course. Is...there something you’re worried about for the both of them? Wrinkling her nose, Jo looked down at the liquid in the mug sloshing around as she held the vessel in her hands. That was the Skarbek; this simmering layer of viscous liquid and the rest of it beneath the surface. They were different people in there, leading different lives under different circumstances, but out of it… She chewed her lips as she looked back up at the lively counsellor and her shoulders deflated. Marshall: Yes and no, with a hefty dose of I don’t know in there, too. ::Her tongue stuck in her cheek and she exhaled heavily.:: Erin says it’s like a library in her mind; there are all these books there dedicated to Kos’ life and she could choose to read whatever she wanted, but she doesn’t. It’s a choice not to. Fortune: How intriguing to think of it like a library...and kind of her not to intrude in on his privacy. Is it the fact she’s able to access those memories…? Marshall: That she’s in that position in the first place. That she’s walking around with someone else’s every thought and memory in her head. It didn’t do anything, it didn’t change anything, it just implanted this in her head and her in his. She leaned forward and placed the mug down on the table, fingers threading into her hair as she sat back, curling one leg beneath her. Visible agitation wasn’t in Jo’s litany of behaviours and she didn’t know what to do with herself while every cell tried to vibrate on an unfamiliar wavelength. To Corliss, it was like watching sparks of electricity around a statue, shifting and crackling in equal measure. Marshall: He knows more about her than I ever will, and he knows more about me than I want anyone but her to know. Fortune: And...you don’t like that. Jo chewed the inside of her cheek as blue eyes unfocused somewhere around where the table was; the serious side of the middle Marshall brimming up to the surface through those deep layers where she kept it as buried as possible. It made her heart hurt to think about, and had done for the longest time; tarred on the inside, set aflame and left to burn. She bit her lips as the rolling urge to burst into tears in a hot ball of rage melted and stemmed. Marshall: I can’t be mad about it and I can’t even begin to talk to Erin about it. She’s the one with all of this to deal with, not me. What kind of person feels like this is anything to do with me? Fortune: A private person. A concerned one. And, it makes you human, Jo. Marshall: Does it have to? Fortune: Well, mortal, human, same? ::she laughed, shaking her head.:: All the same, it makes you a person. If there’s something besides ‘just a feeling’ that’s making you worried, for instance, some new habit she has or the like, then I’d suggest encouraging her to talk to someone about it. With a shake of her head, the young blonde lifted the mug to take a drink, thinking through the year since. Erin hadn’t changed; still as funny, unassuming and genius as ever. Jo had lost countless hours watching her talk, laugh and frown and so much love had given her the strength to seek counselling for all the anger with nowhere to go. Marshall: And if there’s not, what do you suggest? Fortune: Well...I suppose you should think about your view on privacy. A frown crested for a second and Jo leaned forward, elbows on her knees as she looked at Corliss as though self-reflection were a foreign concept. Her hand found the back of her neck, feeling coming in waves like fluctuations in temperature. Growing up in a Federation colony, the majority population Bajoran, the sharing of telepathic and empathic thoughts and feelings was a near foreign concept to her until she started seeing more of the galaxy. Perhaps picking up on the fact she didn’t know quite what to say, Corliss continued. Fortune: It wasn’t until I went to Academy that the foreign thought of someone not knowing what I was thinking, or about to do, had settled into my mind, and made me feel...alone. For some of my friends, the thought of their families being able to access and stroll through their mind like a walk in the park made them cringe. ::she shrugged, lacing her fingers together as she watched the other.:: Every feeling someone feels is valid. I do think you need to talk to Erin about this. It’s about her, and about Genkos, and about your relationship as well, and being open and honest in a relationship is something I always encourage. Nodding, as though the information had filtered through her mind and wrapped in vines around her heart, her lips disappeared behind her teeth for a second as she thought on it, then exhaled again slumping back into the chair, hands on the arms of it, fingers drumming. Talking to Genkos would be difficult, talking to Erin doubly so. Pinpricks of tears started at the corner of her eyes as her jaw clenched at the back, one long breath exhaled and she smiled; a fleeting thing that barely remained. Marshall: How are you, Corliss? I’m sorry I haven’t asked. ::Picking up her mug again, she smiled.:: Your hair looks good, as always. Fortune: Ah, do you think? ::she slipped a hand up to a stray curl, winding the pink hair in a small circle.:: I gave it all a good scrubbing on my shift off, it’s my own form of stress-relief, I suppose. ::she cracked a grin, tilting her head.:: Would you like to talk about my wigs, I take it? Marshall: I can only take so much talking about me. ::Her lips thinned into a smile that verged on the self-deprecating, or mawkish, certainly nothing joyful.:: And it’s a rare occasion we see each other; not properly since we were on Nassau playing pirates. Fortune: It’s hard talking about oneself, it’s true. We tend to prey upon our own fears and embolden them in ways that others don’t tend to see them. ::she hummed, shrugging.:: Plus, I think I made a convincing pirate captain. A chuckle through a mouthful of tea shook Jo’s shoulders and she nodded, remembering full well the destructive force that was the Captain persona Corliss had undertaken on their Nassau journey. It wasn’t the most welcoming of places; even when they’d first touched down, it was touch and go whether they would be able to stay or not, and Jo recalled trying to think of an easy escape route should it go south. Marshall: The fact that you pulled the character out of the hat with a seconds’ notice was incredible; that you kept it up while an Andorian with a mohawk asked for the docking fee was something else. I can just about remember you talking to the docking agents when we were trying to leave. Fortune: Well, I think had they pressured more questions, I might have cracked. I do like the name Marisol however, it’s very...rolls off the tongue, hm? Marshall: It does. Maybe she’ll make a reappearance one day. Their trip there had been anything but simple, and resulted in the near-death of not only the Orion trying to prevent their escape, but Jo had almost tripped the light fantastic too; sitting in the back of that shuttlecraft, preparing for the eventuality that seemed a little too inevitable. With Corliss’ quick thinking, they’d finally got free of the asteroid and back into space to meet up with the Triumphant, and it couldn’t have come soon enough. Fortune: How are you and Erin? Beyond the…::she wiggled her fingers in the air.:: with Genkos, how are things when you’re together? Anything new? Any sentient plants I might need to warn the Admiral about?? ::she teased.:: Marshall: There’s always sentient plants to warn the Admiral about. ::She grinned at the mention of her partner and settled a bit further into the chair, not quite the live wire she’d walked in as.:: We’re fine, at least I think we are. She’s met my parents recently, she seems to get along with my younger brother fairly well, through a mutual love of adrenaline rushes and building things. Fortune: Ah, a pair, are they? ::she chuckled.:: It’s good they’re getting along, I know some feel anxiety over if their family will care for someone they are in a relationship with. ::she took a sip of her tea again, humming.:: Mm. So...what’s brought all this on then? Marshall: Guilt, I think. ::Her teeth chewed around on the inside of her lips, the feeling like a warm stone sinking from heart downwards.:: She’s empathic; I know she can feel it when I’m… ::Her hands made a gesture as though she were holding a lump of energy between her palms.:: A tiny ball of rage. Corliss nodded. People in a rage tended to sit like a stone around her, feeling like they were about to burn to a crisp should they continue to smoulder. It certainly was an odd feeling. Fortune: Yes. She’s most likely waiting for you to come to her about whatever it is. I’m told it’s improper to bring up someone else’s emotions if they don’t talk about it first. Jo chewed the soft fleshy bit of her cheek as she nodded slowly, trying not to imagine how hard it would be if their roles were reversed, knowing she’d be afraid of asking the question in case the answer shattered them like glass. But they were made of stronger stuff than melted sand, sustained heavier blows than an internalised quarry over a Betazoid/Deltan mind warp. As if knowing Jo needed an explanation from the part of a Betazoid, Corliss continued. Fortune: Thoughts, emotions, they’re all kept tight under lock and key. Those of us who can easily feel or read them, we try not to step into the pitfalls of privacy that others may have. ::she paused.:: It can be hard, especially if you care for them, but can’t bring it up under the pretence of privacy. Marshall: You're right. I haven't really... ::she sighed with the words,:: thought about how it feels for her. You'd think an operations officer would be half decent at communicating. ::Swallowing down a swell of emotion and ran a hand into her hair, she exhaled a laugh.:: Selfish in more ways than one. Fortune: Not selfish...well...::she gave a helpless shrug.:: It's so much easier to read someone's mind than to talk it out that speaking can oft seem straining. Speaking was often straining, especially about the tumultuous warp core performing the fusion reaction every day. Jo felt selfish, and that was the issue; at the core of herself, where her internal M/ARA drive pumped fluid around her vitals. Erin — the ichor and nectar of her life as they tried to navigate being together — was different. Part of her wasn’t human, and it was that part which made Jo’s spine tingle and flesh goose and read from her skin that crosscurrent of emotions. It was selfish that Jo had tried to hide it for so long while Erin could feel it simmering beneath. Fortune: Lots of couples dance the dance of 'do I or don't I?'. People, in general, do that as well. They don't want to talk about something, but at the same time, wish the other party just...knew what they were thinking. If you...want, there's also mediation you two could do. Marshall: As in diplomatic mediation? Fortune: Mostly I sit here as you two talk to one another, and fill the silences in-between with compliments to your uniforms for the day. ::she cracked a grin, chuckling.:: But no, some people find a serious talk daunting and having someone they can rely on, a little, to help get their words across, helpful. The thought had some merit as Jo’s blonde eyebrows furrowed in thought, winding her way through how that would work between them when a red blush caught her cheeks as she remembered how Deltans usually took their diplomatic mediation. With a grin, she shook her head. Marshall: I errr, I think it might be best if I do this one alone, Counselor if you don’t mind. Fortune: Ah, no insult taken, but it’s there if you’d like it to be. Has our talk panned out like you thought it would? ::she smiled.:: I’m told counselling can be…’an experience’. Not sure what that could entail. Marshall: An experience. ::She smiled with an exhaled laugh, heart feeling a little lighter for the moment, even if it wouldn’t last long.:: I haven’t had counselling like this for anything other than work and myself for a long time, and I’m glad it was with you. Fortune: You’re kind, Jo. ::she chuckled.:: So, what’ve you got in mind then? Marshall: Some kind of an action plan, I think. ::That was the best way she worked, after all. Give her a task list and it would all be done in no time; let her mind wander and she’d be thinking of new bike parts.:: Erin deserves an explanation and I… ::she forced the words out as they tried to stop in her throat,:: need to talk about this with her. It’s not going to be easy, but nothing worth having ever is, is it? Fortune: That’s how the saying goes, I believe. So! ::she clapped her hands, looking excited.:: Action plan it is! Some people find writing out what they want to say easier so that they can let it all out at once. The blonde nodded again, the process of getting her thoughts down onto a PADD to make sense of them seemed like a good idea. Seeing everything in a line would give it a priority, give it purpose, let her refine her thoughts before they came tumbling out into her partner’s lap like tribbles from an overhead storage locker. Fortune: There’s no guessing how she’ll respond, but you can take the time to craft out your beginning explanation, that way there’s no...hesitation, or fumbling for words. And then, from there, the conversation flows. Marshall: I think I might just have to do that, Corliss, thank you. ::She smiled and let out a breath to relax her shoulders again; armed with a plan, it would be easier. Armed with a plan, she could do next to anything. It was only two steps. Two steps she could do. It filled the inner cavity with a motivation; a need to press on and do it now.:: Would you… would you mind if we cut the session here and I go do just that? Fortune: Oh! Not a problem at all! ::her hands fluttered a bit in the air, although she figured Jo would want to go and get started now that she had a starting point.:: It’s always as long or as short as you prefer. If you need me, I’ll be here! Filled with the inspiration to do just that, Jo deposited the empty mug into the recycling pad of the replicator and when she returned to Corliss, it was with a growing sense of gratitude, perhaps a little bit of a high now they were finding a way through those mental blockages like her brain had started to speak in a language she understood instead of strings of curses. Fortune: As my great-grandmother would say, may fortune be with you! And probably an admonishment on not visiting more often. Marshall: Then, I’ll definitely try to. Next time, I’ll bring danishes and we can talk about my parents. ::Her lips twinged in a smile, definitely finding its way to her eyes this time.:: Thank you, Corliss. I was dreading this and… you’ve actually made me feel a lot better about it. Like I can try and do this. Fortune: I’ve never doubted you, Jo. Danishes sound very good! I’ll look forward to it. ::she grinned, pleased with how relaxed Jo looked now.:: There was a slight moment of hesitation, as if Jo wanted to say something else and just couldn’t quite bring herself to, then she smiled and shook her head. Another time, perhaps. She had other things to worry about. fin -- Lieutenant Corliss Fortune Highest Quality Counsellor Brain USS Gorkon G239510CF0 & Lt. Commander Jo Marshall First Officer USS Gorkon, NCC-82293 G239304JM0
  15. An absolutely devious and devastating finish to a long running side story about addiction and personal choice. Bravo! ((T’Mar’s Quarters, USS Constitution)) T’Mar and Saveron sat across from each other, each with a cup of their preferred beverage, the picture of cool Vulcan composure. T’Mar: I see. ::pause to sip her tea:: You have spoken to Commander Foster. Saveron: Affirmative. ::There was no logic in denying it.:: He informed me of your extended use of Lexorin following a medical procedure which, I understand, resulted in unwanted effects related to your natural empathy and telepathy. He watched her expression, not really expecting it to change but wanting to be certain that he had the story straight. There was no benefit in proceeding on incorrect assumptions. T’Mar: Succinct. So he had understood correctly. Saveron: Would you wish to talk about the procedure? The details were probably of more use to medical in the context of resolving the situation, but sometimes simply talking through a traumatic situation could be beneficial. Being heard was a powerful medicine. The clatter of the teacup indicated that he had, as some cultures put it, ‘hit a nerve’, which she tried to cover by carefully setting the cup down. There was definite trauma there, that tiny slip confirmed it, and he wondered how such a thing could have been allowed to happen. Perhaps one day she would have the confidence in him to let him work to reduce it’s impact, but first he had to build that confidence, that trust. She closed her eyes for a moment and he remained silent, giving her that space in time. T’Mar: Not particularly. It was done against my will. I was given medication to prevent me from blocking out the feelings and then subjected to a bombardment of emotions. It was.. Unpleasant to say the least. Vulcans were the masters of understatements. He couldn’t even imagine what it would be like, being subjected to the emotions of others, multiple others, against one’s will. But he would not ask her to relive that day now. Saveron: Will you describe for me the changes that you experienced following the procedure? T’Mar: I.. ::pause:: I had a strong feeling of violation, but I also experienced an inability to properly suppress my emotions as well as my empathy. Hardly surprising that T’Mar felt violated, and Saveron suspected it could well have led to a distrust of other health professionals, whether consciously or unconsciously, which would have reduced even further her desire to seek the follow up she should have had. The anger that welled on her behalf was heavily suppressed. Now was a time of logic, and through logic, hopefully, the gentle unwinding of the knot T’Mar had gotten herself into. Saveron: Disagreeable. ::He empathised.:: And for these symptoms you were prescribed Lexorin? T’Mar: Indeed. I was hesitant at first, however, it was necessary. The Counsellor set his empty cup aside and laced long fingers together. Saveron: Entirely understandable. ::There are times when such support was beneficial; but it was never meant to be permanent.:: And I anticipate that the medication has been supportive. The question is; how to do you wish to proceed from this point? Saveron wasn’t aware of that particular part of her conversation with Cade, but T’Mar was exactly right when she insisted to Foster that no treatment would be efficacious, no effort to resolve her addiction succeed, if she was not willing. Given that she had been an unwilling participant in the original procedure, consent and active participation was particularly important. T’Mar: I am quite content continuing on the way I have been. Saveron: By which, you mean continuing treatment with Lexorin? He paraphrased to be certain that he understood her. T’Mar: There seems to be this notion that I am doing something wrong, but this medication helps me, Commander. The defensive tone of her words was obvious. Deep down, she knew that it wasn’t the right answer, and she’d heard accusation from him where he’d deliberately offered none. Oh, he could have, but he anticipated that Cade might have already taken that path, and was possibly not the first. He was deliberately walking a different one, since clearly the other had not been efficacious. Saveron: One presumes that others have championed this notion, based on the recommended treatment protocols. T’Mar: That’s a matter of opinion. The protocols were, technically, a matter of opinion, but a several very educated, expert opinions. Saveron: The general medical opinion is that long-term Lexorin use is to be avoided. He said it to see what she’d say to that, whether she’d acknowledge the current medical wisdom. T’Mar: I had hoped that you of all people could understand the complexity of my situation. And that was a no. Saveron: I am endeavouring to do so. ::He assured her evenly.:: I have never had another’s emotions forced on me, nor known what it is to be perceptive to the minds of others at range. ::Every telepathic contact he’d experienced had been individual, and consensual.:: I… cannot truly begin to comprehend such a violation, or the after effects. ::He admitted.:: Only that they would be intolerable. I understand that you would not wish to endure them. T’Mar: ? He inclined his head in acknowledgement. Saveron: I collated these documents for you, in anticipation of your preference, to provide you with relevant information. He offered over a PADD for her to take. T’Mar: ? Saveron: I have included several studies of the long-term effects of Lexorin, including a metanalysis of the available data. In addition there is an account from a patient who was under palliative care for a terminal illness, and also on Lexorin, which provides a more personal rendering, so that you know what to expect. He spoke in the same, even tones, entirely professional, even dispassionate, in the way of their kind. A sharp contrast to Commander Foster. The analyses detailed the relative effectiveness of the medication over time, the cumulative neurotoxicity and eventual progression of synaptic breakdown. Sopek had documented his mental condition in great detail, until he was no longer able to do so. Because that was the reality of what T’Mar was facing if she continued the way she had been, as she wished to. And since they were being logical, stoic Vulcans, he was simply providing her with information with which she could make informed decisions and plan for her future. Unfortunately it wouldn’t be a long one. T’Mar: ? Saveron: I can provide a prescription of Lexorin for you; it will be dependent on quarterly neurological scans. ::And be set to cancel immediately, should a scan be missed.:: Once the scans show neurological degradation, you will be discharged from Starfleet on medical grounds. Not only for her own sake, but for that of her colleagues. T’Mar: ? Saveron: Depending on your current synaptic state and frequency of use, and based on those studies, I estimate that you will have between two and five Standard years of service, before that occurs. The synaptic degradation curve is exponential, so once it becomes detectable you will need to enter care. I have included a list of care facilities that specialise in telepaths’ medical needs. The one on Betazed is particularly highly regarded, but has a long waiting list, so I would recommend submitting your application now. Five years, maximum, and she wouldn’t be able to look after herself. T’Mar was absolutely right, it was her choice. But the important thing about the freedom to choose was that it came with the responsibility to accept the consequences. That was a lot of life to miss out on. T’Mar: ? TAG Commander Saveron Counsellor USS Constitution-B R238802S10 ((T’Mar’s Quarters, USS Constitution))
  16. ((Corridor, Deck 6 - USS Juneau)) What a way to spend one's holidays. Maxwell Traenor had allotted several weeks of his pent-up earned leave in order to attend a major symposium on Starbase 821. There was an exotic and unique discovery in the Dialrin system in the Aavaro Wilds, and scientists from around the quadrant were being drawn in for study. Maxwell was attending the symposium out of personal curiosity rather than as a professional requirement, unlike many of the Starfleet physicists and geologists and xenoarcheologists and all other kinds of 'ologists' being transferred to the starbase for the task. His path from his ship's area of operations to the symposium was a veritable tour of the Federation, spanning almost the full breadth of the Alpha Quadrant. The milk run needed to transit the route had Maxwell hitching rides on 5 starships and 2 transports over the course of 9 days. Finally, though, he was on his last leg on the Juneau and he was content relaxing in the luxurious guest quarters on the relatively new starship. Until the klaxons started, of course. Maxwell was off duty, almost technically a civilian, though of course not really. A Starfleet officer on a Starfleet vessel or installation was always to be ready for duty, especially in an emergency. So despite having absolutely no idea what was going on, or what was where, or even if he could be useful in any way, Maxwell struggled into a uniform and exited his quarters. Random Lieutenant: Sir, didn't you hear the hail? Hurry, we need to get to Transporter Room 4! Traenor: But- The gaggle of officers led by the interjecting lieutenant had swept him up in their group before he could even catch his breath. Were they abandoning ship? What were their orders? His collective knowledge of personnel on the Juneau resulted in three - the transporter chief who had welcomed him aboard, the Ops ensign who had checked in on him in his guest quarters, and of course the bartender in the lounge. And he didn't even know their names, likely wouldn't even recall their faces from a lineup. Maxwell still didn't know what was going on as he was all but frog-marched onto the transporter pad. He couldn't even glean what was going on though the excited chatter of the others who crowded the pad alongside him. Transporter Tech: Prepare for transport. Traenor: But- ((Corridor, Deck 4 - USS Arrow)) Wherever it was that Traenor and his gaggle had materialized, it was Starfleet through and through. The corridor design was unmistakable. There was much to be said about the housekeeping, however. His comment card at the end of his trip would certainly reflect that. It was dark, dingy, dirty, and most egregiously, hot. Those who had beamed over with him scattered in all directions, leaving him standing there bewildered. A different officer, a JayGee in operations colors, approached rapidly and before Maxwell could utter a sound, she shoved an engineering kit into his chest. Engineer: Commander, this way! Traenor: But- Engineer: ::without looking over her shoulder to ensure Maxwell was following - which of course he was, because what else did he have to do?:: I know, I know, not your specialty. But this is triage, just of a mechanical kind. Do your best, sir, and start with that junction over there. The officer pointed one direction and walked another, leaving Maxwell alone and no less bewildered. Dammit, he was a physicist, not an EPS plumber! But, an emergency was an emergency, so to work he went. He even managed to keep grumbling to a relative minimum. ((Bridge, Deck 1 - USS Arrow)) Ugh. Grimy and sweaty. Not a scientist's natural state. Well, maybe if one was a speleologist, but Maxwell was not one of those. The bridge of this vessel, which he had finally learned was called the Arrow, was marginally better than the working conditions that he had endured belowdecks. The lights were back up, there weren't techs lying under every elevated surface fixing things, and there didn't seem to be too much panic among the resident officers. The center chair was supporting a man in a blue collar, who Maxwell had never seen before and would likely never see again. He shuffled over to stand tangentially before the officer, and waited until the object of his attention noticed the weary and discomfited scientist before him. Traenor: Sorry about your ship, Commander. But the officers from the Juneau seem to have most of the big problems back under control. If you would be so kind as to give me leave to return to the Juneau, I'll be on my way. Collins: response Traenor: But- He looked mutely and slack jawed between the viewscreen and this harbinger of disastrous news, as if by sheer will he could beckon the Juneau back from wherever it was off chasing or doing or whatever. Now how in the hells was he supposed to get to the starbase in time for the symposium? And why oh why did he have to be so nosey as to leave his quarters? Collins: response Of course, Traenor was fully aware that any officer at any time could be commandeered and pressed into service wherever they found themselves, which was the automatic reaction that had lured him out of those now long gone comfortable quarters on the Juneau. It's just... well, this was supposed to be his holidays! It also meant that he might have to explain to this fine officer that no, he was not trying to be insubordinate, it's just that he should never have been here in the first place. Unlike the Juneau officers who had been specifically ordered to be here, he was... well... just along for the ride? Traenor: ::defeated:: Well, that's that then. I don't suppose we'll get anywhere near Starbase 821 in the next, oh, 24 hours or so? Collins: response Traenor: ::shrugging, determined to make the most of it:: I'll make myself useful around here then, sir, if you've anything in mind. You won't find me on the Juneau's roster, since I'm transient, but you can find my service record if you search a bit further out. If you have need of a scientist, then I'll do what I can. Maxwell Traenor, at your service. He wasn't going to make the symposium after all. He was on an unknown ship, added to the roster at least until it was returned to a starbase for the desperate repairs it needed. His vacation was shot. But! It was a bit of an adventure, and Maxwell was willing to tough it out - after a hot sonic shower and a hot meal. There *was* going to be a shower and a meal soon, right? Collins: response TAG/TBC -- Commander Maxwell Traenor Chief Vacation Specialist, USS Arrow A239111MT0
  17. I'll make a confession: I'm a verbose person. I begin to write and I easily exceed the number of words I had intended. That's why SIMs like this marvel me. It has many good things and, its conciseness is only one of them. In a very succinct way, without dialogue and with a very short and elegant description, it shows us a very intimate moment of a character that, in a usual way, is a force of nature. With very few lines and in a very subtle way it reflects what past events have meant for the character, how they still weigh on her and what she is dealing with. All in a missive to home, a sweetened message to really conceal what is in her mind. A true delight for its succinctness, its intimacy and the vulnerability it displays. Thanks for this gem @Addison MacKenzie ! ____________________________________________________ (( Room 0502, Deck 5, USS Thor )) Addison sat on the couch in her quarters with her feet up and re-read the letter composed on her PADD. To: Priscilla MacKenzie, 34 Linnaean Street, Cambridge, MA, Earth From: Lt. Cmdr. Addison MacKenzie, M.D., Ph.D., FASFS Hi Mom, I know, I know – I don’t write or call enough, and you’re right, so let’s just get that out of the way now. Things have been crazy, as you well know from the bits I’ve been able to send you. I’m on my third assignment in a year and a half, which either means they really like me, or they really hate me. Time will tell, I’m sure. We recently got took on several new junior officers, including a Vulcan doctor. While she’s a colossal pain in my [...], she’s an excellent addition to this crew, and so too for medicine as a whole, I’m sure. The rest of the lot are a good bunch and will make fine officers. Hopping the galaxy does have its perks, though – I had the best burger of my life at a greasy spoon on Ketar V. While I wouldn’t recommend The Shoals as a destination hotspot, these burgers might be worth it… I know Ryan would love them. Sorry I don’t have time to write more. Try not to worry too much – Geoff is still here and keeps me in line. Give Dad and the bunch a big squeeze for me. Next chance I get, I’ll be home to visit. Promise. All my love, Addy She decided not to mention the part where she had been abducted and abused, though it was likely her parents already knew – they always seemed to have a way of finding things out. Addison took a deep breath and hit send. She desperately hoped she was able to keep that promise. --- Lieutenant Commander Addison MacKenzie, M.D., Ph.D., FASFS Chief Medical Officer USS Thor V239601AM0
  18. ((Starbase 118, Marine Training Holodeck 3)) Training was a mainstay for a Marine, and even with the hangover from the excursion into Little Risa, Anthony could not let himself rest. After selecting some equipment from the armory, he made his way to the training holodecks exclusive to the shipboard Marines. He selected a training program and entered when the doors opened. He found himself on a rocky hilltop overlooking a grassy meadow approximately 80 meters below. There were targets set at random distances, some clearly visible to the naked eye, some not so easy to see because of their distance from him. The targets were approximately one meter tall by one-half meter wide and rectangular in shape. All were black in color, silhouetting nicely contrasted by the bright green grass. Anthony unrolled his pad and took a prone position on it. He placed the Type 32A Operational Support Rifle in front of him, extending the bi-pod for a rest. His wind meter told him there was a slight left to right breeze at his position and the ambient temperature was a comfortable 19 degrees C. The humidity was right at 23 percent, making the air dry by relative comparison. The sun in the simulation was behind him, which tactically was not the best situation, but it made it far easier to see his targets, not having to look against the glare. All things considered, the conditions were perfect. Taking a position behind the rifle, he set his PADD next to his left forearm on the ground in front of him. Anthony tapped a tab on the PADD, opening his notes. He had never used the Type 32A OSR before, so he would be starting with fresh DOPE. DOPE, or Data Of Previous Engagement, for lack of a better term, is the data recorded from rounds fired at a range. It is used as a reference for the sniper to estimate what elevation and windage adjustments must be made to ensure a first round hit on the target. The optics on the Type 32A OSR were enhanced using active scanning technology, but the weapon still relied upon the user to deliver the projectile accurately onto the target. Anthony placed his cheek against the side of the weapon’s stock and allowed his right eye to focus through the scope. He kept his left eye open to avoid losing his situational awareness. It was a comfortable position and he allowed himself to relax against the ground and the gun. From his position he, he had a complete view of the field of fire. Anthony focused on one of the targets and the range finder in the optic indicated the black rectangle was 800 meters from his position. Taking in a deep breath, he held it for about four seconds before letting it out through pursed lips. When he had expelled the air, he slipped his finger onto the trigger and began to press. He could feel the slack leave the trigger and the pressure against the weapon’s sear. Only a few ounces more pressure and the weapon bucked lightly against his shoulder. Through the viewfinder, Anthony watched the projectile strike the center of the target, about 10 cm lower than the reticle indicated the point of impact should have been. He entered the information into his PADD for the first shot, and without making any changes to the equipment, repeated the ritual for a second shot. The second round impacted in nearly the same place, touching the impact of the first. After entering this information into his PADD, he repeated again and fired a third. The results were the same, and the three round group told him all he needed to know about the adjustment on the optic. After entering the DOPE into the PADD, he adjusted the elevation on the scope and settled in for another three rounds. This time, the point of aim and point of impact were consistent. Checking his wrist chronometer, he realized he had been lying in the same position for over an hour. Oh, how time flies… 2Lt. Anthony Meeks Marine Officer 292nd TMR Starbase 118 Ops/USS Narindra R238801IG0
  19. Oh my goodness! The masterfulness of this is beyond words. XD So good. It's not hard to immensely dislike. Well crafted, @Toryn Raga ((Mephinii Spaceport, Illara Prime)) Zhelrad: Oh. Look. More Starfleet. Are you renovating the Administrator's office in preparation for your invasion? ::She spat at the Atlanteans, then glanced to the Naylari:: There you are Brex. I believe you've been avoiding me Representative. Brex: ::smiles:: Of course not, Ambassador. I very much enjoyed our conversation earlier. I was simply consulting with the Federation officers on important matters. Ganarvuss: There’s no invasion here, Minister. We have been assisting Representative Brex with conference security, as requested by the Freeworld Council prior to our arrival on Ilara. Marie: ::Nodding her head in agreement:: We are only here to help. Minister nothing more. ::Smiles:: While the meddlesome Starfleeters attempted to assuage her with platitudes of their honest intent, the Minister scowled at them all. She'd seen the reports on this Atlantis. She knew what had happened on Tibro. Of their involvement in inciting a coup between the Grand Admiral turned 'ambassador' and other decent Valcarians. The facade of good intentions and honor, selflessness was something she could see through. All of it was nothing more than a polite means of conquest. But it wouldn't be the Federation that would own the Expanse. No, the Valcarian Empire had the divine right to rule over all. Brex: I apologize, Minister, that these matters have resulted in me being indisposed. However, as soon as the situation has been resolved, I would be happy to speak with you on whatever topic you’d like. Logan: response Zhelrad: This is a trade conference. And we are both trade representatives, are we not? It's in poor form for such proceedings to ignore your duties lax my dear Brex. We can't have you following Treyla's example here. ::She said, taking another jab at her aide:: Treyla remained silent, but glared daggers at the Valcarian's back. Marie: ::glance in Lephi direction and then to the others:: Let us just create some distance and please refrain from snide comments. The young junior officer's comment elicited a derisive scowl from the Valcarian woman. She looked the brown haired Terran up and down slowly, the way one might eye an unruly pet that was doing something out of turn. That the low ranked individual would even deign to speak to her as if they were anywhere near equal status was an affront itself. Ganaravuss: On the contrary, Minister, Representative Brex has been attending to his duties as security liaison exceptionally well, especially given the absence of the station’s security director. Logan: response Zhelrad: Convenient that the Administrator is suddenly unavailable right after the Federation shows up. Marie: ::speaking softly to Zhelrad:: Do you not think any negotiation would be better in the open? where no words can be taken as insult. Lephi: ::muttering:: We can probably handle this without you, Representative. The Valcarian was now actively ignoring the brunette in teal uniform. She was of the lowest rank to be considered an officer among her own organization and as such, not worthy of speaking with such an illustrious personage such as Myrine Zhelrad. She didn't see a single Starfleeter of appropriate rank among those assembled. Unless the scant few pips on their collars marked any of them for Admirals, or Commodores. Even a Captain would be something. So she kept her focus on the Naylari. Ganarvuss: Indeed, Representative. I would certainly prefer to question the Minister’s staff without her watching over their shoulders. Brex: ::steps forward:: Now, let us all take a step back. I’m certain Minister Zhelrad is just as concerned with ascertaining what has happened here. ::to Zhelrad:: If you would be so kind, we would like to speak with each member of your staff separately. Zhelrad: I care not for the excuses of lesser beings. ::She glares at Logan:: I'm here to talk trade. Now, shall we find some place to converse away from unscrupulous eyes, or do the Naylar have no interest in commerce? ::She gave a hard look at Ganarvuss:: And you'll do no such thing. My staff are barely competent as it is without being detained from their duties by the likes of you. Brex: ::inclines his head:: We do have others we are looking to speak with as well. However, as this is still an ongoing investigation, I’m not at liberty to reveal who these individuals are. I’m certain you understand, Minister. ::smiles:: We wouldn’t want any perceptions of bias nor would we want to risk tipping off the party actually responsible should they be nearby listening. The Valcarian's brow raised but that irate scowl did not diminish in the slightest. Lephi: Representative Brex has been a boon to our investigation so far, I'm certain that once this is resolved, commerce discussions can be held in a good natured way. For now, please let us work. Marie: ::Gently placing her hand on minster shoulder:: Indeed. We only wish to figure what has happened here. Surely you can understand that? The instant she felt the woman's hand on her shoulder she recoiled as if she had been burned by acid. The sheer look of incredulity on her face spoke volumes. If it wasn't evident before, the woman considered herself of a station far beyond all of them and to be touched by one of them unwarranted was akin to being bitten by a stray animal. Zhelrad: You'd do well to keep your hands to yourself, girl. ::She sneered:: You may fool the others but I know what's going on here. Using these disturbances to assert yourselves in these proceedings. The Empire will not take such interference lightly. Logan: Response Ganarvuss: Regarding the safety of the conference and the whereabouts of its security director. Surely nothing that concerns someone of such pomp and circumstance as yourself, Minister Myrine Zhelrad. Myrine's gaze snapped to the woman in the gold collar and her brow furrowed, gaze narrowing on the woman. She knew a condescending comment when she heard one, the Minister had loosed more than her share in her lifetime. Brex: I believe we have wasted enough of your precious time, Minister. Certainly you have more pressing matters to attend to. ::glances at Treyla:: We will speak with your aide first I think. Zhelrad: I will not forget this insult. ::She said in a cold tone, glancing to all of them in turn:: Fine. Take her. She barely does her job as it is, I'll hardly notice she'd absent. With that the Valcarian Minister stormed down the corridor in a huff. These Starfleeter's were an insidious and encroaching weed, threatening to ruin the Empire's divine rule. Someone would have to rip them out before long. Myrine left Treyla and the others behind and went back into the common area. Perhaps she could still salvage this day and arrange some trade deals. And when she was done, she'd have to send a communique back to the homeworld. The Emperor must be told of just how much of a threat this Federation was to his divine rule. END ========================================================= Minister Myrine Zhelrad Valcarian Trade Representative Antar & Treyla Vosh Illaran Adjunct and Assistant to Minister Myrine Zhelrad simmed by Lieutenant Commander Toryn Raga Mission Specialist/Second Officer USS Atlantis NCC-74682 PodCast Team Member Training Team Member Atlantis Staff Member Writer ID: A239410TR0 https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Toryn_Raga
  20. @Lephi I genuinely laughed at Lephi's reaction to Brex!! ((Security Director’s Office, Mephinii Spaceport, Illara Prime, Par’Tha Expanse)) Ganarvuss: Captain Logan, I’d like to take Ensign Yalu or Lephi with me to talk to the suspects. Logan: ? Lephi paused for a brief second, considering her situation as she stood on the balls of her feet reflexively, trying not to look too eager. She was weighing the pros and cons methodically in her head trying to figure out where she would be most helpful. Lephi: All due respect to Ensign Yalu, I truly feel I would be better suited to come along. I've been thinking about it and although my hand to hand combat is rusty, my diplomacy is a strong point. Ganarvuss: Is that so? Lephi was almost certain that there had been some disbelief in the tone from Ganarvuss, but decided that it wasn't worth making a scene with the Ensign over. Besides, she reasoned that Ganarvuss' hesitation was likely based on lack of knowledge rather than malice. Lephi: I might be an engineer in Starfleet, but I've brokered many deals in my short life, and you can't do that unless you're good with your words and reading people. Logan: Response Yalu: I’m happy to go wherever I am needed, Ensign Ganarvuss. If you’d like someone to stay behind and work with Dr. Nidhar’s team, I can do that. But if you think I could be of use elsewhere, I mean, not that staying here wouldn’t be useful, I just... Brex: ::inclines his head and turns to Ganarvuss:: With all respect, Ensign, I agree with your Ensign Lephi. His shrewdness might be beneficial. ::pauses:: Also, as I stated to your other officer, I feel I would be of more use with the interview process. Dr. Nidhar has the situation well in hand here and your doctor could be beneficial to her investigation here since he’s the one who discovered the thoron radiation. Lephi turned and shot the Representative a hard glance. oO His shrewdness? His?! Oo Lephi was fuming. She instinctively reached up, gently feeling around her ears. She always had been self conscious about their size. Typical Ferengi females had lobes that were much smaller. She stifled a growing urge to unleash a verbal lashing on this Freeworlder. No, this needed to be handled professionally. She couldn't end up in the brig on her first mission. Lephi: ::speaking through thinly veiled irritation:: Thank you for that ringing endorsement, Representative. Ganarvuss: Alright, then. You’re hired, Lephi. Dr. Yalu, I agree with Brex on this. Your insights could be most helpful to the forensics team. Lephi felt herself tip ever so slightly as she adjusted, allowing both feet to once again be firmly and flatly on the ground. Now it was time to shine. Although she was great at computer languages, her favourite language remained negotiation. Lephi: ::not taking her eyes off of Brex:: Thank you, Ensign, an interrogation is just an intense negotiation, after all. On Ferenginar we just call that an average Tuesday afternoon. You'll get your answers. She hoped she didn't sound too intense in her reply, with her emotions on a roller coaster she struggled to filter her tone. Moderately worried that she was tanking her Starfleet career before it ever got off the ground, she turned her gaze back to Ganarvuss and added in an attempt to be less intense Lephi: Thank you, Ensign Ganarvuss. I hope we make a good team. I look forward to working alongside your very capable self. oO Rule of Acquisition number 33, it never hurts to suck up to the boss! Oo She thought to herself with a wry chuckle, a faint smile turning the corners of her lips upwards slightly. Yalu: Understood Logan: Response Brex: ::nods:: Of course. ::smiles:: It is your decision. I will help however I’m needed. Ganarvuss: You made a good point earlier, Representative. I think it would go a long way to have you with us when we interview the suspects. Lephi: oO Oh this is just perfect. Oo ::deadpan:: It'll be great to have you along Representative. Brex: Response Logan: Response Nidhar: ::pauses:: I wouldn’t mind the extra hand. Lephi was impressed with how quickly Ganarvuss was able to take control of the situation and get things done. She filed that away as a mental note. She reasoned Ganarvuss might make a good ally to have. Ganarvuss: You got it, Doctor. Representative, Lephi: Let’s go. Logan/Nidhar: Response Lephi: I'm on your six. Brex: ? Ilana led the way out of the office and Lephi followed closely behind. They hadn't made it very far before Lephi was forced to stop on short notice, almost running into Ganarvuss who was turning back to face them. Ganarvuss: I imagine the place to start looking would be the main conference center. Lephi: Seems like the best starting point, I agree. I know it's not my place, but if I may, perhaps we should split up to try and cover more ground? It is time sensitive after all. She was determined to put some distance between herself and the thoughtless representative. Of course he'd think she was a male! She was good at being Ferengi! Lephi wondered how he'd feel if she were to make some broad assumption about his species. Brex: ? Ganarvuss: That makes sense. Lephi: Alright, I have my orders, I will accomplish them. Lephi knew she sounded a bit distant and cold, but she hoped that her colleagues would attribute that to readying for the task at hand and not that her feelings were hurt. Ganarvuss: Response Brex: ? ---------------------- Ensign Lephi Engineering Officer USS Atlantis NCC-74682 A239706L10
  21. A fun little perspective on the ongoing courtroom drama! ((Starbase 104 - Courtroom)) Along with his quick pit stop for a snack Scooter took a stroll to stretch his legs. He had been spending so much time recently digging through various files that he had managed to secure (don't ask him how), messaging people involved in the case for more information and comment (with almost zero luck), and writing draft after draft of the story to date. He needed a little exercise and some time out of that dark FNS writer's room. His PADD gave a beep letting him know he had an incoming message. He removed his PADD from his jacket pocket and looked at the message. The trial was resuming. He decided that exercise back to the courtroom would have to be enough for today. He needed to get to the courtroom to hear some of the testimony to see how it connected to his findings so far. He slipped in quietly while the prosecution was finishing cross examination of one of the witnesses and took a seat in the back row. The defense attorney rose and addressed the court. Maddox: I have one more witness; Commander Maxwell Traenor. He has joined the crew in Captain Rajel’s absence and with him, I would like to introduce new evidence. ::looking between Aubrey and Skepus:: Before I proceed. I want it on record that three separate Starbase 104 engineering and science teams have reviewed the findings and concur that they are authentic and accurate. Scooter sat up a little higher in his chair. It seemed a little odd to him that the prosecution would provide a preemptive explanation of the evidence they were about to present so he figured this must be something good. Really good. Well, depending on your point of view and Scooter's point of the view was whatever story got him the promotion. Maddox: Here are the original, undoctored orders for the USS Constitution-B’s mission to Zeltin IV. It shows that Captain Rajel was ordered to negotiate trade. Commander Traenor, can you walk us through how you and Ensign Foley uncovered this as well as walk us through the details of the document? oO Oh this is better than I thought! Oo Traenor: The metadata obscuration protocols and packet traffic trace details are appendicized in the presentation to the court. I can elaborate on the technicalities if required, but otherwise will condense our findings. On Stardate 239706.01, on the orders of Commander Maddox and with the authorization of the court, Ensign Chip Foley and I completed a thorough parse of related mission communication logs embedded in the USS Constitution's computer core. File size metadata inconsistencies, elaborated in Appendix I, between Starfleet Command and the Constitution were noted. Following the packet data routing outlined in Appendix II, it was found that the communication files in question were altered on Stardate 239704.26. Scooter was a little lost in the technobable jargon that was coming out of the man's mouth but he was putting the basic pieces together. Someone had altered the orders to frame Fleet Captain Rajel. Traenor: Despite having a skilled decrypter in Ensign Foley giving me assistance, the terminal point metadata had been expertly obscured. We were able to ascertain that the alteration had occurred from someplace within Starfleet Headquarters, but no further. The instigator of the comm log alterations had sufficiently covered their tracks. That is, except for one small overlooked packet regarding travel distances to Zeltion IV. Once we were able to parse that metadata, it gave us the key to unlock the altered metadata on the rest of the communication logs at question. We were able to not only unlock the original orders as they were received, but were able to pinpoint the terminal responsible for the alterations, and narrow it all down to one individual, thanks to that one overlooked message. Skepus: Your Honor, I– … This is highly irregular! Scooter was shocked. This was not the reaction that you would expect from a JAG officer, and a Vulcan one at that. The prosecution's case was quickly falling apart. Aubrey/Any: response Maddox: And with whom did this document originate? How high up the chain of command are they? Traenor: The key document, which allowed us to verify the alterations of all other listed comm documents, originated from the terminal of Lieutenant Dolen, personal adjunct of Admiral Fraser. You will find their dossiers and their personal and professional links to the Zeltion IV mission in Appendix III. Maddox: Please keep in mind the three independent teams reviewed this prior to my submission into evidence. Scooter couldn't believe his ears and from the sounds of the courtroom either could anyone else in the room. Did he just hear what he thought he heard? The office of Admiral Faser had given the original orders and changed them when things went south to save face as he set off into the sunset years of his life? Scooter thought he had a heck of a story when this was about Fleet Captain Rajel but the REAL story trumped that by quite a bit. Aubrey: response Maddox: ::bowing her head::Thank you Commander Traenor. I have no further questions. Skepus: Your Honor, in light of recent evidence, I withdraw my case. :: To Aria, cooly :: Perhaps we will resume this at a later date. Boom. And there it was. The case against Fleet Captain Rajel was over and Scooter was sure the case against Admiral Fraser was just starting. He was hoping for a little downtime after writing this story but it was about to get even better. Aubrey/Rajel: response The room was more than a little chaotic at the moment. People were standing. Some were hugging. The room was buzzing with various conversations. Skepus was obviously frustrated and doing his Vulcan best not to let his emotions get the better of him but anyone watching him didn't need to guess at the inner turmoil he was going through. Scooter wanted a comment and did his best to make his way through the crowd of people. McGee: Excuse me. Excuse me! He continued to gently push his way through as he made his way to Maddox and Rajel. The two were understanbly surrounded by people to whom this case was very personal. McGee: Well let me be one of the first to congratulate you both on the outcome of the case. Maddox/Rajel: ? McGee: Scooter McGee. Reporter with Federation News Service. I've been covering the case but nobody really wanted to talk on the record while the trial was still underway. Now that the trial is over can I *finally* get a comment before we all turn our attention to Admiral Fraser? Maddox/Rajel: ? McGee: Your crew seems very devoted to you as shown by their commitment to helping prove your innocence. And I must say I am extremely impressed by their skill and resourcefulness. You are lucky to have them. Maddox/Rajel/Any: ? -tag/tbc- PNPC Scooter McGee Reporter, Federation News Service as simmed by Lieutenant Junior Grade Jacob Horne Engineering USS Constitution-B C239408JH0
  22. I thought this was a very well written Emergency Medical sim and enjoyed the details and medical know-how very much. (( Main Medical, Deck 7, USS Juneau )) Oddas: =/\= Response =/\= Nicholotti: Well, now we know. Indobri: Yes. Let’s hope it’s not that severe. But we had best be ready just in case. Karise began to direct the staff and was elbows deep in the preparations when the Ambassador caught her attention and directed it to a nearby biobed. She could see the residual traces of a blue transporter beam nearly gone. The body laying in the bed was in a full EV suit and was unmoving. One arm and a foot were dangling off the side of the bed and the body was so still it appeared lifeless. The only real information she had about the patient was the gender was clearly female. As she neared, she could see telltale signs of scorching in various areas of the suit. The Ambassador began trying to peel the suit off, but it seemed to be fused together. As she got closer, two more realizations came to her. First, the patient didn’t seem to be breathing. Second, she couldn’t sense much mental activity. None, in fact. Indobri: She’s not breathing! Get that suit off her now! She had completely forgotten rank now. This was a true emergency and all of her training was now in full tilt. She activated the monitors on the bed and checked the vital. Nothing. Nicholotti: Already on it! As Karise began to assess the woman, Ambassador Nicholotti began to work on the suit. Somehow, she had found a cutting tool and was now cutting chunks off. All indicators showed that this woman was either dead or so close to it that the monitors couldn’t tell through the suit’s shielding. Her primary concern was whether she was getting any air at all since the EV suit appeared to be completely nonfunctional. Indobri: Is she getting air? Nicholotti: The suit appears dead. That means no air, but I can’t say for how long. This was not good. Whoever this was didn’t have long. Even if she was dead, there was still a chance she could revive her depending on her condition and how long it had been. But that suit needed to come off first. In fact, she needed the helmet off now. Indobri: I don’t mean to rush you, Ambassador, but do you think you can get that helmet off first? She needs air. Nicholotti: Response Properly chastised, Karise did indeed offer a hand and in relatively short order the helmet had been removed. As soon as it came off, Karise’s heart nearly stopped. oO Nyka?! Sweet Dikken, she’s blue from hypoxia. Oo Indobri: Nurse! Triox compound. Stat! The nurse handed Karise a hypo full of the requested compound and she injected it directly into Nyka’s neck. Next, she grabbed a respirator and placed it over her face. oO Come on, Nyka. Breathe! Oo Nearby, the Ambassador had nearly removed the entire suit. The engineer was badly injured. Karise had noted several severe bruises and some burns that presumably came from whatever source had burned the suit and fused the helmet on. Indobri: If I can’t stimulate brain wave activity, her body is not going to take the oxygen from the respirator. :: turns to the nurse :: I need the neurostimulators. Once the nurse had handed them to her, she placed one on either side of her forehead and activated them. Looking at the bio-monitor she was satisfied it was doing it’s job. Hopefully, if it hadn’t been too long, the brain would start to fire on it’s own. Meanwhile, the neurostimulators would provide the neural charges needed to maintain synaptic activity. Next was the cardiovascular system. Nyka’s heart had stopped also. That was to be expected if there had been some sort of electrical discharge. In fact, that could explain a large amount of the injuries she was seeing. She reached over to the medical tray that had been brought over and grabbed the cardiostimulator and placed it over Nyka’s heart. oO Come on, Nyka. Come back. Oo Nicholotti: Response Indobri: Yes. I don’t know what happened, but this looks like she took a heavy jolt from a high voltage discharge. Or maybe even several such jolts. I wish I knew what she had been doing. Nicholotti: Response Indobri: Now, I continue charging her heart and brain until they decide to fire on their own. :: to nurse :: Tricordrazine. 2 ccs. The nurse measured out the requested amount and handed her the hypo. Karise pressed it to the redhead’s temple and depressed the activator. Looking at the bio monitor, she saw the synaptic responses begin to fire. But she would need to wait and see if that was merely due to the combination of the Tricordrazine and the neurostimulators or if they were beginning to fire on their own. Until her brain was active again, her heart wouldn’t beat on its own. Nor her lungs breath on their own. oO Come on. Take it. Oo Lieutenant Karise Indobri Medical Officer USS Juneau NX-99801 A239412S10
  23. I am loving all these looking into each crew's mind in the aftermath of a difficult mission! ((Quarters, Habitat Ring, Starbase 118)) ((Time: Shortly after returning to his quarters from the Narendra)) (OOC: I'm not familiar with using FOA, please do correct me if it's not used right) Drevas: Okie dokie, computer, start recording. Ensign Drevas Matthel. At the confirming beep from the computer, he set about organizing his quarters proper. He hadn't the chance upon graduating proper after all. Personal log, supplemental. Whew! What a first couple of days. I betcha most officers don't get shot at by five warbirds on their first day on the bridge. Kinda hair-raising if you ask me. But hey, what can you do? Starfleet life, if that's how it's gotta be I'm cool with that. I didn't sign up for the cushiest job in the fleet after all. Slender fingers deftly undid the clasp on his travel case, extracting a few personal belongings of his. His father's spare earring, given to him by his mother just before he left. A pen and paper notepad, accompanied by a simple black ballpoint, which he planned to use to scribble notes if he had to. Sometimes typing while panicky didn't exactly leave behind the most understandable of words, though legible. A family photo taken when he was a little boy; a final reminder of Drevas Artur before all hell broke loose with the Dominion War. Along with a couple more odd trinkets. Gotta say, I didn't expect chasing after a couple of cultists to be so complicated. What's his name? Janul? The Defense Force commander? Can't quite figure out what his deal is. He seems pretty acquainted with the captain. Don't quite know how they're related. He was clearly flying with the rest of the cultists who shot at us - so why help us? What's his game? There's definitely something I'm not seeing or knowing here. On the small workdesk, next to the monitor went the picture; a small reminder of home, tilted towards him where he could see it easily if he swivelled his chair around. Over the edge he hung the earring. His family, all together in one place - they'd watch as he went about his work, surely. The Prophets would take care of them all, surely, wherever they were at any point in their life. But hey, that's not the be all and end all of my first couple of days. Getting shot at is one thing but meeting the rest made things so much better. The engineers on this ship seem to be pretty well acquainted. There's Romy. Sweet girl, never without a smile for the hour or so I spent talking to her and her colleagues. Interesting attitude and outlook too. In good ways. Pretty refreshing actually! Kudon the Vulcan - definitely gotta chat to him a little more sometime. I haven't had much opportunity to interact with that many Vulcans so far. Except maybe professor T'Lang in Tactical Strategies. Next a couple of books came out from the travel case, stored away on the bookshelves. Bajoran scripture text, some of it, but mostly literary works from across the quadrant. There was even a 'Learning Chinese for Dummies' manual he'd gotten at a sort of flea market held on campus once. And then there's Miskre. She's an interesting one. I'll admit, I have never, ever seen a species of plant-based humanoids in my entire life. She has this sorta... ethereal quality. Kinda... drifty. A sort of carefree-ness. Y'know? Always with a smile to her. You can kinda tell that she smiles a lot. And that's okay. I'm definitely looking forward to meeting her again sometime, and finding out more about her and her people. Finally, he replicated himself a proper dinner: A bowl of Chinese lotus root and peanut soup made with pork ribs. Delicious. He'd fallen in love with the stuff when his classmate introduced it to him, thinking that he might like it considering his resemblance to the race of humans that invented it. And she'd been right. Taking a seat at the coffee table he took slow sips of the piping hot broth. For now I've got answers to find. Who's Janul? Who is he to our captain? What are the staff like? Where can you get the best synth springwine on base? Lots more, but hey, one step at a time. The Prophets never gave anyone answers that easily. Reap what you sow. Slow and steady. And you know what? I'm happy to wait and get those answers nice and slow too. In the meantime I've got a lot of exploring to do, lots of people to meet. Checkup first thing in the morning tomorrow - gotta look presentable. It's gonna be a long journey ahead, but hey, who's to say that's a bad thing? If the Prophets will it then so be it. I'm not walking this path alone, anyway. I've got others to accompany me. With that he put down the bowl of soup, half-finished, and began typing out a letter to his mess hall companions that night. Perhaps they'd be open to meeting one more time. And who knows? It might just become a regular gig. // To: Ensign Romyana Casparian, Ensign Kudon, Crewman Miskre Swenhart From: Ensign Drevas Matthel Subject: Meet again sometime? Hey! So nice to get to know you all that night on the Narendra. Crazy experience, huh? How'd you all like to hang out sometime? Visit the holodeck, walk the commercial district, or maybe just go into the depths of the starbase and find our way back like explorers. We'll see! Now that our nerves aren't quite so buzzing I think it's going to be something awesome for all of us! How about... this weekend? 1000 hours? I'll follow up with a meeting place. If anyone else wants to come along that's perfectly fine! Regards, Drevas Matthel // Message sent he put his PADD away and finished the last of the steaming hot broth. Something like that never failed to warm him up before bed. Mother used to tell me that we're all authors, writers penning the story of our own lives for others to read. Every stage in life is a new chapter. A new arc, with new characters sometimes. My Academy days are over - one chapter closed. And today I've written the first few words of the next one. And I can't wait to write the rest. Drevas: Computer, end log. With that he recycled the now-empty bowl and lay down in bed. Tomorrow was a new day and he planned to clinch it. And he couldn't do that sleep-deprived. Casparian/Swenhart/Kudon: Response Ensign Drevas Matthel Tactical Officer Starbase 118 - USS Narendra 0239706DM0 --
  24. ((OOC: I think this small, personal scene has a tremendous amount of warmth and heart. The characters are wonderfully familiar and the whole tone of the thing is pitch perfect to me. Great job, @Ben Garcia)) (( Ben calls home from his quarters 05-1202, U.S.S. Thor. )) Samantha: Where are you? The room looks smaller? Ben? Garcia: Hi mama. Samantha: (Shouting over her shoulder.) Thom! Thoooaaaaaom! Thomas: (Muffled in the background.) Always the rush! (Shouting.) Coming! Samantha: I read the email Ben – is there two ships now? Both named Thor? Garcia: I’m on the Thor now. The crew got reposted from the Embassy to the Menthar Corridor – we took the Thor with us. The posting is ship bound now, ma. Thom cut across the frame, blocking the screen with his hip. Thomas: I’m here, I’m here. Samantha: (To Thom.) He’s on the ship, it’s moved. They’ve left the planet behind. Oh the beach Thomas … we’ll have to plan something else now. Ben craned in towards the screen. Garcia: Hi? Samantha pulled her husband onto the settee. The surprise of the weight nudged Samantha’s pillows making her head wobble. Thomas: Alright Ben, I’m here. Samantha: (To Thom.) He’s in a corridor, that’s why the room is small. (To Ben.) Right Ben? Garcia: No, we got re-assigned to the Thor permanently and we travelled to the Menthar Corridor. Thomas: Which is …? Garcia: A region of space between the Cardassian Union, Breen Confederacy and Tholian Assembly – Samantha: (To Thom.) Is he at war – is our Ben at war?! (To Ben.) Is this war Ben? Garcia: No, nothing like that ma. Thomas: (Shaking his head.) Let him speak Samantha. Anger and worry crimped across Samantha’s face. Samantha: I knew this would happen. I said – I don’t want Ben in a war. Garcia: The Thor is an exploration vessel. There’s no more trouble here than where you are ma – don’t worry. (Ben laughed.) It’s busier and there’s a lot going on – but it’s just folks going about their business. Samantha clasped her hands on her knees. She was less agitated now, but the worry of combat had unsettled her. She shuffled to the edge of the couch and then stood up. Samantha: I need a drink. (Nodding to Thom to keep the conversation going.) Thomas: So, how has the reassignment gone? Settled in? Garcia: It’s a gear change from being planet side. (Beat.) For all my uncertainties about being stationed on a planet right out of the Academy … I sort of miss it. Thomas: Understandable, son. Garcia: We’ve got the hollo-deck. But. Before, I had the gardens, the beach, the forest (Ben’s eyes widened.) continents. Thomas: We’ll it makes sense, it’s a planet Ben. Ben huffed in amused exasperation. Garcia: Paps. Thomas: So, you’re not settled? Ben shook his head and touched the back of his neck. Garcia: It’s not that. I wanted a ship, I got a planet. (Ben shrugged.) Now I’ve got the ship Thomas finished the sentence in unison with Ben. Thomas: -- you want the planet. Garcia: I want the planet. The pair laughed. There was a warmness. Thomas: It’s just change, Ben. It’ll settle. Garcia: I know. Cheers pa. Samantha’s voice could be heard from off in the background. As she got nearer, the hmmm and duuumm of her tune came into focus. Garcia: (Loudly, with a wink to his dad.) There was some news, pa. Samantha: (Calling from the back of the room) News? Ben –what news? Hold on – Thomas shook his head and wagged a finger in feigned rebuke at Ben. Now Thomas’ head wobbled as Samantha surprised the couch with her weight. Samantha: (With arched eyebrows.) News? Come on! Let’s hear. Ben ran his finger along his collar, stopping at the new half pip. Samantha: (Her eyes widening.) Promotion?! Thomas cusped his ear as Samantha screamed. Thomas: Well done Lieutenant ... There was a pause and Ben filled in the blank. Garcia: … Commander pap. Samantha: (Punctuating the sentence with her hands.) Lieutenant Commander Ben Garcia. Samantha clasped her hands together and kissed Thomas on the cheek. Thomas gave her a squeeze back. Samantha: We need to organise a celebration! Let me pull the diary up. Ben sat back in his chair. Thomas smiled. End. ---------------------- Lieutenant Commander Ben Garcia Second Officer/HCO USS Thor NCC-82607 Author ID number: G239102MR0 SB118 News Team
  25. I had to share this absolute gem written by @Dassa Alexander-Dalton today. The way she paints the picture of Representative Brex is masterful and I had tears of laughter at one point. ======================================= ((Security Director’s Office, Mephinii Spaceport, Illara Prime, Par’Tha Expanse)) The woman left and he returned his attention to the matter at hand. They now had two tasks that required attention: the re-analysis of the crime scene and interviewing suspects. Forensics wasn’t his area of specialty and he felt all he’d end up doing here was standing and twiddling his thumbs. Ganarvuss: Captain Logan, I’d like to take Ensign Yalu or Lephi with me to talk to the suspects. Logan: Response Lephi: All due respect to Ensign Yalu, I truly feel I would be better suited to come along. I've been thinking about it and although my hand to hand combat is rusty, my diplomacy is a strong point. Ganarvuss: Is that so? Lephi: I might be an engineer in Starfleet, but I've brokered many deals in my short life, and you can't do that unless you're good with your words and reading people. He smiled and nodded. For one so young, the Ferengi certainly was bold. Perhaps it was a species trait. Given that this was the first Ferengi he’d ever met, he couldn’t be sure. However, he could say that he found it refreshing. Despite her earlier nervousness, he imagined she’d make a good business partner. Logan: Response Yalu: I’m happy to go wherever I am needed, Ensign Ganarvuss. If you’d like someone to stay behind and work with Dr. Nidhar’s team, I can do that. But if you think I could be of use elsewhere, I mean, not that staying here wouldn’t be useful, I just... Brex: ::inclines his head and turns to Ganarvuss:: With all respect, Ensign, I agree with your Ensign Lephi. His shrewdness might be beneficial. ::pauses:: Also, as I stated to your other officer, I feel I would be of more use with the interview process. Dr. Nidhar has the situation well in hand here and your doctor could be beneficial to her investigation here since he’s the one who discovered the thoron radiation. Lephi: ::speaking through thinly veiled irritation:: Thank you for that ringing endorsement, Representative. Ganarvuss: Alright, then. You’re hired, Lephi. Dr. Yalu, I agree with Brex on this. Your insights could be most helpful to the forensics team. Lephi: ::not taking her eyes off of Brex:: Thank you, Ensign, an interrogation is just an intense negotiation, after all. On Ferenginar we just call that an average Tuesday afternoon. You'll get your answers. ::turns to Ganarvuss:: Thank you, Ensign Ganarvuss. I hope we make a good team. I look forward to working alongside your very capable self. Yalu: Understood. Logan: Response He nodded. There were multiple angles to consider with this and he presumed that Ensign Ganarvuss knew the strengths and talents of her people better than he did. He was commenting from a limited time in the room with these people. Brex: ::nods:: Of course. ::smiles:: It is your decision. I will help however I’m needed. Ganarvuss: You made a good point earlier, Representative. I think it would go a long way to have you with us when we interview the suspects. Lephi: ::deadpan:: It'll be great to have you along Representative. He gazed at the Ferengi woman curiously. Though he wasn’t overly familiar with her species, he could have almost sworn he detected a note of irritation. Given her upbeat attitude not a moment or two earlier, he had to surmise that something was bothering her. He’d noted her reaction to Ensign Ganarvuss’s words and had thought that was it, but her attention was focused on him now and he had the strangest feeling that he was somehow the source. Logan: Response Nidhar: ::pauses:: I wouldn’t mind the extra hand. Shaking his concern about the Ferengi officer from his mind for a moment, he turned to Eisla with a small smile, pleased that she’d warmed up to the idea of help from the Starfleet officers. Ganarvuss: You got it, Doctor. Representative, Lephi: Let’s go. Logan/Nidhar: Response Lephi: I'm on your six. With one last glance and smile at Eisla, he nodded and followed the two Starfleet officers from the room. As he did, his gaze flickered to Ensign Lephi, his expression contemplative. Ensign Ganarvuss’s voice drew him from his thoughts. Ganarvuss: I imagine the place to start looking would be the main conference center. Lephi: Seems like the best starting point, I agree. I know it's not my place, but if I may, perhaps we should split up to try and cover more ground? It is time sensitive after all. His concern regarding the sudden change in Ensign Lephi’s demeanor grew. Splitting up didn’t sound like such a marvelous idea given that they had a spy on the loose. Any of them could be the next target. No. In his mind, it made more sense that they stick together. Brex: ::pauses:: Given that we have a spy on the loose who doesn’t seem adverse to any means to achieve his end, I believe dividing ourselves further could pose an unnecessary risk. ::pauses:: It is, of course, your decision. Ganarvuss: That makes sense. Lephi: Alright, I have my orders, I will accomplish them. Ganarvuss: Response As they resumed walking, Drezon took the opportunity to meet Lephi’s gaze, deliberately allowing Ensign Ganarvuss to get a bit ahead of them. Brex: ::pauses:: Though I’m a negotiator and a businessman by trade, I prefer when necessary to get to the point. There’s no sense in wasting one another’s precious time. Lephi: Response Brex: ::inclines his head:: I’m concerned with the sudden change in your demeanor. Lephi: Response Brex: ::smiles:: I’m no man’s fool, Ensign Lephi. Four decades of brokering deals and negotiating with buyers leaves a man with an almost sixth sense for these things. Lephi: Response ((OOC: Happy to continue this as you see fit. I didn’t want to box you into a corner.)) Ganarvuss: Response --- MSNPC Representative Drezon Brex Tradesman, Naylar Representative Kala'din IV As written by Lieutenant Ishkabela Journs I238110RH0 -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "UFOP: StarBase 118: USS Atlantis" group. To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to sb118-atlantis+unsubscribe@googlegroups.com. To view this discussion on the web visit https://groups.google.com/d/msgid/sb118-atlantis/CABVKAYRhmVZraU7CvQEXZJ3KEMu-JoZ481LcnqLCL1b%2BwcmXgA%40mail.gmail.com.
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