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((Chief Science Officer’s Office, Deck 17, USS Gorkon)) ((One Day After)) She had avoided her quarters for as long as she possibly could. There was plenty of work to be done. She had combed through Johnson’s file, and then again, and again. Learned all she could about the technology at his disposal. Separated projects that might help them survive this new timeline, and ones that might have to be put on hold to help the Gorkon survive. Hopefully, this would all be fixed soon. But…they really couldn’t know that, and she wanted to be prepared for the worst. She checked in on her friends aboard the ship, and the crew in her department. How are you managing, do you need a moment or an assignment to focus on, how’s your support network, do you want to talk, have you seen a counselor yet, here, have a biscuit. We are going to fix this. If she stopped working, stopped helping everyone else, she would start feeling. Rok’s meals were set to replicate automatically, so she’d managed to stay busy and away from her quarters for nearly a full day. When she awoke slumped over her desk, shoulder stiff and aching from an unexpected nap, she finally conceded, and made the dreaded march up to deck two. ((Tahna’s Quarters, Deck 2, USS Gorkon)) Rok brushed up against her leg as soon as she entered her quarters, purring softly. The tortoiseshell feline fluffed her feathers and stared at Meru with her one good eye. Tahna: I know, I know, I’m sorry. She scooped the cat up, gently scratching between her wings, just where the cat liked it. Rok rubbed her head against the Bajoran’s chin. Tahna: There, tesha tah. I know I’ve been gone too long. Really, the cat was as introverted as Meru herself, and set up to be alone for much longer if needed. That didn’t stop the scientist from feeling guilty. As tempting as it was to fix another raktajino, take the cat with her back to her office, and keep working, Meru reasoned she was no good to anyone (especially in such a dangerous universe) if she didn’t at least try to sleep. So she gave Rok an apology treat, one she’d bought way back on Andoria (hell, Andoria…), and headed through the arch to her bedroom, rolling her sore shoulder. At least her bed would be more comfortable than her office desk. At least… Her eye caught on her desk, and she froze. Her father’s painting hung there, her family home and kava fields vibrant and alive. They were all gone now, razed, maybe turned into a Borg stronghold. Had Bajor even existed without occupation for a little while? A holophoto of her and Ena on holiday adorned the desk, but she could barely look at it, or the photos of her family. Had Ena, Ren, Tara, had they ever existed? Was it better if they hadn’t? Her uncle, her parents…she knew how hard they’d fought to be free on Bajor, she knew what they’d sacrificed, how they’d suffered. And now she closed her eyes and saw them all, everyone she’d left behind. Everyone she’d failed. Dead, or covered in cybernetics. Or both. And that was just the people she knew and loved. There were trillions of people out there, gone, because one tiny ship had failed to stop another. Maybe if she’d worked faster, been better…maybe… She wanted to scream. She wanted to scream, and rage, and cry, and curse the universe and the Prophets and herself. She wanted…she wanted… Her knees buckled and she hit the floor, hands clasped over her mouth, helpless to stop the silent sobs wracking her body, the pain in her chest, the nausea. She’d always imagined the worst thing that could come of being in Starfleet was some horrible death for herself. Oh, how wrong she’d been. How naive. Rok brushed up against her side, the tiniest little lantern in the darkness. Meru gathered the cat into her arms and, finally, let herself mourn. -- Lt. Commander Tahna Meru Chief Science Officer USS Gorkon (NCC-82293) G239801TM4

I am posting this here, in Appreciations because there is no forum where one can post sims that they did not appreciate... And let me tell you, I did not appreciate opening up my 118 inbox, reading this sim, and then struggling to hold in tears over this incredibly visceral sim from @MTMuir -- all while I'm trying to maintain composure at my work desk! Thanks a lot, buddy, now I need to take a few minutes to be okay!! 😅 Original Sim Here: https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-amity/c/mUcqJZqLDgQ/m/oqystBSPAAAJ

I love spooky things, and writing that makes my skin crawl. @Addison MacKenzie did a stellar job at that, in my opinion, in a very recent sim, playing the part of the decaying Borg Queen to perfection.

OOC: I particularly enjoyed the 'explanation'. 😄 IC: (( Astra Aura, Downtown, Denali Station )) Harford: I suppose this is where we change? Into what exactly, Sir? And then we step back out into the hallway? Or will they come and retrieve us? oO Prophets, never let it be said I am not social with the Junior Officers. Oo She stood in front of the furthest door as Trej disappeared down the hallway. Harford: I'm sorry, Sir. That was a lot of questions. I'm a very protocol driven person. Oddas: Honestly, that's refreshing among the crew - but for this, try to relax. There's a robe in the room, change into whatever makes you comfortable, the staff is aiming to cater to you, not to ask you to make you uncomfortable. They'll come get you, wherever you are. Harford: Yes, Sir. Thank you. I'll uh, see you in a moment then. Aria entered into her own room, a small wooden room that she knew would be tied to her own biometrics, anything she left would remain, the door would lock to anyone but her - including the staff that would not think about violating the staff. She removed her uniform, folded it up, stretching her arm in the process. She was looking forward to the day. The thick white robe felt good as she slipped it on, until she pulled the arm on, causing her to wince. She let out a deep sigh. There was a soft knock on the door, evidently it was time to go. Aria pulled her robe tight and opened the door to Trej's smiling face and Harford just beyond. Trej: Right this way, Doctors. She would never admit it, but there were times she liked being addressed by her academic title. She followed the man down the small hallway, the one she knew Ke’ToQ would be administered. Inside it was a small, a few meters on several sides, with three low benches on all sides of a tank approximately 1 meter tall - currently covered by a thick silver cloth. Aria knew it was to keep the fish calm. On the open side of the tank, hanging from the wall, was a view screen and a small ceremonial tank of blood wine. A tall Vulcanoid woman entered - Aria had never decided if they were Vulcan, Romulan, or some combination. She gestured for them to sit on the benches. T'Pri: Thank you for joining, we will start with a quick animation for our new comers, it is necessary for your safety. Aria smiled and sat on one of the side benches - she could hear the swimming and lapping of the Ke'ToQ fish in the tank in front of them. Harford: Response T'Pri nodded and the animation began, the screen springing to life showing a stylized and animated, cartoonish version of the tank currently in front of them. Narrator: Thank you for coming to our traditional Ke'ToQ ceremony. It is with great pleasure we welcome you and invite you to an ancient tradition practiced by Klingon Warriors since the time of Kahless to improve their performance in battle, and it made them look pretty snazzy too. On the screen two cartoon Klingons appeared - one male and one female, smiling, sticking their legs into the tank, grimacing, followed by some bubbling, and then pulled out smooth legs. They smiled wide, exaggerated, cartoonish smiles, drew their knives, and ran off into battle. It was quite the different explanation then when Aria first got the explanation of how this ritual began, much more, polished and sanitized. She glanced to the Ensign. Harford: Response Narrator: Of course, it is not for the faint of heart, the Ke'ToQ fish is a scary looking fish ... A very real picture of the fish appeared on the screen, gross, scaly, and with teeth that did not fit in its mouth. Its fins were more like hard bones, and its eyes were small and beady, and it looked like something out a nightmare. The measurements on the screen showed them to be around 75mm nose to tail. Aria chuckled. Oddas: At least they show you a real picture of that. Narrator: The Ke'ToQ have a curious predilection, and love to rub up against the skin of anything you place in with the tank, pulling and removing all the little loose bits that you don't want anyway. The screen changed again, this time showing an underwater view, for legs underwater, with a dozen of the fish - an all cartoon version this time including fish, water, and legs, not moving at first, then slowly, noticing the legs, and touching, bumping the legs, each other, and gradually picking up speed, As they did, they began to pick hit the legs with more frequency and velocity, over and over, as they did their scales, bone fins, and the edges of their teeth, and their bodies were pulling bits of skin from the legs, then slurping it down. The animation made it clear their mouths were too big to actually bit anything directly, but Aria knew from experience it would feel as if they were trying to eat your legs to the bone. Narrator: After just two standard minutes, they have done their job, but don't be as heroic as the two in our video - seven standard minutes is the maximum, and the time required for the celebratory blood wine. On the video, the two Klingons were back, this time running a hand over their obviously smooth legs and toasting each other with bloodwine. Narrator: Remember, while it can be painful, you can pull your legs out at any time, and our staff is available to assist. Plenty of our patrons get enrichment, enjoyment, and benefit from 1 minute, 3 minutes, or less of the treatment. There is no shame in deciding this is not for you, and of course, Astra Aura assumes no risk or responsibility if you begin the ceremony. The animation ended, and the screen went dark, and Aria noted two more attendants had entered the room - an Orion woman and a man of the same species as Krel, dark blue skin and large eyes. They positioned themselves behind the Aria and the Ensign, she knew in case someone panicked they could be pulled out in a moment's notice. Trej: Doctors, ready? Harford: Response Oddas: Ready She moved forward and gripped the edges of the bench as Trej pulled the cover off the tank - the clear water showing a much more densely populated tank than the animation implied. At this moment, she always felt a moment of trepidation. oO Irina, Cada, Jazmine, Katya, Brayden, Toni, Rahman, Alea, T'Sara, Teevin, T'Lea, Stelek Oo She lowered her legs into the tank, one after the other, pulling the robe back to keep it out of the water. She bit her lower lip as the first fish began rubbing up against her leg. Harford: Response

I don't know how @kimstapledon didn't die of embarrassment as a teenager because I sure would have if this happened to me. Great job on making me feel things, lmao.

@Alora DeVeau wrote a wonderful sim giving Arthur some much needed advice.

Taelon does a wonderful job of describing the initial moments of a harrowing "time shift" event on the USS Gorkon here, as the universe changes around them and reveals a galaxy completely ruled by the Borg. It's a really fun read from the distinct perspective of an El-Aurian, along with a couple of additional characters that Taelon's writer uses to really set the scene. Great sim! Lt.JG Taelon - Time Warp, Again (google.com)

Some Sims, I swear, are like watching a movie unfold in front of my mind's eye! An intriguing entry in the start of the Artemis' Blockbuster from our XO - @Talos Dakora - and the kind of Sim that has made the Borg Cube-infiltrators feel lucky about their assignment 😝 Win-Win Situation!

((Kettick's Apartment,Level 35, Anchorage, Denali Station)) On the 35th level of Anchorage tower, in the heart of an ever-ticking clockwork maze the likes of which MC Escher and Rube Goldberg might have dreamed together during a steampunk convention, sat a large standard-issue Engineering PADD. The metallic components of the machinery that surrounded it echoed with alien sounds, and here and there, a complicated piece made of Remmilian crystal cast an eerie glint in its muted blue light. In front of the screen, watching with rapt attention, sat the friendly neighbourhood insectoid Chief of Engineering. One might say that he sat comfortably, never mind that his "seat" looked like it should stick out of a particularly fancy theremin. Then again, the only one who was around to judge his tastes in furniture was Major Quack, and the slightly glowing rubber duck hekd his peace for now. Kettick had another, smaller PADD next to him, and from time to time plucked a stylus from a nearby flat surface to scribble on it in a brief bout of quiet frenzy, with his head cocked to the side and a thoughtful cast to his facial appendages. The recent mission had highlighted a weakness of his that he had left unadressed for too long. It had been fraught with peril, predatory giant monsters, death-defying jumps, exposure to unknown technologies, and other such things that happen every other Tuesday when you wear the Starfleet uniform. And when faced with near-constant stress and the specter of their possible demise, his primate colleagues had reacted in their usual manner. Banter. And among it, sarcasm. Now, Kettick was not completely alien to sarcasm. He had served under humans that were close to breathing it - at the very least, they used a significant part of their breath in that pursuit. Through constant exposure, he had learned to spot some patterns, some idioms that allowed him to understand that some words were said in jest, and that his interlocutor occasionnally meant the polar opposite of what they said. But the last days had tested his proficiency in the fine arts of sarcasm and irony (and yes, apparently, these were two different things), and he had been found... sorely lacking. A failure he could not afford now that he was supposed to lead; back when he was a menial drone, he only had to understand his task, and do it to the satisfaction of his betters. Now, if he were to serve, he had to understand *people*. Fortunately, he had been told by friendly humans in the enlisted contingent of some remedial courses that he could use to better himself, and he had thrown himself into the task with his usual zeal. The situations presented were of course exxagerated, but the course material was easy to understand, and he had a feeling that he was starting to understand the finesses of situational and interpresonal interactions. In fact, he was impatient to try some of the lines he had noted down as particularly impactful. He had no doubt that they would work in a professional context, since according to the title of the data folder, they were meant to be used in the Office. END/No tags -- Lieutenant Kettick Chief of Engineering Denali Station G239107LR0 Your Engineering department kindly reminds you that you are supposed to read the flakking manual.

We all know how hard it is to come into a chunky scene and @Amanda Tully comes in with a strong entry for a new player in what has been a very busy, fast paced mission!

((Balcony, Joint Expedition Hub – Idrustix Colony)) There was a moment of quiet between the father and daughter, the only sounds the wind and the distant noise of machinery. But they couldn’t linger in silence forever. After all, Tri’lea’s time was limited – and she had a great need to speak her mind, which only made the ticking clock feel more urgent. Polgonz: Atda, I’ve made a decision. One which will surely be a most unpopular one… But I believe it is the right one. For myself and for Ceciri… My mind is nearly set on it. It would mean the world to me, though, to have your blessing. She turned to look him in the eyes as he gestured for her to continue. Polgonz: I’ve thought about this, long nights tossing and turning, and while I am happy to devote my life in service to the mother world, and to have my marriage represent a bond between Betazed and Cygnet, this moment shall be mine and Ceciris and no one else’s. I have booked passage back to the Alpha Quadrant for both of us… and planned a private ceremony, in seclusion… Dro: Seclusion in the Alpha Quadrant? A quaint idea. Tri’lea chuckled lightly – almost as though a weight were being lifted off her for a moment, freeing the joy within her. Her father always had a way of making her laugh, even when she felt as far away from laughing as the Alpha Quadrant was from the Delta. Polgonz: Yes, well… As secluded as one gets, I suppose. ::Her face growing more serious again:: But I mean compared to what awaits us up on Amity. Mother Seri’s plan, Aunt Lohani’s media circus… Atda, they made commemorative novelty garments. She believed, already, that he probably understood where she was going with all this – but, out of respect for the process of unfolding her thoughts, the conversation continued. Dro: The pomp and circumstance becoming too much? Or is there another reason for the change of heart? Polgonz: There’s been no change of heart, Atda. Only a shift in focus. I don’t intend to tell anyone else of mine and Ceciri’s departure. With luck, we’ll get ahead of the other slipstream vessels and nobles’ yachts and be safely… ::a slight smirk:: secluded… before anyone knows where to look for us. Dro: I can see what I can do to delay them. Is there a reason you want to avoid them? Besides their personalities? Polgonz: It’s not their personalities that trouble me – it’s that I feel I am meant to be a carbon copy. With the worst of it off her chest, Tri’lea turned once again to the open air in front of her and the great fields and forests beyond. She leaned her hands on the railing of the balcony, taking a deep breath of the Idrustixian air. Polgonz: It will be our wedding. Just for us. Not for anyone else… Of course, once it’s done, we’ll return here and continue our work. Or at least, I will. Ceciri will need to remain for a while, working things out with her own family’s interests. She paused, biting her lip apprehensively. Polgonz: Do you think Mother Seri will forgive this obfuscation? Dro: Oh she was wed for two months before they had their ceremony. ::turning toward her:: Besides I do understand and approve. Polgonz: I suppose it wouldn’t change my mind either way… But I’m glad to know your heart in the matter. She moved to him and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. Polgonz: ~~Thank you, for your endless support, Atda. ~~ Dro: ~~ As long as the stars shine.~~ ((Weeks Later -- Forest of Devoted Sacrifice – Cygnet XIV, Beta Quadrant)) The forest was dark, quiet, lit only by the silent flames of the many lanterns which hung in the trees lining the old worn path to the Gates of the ancient fortress, and by the stars that glistened in the evening sky above. Two figures stood in the glade, faint starlight reflected on them by the gentle cascading waters of the nearby falls. Between them was a stone altar, built long before any of them existed even as distant thoughts, but which would now bind their fates. Ceciri looked at Tri’lea, who was wearing a set of armor and had the traditional knotted rope of flowers around her, like Ceciri was. The armor was a cobalt-bronze, with a printed imprint of the clan symbols of Ariadust and Polgonz, and various star and flower designs. Unlike Ceciri’s slightly more covered armored skirt, a concession to Betazoid’s garb was made to make it more revealing, to show the truth of the person. In Cygnetian culture, the armor represented the connection forged between the people being married, and more importantly, the bridge between two people, then donned to overlay the person inside. It was one of the two traditions, from Ceciri’s clan, but many preferred the more modern one of wearing less. Ceciri just wasn’t a huge fan of that. The stars weren’t those of Tri’lea’s home – and yet, they were familiar now, beginning to take on the comforting reliability of one’s second home. She brought her eyes down from the heavens, focusing her attention on Ceciri. She looked regal, beautiful, and so strong it was hard not to gasp. In her ceremonial garments – ornate armour, draped in cloth bearing traditional symbols of strength and unity, a sword at her hip – lit by the flickering flames and the soft starlight, she looked almost like a figure out of a storybook. Lea pursed her lips, taking a deep measured breath of the thin Cygnian air, before she smiled at Ceciri. (( Flashback – 2399 from JP: The Forest of a Distant Star (Part 1, Part 2) )) Polgonz: It’s hard to imagine that, at one time, you were just a name on a scroll to me… In fact, sometimes I forget that we’re ‘supposed’ to be married entirely. Things just feel different now. ::Smiling:: Do you think that’s silly? Ariadust: I don’t think so. I mean, getting to know you .. ::Ceciri looked at the slightly shorter woman with a broader smile:: .. I’ve enjoyed it. Lea turned back to the gate and stared up at its pocked surface. Polgonz: Do you miss it? Cygnet, that is.. Ariadust: I do, as I have not been back in .. 24 standard years now. Polgonz: ::Turning to face Ceciri:: That is a long time… I suppose you and I are both of a kind. Our home is among the stars. All the same, I find myself longing for Betazed now and again. There’s something special about the ‘mother world’ I suppose. Ceciri nodded. She had been a spacer from the age of a bit past 9, in Cygnetian years , and she was not sure she could settle down on any planet, even the homeworld. Ariadust: ::nodding:: For better or worse, it has molded us, and it is what our soul calls to, I feel. I’ve been in space since I was 12 standard years, on merchant ships, or as a Starfleet officer, and .. it’s my home now. But I still want to walk the planet of my birth, sometimes. Lea stepped closer and took Ceciri’s hand again. The lantern light bounced off the nearby waterfall, scattering in a brilliant shifting pattern that lit up the two women and the walls surrounding them. She spoke softly, but with conviction, getting closer so that she could be heard over the sound of the falls. Polgonz: If that’s what you want, then we’ll make that happen. We don’t need to let anything stand in our way. If there are hurdles, we’ll overcome them. (( End Flashback )) That memory seemed like an eternity ago now – but the promises they’d made then had now borne fruit. Polgonz: Ready? Ariadust: Always. Ceciri smiled softly, speaking to more than this, before she turned to face a third figure, emerging from a hut nearby, carrying a candle in one hand and an old bound tome tucked under her other arm. As the priestess reached the glade, she set the candle atop the altar and brought the ornate book out from under her arm, holding it in front of her, clasped against her chest. Priestess: Ceciri Ariadust, c'Ariadust, Warden of the Gates of The Fortress Where The Innocents Sheltered, Bloodied Daughter, Lieutenant of Starfleet, Master of Planetary Terraforming, Daughter of Cygnet, Lady of the Court of the Stars, Champion of Blade and Speed, Daughter of Ksharian k'Larian s'Ariadust and Fairioni; You come before the Honoured Matron of the Forest Altar, under the eyes of the fairies, prepared to invoke the binding of your soul to another… Ariadust: In faith and deed, I do. Priestess: Tri’lea Doyoxo Polgonz, Daughter Ascendant of the House of Travellers, Twentieth in number of the Houses of Betazed, Daughter Ascendant of the House of Wealth, Ninth in number of the Houses of Betazed, Child of Oxeania, Gatekeeper of the Delta Quadrant, Daughter of Idrustix and Ucron; You, too, come before the Honoured Matron of the Forest Altar, under the eyes of the fairies, prepared to invoke the binding of your soul to another… Tri’lea did her best to steady her pounding heartbeat, her obsidian eyes shifting from Ceciri, to the elaborately-dressed Priestess, and back again. Polgonz: Yes. With all my heart, I do. There was a moment of silent pause, the only noise the gentle rustle of the leaves in the breeze. Priestess: No others have come to bear witness to this joining. Is that so? Ariadust: None other need witness our binding, none but the fairies, the stars, the forest, and the Matron. Ceciri kept to the traditional wording, the words passed down from the first Ceciri k’Ariadust, many centuries ago. Polgonz: ::To the Priestess:: By our choice. ::To Ceciri:: Our love is no spectacle. The older woman nodded solemnly, and opened the tome, beginning to recite a rite in the language of Cygnet. Tri’lea did her best to follow along, relying on her studies to fill in the words spoken to quickly for her to hear. It was, as was so much of Cygnetian culture, a story known by all – a cultural touchstone which only the most devoted of ‘outsiders’ could come to understand. A tale that told of the first binding, between two great warrior women, whose love could not be contained by any force, terrestrial or celestial. Priestess: ::Finishing the story:: …Ceciri and Tri’lea, what evidence do you bring that your love cannot be contained? The two women took each other's hands. Ceciri: Even though the gates of gold and silver beckoned, even through the path of burnt lava and obsidian, we stand here today. Lea recalled her own fierce determination. The agreement between her late mother and Ceciri’s aunt had been the document which set in motion their marriage – but it had been their decision to go forward with it, despite the trials they would face, and to do it in their own way, for nobody but themselves. From those who disapproved of their arrangement, to those who sought to prevent the alliance of their Houses, nobody – no force – could stand in their way. Tri’lea: ::Smiling proudly:: Some have tried to hold us back. Even the Matriarchs of great Houses. And they have failed. Before our families, before our birthrights, our commitment is to respecting each other. That has never wavered… (( Flashback - 2399, Amity Outpost from JP: Certain First Steps (Part 1, Part 2) )) Polgonz: If we are to marry, it should be because we want to, not because of some contract… Tri’lea laughed nervously as she turned to look out to the stars beyond the end of the Terminal. Polgonz: It’s only respect for my mother’s legacy that keeps me from tearing that thing up. Ceciri laughed a bit, but it was a little strained. Tri’lea understood, sensing the delicate balance of emotions in k’Ariadust, and recognizing them as a reflection of her own strained feelings. Ariadust: Personally, it’s the indirect threat there that hasn’t caused me to react more harshly. ::Ceciri looked at the stars also:: And I think my great aunt will learn to regret the lever she chose to use. A short silence passed between the two women as they stared into the cosmos, considering their fates and the choices before them. Tri’lea mulled it over. Outright refusing to comply would bring shame upon her branch of the family, draw attention to a divide between her mother’s will and her own that might call into question the validity of her ascendancy to a Daughter of the Twentieth House. But to go along with it meant giving in and doing as she was told, rather than forging a path for herself. Polgonz: Perhaps the best thing, then, would be to find a way to make this arrangement work for us. ::Turning to look Ceciri in her striking blue eyes:: Perhaps, somewhere between relenting and fighting back, there is a third option – one that might allow us to make the most of the situation in order to strengthen our own positions. Ariadust: A third option? Ceciri was certainly willing to listen to any possibilities here. She wasn’t sure how to get out of this situation, either. Polgonz: I won’t lie, Ceciri. I like you – and not just because I must – but we do not really know one another yet. Not deeply. I’d like to spend more time together, to see if we might be compatible… but beyond my personal inclinations, I think we ought to help each other. Work together. This needn’t be all business, but it also needn’t be all romance, either. Ariadust: That makes sense. Ceciri had the distinct sense that this was going somewhere. Polgonz: They attempted to manipulate us, but we are stronger than that. Together, I see us as being more powerful than either of us on our own. And there it was. Ceciri would need to think on this some more, but it was clear that Tri’lea was far more dedicated to the idea... but not without proper cause. And had far more to lose if this didn’t go through. Ariadust: I can’t disagree with that. Polgonz: Then let’s consider our potential marriage as an opportunity to claim our own destinies. To empower each other so that we might be more than pawns in someone else’s game. We deserve as much, don’t you think? Ariadust: Well. I think it’s worth consideration. ::Ceciri smiles:: Definitely worth it, yes. Tri’lea smiled rather impishly at the idea. Polgonz: Whatever we decide, when the time comes, it will be whatever is best for the both of us. Ariadust: Agreed. (( End Flashback )) The Cygnian Priestess smiled upon them, then set the tome down upon the Altar. Stepping forward, between them, she held out her hands – palms towards each of them. Her left, she placed upon Ceciri’s breastplate, and her right, she placed upon Tri’lea’s chest. Priestess: Your determination flows through you, ceaseless as the river… I am convinced. You may draw your blades. She stepped back, clearing room between the two intendeds. Ariadust: In the sight of the fairies, I draw my blade. With this blade, I commit all that I am, or will ever be, or may ever be, to fight for my wife, to hold her honor as mine, to hold her wants above mine, to fight for our future. Tri’lea followed suit, drawing the ceremonial sword from the sheath at her hip, worn and wielded in the style that Ceciri had taught her. The blades crossed between them, reflecting the glittering light of the falls, little stars dancing across each of their faces. Polgonz: ::Reciting:: With this blade, I commit all that I am, or will ever be, or may ever be, to fight for my wife, to hold her honor as mine, to hold her wants above mine, to fight for our future. Priestess: Then, under the watchful judgment of the faeries, the Honoured Matron of the Forest Altar, acknowledge your sworn oaths and hereby do pronounce you bound as one and bid you seal your vows. Lowering the sword, Tri’lea stepped forward, caressing Ceciri’s – her wife’s – cheek tenderly. Their union had taken its time in the coming, but now already it began to feel too long past, and she wanted nothing more than to wrap herself in the fearsome warrior woman’s strong embrace. Polgonz: There, you see, Imzadi? ::Small smile:: Nothing can stand in our way. Now, nor ever again. Ariadust: Never again. ::Ceciri smiles, a bit.:: Closing their eyes, and sealing their vow with a kiss, the two shared in a moment which felt almost prophesied years ago… (( Flashback – 2399 )) Polgonz: The more I learn about you, the more I get to know you, the more thrilled I am that fate has brought the two of us together. I don’t think we ever would have met under normal circumstances, but I can’t imagine a more interesting.. worldly.. ::struggling to find words with enough value to communicate her meaning:: ..talented and.. wondrous person. Ceciri would have liked to respond, but she was too fiercely blushing to respond as she fought to find words that fit the moment. Lea could sense Ceciri again now, their feelings mixing in the space between them, pulling them together. Their faces already close, Lea could see the blue light of the sea reflected in Ceciri’s eyes – enticing pools drawing her ever closer. Before there was time to think, emotion took over, and they shared a brief but unwavering kiss that was hard to part from. Polgonz: ::Blushing and breathing heavily, her heart pounding:: Yes… most wondrous. Ceciri just nodded, leaning against the slightly shorter woman as she tangled their hands for a moment. She.. could not remember her first kiss, but she knew it and her last kiss before that had been .. decades ago. And at the moment, she was still swept up in the emotions swirling between them. If she could have moments like this more often.. She could learn to love having more of her telepathic and empathic abilities. Even with the frustration they brought. Polgonz: ::Sensing Ceciri’s thoughts:: Me too… ::Caressing her ear and cheek:: Your mind, your spirit, is just as beautiful to me. Ariadust: ::softly:: Same. (( End Flashback )) Priestess: And now, Ceciri c’Ariadust and Tri’lea c’Ariadust, I bear witness to and avow that you are forever bound in matrimony. From this day, until the end of all things. END ((OOC – The song that inspired the title of this sim: Chairlift - I Belong In Your Arms)) ((OOC – Also special shoutout to this song that I listened to extensively while writing this: Enya - Book of Days)) Tri'lea Doyoxo Ariadust (as played by @Robin Hopper) Daughter of the Twentieth House of Betazed V239806K11 & Lt. Ceciri Ariadust (as played by @Nadeshiko) Helm Officer, Amity Outpost C2391112CA0 & Ucron Dro (as played by @Cassian Iovianus) Son of the Twentieth House of Betazed O238506JO0

I really enjoyed the interaction between these two characters. IC: (( Skunkworks, Administrative Area, Denali Station)) It didn't fit. oO Fracking, k'ossting, .... Oo In front of her was the Norton's carburetor, in about 15 pieces. She had asked Crastrid's staff to send her what amounted to a genuine rebuild kit, rare, hard to find, and as it turns out, incomplete. Some of the synthetic parts hard deteriorated over time and the computer was balking at replicating new ones. Oddas: ::muttering, sofly:: Build the most sophisticated Starship in the Fleet, ::this 400-year-old thing eludes you::. She tossed the wrench - which she had to specially replicate - to the side, letting it clatter loudly to the ground. There was another Starfleeter doing some work who looked up, but was polite enough to ignore her and go back to his work. Aria stood, stretching and popping her back. Stelek: Did the machine do something wrong? Oddas: Other than existing? Stelek: ::dryly:: Other than existing. Aria glared at the Vulcan, who had the audacity to stand and look back impassively. Oddas: Having fun? Stelek: I assure you that is not the case. ::beat:: What is the real problem? Oddas: Maybe I've decided I just don't like this thing anymore. She gestured toward the motorcycle and instantly regretted it - it had been Irina's, and one of the things her family had insisted Aria keep after she passed. Aria leaned on the table and thanked the Prophet's Stelek's logic wouldn't force her to come and hug her. Oddas: I didn't mean it. ::beat:: I snapped at an Ensign, the Counselor. Stelek: Did they deserve it? She turned and leaned her back against the table, focusing on the other woman instead of the machine. Oddas: Could they? If they did, I doubt they should have gotten it from me. Aria thought she saw Stelek tilt her head slightly, the Vulcan shrug. Stelek: It's been my experience that the higher up the correction comes from, the less likely it is to need to be repeated. The Commodore let out a deep sigh and then a low growl. Oddas: This is why I hate the social aspects of my job. Stelek: You hide it remarkably well. Stelek raised an eyebrow and looked around the room; Aria smirked at the obvious sarcasm. After a moment, she realized there were footsteps approaching. Any: Response TAG, TBC ((OOC: Anyone who wants to join in, please feel free. )) Commodore Oddas Aria Commanding Officer Denali Station E239305OA0

This sim from @Quentin Beck is sad and beautifully written. It's also absolutely evil that he'd write a sim where he got to decide how much death was on his specific watch like this, but it really personalizes you to Quentin in a different way than his normal amount of sass. It's a great sim. ❤️

((Jerrado Bistro, Deep Space 14)) Aine hadn't had a chance to get away from the ship since they'd arrived at New Bajor. There were new responsibilities and new officers. When Mel asked her what she wanted him to make for dinner she requested a night out, dealers choice...she was tired of making choices. He had selected a restaurant on Deep Space 14 that he'd heard some rumblings about. Supposedly a Terran/Bajoran fusion mix. Something familiar but just a bit different. As they scanned the menu together, Mel could tell that Aine was feeling stressed about something. And that she probably didn't want to talk about it. But he also knew that she needed to. She'd always been a little more on the reserved side, and that was rarely healthy. After placing their order they sat quietly. The dimly lit room was punctuated at the table by the small holo projector that displayed the menus but was now emitting a soft amber glow. Martinson: You want to talk about it? Martinson/Sherlock: No He grinned after he mockingly answered at the same moment she did. She returned the grin adding in a shake of her head at his ridiculousness. Sherlock: We're working through this personnel issue. And it's become a disaster. Martinson: How so? Conflict of interest? Sherlock: You could say that. There's some ::beat:: personal issues possibly. Martinson: As the Vulcans would say ::beat:: intriguing. Aine silently laughed for a second. She remembered a couple Vulcan friends she'd had and how they would say exactly that. Everything to them was either "fascinating" or "intriguing." It was as if Vulcans and Terrans had only just met after all this time. Sherlock: Michele voiced her disapproval. And I mean really voiced it. Martinson: And where do you sit? Sherlock: Her concerns are valid. The way Aine had said it, very officially, Mel could tell there was a "but" coming. Sherlock: But, I feel the way she went about it was wrong. Martinson: Emotions can be telling, in more ways than one. Sherlock: Right, exactly. On one hand, I feel she's letting her emotions guide her. On the other, she could be having those emotions because she's right. Aine sat back and crossed her arms while Mel gave her a second to reflect on what she was thinking. Sherlock: I just ::long pause:: never thought she'd act like that. Martinson: Why? You've acted out before. Sherlock: When!? Martinson: Deep Space Two-Two-Four. He raised his eyebrows at her. Sherlock: You deserved that. Martinson: I'm not saying I didn't. I'm just saying, that sometimes, emotions prevail. She knew he was right on that account. She sighed heavily as she went over the events of the day in her head. There was more she wanted to tell him about it, but couldn't. One thing she began to consider was changes in herself. And she worried that maybe she was losing that flexibility of the rules she coveted. In the past she was never afraid to question policies and procedures, even directly to HQ. And now, she was worried about how another officer acted as if she were nitpicking the policies. Sherlock: Do you think there's ever times when we need to question the rules? Of Starfleet, of the Federation? Martinson: Yes. She stared him in the eyes from across the table. Her face blank, but her eyes asking for more. Martinson: I think it's the job of the Admiralty to keep everyone on their toes with the rules. But I think it's the job of those out in the fleet to question them. I think that's built into the very core of what we do. If you had a hard and fast rule for all situations, you wouldn't be able to do anything out here. The very nature of what we do, what Starfleet does, is based on improvisation and flexibility. As if he could read her mind, he said the word. But it didn't give her an answer to the current situation. The server appeared with their meals and Aine sat up and the conversation paused. When the server left she leaned forward onto the table. Sherlock: So, what do you think should happen? Martinson: I think you should eat your bat...bird...things...and curry. You guys will figure it out. She picked up a piece of bat bird meat with her fingers and slowly but angrily took a bite as she eyed Mel. Like everything else, she was left with more questions than answers. End LCDR Aine Sherlock Chief of Security U.S.S. Octavia E. Butler R239712AS0

Absolutely wonderful and heart wrenching sim. Had to share the love for such a well written viewpoint. #roninstrong ((Captain's Ready Room, Deck 3 Primary Hull, U.S.S. Ronin)) Kirsty took jumbled, laconically painful stock (thanks to her still throbbing head and bone-deep sore limbs) of their situation as her and the new command structure of the damaged, listing, but still in the fight Ronin made their beeline into the Ready Room. Kirsty deferrently allowed Alieth and Raga the use of the middle of the room. The whole energy of the compartment, hell the whole deck around them, was sour and tense. She could taste it, alongside the coppery bitter taste of her own blood. Checking her weapon, miraculously still functional from the fracas and thudding improvised explosions of the defence of the Bridge, she set it at an angle beside her, barrel pointed downward. She eased into one of the seating sections toward the far end of the room, her body somewhat sighing with obvious and instant relief as she did. But her mind was still constantly going. As were her eyes, dancing madly over the two officers in front of her. Both of whom she had come to quickly respect, but now...something akin to a love flooded her heart and busted up body. Love and a profound feeling of sadness and disappointment. Mostly directed toward herself. A decade ago she would have been able to clock that trap a dozen lightyears away. Wouldn't have been so slow on the draw when the RoLF landing spears, spider-bots, and their compatriots had violently invaded their home. Would have engaged in the same savagery and focused (albeit...perhaps a bit TOO focused, if she was thinking about it) attack that the Captain had. But now, in the relative calm of the space and the dark, pitched glow of her heart and knocked-around-mind, she could see just how...her battered and slightly muddy-feeling brains reacted for the right word and feeling. Coming up short as she chanced a lean to hear what her superiors were about to say. It felt like...when Ma would dress her down for doing something she wasn't supposed to. But obviously, with a lot more import and stakes behind it. The situation they were hip deep in at the moment was a damn sight more dire than skipped school and stolen jars of white corn liquor. Kirsty had never felt the sort of heat that seemed to bake from Alieth...and on the other side of the coin, had never once seen Raga this unsettled, this...rollicked. His cool winds and steely-eyes had provided a lot of unspoken steel of Kirsty's own in the days before. Not today. His hands flexed bloodily and his breath returned as Alieth finally took her moment, her usually implacably charming pate replaced with something much, much different. Alieth: You should know, Mister Raga, that I am deeply disappointed by your performance in this matter. You… WE should do better from now on. Kirsty found herself sitting ramrod straight in her seat, even despite the pain of her body and mind. That was...not what she was expecting the New XO to say. Expected even less the New Captain's response, which seemed to hover just around being told to put down that cookie and being slapped. But Kirsty herself winced against the memory of what had transpired on the Bridge. The pitched sound of his shouting, the disregard he seemed to display for his own body in the engagement. More chilling memories started to flood her creaking body. Her own short slide into...feral. Feral was always the word she came back to. Seeing even a little of that starting to bleed (quite literally in this case) from her Captain...it made her sadder than she was willing to admit. She tried to steady her own breath, leaning heavily on her least borked arm (the left) and listening intently to the scene unfolding around her. Raga: First thing’s first we both will have to go through sickbay. You’re injured as well and regardless of what medical experience you have, Commander. I’ve heard numerous times from physicians about how their colleagues make for the worst patients. Everyone should and will go through Sickbay. For I’d be surprised if anyone made it through the last half hour without some injury That was...prudent enough, sure. But Kirsty was well aware that he had avoided the assessment from his second, quite deftly actually. XO Alieth seemed to have clocked that sidestep too, deploying a sharpened, well-practiced eyebrow at the comment. Kirsty could feel warmth and feeling coming back into her limbs, but kept down for a bit longer. She didn't know when the next time she would get even minor kip so she took advantage. But even from her seat, she couldn't keep her eye from the way Captain Raga was nursing his shredded knuckles. She thought of actually punching one of those things, doing more than holding the line against them...the very idea of it set her teeth on edge. And he had done it...again...and again...and again. HIs hands had to feel like a bag of chipped marbles at this point. Suddenly, Kirsty's own pain didn't seem quite so bad. She had XO Alieth to thank for a lot of that, but...her ship, her home, and her crew were hurting. Some likely even lost entirely. She couldn't help but take some of that on herself. But The Captain's shockingly even tempered voice brought her back (along with her soreness and creaky movements). Raga: I agree with you that I am emotionally impacted by what just happened and the Consortium. I dare say this whole thing feels like a targeted attack just to spite me. So, please explain why you feel disappointed? Yes, I led us into a trap, a very intricate one. And every life lost before this is done is on my shoulders. I accept that. It comes with this uniform. What is it that we should do better? Alieth stood her ground. Kirsty's heart continued to both grow and ache at the same time. Alieth obviously had a point she was building to, and knowing her, it would be a good one. Chief Alieth didn't speak unless she had something to say. But the feeling of them all being at odds with each other at the moment. Kirsty's mostly self-inflicted, the ghosts of her own failures and core traumas spilling dangerously into the present. But this seemed...far, far more urgent and likely more explosive than the charges they had peppered into the turbolift shaft. Alieth: You knew it was a trap, the whole bridge knew it, and yet you rushed us into it without taking the necessary measures to counter it. You did not adopt a cautious approach that would have prevented deaths, you rushed us straight into it without any further consideration, nor listened to your crew. Indeed, we had received a distress call and by procedure we needed to respond, but not so recklessly: a brief delay could have been enough time to warn us of the instability of the system and what awaited us. A few minutes could have changed everything. She paused, but despite the heaviness of the silence, it didn't feel unkind to Kirsty. It felt decidedly the opposite, finally divorcing it completely from the feelings and experiences she would remember forever from her mother. The slitted, disappointed eyes. The crestfallen resignation in her voice. No, no, this was...warmer, somehow, even with the pointed terseness of her voice. The way her calculated, but keen eyes swept across them all just proved that all the further to Kirsty. Silently, redrawing her tricorder, she started to give them another examination, Raga first, obviously as his ruined hands continued to flex and reflex between them. Kirsty dared now to rise, taking a few tentative steps toward her superiors (oO Family Oo). As Kirsty found a comfortable stance near them (and less than a pace and a half away from her weapon), she witnessed Alieth's eyes catching Raga's once more. She held her tongue for a moment longer, almost eager to hear what else the New XO had to say. Alieth: Not to mention your choice to leave your command to attack these things directly when there were officers :: extending a hand towards Kirsty, which she greeted with surprised eyebrows her own.:: who could have dealt with them. Not only that, but you decided to do so in a way that has caused you unnecessary injury and physical harm as you chose an emotionally driven strategy such as an attack with your bare fists against brikarian alloys, not only seriously putting your life in danger, but preventing the rest of the crew from being able to take effective action against the attackers as many would have involved more damage to your person. You have put your own desires and feelings above a general strategy, indulging in almost self-destructive impulses, which has resulted in damage to the Ronin and, worse, casualties and fatalities. She paused once more, something clear and clean and decidedly un-Vulcan rising in her voice as she came to a momentarily close. But then, shocking Kirsty further into a grim (almost crushing) admiration for the officer, she gingerly plucked up one of the Captain's uniform sleeves and Alieth: If there are any unbroken bones left in your hand, it would be a statistical anomaly. Kirsty's tongue felt thick and awkward in her skull, but she spoke anyway. Carpenter: I won't say you don't have a point, sir. But sometimes...sometimes, the points don't matter. Cap did what he had to. If anybody deserves blame, it's me. I shoulda saw the trap too. But we cain't- Cap Raga cut her off carefully, tactfully. Raga: You’re right. I didn’t even consider a diplomatic avenue for dealing with the Consortium based on my numerous past dealings with them. I won’t deny that that stems from personal bias, what we just went through was on par and worse than what the Atlantis went through six years ago. Those experiences are why I didn’t, based on their modus. Diplomacy is not always an option, as the participants of Wolf Three Five Nine can attest. ::A long, defeated sigh later:: You saw who orchestrated this, Alieth. Whoever this new boss is, he’s far more cunning than any I’ve encountered before in their organization. Do you think that with such a trap in place, that we wouldn’t have suffered a similar fate? Alieth: This is not the Borg and this is not 359. This Consortium, this Wrath, is something more akin to the Orion than the Collective: they want something, something more than they told us, and they have enough ego to show up here to taunt you. You could have taken that opportunity to get information out of them, what they wanted, where they were meeting, extend the talk while we recovered the systems to try to locate them. :: She let out the smallest sketch of a sight:: To buy time for something, but even there you refused to negotiate, when he had us in his hand. We are alive only because that Wrath chose to, not because you worked actively to protect us from them. You are no longer a tactical officer, Toryn, you are a commanding officer. And the sooner you realize that, fewer people will die under your command. You need to be better. Kirsty stiffened with the silence. Carpenter: You saw what they did to that freighter, Alieth. Do you REALLY think they would have came to the table in good faith? That the people who control those monsters would even consider anything else than open attack? I'll admit, this whole thing stinks. ::she turns to Cap, obvious effort on her face:: and Chief's right, sir, you didn't tell us everything. That ain't somethin' I'll forget soon. But I also...I think we are going to need to break a few rules of engagement if we wanna survive today. Another heavy silence echoed through the room like a sunset. Kirsty adored the officers around her. Further would do anything and everything for the ship around her. But the sentiments of the New XO's counsel drummed madly through the bottom of her thoughts. If they completely lost who they were in the attempt...what would be left? Not the first time the question had faced her, but she had much, much more to lose this time. With even further implications for the Isles beyond... Gooseflesh prickled underneath her uniform. Raga: Part of me wants to take a shuttle and hunt him down, so the only life left to risk is my own. And tear him apart rock by rock. The younger me would have. And that’s precisely why I can’t and won’t. I’m not that person anymore. ::He met the Vulcan’s gaze:: I know that your emotions are far stronger than many tend to recall or credit your species for. So I know that you’re feeling every bit as much as the rest of us who don’t have generational mental discipline to rely on. Just as I know my own emotions blinded me to the trap we just sprung, but believe me when I say that unless we acquiesce to their demands and leave we’re going to have more losses before this is through. ::He quickly added:: Which is not an option. We should do whatever we can to minimize it. Another momentary storm passed across Alieth's face. But as quickly, her alert, keenly focused countenance returned just as quickly. But the iron in her voice remained firm. Kirsty momentarily wondered what she would have been like, having met her in another life. Alieth: My emotions or lack thereof have no bearing on this, Mister Raga. What is relevant, for the sake of the crew that we have left, is that you pause and ponder a strategy, that you listen to your crew and outsmart Wrath and your past self. Kirsty dared another step forward. Hoping she could find some happy medium here that could get them moving again. Her internal clock was all but smashed into oblivion, but she knew enough to know that they had stayed here too long. Even with the obvious activity and motion on the Bridge beyond where Is'Kah and O'Connor continued to work in tandem with Tucker's team below. At least, that had been the case when this "meeting" had started, and comms were patchy at best. There was no real telling what kind of progress had really been made since the eerie break-off of the RoLFs' attack Carpenter: We are here for ya', Captain. This is a #$^*storm, no question about it. And one that's caught us flush. But this short-stack of dynamite is right. We can't do this without ya', sir. All this smoke, all the "makin' it personal"...it's tryin' to take you away from us. We can't...I won't let them. Toryn Raga stood up, crossing carefully to the cosmic storm outside the ready room window. Kirsty wished more than anything she could hear what he was thinking, could feel what Alieth so deeply felt (but worked diligently to keep from her face). If only to take it away from them. To allow them to focus their minds and considerable skills, to hone their experience down to simply tools to save lives like they had been before this hellish day. But as the beleaguered Captain crossed the energy of the room seemed to...shift. Maybe break would be the better term. Kirsty was no empath, but she wasn't completely stupid either. Something was changing around them. Something HAD to change around them if they were going to turn this around. She crossed her arms expectantly, ignoring the deep pain in her shoulders as she did so. Raga: These things were a nightmare before the Briktanium, so we can only hope that they didn’t have enough to upgrade all of their machines. Everything about them and their tactics, psychological warfare at its most despicable. ::He considered for a moment and glanced back at the two women:: And to cover their true purpose. So, what was the true purpose of this trap? I’m not so conceited to think this was just to teach me a lesson. His goading, baiting me the way he did. Make it feel personal. Which suggests that we should take inventory of everything and everyone on board to see if they remain true to form, wouldn’t you agree? Alieth: They have made it personal to divert your attention from what is important. What they have looked for in the other freighters and what they have taken from us may be relevant. As well as what they do not want us to notice. She closed the medkit with a loud click. Kirsty nodded, grateful for the New XO's concise eloquence and clear delivery. Alieth: Think about it Toryn, but now, the three of us need to head to the sickbay. This conversation can wait a few more minutes. Carpenter: This fight ain't going nowhere. And neither are we. She gave the collection of officers, her superiors and peers all the same, a wan, but direct smirking nod. Pain returned behind her eyes, sharp and clear like a cold bolt of ice that seemed to stab her skull through the middle. She blinked it away, crossing back to her rifle and gingerly picking it up and nestling it into a comfortable heft in her hands. Turning back to her companion with a nod and quickened step as she started to take point on the slow, but sure journey to get them patched up. oO V'Len...Oo It had been a long day, one that was only standing to get longer as she would get more and more reports and updates on their way to Sickbay (which had also seen its fair share of the conflict, it would turn out). But for the first time in years, walking in tandem with officers she would die for gladly, she remembered what hope felt like. -- (Long Overdue) End of Act 2 for Kirsty! -- Lieutenant Commander Kirsty L. Carpenter //\\ Chief of Security & Tactical Starfleet SAR (Marine Rank: Major) //\\ U.S.S. RONIN NCC-34523 ID: E239512QC0 //\\ F.N.S. Contributor

((Forward Torpedo Magazine, Deck 12, USS Juneau)) oO In a crisis situation, it’s best not to second-guess every decision, Lieutenant. Remember? Oo But Drex had a working mind that could not be turned off just because it was a crisis situation, and especially since it was a crisis situation. He had learned, very long ago, to analyze everything from as many different perspectives as possible. He was used to taking a decision, possibly the right one, after gathering information. But they had no information this time. All he knew was that a worm was inside him and Alix took him off injecting him with some stimulant. The worm had taken over his ability to distinguish reality and imagination. It had created such a real nightmare that he could still smell the acrid blood permeating the floor and feel the monster's fangs penetrate the flesh of his wrist. It was something Drex was not willing to try again, but it was not only that. The worm that was in his body, had rushed for the glowing crate, but here there was no crate. Where would it go? Into Kendrick? He was their team leader. He was not the Captain or the XO, but he was the closest thing to them and Drex still remembered Commander Adea’s warning oO if I get killed, it’s very unlikely you’ll pass the test. Oo This was not a test, of course, so it was even more important to keep the Commander alive. Into Kingsley? It seemed the marine was quite confident to be able to take care of the creature. Drex did not know Gwen at all, so he could not judge her, but what he knew was that she was working on a very critical task and any distraction could be fatal for all of them. Into Kingsley’s emergency power generator? It could blow up the entire ship since it was connected to a nuclear torpedo at the moment. So, Drex was the only expendable victim, but you could bet the entire cargo of a Ferengi smuggling ship that he wouldn't crawl into the frying pan of his own will as long as he could avoid it. Luckily, Commander Kendrick was convinced of the validity of Drex's doubts. Kendrick: ::nodding:: Agreed. ::at Kingsley:: How far are we on that EMP pulse, Kingsley? Kingsley: Another minute, Sir. Kendrick: Great job. Kendrick: Ready to activate the EMP? Kingsley: Aye, Sir. Kendrick: ::turning to Drex:: Keep a close eye out on our friend over there, Lieutenant. We don’t know how he’ll respond to the EMP. Drex: Aye sir. oO Let’s hope he keeps sleeping until we meet with Alix. Oo Drex kept himself near the floating unconscious Andorian. His breathing was really shallow. Kingsley: 3 ... 2 ... 1 .... Mark. There was a light from the torpedo as it charged, a whine as it built up a charge, then blew in a loud crack. The air shimmered a bright blue as the electrical charge emanated from the center of the torpedo. Drex felt the electromagnetic charge released by Kingsley's magic pass through his body and raise the hairs on the back of his neck. An unpleasant sensation along the muscles of the arms and chest down to the legs and feet. He saw the Andorian's antennae stiffen on the back of his neck and a trickle of blood trickle from his nose. As the unpleasant sensation faded, the cabin plunged back into darkness again. Kingsley: Everyone ok? Drex: I’m fine and our friend is still barely alive. In the darkness Drex could not see, so he placed a hand on the Andorian’s arm in order not to lose him. He stood ready to inject the compound, waiting for Kendrick’s order to wake him up. Kendrick: Response Suddenly he felt a very faint tremor from the body next to him. The wrist started to glow blueish and a pale wormlike creature slipped out of the skin. It was not rushing anywhere. It looked stunned or sick. Without thinking twice Drex pressed the hypospray onto the worm's body and released the stimulant. The worm began to writhe, producing a low scraping noise that was soon followed by a higher volume scraping noise coming from behind the bulkheads, almost certainly from a service pipe. oO Very smart of you… Oo Drex: I… I don’t know why I’ve done it :: He murmured fearfully :: Kingsley / Kendrick : Response With still twisted movements, the worm headed towards one of the hatches trying to insinuate itself between the wall and the hatch. Drex’eyes followed its movements at first. He ignored whatever it was saying to him and after a few moments followed the glowing creature. Drex: He wants to go home. Drex was sure of that, although he could not tell why his guts was telling him so. Kingsley / Kendrick : Response Despite the cold, which had become even more biting in the last few minutes, making the air unpleasant to breathe, small drops of sweat began to form on his forehead. Drex: No! We need to open the hatch, we need to let him go. They’re scared. Just let me open the hatch! There was fear in his voice, but also a certain aggressiveness. Drex was sure he was right, but he didn't have the means or time to explain the situation logically. Maybe it was the spicy fragrance which hovered more and more insistently in the ship or it was an unwanted memory left inside him by his worm, he was jeopardizing his life on a logicless instinct that told him they had to go back to the crate now. Kingsley / Kendrick : Response TAG, TBC ((OOC: I wrote as if the scraping noise heard by Kingsley were the worms rushing from all places towards the crate, as Falt and Sanchez 's sims pointed out. I hope I have understand correctly)) ============ Lieutenant JG Drex Science Officer Denali Station D240011D14

((Ada Scrum Lab, Daystrom Institute)) G'r'oq: ... and once I get a draft complete, I'll send it to you for your approval. The scientist's words hung in the air for a moment before Azura clicked in that she needed to reply. Ada: Of course. I'm sure it'll be fine. The scientist smiled a toothy grin, nodded, and left. Azura sat in her "office," the temporary living space set up for her in the corner of the lab space created to analyze and treat her. They say a named lab (or even something like a bench) in the Daystrom Institute is arguably the highest honor a Federation scientist can hope for. Of course, those are typically to reflect achievements in the sciences and contributions to knowledge and the Federation. Her honor was that of a unique object of study. G'r'oq's paper would be the 23rd one she's agreed to so far. Everyone wanted a piece of her story. Her existence was something of a rarity, and her ailment was wholly unknown. "Ada syndrome" is the name being kicked around to describe the various deleterious effects of jumping through dimensions like she did. She was typically offered co-authorship on the papers, but she declined each time. It was all too personal to write academically about. She was somewhat of a star around Daystrom, especially because of her expertise as a scientist. Not only was she the exciting new object of study, but she could carry on a conversation. The past few months had been fine, mostly: endless meetings, tests, attempts, therapy sessions, failures, setbacks, and disappointments. But perseverance paid off, and Sheng's team figured out a way to nullify the effects of her different quantum resonance. Azura's posture relaxed into the couch as she picked up the PADD with her orders to return to the Constitution. She was eager, but nervous. Had Sheng really fixed things? All the tests and therapy suggested yes. She was back to herself--at least as much as she knew. All her metrics suggested basic parity with Lazarus' last data, accounting for differences driven by their biological and psychological distinctions. Sheng's solution was almost a non-solution. Unlike the other efforts from various teams that wanted to "fix" her quantum resonance, Sheng's team devised a way to make them irrelevant. Sheng's team designed a portable emitter inspired by the portable holo-emitter worn by The Doctor aboard the USS Voyager on her mission through the Delta Quadrant. Instead of emitting complex forcefields to constrain photons and the like; Sheng's device emitted low-amplitude exotic radiation in just the right way to shift her quantum resonance to be in line with this reality's quantum resonance. It also served to ensure that when one of her cells died, the one that regenerated would naturally have this reality's quantum resonance. In time, she would be less and less reliant on the emitter. There were no known side effects to her wellbeing, though it did shift her biomarkers slightly, and she would be easier to spot with sensor tech. The exotic radiation she was bombarded with was extremely low energy, but it was still greater than zero. And several people reported a subtle sensation of an electrical current when they touched her. She felt it too, but it didn't happen with everyone. She turned on the PADD and looked down at the orders again: =/\= LIEUTENANT COMMANDER AZURA ADA ASSIGNMENT: USS CONSTITUTION-B Ada, following the completion of your treatment and the testing of your emitter, as well as clearance from your therapist, you are hereby cleared for duty and ordered to return to the USS Constitution-B. Your shuttle leaves at 1800 hours today. Commodore Sihk-Styfore =/\= Ada: Computer, what time is it? Computer: 10-0-4 hours. Azura tossed the PADD to her left and it landed with a soft thud on the cushion. She sighed, thinking of all the things she had to accomplish before the shuttle took off. While in thought, her fingers ran over the new piece of tech she'd be wearing at all times: the emitter. It'd better work in the field as well as it works in the lab... One last test, just to be sure. Ada: Computer, run a level 1 diagnostic on my emitter. The computer chimed and announced it would take 4 minutes to complete the diagnostic. Satisfied, Azura picked the PADD back up and started tapping out a to-do list for herself. Soon enough, she'd be stepping back onto the Conny. —— Lt Commander Azura Ada Chief Science Officer(?) USS Constitution-B IDIC team member ASDB team member C239510LD0 (she/her, character) (she/they, writer)

A great sim by @Alora DeVeau, one of thr many by her.

I shouldn't post this here just 'cause @Karrod Niac won't stop criticizing and slandering my poor beloved Rhine that he has KIDNAPPED, but I have a soft spot for beautifully written SIMs and the suffering of this Trill. ((Maintnance Bay Three, Compartment R03014, USS Valley Forge)) Across his career Karrod had spent time trapped in shuttles, drifted through space for weeks in escape pods and once even managed to avoid the business end of a bat'leth by ducking into a cargo container for the better part of a week. After the indignity of his 'secure' confinement aboard the Valley Forge, he thought he'd seen the worst that Maki could throw at him in his overzealous efforts to ensure his personal security. He'd been wrong. So comprehensively and terribly wrong. Maki had, at great length, explained that the ships transporters couldn't be trusted. He couldn't quite get into the details of why but the increasingly suspicious Vice Admiral had noticed a number of updates to the system during the ships last refit that struck him as...unusual. He couldn't have the modifications removed without tipping his hand so instead he'd declared the system temporarily out of order and had insisted his crew use small craft like shuttles and runabouts whenever it was feasible. So naturally Karrod had assumed he'd be aboard the Rhine and making his way over to Cait space dock to meet Fleet Admiral Washington so he could finally deliver his plea for resources. Again...he'd been very wrong. Just a day earlier the Rhine had developed an unexpected fault in its impulse reactor manifold that would've lead to a cataclysmic explosion the moment Karrod took it out of the launch bay. The cause of the fault was unknown and Karrod suspected it was due to the Rhine's frequent pyrotechnic antics, but Maki hadn't been convinced. He was all but certain now that some agent was aboard his ship, working against the larger interests of the Federation, and had done what they could to sabotage Karrod's upcoming meeting. Which was why he was now being bolted into a probe casing. The three centimeter duratanium shell would soon be the only thing between him and the infinite abyss, a fact he tried not to fixate on as the final connections locked into place and the whole coffin like encasement lurched while being lifted towards a launch bay. The plan, if it could still be called one, was to fling him at Cait spacedock in passing, with the Valley Forge never dropping out of warp. This, Maki assured him, would throw off anyone or anything that was pursing him and would ensure the meeting would go off without a hitch. Maki even promised to make sure the Rhine was repaired and dispatched in a few days so that he could take it directly back to the Ronin, saving him from further misery as he made his way back to his ship. If he survived this last surge of insanity. There was no warning, no internal comm system, nothing to give away his presence in the casing other than a hastily retrofitted life support system and a small inertial compensator to keep him from being squished into bearded gazpacho. Within him Niac was a chorus of ever louder complaints which, for once, Karrod found himself entirely in agreement with. He found himself trying to pat his abdomen reassuringly as he felt a surge of inertia through the casing and knew he was now hurtling at warp speed in the smallest and less capable spacecraft he'd ever occupied in his career. The string of extravagant and vulgar curses he let out as he hurtled towards Caitian space vibrated the probe like a struck gong. [TBC!] =============================== Captain Karrod Niac Commanding Officer USS Ronin - NCC-34523 V239509GT0

Tiny bit of backstory to how this came to be. Over the past few missions, I've found myself enjoy writing storylines and sims that have a diplomatic focus, particularly for my own character Nilsen. In our shore leave, I put a note in the OOC groups asking if anyone is interested. Sherlock and Maxwell replied almost instantly, and we got talking and came up with the idea that Sherlock asks her partner Martinson to give him some lessons. Taggart comes along too (and we learn that he might have a connection or two on the OEB that he doesn't know about yet) and we start simming this out. And of course, just causally like it's nobodies business, both Sherlock and Maxwell come along to give me the most amazing lines to play with. So first, Sherlock sets up the roleplay. This puts my character Lhandon on the back foot. He wasn't expecting this. He thought this would be a presentation or a worksheet. I let Lhandon make a mistake here, and it was picked up on right away. Taggart reacted kindly. Martinson also reacted kindly, and offered these words. Then Taggart goes for the neck. The second I read this, I wanted to write my reply. What a term to set! And what a challenge for Lhandon. This prompt and this observation was so perfectly placed. Does Lhandon know that he's being defensive. Martinson's prompt will give Lhandon perhaps the push he needed, particularly when he says get creative. So in short, these two canny simmers are amazing, have set up the most wonderful scenario for me to play in, and the chance to really explore this part of Lhandon's character and I'm really looking forward to what's next. All the posts so far are here https://groups.google.com/u/1/g/sb118-butler/search?q=Martinson%2C Taggart%2C Nilsen @Lt Aine Olive Sherlock @Arturo Maxwell

It's not fair that @Quentin Beck's worst day is so FUN to read

Our Bolian science officer making a Klingon blush! >> (( Corridor, Deck 5, USS Octavia E Butler )) << Yinn had fantasized about spending the night with a Klingon since watching Dominion War holovids about Worf as a girl. So she really had no one to blame but herself for how sore she felt this morning. She lay in her cot in the lab for well over an hour, trying to convince herself that she'd be fine, before she finally broke down and limped over to sickbay. Miash was a pal, she'd be understanding. >> (( Sickbay, Deck 5, USS Octavia E Butler )) << Miash: It’s not her fault, you should really be more careful about what you eat my dear. Most Bolian beverages are toxic to non-bolian species. (beat) I think you’re lucky, a lesser being would already be dead. Bolian beverages? Had someone gotten into her stash of ferlic acid? Besides her and... That Klingon. He was here, lying in the biobed. She knew her acidic bodily fluids meant romance wasn't in the cards with most species, but she had assumed Klingons were made of tougher stuff. Loq: Very few things are toxic to Klingons. How was I to know? Miash: =/\= Computer, cancel request for urgent medical doctor to sickbay. =/\= Loq: Do I not need a doctor? Or am I past the point of needing a doctor? Miash: I’m messing with you ensign, you’ll be fine. Miash retreated to the replicator, “Treatment 157b-alpha, liquid form, 30 mL.” She returned with a vile of green liquid… Miash: Here, drink this, it should help. Loq: You! Yinn tried her best to look innocent. Yinn: So, ah... sorry about last night... Loq glowered at her. Yinn: I mean, I had a great time last night! Sorry about this morning! If it makes you feel any better, I'm also in a lot of pain right now. Loq: That does make me feel better. Was he trying to be funny? It was one of the first things that caught her attention in the science lab; Loq's sense of humor was so dry he was basically daring you to figure out if he was making a joke or not. Miash: response Yinn: I was hoping we could apply some doctor-patient confidentiality to my own intense discomfort. But are you sure it was something he drank and not just, uh... being with me? My body chemistry is an irritant to humans and a lot of other species. I figured Klingons would be less affected, but maybe he's more affected? Am I toxic to Klingons? Loq: We did lose track of what we were drinking after a certain point. Miash: response Yinn: Is there any way to tell? Can you run some tests? She looked at Loq quizzically, and then caught herself. If she wanted to see him again romantically, probably best not to start thinking of him as another science project. Yinn: But, you know, give him the medicine first. Loq: I am happy to lie here in agony while you satisfy your curiosity. Miash: response Yinn: Oh, poor you. I thought Klingons were supposed to be all stoic! Loq: My injuries are not exactly from a glorious battle. Yinn: I seem to remember you had a few moments of glory last night. Loq looked like he was trying to sink into the biobed. Yinn remembered something she had read about Klingons. There was no way you were ever going to beat one in a fight, but if you could make a Klingon blush, they were helpless. Miash: response TBC / Tags! Ensigns Yinn & Qurgh'Loq Science Officer / Starfleet Diplomatic Corps USS Octavia E Buttler NCC-82850 Writer ID.: O240011Y12

@Sirok coming in and saving my NPC. I really love his MSNPC, the robotic and sinister Alpha. From a returning 'new' player who's showing that he's not forgotten how to write a great sim!

This made me laugh. Ops and Security do have a special relationship.

This is, without a doubt, my favourite intro to an awards ever. Thank you @Sal Taybrim. 🤣 ((Beaches of Ifar – Bardeez)) Sal Taybrim was never fashionably late. It was well known that he was always early to crew functions. And almost always the first one there. And yet, at this lovely beach party, as the bands played, one ginger Commodore was notably absent. Odd. Maybe? Maybe he wasn’t coming. Who knows when it came to a Commodore, always getting pulled away for various meetings and diplomatic tasks and galaxy-crushing briefings. Hopefully nothing galaxy crushing anytime soon, but with like in Starfleet who knew. Still, it was quite unlike Taybrim to simply not appear or give word. Unless you were a friend of Sal’s. A close friend, and the man who loved to talk to everybody guarded his personal life carefully – so not many in attendance, but some. Some would know that Sal Taybrim loved a bit of drama, and all things considered there seemed to be a set up for some well-intentioned drama. The last jovial song ended and with a dramatic crescendo of music, the band drew attention to the stage, where a duo of Bardeezan fire dancers dug a ring around the stage, avoiding the entrance and exit stairs, and filled it with a pungently fruity and very strong-smelling type of alcohol. It was a distilled spirit of a particularly bitter fruit that made it almost completely inedible for its awful taste. But it had been used as a clean, renewable fuel source for centuries and it gave off a nice fruity scent. With a flourish the fire dancers drew attention and at the climax of the dance, they dipped downwards to send flames racing into the sand-dug motes, creating a dramatic focus on the stage. The stage lights flared, the band had disappeared to grab some water and take a break and at some point in the darkness the stage had been cleared to feature a podium. Nice. Oh, there was Commodore Taybrim, magically already behind said podium. Dressed in a classic Betazoid pant suit, it was in off white with an asymmetric jacket and gold embroidered details at the collar, cuffs and hemlines. Taybrim: Good evening everyone! I hope everyone is having a fantastic evening thus far! His voice projected across the beach, strong but not cutting. Warm, inviting and commanding attention. Any: ? Taybrim: I am glad you could all make it, for this formal awards ceremony. ::he looked around the idyllic beach:: Or informal awards ceremony? ::He chuckled:: Bit of both I suppose. Any: ? Taybrim: I would like to start with some official welcomes. We had a number of crew join us on this mission and I did not get the chance to touch base with everyone personally, something I hope to correct as we travel back to StarBase 118. But for now, please let me offer some formal welcomes. He took a deep breath and smiled at the gathered. Taybrim: Please welcome onboard Ensign T’Reyna who joined us early in this mission and was a strong contributing member to her team. I hope you have all gotten a chance to say hello, but I want to offer a formal welcome to the crew. ::He smiled pleasantly:: Ensign T’Reyna – welcome to the senior staff of StarBase 118 Ops, I’m so glad you are a part of this team. Sal had the opportunity to meet with T’Reyna before she arrived on the Narendra and knew her experience and poise was an asset to the team. T’Reyna: ? Any: ? Taybrim: Next, assigned mis mission is Ensign Sash Kreshkova, Helm officer, who immediately jumped in with some fantastic shuttle flying with our weapon disarming team. ::He had a chance to meet Sasch, and found her a committed and determined officer.:: I am so happy that you joined our crew Ensign and want to formally welcome you to StarBase 118. He offered her a welcoming smile. Kreshkova: ? Any: ? Taybrim: I want to recognize Ensign Eshrevi Sh’shiqil who served on the Narendra this mission. I know Ensign Sh’shiqil is on assignment and could not join us tonight, but she will remain connected to StarBase 118, so I hope to share welcomes and memories with her in the future. Any: ? He had hoped to formally welcome Ensign Sh’shiqil, but Starfleet had other plans, immediately putting the disciplined officer onto assignment in her specialty area. Sal had signed the approval orders, but he felt a pang of longing – he had wanted to meet her and talk to her and welcome her first. To see if she was excited about being offered such opportunities to work towards her goals or if she felt overwhelmed. He knew they would cross paths again sometime in the future, so he held that in his mind and his heart and turned towards the very newest member of the crew. Alcyone Brennan, newly assigned. Counselor. That was Sal’s role as an Ensign as well. So he certainly wanted to ensure he got the chance to connect with Ensign Brennan. Taybrim: And in a most auspicious bit of timing, we have newly assigned Ensign Alcyone Brennan who joins us in the role of Counselor! ::He grinned, clearly excited about this.:: Ensign Brennan, let me offer a first warm formal welcome to the crew of StarBase 118, and I am thrilled to have you with us. He didn’t have the chance to meet Ensign Brennan yet, but her academy record said she was committed and focused on her role as counselor and her professors praised her for creative thinking and determined work. All things that Sal valued in an officer. Brennan: ? Any: ? Taybrim: And to our crew, from the newest amoung you to the most experienced, I am so proud of you and thrilled to be working with one of the best crews in Starfleet. ::he raised his glass:: Taybrim: A toast, to the crew of StarBase 118! Any: ? ~*~ Tags/tbc ~*~ Commodore Sal Taybrim Commanding Officer StarBase 118 Ops