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"It's midnight," I thought to myself, "I'll just read one sim, and then go to bed." But the one sim was by @Richard Matthews and it was fantastic, so now it's midnight and he's got me making a dang appreciations post.

(( Brig - USS Constitution-B )) Even though the shooting was done, Senior Commander Nugra found himself still wired. He couldn't sleep and so had decided to stay within the intelligence office finishing up paperwork once Jalana got out of the sickbay. The lizard had heard of her injuries and knew that she'd throw a fit if he just barged in. So, he was busying himself finishing what need to be done for her, her boss, and Starfleet Headquarters. He was about done with the report when his eyes glanced over the names of the prisoners and one jumped out to him. One that made his heart stop for a moment and his scales become heated with rage. Shapeshifter - Que This couldn't be? Hadn't she vanished back in 2392 when he was on the USS Columbia? Even worse, that specific changeling had been posing and the woman he cared so much about, Talia Kaji. The Gorn had sworn he would kill the changeling if he ever found her again. oO It's been almost a decade. Oo Not even waiting or explaining himself, the lizard made his way purposefully towards the brig where it was being held. The heavy doors clambered open and Nugra strode in. He looked towards the startled security guard and spoke. Nugra: Give us a moment, Ensign. The human hurried out. Sitting the floor of the brig that had been rigged with a double forcefield to keep her from slipping out was the face of the woman he despised. Dark hair, the imitation features of a humanoid. Her eyes were closed as she sat cross legged. The Gorn stared at her silently as a small smile crossed her face. Que: I was wondering how long it would take you to realize I was here. Nugra: If this was not a starfleet vessel. You would be dead by now. Que: How fortunate that Starfleet believes in such humane treatment. Unlike your people. The Gorn considered going over to the phaser rack and getting one but he was not going to rise to the bait. Her dark eyes finally opened as she looked him over, his starfleet uniform he had adopted with the black collar but bearing the Gorn insignia of his rank. Que: I see you're in Intelligence now. :: eyes roaming :: And not with Starfleet. You back with the Hegemony? Nugra: An obvious observation. The smile on the Changeling's face got bigger. Que: Oh. So short with me. Would it be easier to talk to me if I was her? Her formed shifted and sitting on the floor was the dark skinned Rodulan that he had not seen in years. The fury that burned within him almost pushed him over the edge. Nugra: Your insult will not be forgiven, changeling. There will come a day that I will kill you. Que's form switched back and she let out a little laugh. Que: So violent. The Gorn ignored her. Nugra: Is Sicarius working with the Lattice Alliance now? I thought we finally was rid of your kind after the Prometheus Incident. Que: Not that I know of. You could say I'm...freelancing. There are so many opportunities now since you all wiped out most of our infrastructure. The Gorn couldn't tell if she was lying or not. He couldn't trust her. Nugra: But you are still with them. They aren't completely gone. Que: Of course, we're never gone. Let's just say we need to...bide our time. You know what's out there. You have seen them yourself. The Gorn's eyes narrowed. Sicarius was aware of the extra-galactic creatures called The Hunger that had been making their way towards the Milky way. Evidence showed that they were at the edge of the Great Energy Barrier but unable to cross. There had only been two incursions he knew of. Back when he was at the Embassy and when he was with his people. Both had been stopped. Sicarius believed that the galaxy had to be prepared no matter the cost. And their cost was high in lives. OOC: The above mention of The Hunger is an old story arc from Nugra's time on the USS Victory. It is NOT a hint of any future mission or anything we have plan. Just lore from the Gorn's past. Nugra: Well you are out of business. Whatever your plan is. Que: If that makes you feel comfortable, Commander. The Gorn stared at the changeling before turning on his heel to leave. Que: Hey, Senior Commander. The Gorn turned back silently. Que: Do me a favor? Nugra: And what is that? Que: ::smirking:: Tell Azura we'll be seeing her soon. A cold chill ran down his scales. OOC: the above was approved by Commander Ada. PNPC Senior Commander Nugra Intelligence Officer USS Constitution-B

While most of the Ronin's crew has been tossed across the timeline two NPC's, brilliantly realized by @LuxaLorana & @Marty Tucker, have gone on their own strange and quietly beautiful journey. Arcs like this enrich our narrative so much and the writing is superb. Thanks so much for helping to make this mission another special one for all of us you two! =================== ((A long long time ago, Mountain Cottage, Bajor)) High in the mountains, there was a small cottage nestled amongst a grove of trees. A flume of smoke rose from its chimney and one of its two inhabitants stepped out into the cold night, and pulled a shawl tightly around her shoulders. The old woman looked down on the small city far below. Her green eyes, not as good as they had once been, tracked the new building that had begun construction with interest as she had done each time she had stepped out from the cottage. Right on time. She cocked her head to look towards the stars. In her mind, she repeated the names of the worlds they'd become one day. The stars had become her anchor to a life she had stopped living long ago. A reminder of what was at stake. She almost laughed as she thought of starships and aliens in gold, blue and red uniforms. It was almost as if she had dreamt them in the first place. Then she remembered her own name. Vailani Zoyara. Vailani: :: blows a kiss to the night :: I believe in you. It was her own ritual. The Prophets had placed her here; she hadn't decided, even after all these years, if it was a punishment or a blessing. Maybe it was both. A voice came from within the old cottage, she turned to peer inside and as she saw her husband emerge she helped him join her by taking hold of his arm as they both hobbled to the stoop. Vailani: I think it's almost complete :: she pointed to the city lights :: It'll have to be soon. She thought of the years that had passed, at first she had hated him, and she had told him that often. He had become a reminder of what she had lost. A constant thorn on a rose that she had become entwined. They'd both been forgotten to time, yet somehow in that, they'd found a love for each other. He gazed into the eyes of his beautiful wife, recognizing the kindness within them; though they had been lost to time, they still created an extraordinary life filled with love and strength; she was his foundation. Gruvush: Are you planning for tonight, my dear? She had a challenging task ahead of her, but he knew she could do it. Vailani: If it's not tonight I'm not sure I'll be able to do it at all. I can't exactly fight my way into the temple. It will be easier to do it before they complete the construction. She was right; only during construction would she be able to gain access to the temple. After construction, it would be a fruitless endeavor. She placed a wrinkled hand on his cheek. Gruvush: ::putting his hand on hers:: There are times I don’t want you to do this, because of the risks involved. Vailani: I know the risks. Have you ever seen me avoid taking risks? :: laughs :: You have taken some risks as well, Ranjen. That title he hadn’t heard in years; he’d decided to step away from all that when they were thrust through time, ever-changing time. Vane had, over the year,s kept a low profile. These days his most significant thing was tending to the garden. They had what they needed here; they rarely needed to get something they didn’t produce themselves. They had made quite the life for themselves. She allowed herself a mischievous laugh before she kissed him on the lips. Gruvush: ::kissing her back:: You take risks, my love? He made no effort to hide his laugh at that. They linked hands. Vailani: Together. Gruvush: Always and forever. A man approached them, followed by another woman carrying a babe in her arms. Gruvush Jnr: Mother? Father? Are you ready? The old woman nodded before she turned to see that her eldest son, Tova, had a tear in his eye. She lifted her hand and wiped it away, just like she had done thousands of times before when he was a child. Their children were his life, descendants of a now-lost ship. While he was never part of her crew, he was there the day the timeline shifted….more than once. Even he could no longer piece all of the events together that led them to this point. Oh, he had journals as a way to remind him. Zoy kept up with what needed to be done; she was the brain of the two. He had learned so much from her over the years, lots of things that they never taught at the monastery. For that, he would be forever grateful. Oh she loved him so much. All of her children. The first generation of The Descendants of Ronin. She had given them an account of their lives and what had to be done in the very distant future to ensure that the timelines could be restored. There was a dreadful truth to it that she had never spoken to any of them, she wasn't even sure Vane understood what it meant. If her plan was to work, then Tova and his brothers and their lineage would cease to exist. They would be nothing but ghosts in the time stream. It was with that in mind she hesitated. It was too dreadful for one woman to bear. Then she felt Vane’s hands in hers and she remembered a promise made in a different timeline on a battlefield within a dying planet. Together. They would travel to tomb beneath the new temple and they'd sleep … and she could only hope that it was enough. The End for Vailani Zoyara and Gruvush Vane. Ranjen Gruvush Vane Head Of B'hala Dig As Simmed By: Lieutenant Commander Marty Tucker Chief Of Engineering USS Ronin NCC-34523 Capt. Karrod Niac Commanding D240008MT1 And Lt JG Vailani Zoyara Mission Ops Specialist USS Ronin As simmed by: Lieutenant Commander Luxa Lorana Science Officer (Astrometrics, Meteorology, Xenology) USS Ronin A240004LL2

I couldn’t wait to post about this JP, so I’m sharing this before the final part is released. As Sevantha's mentor, I was lucky enough to get a sneak peek at this JP, and it’s a brilliant piece of writing that had me hooked from the very first page. I could truly feel Mac’s pain, especially in the first half, and Saa completely tore our hearts out. Both Edrei’s and Harford’s parts made me so angry (in the best possible way). The first three parts are below on our ship list and when the final parts are out, they will appear in the link below. @Sevantha @Daniel McGillian Jr @Leenaya Edrei @Alix Harford You four should be so damned proud of yourself and proud of this JP. https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-butler/search?q=[[Backsim]] JP%3A Lt JG Sevantha Saa %26 Daniel McGillian Jr.%2C Ensign Leenaya Edrei %26 Alix Harford - The Need to Connect

(( Main Cargo Bay )) Chandni had done this job for many years but nothing had prepared her for the parkour she had to do in this battle. Running between shelfing units and cargo piles, climbing up ons aid shelves, dodging under some units, fast curves, quick slaps to tag, and on to the next one. It seemed that the battle had paused and she stood, sweaty and panting in the middle of the Cargo bay. She needed to pick up the exercise just in case this ever happened again, not that she hoped for that. Better be safe than sorry. The break was good, her heartrate was just normalizing when the ship shook again and it almost kicked Chandni off her feet. Kapoor: ::hissing:: Kya bakavaas hai? ((OOC: What the hell?)) She held herself up at a shelf and calmed her heart down when a call came in. Cain: =/\= Kapoor, you there? =/\= She tapped her badge and wiped her forearm over her sweaty forehead. Kapoor: =/\= I'm right here. Response Cain: =/\= Tag something that’s either going to give us a big bang or looks like a big bang. =/\= Kapoor: =/\= Big bang? =/\= What was he planning? Her eyes scanned the cargo bay to see if she had anything like he wanted. Cain: =/\= Just do it Lieutenant. You have 20 seconds. =/\= 20 seconds. Damn. She didn't give a damn about ranks or whatever, but he was the person up there who would know what needed to be done, well one of them. So she would do it trusting he didn't try to blow up their own ship. 19 Chandni suddenly had an idea, but it was not in this cargo bay. Grabbing two tags, she ran out, knocking over the tray with the tags on the way. 16 Running through the corridor like a mad woman she called out. Kapoor: Out of the way! She still bumped into someone as she quickly moved on. She had to get one deck down. She couldn't risk having to wait for the lift and instead took the stairs. Luckily the staircase wasn't far. She pretty much smashed the door open and jumped several stairs at once, taking the corner with the help of the banister and kicked out of the next deck's door. 9 The Officers on this deck were much more sensible and side stepped, pressing themselves against the wall as they saw her coming, running down the hallway, panting for breath as the reached out for the door frame of the next Cargo Bay and used that to get around the corner faster, heading straight for two large containers standing at the back of the way. Hydrogen, that would give them a big boom for sure. 4 3 Tag you're it on one. She rushed to the other container. 2 1 Tag! The slap actually burnt in her hand. Kapoor: =/\= ::panting:: OPS to Bridge. Ready! =/\= Cain: =/\= Acknowledged.::In the same breath:: Cain to Ba’el =/\= Chandni closed the line and was about to sit down and lean against those containers to catch her breath when they vanished and she simply landed on the ground gasping for air. Might as well! After a moment the ship shook again, she assumed the shockwave of the Hydrogen blowing up. Lucky she already was on the floor. LtJG Chandni Kapoor Operations Officer simmed by Commodore Jalana Rajel Commanding Officer USS Constitution B Image Team Co-Facilitator A238906JL0

(( Sick Bay, Constitution, 12 hours ago )) Darkness. Her heart beat jumped up. Was she back in the tunnel? Where was Laria? Was the rescue just a dream? It took a moment for Jalana to register that she was laying on something soft but firm. Not the tunnel, not the metal floor. The pain she had felt in her leg the whole time she'd been in there with Laria was gone, her mind was like wrapped in cotton. Pain killers. As she looked around she faintly made out lights next to a frame, though something felt wrong about the way it looked, she recognized where she was. Sick bay. Relaxing back into the biobed she exhaled. It wasn't a dream. She and Laria had been saved. Then the memory kept flashing back. Storming Va's office. Va changing... staring in her own face.. the pain. Once more her heartbeat increased rapidly. Enough to alert the nurse to come into the room and having to sedate her again. Something was wrong... (( Sick Bay, Constitution, 6 hours ago )) Jalana sat in shock on her biobed, staring at the PADDs before her. Maybe it was her imagination but they looked different when only seeing them with one eye. The writing was more fuzzy, wonky even. It was just in her mind, it had to be. Just because she knew what had happened. The attack from Va had completely destroyed her eye and it had to be removed. The doctor had assured her that the optical nerve was only slightly damaged and she could easily have an artificial eye but she had just sent him away. She had told the medical personnel she didn't want to see anyone but somehow Diz'mim had still managed to get through. That infuriating blue man. She had sat in silence, staring into the void as he informed her about what had happened. She had remembered the attack after all she was only attacked after she had gone to Hermes Outpost to get an update from Va. His voice drifted to her like a whisper of wind through a foggy November night. He told her everything he knew from the officers who had been switched and the changelings that were now in the bridge, the loss of one of the Ollos who had died to save Nugra who had almost been flushed into space by the changeling posing as her. The panic on board because of the events in the Sol System. He had given her a PADD with all the information about Frontier Day and informed her that those events had been stopped and the Borg and changeling thread was over. Naturally those that had died during them could not be brought back and the crew was still in shock, many worried about their own families. She heard about the way Changeling Laria had taken over the ship, another had attacked a child, again others attacked the crew and attempted to stop repairs and finding solutions. But Diz'mim had also told her of how the crew had come together to counter these measures, to find solutions and regain control of some of the ship to be able to fight off the returning pirates. If she had not been stuck in her grief and guilt she could have felt the pride in her crew. Pretty sure it was there, deep down, but the other negative feelings overshadowed everything. Jalana hadn't said a word while Diz'mim reported the events and assured her that he would make sure the ship would be repaired and taken care of while she recovered, which just made her feel useless. The First Officer had asked her what to do next and as she had not replied he had his own ideas which he naturally revealed to her. First of all he would inform Starfleet that Captain Va had been exchanged and as they had scanned the whole outpost for her without a result had to assume she was still somewhere out there. Repair crews for the outpost that had taken such a beating, would be sent by Starfleet to make sure it was fully repaired on top of the work the Crew had already done, that would include the orbital sensors and relays. He also would inform Starfleet Security to send someone to escort the changelings to their most likely final destination. And the Constitution would work on repairs while returning to Drever IV. They could retrieve their buggies after doing the race they had to interrupt, giving everyone some time to recover from the events. There were also large parts of the planets that would give people a chance to explore a bit and as she heard large parts of the crew had requested to leave and check on their families. So after hearing what he had to say she simply nodded and he had enough sense to leave her alone and put it all into action. She still hadn't moved a bit, and continued to stare at.. nothing. And even that felt too much, so she scooted down and pulled the blanket over her head. Maybe that would make it all disappear engulfed by the fog in her mind. (( Sick Bay, Constitution, Now )) While Jalana was busy feeling sorry for herself and chasing everyone away, the ship had done the opposite. It had reached Drever IV and entered orbital routines. The Trill looked at the window in the single bed room she had occupied since her surgery. The planet looked peaceful as ever, simply doing it rotary thing down there. If she waited long enough she could see all kinds of landscapes from forests, to desert, even icecaps, oceans and large rivers splitting through the continents. It was fascinating to think that the only living people were those in the colony. She had half a mind to ask someone to cover the view. It was just a reminder that everything looked wrong because she had lost an eye. Nurse: Commodore, you have a call. The voice cut through the fog in her head and Jalana rolled her eye with a grumble. Rajel: I said I don't want- Nurse: ::interrupting:: It's from the colony. Someone called N'Veri. Hearing the name Jalana's mouth closed. She had wanted to tell the nurse to bugger off but that stopped her. The child. Jalana hesitated, but finally sighed and sat up. She reached up to try to fix her hair but it looked unruly either way. But she did reach for the eyepatch the doctor had wanted her to wear and she had ignored so far. She did not want to scare the child and covered the empty cavity in her face with it and then reached out for the PADD the nurse held in her hand. As she had it Jalana took a deep breath, though she didn't manage a smile, she at least didn't want to look like a total grouch. finally she pressed the button and the child appeared on the green. N'Veri had a bright smile on their green face, the dark brown eyes sparkled and the dark green hair filled out almost all the screen as the child was real close to it. N'Veri: Hiiii Papa said you are back! You left without saying good bye! Rajel: N'Veri. ::She greeted softly.:: How is your recovery going? N'Veri moved the screen a bit away from their face and Jalana could see the pillows behind them and the blanket pulled up to their chest. During their mission N'Veri had suddenly fallen sick and it had turned out that they were affected by the poisoning in the soil, that had also gotten into the plants eaten and used to make tea. They had suddenly collapsed and worried everyone, until receiving treatment after figuring out what was going on. And then they had been called away. It was hard to imagine that this had been only yesterday. Or was it the day before by now? Jalana couldn't say. N'Veri: It's boring. Papa says I have to stay in bed until they are sure I'm okay. ::The kid tilts their head:: What happened to your eye? For a long moment Jalana remained silent. N'Veri: Oh was that bad to ask? Daddy says that sometimes thing should not be asked about. Rajel: It's... ::She started harshly but something in her stopped her, even if she really wanted to yell at someone, and sighed, the words coming out more defeated now.:: I was hurt when we had to leave. N'Veri: Oh. You have great doctors though, I bet they make you well again. Like me! Jalana looked at the kid and took a breath before nodding. In her foggy mind she still wasn't sure if anything could make that good again. Rajel: ::whispering:: Yes. The best. N'Veri: I wanted to invite you. ::They beamed at the screen.:: Your crew. They all helped us so much and they saved me. And because of that I can have my naming day soon. You will come, will you? Rajel: Your naming day? Jalana had not spoken much with N'Veri and thought they already had a name. N'Veri: Yes, Daddy says our people choose their own name when they are 10. I am 10 so I can choose! ::They grinned proudly:: N'Veri is a .. placeholder he calls it. You will come, yes? They asked for the second time and Jalana who didn't want to go anywhere, still nodded slightly. Rajel: When will it be? N'Veri: In two weeks. Two weeks. That would give everyone enough time to check on family, repair the ship and recover. Even if she may not. How could she. That eye wouldn't just grow back and her leg would need some time to recover as well. Rajel: We... will be there. Thank you for the invitation. They chatted a little bit more after that -or rather N'Veri chatted and Jalana listened with a few nods and leading questions here and there - until N'Veri noticed that Jalana got tired and said they had to rest more. Or maybe they were tired themselves. Who knew. Once they hung up Jalana lowered the PADD and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. She'd be there. If she could make herself get up that was. Commodore Jalana Rajel Commanding Officer USS Constitution B Image Team Co-Facilitator A238906JL0

Another great opening of Act 3 of our plot, this time from @Nera Ay who marvels at a rare experience he's having (floating through space tethered to two other officers). Ensign Nera Ay - Out in the Cold of Space

A well thought out and prepared prank. Some Lower Deckers could learn a thing or two about how to annoy their CO and FO in a creative (and most importantly: well covered) way. (( Main Engineering, Deck 14, USS Chin’toka )) Is’Kah tilted her head at her station, her fingers flying across her console. She started manipulating the sensor data, gathering what she needed to write a report on the ship’s systems. She could use a few things to get approval to have an official work order approved by the ChEng. After writing several drafts, the hybrid was satisfied. Taking her PADD, she downloaded the document and walked to the Chief Engineer’s office. Is’Kah: Lieutenant, I discovered some concerns with the structural fields on the bridge. I have detected microfractures in several places around the bridge. This kind of damage often occurs after a refit due to the ship adjusting to the rigors of space travel. She handed Xiron her PADD, showing four locations that apparently needed repairs. These locations happened to line up with the best locations for holo-emitters to fully cover the bridge. Coming to parade rest, she watched Xiron review the report. Xiron: Good catch, Sh’za. Approved. Is’Kah: Thank you, ma’am. I will complete the repairs on the night shift tonight. Xiron: Don’t work too late. Is’Kah: ::smiles:: You know me, ma’am. Turning sharply, Is’Kah departed the Chief Engineer’s office but left Xiron with a lingering feeling that her partner had lied to her, as for what, it wasn’t clear. (( OCC- I spoke with Xiron’s writer and received her line approval. )) (( Bridge, Deck 3, USS Chin’toka )) Entering the bridge wearing her toolbox and antigrav boots, Is’Kah walked over to the deck officer and handed her the work order. Is’Kah: I have a few repairs to complete tonight. OOD: ::Looking over the PADD:: Looks in order. Will we need hearing protection? Is’Kah: Ear plugs should be sufficient if you are more than a meter away from me, but that is only while I am cutting. I will alert you before I start. OOD: Very well. Thank you, Lieutenant. Taking the PADD back, Is’Kah approached the first position and started working. She hid holo-emitters around the bridge, captain’s ready room, conference room, and break room for the next few hours. Sitting at the bridge co-processer, she connected the new equipment before uploading a holo control program and a copy of the EMH for a dedicated backup. Satisfied with the work, a sly smile crossed her lips as she started to program the system flash a bright white light as if an omnipotent being snapped their fingers before overlaying the deck with mashed pea-colored 8-centimeter-long shag carpet while each console was wrapped in wood paneling, along with setting the chairs to be covered in a slightly lighter matching green tufted fabric. However, the most important part was the giant disco ball hanging above the captain’s chair. To help cover her tracks, she set the program to trigger only when the ship was at green alert and when Commander Sherlock had entered Deck 3 three to ten times. She also buried the program so that it wouldn’t be quickly discovered by other engineers and, more importantly, T’Ama. The hybrid felt better about operating in the expanse now that there was a way to keep the captain safe from the murder bots, even if she used it first as a prank on the Captain and XO. Closing up her toolbox, Is’Kah departed the bridge, ready to rest for two hours before her next shift. TAGS/TBC Lieutenant (JG) Is’Kah Xiron Engineering USS Chin’toka R240101I14 Character Pronouns: She/Her/Zha/Zhen

Brilliant opening here from @Taelon who goes into Act 3 of our mission torn apart by fatherly worries. Lt.JG Taelon - Old Fears Borne Anew

Barbara always gives lovely insights into Drex and his life. IC: ((Baudin’s villa, Palombaggia, Corsica, Sol III)) Drex stretched his hand over the sheets. He turned his head and forced his eyes open. The side of the bed was empty. Leaving his arm out, he turned his head to the other side and looked at the door heading to the living room. A soft light illuminated the frame allowing him to see the silhouette of the armchairs in the almost dark room. He did not close the curtains before going to bed, so it had to be very late (or very early) at night. He pushed his leg out of the bed and sat on the edge. He stifled a yawn badly and raised both arms in the air, stretching. As he breathed deeper, the scent of some bread cooked in the oven reached his nose, his brain and, finally, his stomach. A significant rumble reminded him he had skipped dinner the night before. Wearing only the light trousers of his pajamas, he left the comfort of the bed and walked out of his bedroom. The soft light was coming from the kitchen spotlights. Barefoot, he silently approached the woman who was fiddling with bowls and flour. When he passed his arms around her waist, she pushed her head backwards, resting it against his shoulder. Baudin: Have I woke you up? Drex shook his head slowly, watching her hands kneading a soggy ball. Baudin: But it's not your usual hour… Drex: I felt something was amiss. Why are you awake? Baudin kept silent as she finished giving a shape to the ball and sprinkling it with flour. Drex waited patiently. Dominique did not usually cook and did not usually wake up in the middle of the night. She could have changed some habits since they graduated Ensigns, but Drex was more of the idea something was in her mind. The Denobulan knew there was no point in repeating the question, so he bowed his head slightly, touching her hair with his cheek. She smelled of salt water and vanilla. Baudin: The flour is finished and I didn’t find any yeast... Drex: What have you used then? Baudin: I know some chemistry… Drex: Do I have to guess? She put the dough in a pan and pushed Drex back with her body to free herself and reach the oven. Baudin: Are you good at chemistry? Drex grabbed a purple oval fruit from a bowl on the counter and gave it a bite. He pondered his answer while chewing. Drex: Took some classes a long time ago. But I know what’s usually in the kitchen. And :: He vaguely pointed at a blue and white can :: you left the container visible. Dominique set the timer on the oven. Baudin: It works, I already cooked this :: She broke a small piece of bread from the already baked loaf. :: Since we're awake, we may have breakfast and then walk to the pier. You promised me. Drex studied her movements and expressions. Words were her usual, but not the tone. She was faking her enthusiasm for the promised sailing trip. He nodded and smiled slightly. Breakfast was an easy task. He had bought those horrible herbal teas she loved. Drex finished the purple fruit and put some water to boil. While waiting, he prepared two cups of fruit salad. He could hear her setting the table. Baudin: Do you really like your place? Drex: I'm planning to move near the beach. I'm just waiting for the power lines to reach that area. If she wanted to play cards face down, he would do the same. Baudin: That's a nice plan, but I wasn't talking about your quarters. He put the knife in the sink and turned around with the cups in his hands. Drex: What you were talking about, then? She shook her head, sitting. The Denobulan put a bowl in front of her and one on the other side of the table. He was going to sit himself down when a whistle informed them that the water was ready. He walked back to the kitchen giving her more time to think. Giving him more time to think. She was acting strange and he did not know her well enough to read her silences. Baudin: My unit is going to be dismissed. Drex finally sat and let her know she could go on talking with a single “mh”. But she did not talk. Drex: You wanted to transfer anyway, didn't you? Now you don't have to worry about the opinion of your commander. Baudin: I've been offered to lead a research project on MH64222. Drex: Leading a project? That's great! :: His enthusiasm faded in a second :: Wait! Where is MH64222? Baudin: Very far away from the Aavaro Wilds. :: She murmured :: They remained silent, pondering the meaning of that transfer. Dominique prepared two filters and filled them with dried herbs. She never looked at the Denobulan sitting on the other side of the table. So was that it? Was she leaving him? Drex shook his head, dismissing the thought. To leave someone, you had to be together first, and they had agreed that they would not go beyond sporadic meetings when their schedules allowed. Her moving away only meant that the possibilities would be reduced. Drastically. oO You don't love her, you've only got used to her. Oo That wasn't entirely true. He didn't love her the way he knew he could love, but he had let her through his armor. Her announcement had made his stomach churn and created a heaviness in his chest. Baudin: I’m… Drex: There have been rumours in the last days on Denali. He interrupted her before she could say anything else, whether it was an apology, or the confirmation that she had already accepted the assignment. Baudin: What kind of rumors? Drex picked up his cup, watching the wisps of smoke rising from the surface, and inhaled the spicy cinnamon scent. Drex: Many kinds, as on every unit. But the most interesting is the Commodore’s upcoming retirement. I don’t know if it is true, but I know what I see on Dark Denali and it would not surprise me if she’d decide to give up her career for that woman. Baudin: And… What would this have to do with us? She had finally looked up at him again. Drex shrugged. It was curious she had used the word us and he did not forget to notice it. He put the cup down without drinking. Although he liked the smell, he wasn't as enthusiastic about the taste and temperature of that broth. Drex: Maybe nothing, maybe everything. As I'm sure you're aware, a change at the top can lead to some pretty big changes. I could… It was her time to interrupt him. Baudin: I know you love Denali. I remember how happy you were when you got the assignment to the Ring when we graduated. You need that place as much as I need to accept the offer they did to me. She pushed back her chair and stood up and walked around the table to get to him. Drex followed her every move and when she stopped behind him, he let her lean over him and hug him from behind. Baudin: We've always agreed, right? Never serve on the same unit. Drex rested his right hand on the fold of her arms. Drex: We agree. That one rule was the reason their unique relationship worked. They were both young and the project will come to an end sooner or later. They had found a way to meet regularly over the past year, they would in the future. He just had to figure out where this planet, or satellite, or alien station was. If the fleet was sending her there, they would send ships and shuttles every now and then, he just had to find out when. The uncomfortable feeling in his chest and stomach didn't go away, but it seemed to have at least eased. Baudin: We have two days before we have to leave. And you promised me too much to sit here and brood over. NT / END ============ Lieutenant Drex Science Officer Denali Station D240011D14

Absolutely loved this! ❤️ ((Wes Greaves’s Quarters, Deck 12, USS Octavia E. Butler)) The moment Wes stepped through the door, the silence hit him. For the first time since reporting aboard the Butler, he had a chance to stop and breathe. The quarters were large by Starfleet standards, but compared to the spacious accommodations he’d enjoyed during his assignment on Earth, they felt downright cramped. Still, they were functional. A desk, a small sitting area, and a viewport offering a glimpse of the stars streaking by at warp—all the essentials were there. On the floor near the bed sat his duffel bag, standard issue and well-worn from years of use. Beside it was a small cargo pallet, a single stack of neatly secured crates that had been transferred from the cargo bay. These contained the rest of his belongings: mementos, tools, and personal effects that wouldn’t fit in the duffel. Wes took a moment to survey the room, his eyes lingering on the bare walls. They were impersonal, almost clinical, and felt more like a temporary billet than the sanctuaries he’d created aboard the USS Thor or the USS ‘Oumuamua. Those ships had been his homes in a way that few other places ever could be. The camaraderie of the crew, the sense of shared purpose, and the memories of countless missions all seemed to echo within those spaces. Compared to those warm memories, this room felt hollow, though he knew it would take shape over time. For a brief moment, he thought of the Cascades back on Earth, the towering evergreens and misty mornings tugging at him with a pang of nostalgia he quickly set aside. “Time to get this place in order,” he muttered to himself, stepping over to the pallet and releasing the securing straps. The first item he unpacked was a small, carved model of a starship—a simple but detailed recreation of the USS Thor. He’d had it commissioned during his time on Earth, painstakingly ensuring every detail matched his memory of the ship that had been such a significant part of his life. The lacquered wood caught the dim light of the room, its sleek lines evoking memories of missions that had defined his career. Wes placed it carefully on the desk, adjusting it until it faced the door, a quiet nod to the ship and the crew that had been his home for so long. Next came a small, weathered journal. Its leather cover bore the scuffs of frequent use, and the edges of the pages were slightly frayed. Inside were entries written by his great grandfather, detailing his time as a combat engineer during the Earth-Romulan War. Wes thumbed through the pages briefly before placing it reverently on the shelf above the desk. The journal reminded him of the lineage of service he was part of—a lineage that stretched back generations, rooted in dedication and resilience. A box containing a set of holophotos followed. He pulled out a few—a snapshot of his family during a hike in the Cascades, a candid shot of the Marine detachment on Duronis II, and one of Private Paul Newson. The latter gave him pause. Wes stared at the image for a long moment, memories of that tragic mission flooding back. Paul’s sacrifice had been a turning point for him, shaping his approach to leadership and responsibility. With a deep breath, Wes placed the photo beside the model of the USS Thor, a tribute to a fallen comrade. The last crate held practical items: tools for field repairs, a portable holo-emitter loaded with outdoor scenes, and a compact hydroponic kit. The kit, a small indulgence, contained a fern native to the Pacific Northwest. He’d grown it from a clipping taken six months ago, and its presence here was a quiet reminder of the forests he loved. The fern was more than just a plant; it was a piece of home he could carry with him, a living connection to Earth. As he worked, Wes couldn’t help but reflect on the journey that had brought him to this point. From his days as a young enlisted Marine to his current role as Marine Detachment Commander, the path had been anything but linear. The challenges, the losses, and the victories—all of it had shaped him, reaffirming his confidence in returning to a role he knew well and genuinely enjoyed. Serving as a detachment commander was second nature to him, a position that felt like coming home to a familiar and fulfilling purpose. He moved to the viewport and stared out at the stars, their light unchanging and indifferent. The transition from Earth to the Butler wasn’t just about adapting to smaller quarters. It was about embracing the unpredictability of life aboard a starship, where every day brought new challenges and opportunities. He allowed himself a moment to wonder about the crew he’d come to know, the missions that lay ahead, and the bonds that would inevitably form. There was a certain excitement in the unknown—a sense of purpose that could only be found out here, among the stars. Turning back to the desk, Wes picked up his datapad and brought up the Butler’s recent mission logs. His role wasn’t just about commanding the Marines; it was about ensuring they were ready for anything. He began drafting training schedules and brainstorming ways to integrate his team with the Starfleet crew. Cooperation would be key, as it always was. As he worked, Wes’s thoughts wandered to the Marines under his command. Some were seasoned, with years of experience etched into their confident stances and sharp movements, while others were fresh out of the academy, their eagerness tempered by uncertainty. It was his job to shape them into a cohesive unit, to instill the discipline and camaraderie that had been the hallmark of every detachment he’d led. He relished the challenge—this was the work that felt most meaningful to him. The datapad buzzed softly in his hand, a reminder to check in with the ship’s department heads. He made a mental note to schedule a meeting soon. Understanding the Butler’s overall mission parameters and establishing strong inter-departmental relationships would be critical. The Marines didn’t operate in a vacuum, and Wes knew from experience that success often hinged on how well the entire crew could collaborate under pressure. He set the datapad down and glanced around the room. The walls still looked bare, but they didn’t feel quite so sterile anymore. The model of the Thor, the photos, the fern—each item was a piece of a story, fragments of a life lived in service and adventure. It wasn’t home yet, but it was getting there. And for now, that was enough.

I think all of us know this feeling. When you have an idea and start something, hoping the rest of the crew likes it. And some people join in, others don't, some give great contributions and others... Well, other's like @Lyara Alroyo just take it to the next level. Literally. Very well played Isa, I never expected it to be this good and I have to share it her so everyone can see.

I chuckled a few times during this sim, so better to share all of it than just standalone quotes. Standish fumbles over his words whilst enjoying a drink with Tahna Meru, and it's so endearingly funny (and well written!). @Russell Standish has been with us now for a few months, and it's been a joy to see both Mike and the character Standish meld in with the ship over time. Ensign Russell Standish -- Smoking Leaves

About six months ago, Lhandon and Toxin had a falling out in an explosive argument that the entire ship felt. This was partly caused by Henri, a being that serves as the computer for both Alpha Brenkelvi II and the OEB. Now, it’s Christmas Day, and the two are discussing what happened, with emotions finally coming to the surface. I want to highlight something incredible that @Toxin Arlill (Erik) has done here. Not only has he set me up to write some of the most gut-wrenching sims I’ve created since joining, but he’s also avoided taking the easy route with this story. Erik could have easily made Toxin the villain of Lhandon’s story and gone for a cliche story but instead, he’s shown that Toxin isn’t the villain, nor is Henri. They’re just two individuals who made the wrong choices and, in doing so, hurt the one person who would have helped them without question: the person Toxin called a brother. Toxin and Lhandon’s are experiencing pain, miscommunication, and regret, yet their confrontation feels authentic. Toxin isn’t a villain, and Lhandon isn’t blameless—they’re just two people trying to navigate the wreckage of their relationship. Very few simmers can pull this off as well as Erik has, and even fewer could have seen it through without bailing early.

Tom decided to let everyone sit on edge waiting Lhandon's response to the long overdue apology from Toxin and Henri. I initially was going to highlight just his end quote but the entire thread deserves feature due to the emotionally satisfying and relatability in the debate is an apology enough sometimes? He brilliantly ties in his placement in the storyline with Morro and his need for an apology, reflecting if that would ever be enough. @Lhandon_Nilsen@Toxin Arlill You two have done amazing work on this. Toxin's character work as someone who was influenced by Henri who was in self preservation, who had to live years without his crew post mission and has had a realization of whats important and trying to get back his best friend has been wonderful. Bravo~

I love these. I love how some of our fellow writers write off script characters, or animals. Even what is suppose to be lifeless, like a Space station or Space itself. We have a long tradition in this, one of the best sims I read was way back when I was fairly new, and it was from the perspective of Ops. There was also a frog, if I remember correctly, and a probe, or was it a torpedo? Forgive me but the amount of awesome writing, in what ever shape it happens, is such that I can't recall all the amazing things I read over the years. And we have one more side "character" or "would be pet". So keeping in the tradition of bringing more than Characters to life, here is Wormie. All thanks to the talented @Jovenan

What a joy it was to read this today! @Arturo Maxwell Merry Christmas everyone!!!!

So. Wow. What an powerful JP from @Kimonzi Lahl and @Morro Caras. I normally make some kind of comment about my appreciation posts but today, I'd like to let this JP stand on it's own and encourage you to take the time to read it.

It's official: the Butler is the hottest ship in the fleet! I love shore leave—not just because it offers a change of pace but also because we get to see the crew just being people. Regular people with personal lives, goals, and a love of gossip. Believe me when I say this sim lit up our Discord channel! When you read this sim, pour yourself a glass of wine (or your preferred beverage) and indulge in the gossip with @Jania Nis and @Sevantha talking about boys, family, and clothes.

Look, @Leenaya Edrei is a good writer and @LCDR Aine O. Sherlock is about to fire her. Very rude. Not demure. (( Sickbay, Deck 10, USS Chin'toka )) Sherlock: It's about the mission. I ::beat:: think we should talk about it. Edrei: Oh, the mission? Of course. Has this anything to do about the triage protocol we put in place? She’d thought it was pretty good, even though being cut off from the transporters had made their task harder, and they always could get better. But even still, everything had worked as it was supposed to. Sherlock: Uh ::beat:: no. That was fine. This was to do with casualties. Or was it about the paperwork? Oh no, she was late on that task. Edrei: ::pointing to her PADD:: I’m still working on the report. The number of wounded we took care of is through the roof. Sherlock: I'm all too familiar with those kinds or reports. Sometimes they seem never ending. She stayed focused on the mission’s logistics, completely missing the weight behind Sherlock’s words. Edrei: I totally underestimated the amount of paperwork. But it’ll be done soon, I promise. Sherlock: That's ::beat:: good. But I'm here to talk about a specific casualty. Edrei: Of course. Who? Sherlock: In Doctor Kel's report, he mentioned the guy we found. And that he didn't make it… Oh no… How had she not seen this coming? Edrei: Um… yes? What about him? She tried to hide her nervousness as best she could. She didn’t need her First Officer to know just how badly she’d failed as a doctor. Sherlock: I'm trying to say ::beat:: I guess… She paused, stressing Lee out. Sherlock taking in a deep breath like that was clearly the sign that she had something important to tell her. Was she about to get discharged from Starfleet for letting a man die on her second mission? No, no, that was irrational, they wouldn’t do that. …But would they? Maybe they’d found that she could have done more, and- Sherlock: Let's go get some coffee. ::gesturing to the steaming mug:: A better cup of coffee. I'll probably be more articulate in a more comfortable setting. She nodded uneasily, biting her lip. She really couldn't say where this discussion was going (except leading toward her being fired), but she didn’t like it very much at the moment. Edrei: Um, sure. Lead the way, Commander. (( Brew Continuum, Deck 10, USS Chin’toka )) The walk to the Brew Continuum wasn’t long, but somehow it helped Lee relax—at least a little. If she really was getting discharged it surely wouldn’t happen there. She would have been called into Sherlock’s office instead, right? Still, the anxiety gnawed at her, especially when she noticed how quiet the lounge was. While she was relieved she wouldn’t be fired in front of the whole crew, she couldn’t help but dread the idea of it happening here, in this almost empty, too-intimate setting. They sat at an empty table before placing their orders. Lee considered getting another coffee, but given the amount she’d already drunk in the last few hours and her racing heart, she settled for some jasmin tea and hasperat instead. Edrei: My best friend at the Academy and I, we used to eat this weekly. Jasmin tea is my favourite, and she made one hell of a hasperat. She mentally cringed. Here she was, spilling her life story to her soon-to-be former First Officer, who likely had no interest in it and was probably just waiting for the right moment to inform her she’d be off the ship at the next stop. Being dismissed after only two missions, that was likely a new record. The absolute shame. Sherlock: Response She couldn’t stand the oppressive silence any longer, and she took a deep breath before asking the dreaded question. Edrei: I’m getting fired, aren’t I? I mean, it makes sense. He didn’t make it, and I’m the one responsible. Maybe I’m just not cut out to be here. But I really didn’t want to let everyone down, I promise, and- Sherlock: Response Interrupted in her ramble, she looked at Sherlock in shock, not believing what she just said. Edrei: Wait, I… I’m not? What do you mean I’m not fired? Sherlock: Response Tags/TBC

Really enjoy the scene setting here; great descriptive text and really gets me inside the mindset of what counselors think during their first app @Sevantha!

Melissa did a fantastic job bringing this MSNPC to life!!! (( The Brig, Deck 11, USS Chin’toka )) Hwi, kre, sei. Haeiul. Mne, rhi, fve. Haeiul. Lli, the, lhi. Haeiul. Dha, dha’hwi, dha’kre. Haeiul. 1 Twelve steps brought her around the perimeter of her cell and back to the beginning. She had scoured every inch of the gleaming space for some sort of weakness, and her elation at having found a loose panel had been immediately dashed when it turned out to just be a toilet. She had even tried to crawl behind the toilet - a highly embarrassing maneuver that had no doubt amused the Starfleet security guards immensely. Conjuring the delightful sound of the gurgling they would make when she slit their throats brought a smile to her face. Her pacing stilled as she walked into the brig. The captain. Serala. She studied the painfully generic beauty of the woman’s face, the milquetoast ridges barely visible on her brow. It was one and the same with the picture she’d seen in the file on the region - that was her alright. She stared daggers at Serala. If looks could kill Serala would a pincushion of daggers. She really wished that insipid little Vulcan who hadn’t fallen for her attempts to cast suspicion on the station commander hadn’t stolen hers. She would sink it so far into… Serala: Lieutenant McGillian. Where were you planning to begin? McGillian: I’d like to start with the one that tried to kill me. Of course the stupid Rodulan who had no right to still be alive would interrogate her. She internally rolled her eyes since her physical ones were too busy trying to bore a hole through Serala’s head. Serala: Excellent. I will let you take the lead. I just wanted to be present for this. McGillian: I’ll get what I can out of them. He wouldn’t be getting hnaev 2 out of her. Not willingly anyway. She tore her gaze away from Serala with a look of disgust and went to lean against the wall of her cell, arms crossed. Eventually the black-eyed man approached. McGillian: :: To Sheri :: I’d offer you something to drink, but I’m not exactly sure you wouldn’t try to kill me or one of my crew with the cup. Her eyes flicked to the voids that were his so-called eyes, and she pushed herself off the wall with a sensuous upward roll of her torso. A smile spread slowly across her face, both predatory and seductive. She got very close to the force field and cocked her head. Sheri: ::sultry:: They make good blunt force weapons… or a shiv, depending on what it’s made from… or I could shove it down your throat… ::giggles lowly and grins:: How are those ribs, baby boy? McGillian: Better, now that they're out of your reach. Would you care to make this easy on everyone and just tell us why you infiltrated Deep Space Twenty Six? She tutted and waggled a finger at him, making a chiding noise. Sheri: Now why would I do a thing like that? McGillian: You tell me. She laughed that low, husky giggle again. Her head fell to the side, looking up at him from beneath her lashes and grinned. Sheri: You’re going to have to try better than that, baby boy. McGillian: You know honesty is the best policy. I know that’s hard for you to believe. ::gestures to Serala:: The Captain has had no qualms in putting down her deceptive nature. The smile faltered from her face when she glanced where he gestured at Serala, replaced by one of narrow-eyed calculation. She licked her lips and then turned away, leaning in even closer to speak in hushed tones. Sheri: ::speaking softly:: Your captain is a filthy. Half blood. Race traitor. ::with disgust:: She has no mnhei'sahe 3, so of course she has no qualms. Serala: Response? Sheri: ::yelling:: You heard me! And what are you going to do about it? You can’t hurt me. Your precious Federation won’t allow it! Serala/McGillian: response -- 1: "One, two, three Turn. "Four, five, six. Turn. "Seven, eight, nine. Turn. "Ten, eleven, twelve. Turn." 2: sh*t 3: Romulan honor -- “Sheri” if that is her real name A spy who definitely does not work for any organization directly as simmed by… -- Lieutenant T'Ama Chief of Operations USS Chin'toka C240004T11

I'm not crying, you are. Last week, I highlighted one of @Morro Caras sims where Morro learned that his sister had abused him while they were growing up together, and today that scene has reached its conclusion. It is my opinion that Vio is one of the fleet’s best simmers. He has an uncanny ability to show us what Morro is feeling and experiencing, weaving his prose and narrative into a truly amazing tapestry that makes every sim an absolute joy to read. He can make you laugh—and now, he can make you cry. Over the past two weeks, he has dared to explore the consequences of Morro being used, abused, and manipulated by his own sister in a way that was smart, sensitive and tasteful. The scenes in the link below mark the start of Morro's realization, as we see him coming to terms with what he has learned and the anger he feels. Vio did not once flinch while writing this scene, and it was an honor to help him bring it to life. https://groups.google.com/u/1/g/sb118-butler/search?q=gymnasium%2C%20deck%205%2C%20uss%20octavia%20e%20butler%20after%3A2024-12-03%20before%3A2024-12-18

I could feel the level of vitriol that @TAma put into this MSNPC that was caught and is sitting in the Chin'toka's freshly repaired brig.

(( Flashback - Casperia Prime, Nantahala Valley, Semara Family Home )) Hereditary factors in relative telepathic capability had been perceived far before Betazoids even conceived of genomics. For evidence, one needed look no further than the early formation of class and family structures very early in Betazoid societal development along the lines of telepathic prowess. While certainly not entirely determined by lineage, the likelihood of having strong empathic senses was high when born to two parents with acute capabilities. Amelia was hardly an exception. Even though no one in at least three generations knew exactly how the Semara matriarchal line connected to the great houses of Betazed (consulting the family tree was considered too time consuming, and privately thought too potentially disappointing), she displayed an early aptitude that was considered proof enough she descended from a long line that had once claimed to be touched by one of the goddesses themselves. Even more than any land or titles, that was her inheritance. As any Betazoid parent knew, while empathic abilities didn't manifest right at birth (something that allowed infants to form a sense of identity), it could begin to form as soon as a child began learning to speak, even if full telepathy typically waited for adolescence. This was not without problems. It was not long after Amelia learned her first words when her pale green eyes began to be stained a few shades darker by the first production of the various neurochemicals that allowed perception of the psychic world around her. The tiny, precious knee-high blonde quickly discovered she could totter around her family home and babble and butcher the very silliest words she knew at the nearest adult and she'd win the happy roller-coaster rush of feeling that accompanied the music of laughter. The complication came when she said the wrong thing to the wrong adult. It happened when some unremembered Human dignitary had come to stay and experience the snowy, ring-framed mountain majesty of Casperia in the company of her family. She was far too young to understand what exactly was happening or why between her family and the man, but she could perceive the rank stomach acid of tension wafting in the air easily enough. And she knew enough to not like it. So she decided to take matters into her own little pudgy hands, and she knew exactly how to do it. One evening, when the tension was particularly chunky, she tugged on the pant-leg of the guest, gave her biggest smile, and started babbling. She didn't know precisely what she was saying but it hadn't mattered before. If she could just get the man to laugh it would all be okay, she thought. But the sound and feeling never came. So she persisted - until a whip-crack of needle-sharp fire poured out with a shout from the man. Amelia reeled back, uneven legs failing under her in the intensity of novel, painful feeling. She started bawling an instant later. It took her mama quite a bit of hugging and no small number of tissues to dry the crying that ensued. Even hours later into the bright ring-lit night, after numerous attempts to explain to Amelia what had happened and why, peace and sleep still eluded the tiny Betazoid who was only beginning to grasp how to communicate. Eventually, her daddy took the night shift watching after her as the third moon was skimming the arc of the rings overhead. Little Amelia had nestled herself against his comforting, solid frame which had brought quiet so many times before, but still sleep stayed far-off. Then his chest began to vibrate as his voice seemed to softly lift her up. She couldn't quite grasp the meaning of the words when he started singing, but she felt the shape of the melody inside her unwinding the events of the day. It was a song of water: remembering the cold rains it rose from and the hot springs it joined. As she washed downstream, she passed rock and mud and dallied in pools and fens. Even as she tumbled and gathered into a great slow river, she never forgot where she came from, but still she pressed onward, ever toward the sea. As the song of the sea rocked ancient sailors to sleep, Amelia finally nodded off. (( Present Day - USS Khitomer, Deck 1, Bridge )) Semara: Any of y'all ever seen two barn cats play rough? :: silence :: Eridani hasn't actually done much damage to Khitomer. Hasn't even hit much. And we haven't fired back. Maybe we are communicating already. Perhaps we're meant to fire back with equally bad aim? For that matter, there's plenty of species with rather aggressive mating practices. Klingons, for instance. If you thought you were a starship, sending over an away party could be viewed as an attempt to procreate. No matter the intent, I do believe the phrase "actions speak louder than words" applies here. Captain Shayne seemed to take a moment to process the latest theory, his creased brown eyes expressing a quiet desire to un-hear what had just been said. It was odd - for a fleeting moment just before, Amelia could have sworn she had sensed an emotional smell of a sweaty men's locker room coming from the Captain... Where had she felt that before? A non-sequitur memory of going skinny-dipping with mixed company in college flashed in her mind's eye. It didn't make sense. No one was even slightly undressed on the bridge. A torpedo floated by, interrupting the temptation to focus on the minute psychic flickerings on the bridge. Jacin: That’s a big gamble to take with the lives of the away team. We’ve no idea if that theory is correct and if we take offensive action logically it will retaliate. Amelia shrugged in acceptance. It was entirely true she couldn't prove the theory. Then again, in the study of biology it was exceptionally hard to prove anything. She had to admit her recent yearlong study had colored her perspective, and that she'd need to adjust her thinking in moments of urgency like these. There simply wouldn't be time and opportunity to perform rigorous trials with several independent variables and tens of trials and re-trials to find out what actually worked. Amelia didn't believe her theory had been improperly offered, but she noted the different perspective anyway for future use. MacKenna: Response Jacin: If we take offensive action it is going to be difficult to come back from that without a fight. All I’m saying is that perhaps we should try talking to it before we open fire. The away team is in danger. Let’s not make them more so. The Captain vibrated, "no" in form and feeling. Shayne: Lieutenant, you’ve got a good point. But it’s not allowing us to talk to it. Jamming communications is an act of aggression, no matter the motivation. It’s got our people, and it’s an active danger to them. I’m not saying we have to blow her to smithereens, but a firm, gentle flick on the hindquarters is in order. Amelia felt herself waiver. The Captain was very close to coming around to the way of thinking that she'd just proposed, but she felt something inside the Lieutenant that was even more persuasive than the words she was using. The Captain turned to the intelligence officer. Shayne: Unless the prefix codes are still a possibility. MacKenna: Response That didn't sound promising for the here and now. Jacin: Virtually all of what we are dealing here is based on conjecture. We don’t actually know for sure what has happened and why. Michaels: There is somewhat more than simple conjecture. But there is no shortage to assumptions within our thinking. ::beat:: Another big mental red X from the Captain. Amelia could feel the rising tide of overload tightening around everyone. Perhaps it was time to focus on the basics. Semara: How 'bout we keep it simple, then? What's the most obvious thing we can dowithout escalating if talkin' proper ain't an option? MacKenna: Response Shayne: We lower the shields, we get our people back. Then we can deal with the Eridani from the upper hand. Jacin: Right but that’s a risk. Shouldn’t our immediate concern be to stop the Eridani’s erratic behaviour? This Lieutenant Jacin was certainly nothing if not persistent. Amelia reinforced her first impression of the Bajoran-looking woman: there was a hearthfire of hot passion and belief inside of her. Experiencing the interplay in point-and-counterpoint was fascinating, but Amelia wasn't positive everyone on the bridge was enjoying the educational experience as much as she was. Shayne: If we had the means to, certainly. But we don’t yet. Something far more involved is going on over there- I’m becoming more and more convinced that we are dealing with something of a skinwalker. For the moment, stopping it means either killing it, or incapacitating it and we just don’t know how yet. MacKenna:Response Jacin: Something terrible happened not only on that ship but to it. If it is sentient, then we should treat it like we we treat any frightened and antagonistic life form. Amelia had a knack to trust her instincts about a problem, but she knew positively when to trust someone else's instead. In this case, there was a lurking, toothy sea creature of fresh experience sending ripples across the Lieutenant's interpretation of events. It was as if Jacin had identified something of herself in the Starship's behavior on a primal level that went beyond instrumentation and observation. The power of her assertion was irrefutable. She made up her mind. The counselor was most likely right. Semara: I agree. But ya can't exactly talk down a screamin' toddler. Michaels: Communication is a near zero risk approach that should not be ignored. The question then, as the Captain said, is how do we get through to something that is, as Lt Jacin put it, afraid of us, views biological lifeforms as a lethal threat, and is jamming our communications. Amelia put her focus back on Shayne, determined to glean any insight she could from how the rather remarkable CO came to a decision. The struggle inside him was a rather muscular wrestling match, and equally smelly to her empathic senses. Michaels: Jamming may make Eridani deaf but it does not make her blind. We use a beam of light so weak it can not be mistaken for a weapon. We send a short message to Eridani in Morsex code and we put it on a repeating loop. Eridani will eventually recognize it was communications. It will eventually find Morsex decryption in her databanks and decrypt our message. Our message could be something like "We mean no harm. Respond if you understand.." Of course! Why hadn't she thought of that? Plenty of creatures communicated via light rather than sound or thought. Shayne: Ensigns Semara and Michaels- configure our running lights to transmit the first ten numbers in the Fibonacci Sequence. Amelia beamed, proud her captain had already thought of the point she was going to raise. Morse was rhythmic - which was good - but there was no guarantee the receiver would understand the letter-encoding, let alone the meaning of words they turned into. Whoever or whatever controlled Eridani hadn't read enough of the databanks to figure out how to shoot straight, so it seemed too much to hope it would figure out how to talk in the coming seconds. She set to work, a rush of excitement and anticipation energizing her panel-pushing. Semara: Aye, sir. Michaels: Response Jacin/MacKenna: Response Shayne: Pulling alongside her. To the Captain's credit, he skillfully piloted the Khitomer alongside in a motion that was smooth but assertive. Clearly a master at work. In the side-on view of Eridani, the running lights low in view had started to flick on and off in the steepening staircase pattern of the Fibonacci Sequence. Jacin/MacKenna: Response Shayne: Old Earth aircraft would intercept suspicious and non-communicative planes like this. Pull up alongside, give them a wiggle with the wings. If the plane wiggled back, they’d be escorted to a landing strip nearby. oO Weird what non-empaths come up with to know what the other wants... Oo The thought came unbidden, but it reached a place in her when her empathic senses hadn't yet fully formed. She supposed a species had to come up with something. Hers had, but it was traditionally reserved for children. Several tense moments passed while the tangential thought played out in the back of her mind. The wait to see what happened had a similar feeling to sitting ravenously hungry in front of a feast after an all-day hike but being unable to eat until everyone else sat down. Nothing happened.... No, nothing happened! Semara: Sir! Eridani stopped shooting! :: Turning to Michaels, beaming. :: Any change in power levels? Well, it stopped shooting for now. Who knew when it would start again? Either way, the Ensign's idea had been good enough to get somewhere. Michaels: Response Amelia cast her dark eyes back at the viewscreen. For some reason, a distant memory combined with the rocking motion of the Khitomer and the Vulcan Ensign's idea about using running lights to recall an old childhood memory she hadn't remembered in a long time. But she still remembered the song sung to her many times. An idea came together in a flash of inspiration, but she'd need help. Semara: ::Speaking excitedly to her peer. :: Do we have any specs on Constellation-class sensors? Michaels/MacKenna: Response That was exactly what she needed to know. Semara: Captain, Lieutenant - What if we tried a lullaby? That's nice and relaxing. Starships are real sensitive to light wavelengths. Have to be for lookin' at the composition of stars and planetary atmospheres and everything in between. A song ain't nothin' but a bunch of timed wave patterns and harmonics. If we encoded the waves as light frequencies Eridanican see - infrared through UV - we could make Khitomer sing. Could even rock - sorry, wiggle, sir - to the beat. Jacin/Shayne/Michaels/MacKenna: Response Semara: Sure it's a shot in the dark, but we got a simple response to a simple tactic. Might try something a bit fancier. Even if Eridani's just plain confused, it gives us time. And I know just the tune to hum... Amelia was already calling up the music from the database, adjusting it to the version she remembered, and sequencing a series of commands for the exterior lights. If it wasn't ordered, she could delete the program, but she'd rather be ready. She genuinely hoped there was still some wisdom left to Old Woman Water, and that whatever being on Eridani found the ancient lullaby as soothing as she once had. Tag/TBC... Ensign Amelia Magnolia Semara Science Officer USS Khitomer - NCC-62400 A239710MA0