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Found 271 results

  1. (( USS Blackwell, Deck 2, Conference Room 1 )) ::The conference room steadily filled with officers as the scheduled time for the meetings crept closer. So many changes had taken place on Blackwell in the recent past, and the new makeup of her senior staff featured a true mix of familiar and new faces.:: ::Some of them, like Shayne, Rhyn, and R'Ven, Didrik had known for some time. He wondered how Shayne was coping with the recent reassignment of Isabel Pond, with whom he'd had a significant relationship and even shared living space, and thought it might be wise to look in after him when the time was mutually right. The thought of Pond, Logan, and Brell, having relocated for new adventures under the latter's command aboard the USS Atlantis, made Didrik a mix of happy and sad. He was pleased that the Bolian CO was moving forward in his career and having new adventures on a ship of his own, but he was dismayed at how he himself had left things; Didrik had put off a proper apology for too long, and now he missed his chance.:: ::The room reached near capacity, and Didrik presumed the meeting ought to begin any moment now. Once the Captain seemed satisfied that anyone who would be in attendance had arrived, he claim the room's attention and began.:: Zaekia: Alright. Thank you all for attending. I appreciate we’ve all just been through quite the ordeal but we need answers. We need to know this vessel is fit for purpose and won’t let us down again like it has here today. ::Didrik didn't know much about Kalean cultural practices, but if Zaekia were human, Didrik might have ascribed an accusatory tone to the captain's words, as if the real culprit was not the ship, but rather one of them in the room. ‘Who stole the cookies from the cookie jar? Who me? Yes, you. Couldn’t be. Then, who?’ It was equally likely, however, that Didrik was just projecting his own thoughts onto Zaekia's words. He did his best to suspend his own judgment until everyone in the room had had his or her say.:: R’Ven: Yes Captain. To that end I have had each of the department chiefs compile reports of the current state of their department and how it applies to the current state of the ship. Zaekia: Engineering, let’s start with you. How bad is the damage and how long will it take us to complete repairs? ::Didrik was not a skilled engineer; in fact, he had always scored below average in engineering aptitude, but today, he was very interested to hear what Blackwell's engineers had to say about the near-breach of the ship's warp core. A core breach is a death sentence for anyone unlucky enough to be within a few kilometers of one, and the story of how Blackwell had come mere seconds to utter destruction, only to miraculously recover, was a story Didrik was eager to hear.:: Yesna: The damage is not as bad as first thought engines can be back up within the next couple of hours and the deflector will take around five hours to get it back up and running, but when we do return to a space dock I would recommend a full replacement. The power systems will need a few tweaks and bypass as we fix the dish. We could do all this with the help of the Consortium within 12 hours and we can be underway again. Zaekia: I know but we need their help, Admiral. ::Didrik recognized the non-sequitur immediately. It wasn't just the out-of-place bit of conversation, it was the captain's whole demeanor, as if he were having a conversation with someone half verbally, half telepathically, lost the ability to distinguish the two. He saw the same thing happening between Dr. G'Renn and Counselor Sindrana down in Sickbay, and Didrik it seemed Zaekia and Renos were now entangled in a similar thing.:: Zaekia: ::Clearing his throat and turning slightly deeper blue about the cheeks:: Sorry. Alright, let’s move on. I think we have a pretty good sense of where the ship is at right now and what sort of repairs timeline we’re looking at. Thank you Ensign Yesna. How are things going with regards to the investigation into what happened? Shayne: Sirs, so far, the results of the investigation regarding the difficulties at the helm are...less than conclusive. We’ve looked at mechanical fault of all kinds. We’ve even... We’ve even considered pilot error. So far, nothing has turned up. But I’ve got a team on it- they’re going to look until they find the problem. ::As an ex-helm officer himself, Didrik knew that there existed a special bond among those Starfleet officers lucky enough to pilot its vessels across the galaxy. To outsiders, it may seem that starship pilots were cliquish, or uninterested with the workings of the rest of the vessel, but Didrik knew this wasn't true. It's just that most Starfleet pilots considered themselves so unbelievably lucky in a way that non pilots just couldn't understand. It wasn't just flying the ship, it was the privilege of sitting at the head of the bridge and the honor of knowing that no matter where in the universe a ship might go, it is you, the pilot, who gets to take her there. Because of this, Didrik knew that even Shayne's mention of investigating 'pilot error' was delivered reluctantly, and with all the seriousness of a heart attack.:: Thoran: My finding so far concur with Commander Shayne. We have run security sweeps over the main systems and have yet to find anything. R’Ven: Captain, I would like to ask a few question to make the situation a little more clear? Zaekia: Of course, by all means. R’Ven: Thank You. ::Turning his attention to those assembled he posed his first questions:: Commander Shayne, Lieutenant Thoran and Ensign Yesna, your accounts are thorough. Thank you. ::without pause Merrick turned to Yesna:: However to add one additional point. Ensign, I had also asked you to look into any sort of unauthorized access to our systems. Were you able to find anything? Yesna: Yes Sir, There was a strange command-line subroutine in the navigational array, that seemed to be trying to take control of the helm. That was till the dish exploded. R’Ven: And were you able to determine the source? Yesna: Not yet but it was transferred to our systems within the last month. R’Ven: Thank you Ensign I appreciate your efforts in this regard. ::Didrik had only met a handful of Ash'lie in his lifetime, and he found each one as puzzling as the last. When humans were only just beginning to discover agriculture as an alternative to hunting and gathering, the Ash’lie were experiencing a Golden Age of artistic achievement. Millennia beyond humans in nearly every measurable way, it begged the question, why would an Ash’lie choose to spend his time with such ‘primitive’ alien species?:: R’Ven: Commander Shayne, Lietenant Thoran. There was an event that happened on the Atlantis. Is it possible that these events could have been connected? Shayne: ::Murmuring in horror:: Oh, my god. ::A few at the conference table overheard Shayne’s hushed interjection, but no one called attention to it.:: Shayne: When you were chasing that robot on the Atlantis, it was on Deck 6- auxiliary control, correct? Thoran: Correct. Shayne: You said something about it perhaps trying to transmit its data to whoever had designed it. What if you were half right? What if it was transmitting something, but not to its creator? Do you get what I’m saying? ::For his own part, Didrik didn’t get what Shayne was saying. He had never even stepped foot aboard Atlantis, and wasn’t familiar with the events that transpired during the time she and Blackwell had been assigned to work together. Piecing his questions together, however, had Didrik just as worried as others around the table looked. Rogue transmissions from out-of-control robots didn’t sound like something that would just resolve itself.:: Thoran: Rather than transmit the stolen data to its creator, it had instead released some form of signal? ::His brows furrowed in puzzlement.:: Would we or the Atlantis not have detected that? Zaekia: Good question. Tu'Peq: Captain, Commander, if I may? Zaekia: Go ahead Mr Tu’Peq, what’s on your mind? Tu'Peq: The Blackwell and Atlantis has always been in relatively close proximity to each other, on galactic scales. All space-faring vessels vent waste energy into space, in accordance with the laws of thermodynamics. In addition to waste energy from propulsion, waste energy from the power grid is also vented through the same system. If the robot had access to auxiliary control it could have masked its transmissions in the Atlantis's waste energy. It wouldn't be able to travel far but, knowing Starfleet transmission protocols, the Blackwell's power grid would have acted as a magnet for this robot's...virus. ::Phrases like galactic scale, thermodynamics, and waste energy didn’t exactly fill Didrik with a comfort that nothing was wrong. The science officer’s explanation was reasoned, logical, and if it was true, scary. It was the equivalent of the classic human sneeze-handshake method of disease transmission, and if computer viruses were now communicable through space via a starship’s energy field, it wasn’t just Blackwell, or Starfleet, or even the Alpha Quadrant, that would pay the price.:: Rhyn: Response Zaekia: That’s something we’ll examine moving forward. Thank you for your insight. I think this has been a very productive discussion. I’d like to move on now and get an update from medical. ::If medical was going now, Didrik was certain he’d be next. He finished his glass of water and activated his PADD, using a stylus from his pocket to take notes. He listened carefully to Dr. G’Renn as she informed the rest of the senior crew.:: G’Renn: We have already treated a majority of the injuries caused by the damage to the main deflector. At least two dozen injuries of varying degrees of severity. There were a few serious injuries requiring surgical intervention, while most of the injured have already been cleared to return to duty. Thankfully, there were no fatalities. Stennes: oO Thankfully. It could have been so much worse. Oo G’Renn: There is, also a situation that appears to be developing in regards to the telepaths aboard the ship. I believe that Counselor Stennes has assembled a report on the matter. ::Didrik didn’t expect to be given the floor so quickly, and there were a few seconds of awkward silence as he finished scrawling a note on his PADD.:: Stennes: A worrying number of telepathic crewmembers have reported abnormal experiences related to their telepathy. Episodes vary in duration and intensity, and are somewhat eldritch in nature and highly distracting. ::referencing his PADD:: Some have reported hearing voices, re-living memories, and hallucinating. Somewhat more troubling is what appears to be a breakdown in the ability to control one’s telepathic abilities. We’ve had reports of crewmembers ‘overhearing’ each other telepathically and... having difficulty distinguishing between verbal and telepathic communication. ::Didrik spoke the last words gingerly, because it appeared their captain had just had such an episode only moments before. He didn’t want Zaekia thinking he was singling him out.:: Ilsam: Response(s) Zaekia: I have to say that does explain a few things and before you ask, yes I’ll be visiting sickbay directly after this meeting. For now, I’d like to hear a bit more about the details - how do the symptoms develop? How is it transmitted? What is your plan for dealing with it and how can we help? G’Renn: So far the vector of transmission is unknown, and I have so far been less than successful in locating a physiological cause. I wouldn’t want to rule anything out before we study the affliction in greater detail. Ilsam: Response(s) Stennes: There is also anecdotal evidence to suggest that the breakdown in telepathic control, which I spoke about a moment ago, can be exacerbated in moments of extreme stress. During the ship-wide emergency, several of those afflicted experienced significant difficulty in focus while carrying out their duties. ::Didrik didn’t want to ‘rat out’ G’Renn and Sindrana for their telepathic tête-à-têtes in Sickbay and in the convalescent ward, and hoped Zaekia wouldn’t ask to whom in particular Didrik was referring. However, where G’Renn came from a place of wanting to withhold judgment until more could be learned about this mystery, Didrik felt his gut was telling him what he needed to know.:: Zaekia: We’ll ensure you have the resources you need. Here’s the plan - R’Ven, I want you to join Dr G’Renn and Mr Stennes and help them study and understand this virus. We need to eradicate this before anyone has a complete mental breakdown or suffers permanent brain damage. I’ll help in whatever way I can to that end as well. R’Ven: Agreed sir. I will do everything in my power. ::Outwardly, Didrik maintained a professionally neutral expression. Inside, he was worried. Could any of them be trusted to fulfill their duties if push came to shove? Didrik was unaware of the progress R’Ven had made in recovering from his partial assimilation, G’Renn was having telepathic troubles, and Didrik was--:: Stennes: oO Nope, we’re not thinking about that now, Didrik. ::He pushed the thought out of his mind and resolved to find a solution to the crisis with the help of his colleagues’ expertise and professionalism.:: Zaekia: Mr Shayne, head down to engineering with Ms Yesna and Mr Thoran - I want this ship up to spec asap but more than that I want you to investigate this lead we’ve uncovered. If there’s a virus or something infecting our systems I want it purged asap. I understand there was a civilian aboard who pitched in during the crisis as well? Yesna: Yes Sir, A Ms Farnsworth I would like her to help if possible sir? Zaekia: Well we need all hands on this so get her support as well. Shayne: Response Renos: I’ll be heading down to the Burellion capital city of Chloretta to meet with Negrid, an individual we identified at the Consortium HQ as wanting our attention. He has something he’s desperate to tell us, and I believe it related to the Consortium. This could be the big break we’ve been looking for. I’ll be taking Pandorn, Sarjak and Aquilina with me. I don’t want to spook him by approaching with unfamiliar faces. Pandorn: Yes, Admiral. We should be as low profile as we can be though. Sarjak: Response Renos: We’re going to be stuck here for a number of hours while Starfleet and Consortium engineering teams work their magic. We might as well make the best of a bad situation and turn this to our advantage in any way possible. We still have an opportunity to explore, get to know the people of House Larokon, the people of Burellion and how they see themselves. What we learn here today might shape the way we approach diplomatic situations and build a better relationship with the people here in the future. That’s why I would like Mr Wilmer, Rhyn, Illsam and Tu’Peq to head to Chloretta. The cultural museum is said to be the finest in the region. ::Didrik admitted silently that the other team’s assignment sounded a lot more fun his own. Sure, isolating the cause of, subsequently curing, a heretofore unknown malady that affects an ability his people didn’t even possess was fine work if one could get it, but a day trip to a museum sounded... well, cooler.:: Wilmer: Aye Admiral. I’m sure the team and I can dig up all kinds of interesting facts. Zaekia: Please be aware that teams travelling to Burellion outside of HQ property must go by shuttle. Burellion has strict transport regulations and are not in possession or transporter technology. They don’t trust it so you could say it has been effectively banned. ::Didrik pondered Zaekia’s admonition against transporter use within Burellion territory. He wondered if their distrust of the technology, which was based upon converting matter into energy and reconstituting it elsewhere, might have something in common with Tu’Peq’s theory about robotic viruses traveling in waste energy. Didrik scribbled the idea down in his PADD and would bring it up later.:: Zaekia: I really want to personally thank you all for your hard work. These are incredibly high pressure situations and as much as we train and we drill for it, nothing can truly, fully prepare you for the reality of it. Renos: You’ve all performed exceptionally and when you get right down to it, it's because of you and the work of the collective crew that we’re here at all. Zaekia: I’d like to recognise Ensigns Tu’Peq and Yesna in particular, for their exceptional work and dedication. You are both hereby promoted to the rank of Ensign and granted the relevant rights and privileges that go with it. Congratulations. Yesna: Thank you Sir Tu’Peq: Response Pandorn: ::smiling:: Congratulations, you two. Good job. Thoran: Congratulations to you both. Very much deserved. R’Ven: Congratulations Lieutenants Tu’Peq and Yesna. I have had the distinction of working with you both and this is definitely well deserved. Shayne/Anyone: Responses Zaekia: With Commander Rhyn arriving to take up the post of Chief Tactical Officer, Mr Thoran will be able to concentrate specifically on security as the department’s permanent chief. Rhyn: Response Thoran: Thank you Mr Pandorn. Perhaps you would care to give me a heads up? Pandorn: I'll be glad to tell you after this is over. ::grins:: R’Ven/Shayne/Anyone: Responses Zaekia: Thank you everyone. Dismissed. Renos: Thank you captain. Those in my team - grab your away kits and meet me in the shuttlebay. ::Didrik liked Zaekia’s style; it was clever to save the mirth of promotions and crew reassignments to the end, when everyone was already pumped up and ready to take on their respective assignments. It seemed to raise the excitement in the room as the officers filed out of the room; everyone strode into the corridor with as if purpose personified.:: (( USS Blackwell, Deck 2, Corridor outside conference rooms )) ::Didrik timed his movement down the corridor, passing some and allowing others right of way, until he, G’Renn and R’Ven had convened.:: G’Renn: Commander R’Ven, Commander Stennes. While it is practical for temporarily housing those affected, I am afraid that the Convalescent Wards are not very practical as a research area. We could use the Duty Doctor’s Lab in Sickbay, bringing a few patients expressing symptoms at different levels with us as we investigate. R’Ven: That does seem reasonable. ::Craning his head, Merrick turned to stare at Stennes:: What do you think commander? ::Didrik battled with what he was thinking versus what he ought to be saying, and at first, it was a toss-up to see which would arrive on his lips first. By a hair, the more reasonable of the two emerged victorious, and Didrik answered calmly.:: Stennes: I was thinking of the Medical Labs on Deck 23, but your suggestion is better, Doctor. It makes more sense to work out of Sickbay directly. ::Didrik tried to make his sigh of relief as small and unnoticeable as possible. He wondered why was being polite and congenial suddenly so difficult. Actually, he pretended to wonder; he knew the answer, but denial was kindly keeping it from him until he was ready for it.:: G’Renn: Commander ::Turning to look at R’Ven:: It would also be neglectful on my part if I did not mention that the symptoms have begun to affect me as well. R’Ven: I have been told that different individuals have been presenting the illness in different ways. How is your presenting. G’Renn: Response R’Ven: I understand. I thank you for sharing. We will do everything we can to help you. Have you found that it is impacting your ability to work? G’Renn: Response Stennes: My observation of Dr. G’Renn indicated that despite a momentary disorientation during her... episode... she maintained control over her judgment and her faculties throughout. In my opinion, she is fit for duty. ::Didrik was even more flummoxed. Why did that come so easily to him, when just a moment ago, he was in knots about which room on the ship to use? Maybe the irritability and erratic behavior were just momentary blips on his emotional radar and nothing more. He certainly hoped so.:: R’Ven: ::turning to face Zaekia:: Greetings Captain. I have been discussing with Doctor G’Renn and Counselor Zaekia the effect that this virus has had on Doctor’s G’Renn. ::slight tilt of the head:: You are telepathic. Have you noticed any adverse effects? Stennes: oO Well, that’s one way to bring it up. Oo Zaekia: Response ::If the captain were having problems with controlling his telepathy, the entire ship could be in jeopardy. It gave him an idea.:: Stennes: We have collected a great deal of data from our current patients. It may take some time to isolate the cause, but I wonder if we could identify some chemical or biological or physiological changes that accompany one of these telepathic episodes. Zaekia/R’Ven/G’Renn: responses Stennes: If we knew what happens in the body when an episode begins, we might be able to predict when one is coming. Then–with all due respect, of course, Captain–the medical computer could monitor whoever is in command, and should that person suffer an episode, it could transfer command codes automatically to the highest ranking officer who is not afflicted. It’s not a cure, but at least it is a backup plan to keep the ship safe. Zaekia/R’Ven/G’Renn: responses Lt Cmdr Didrik Stennes Counselor USS Blackwell NCC-58999 Andaris Task Force Justin D238804DS0
  2. ((Conference Room 1, USS Blackwell)) R’Ven: Greetings Commander. ::Shayne’s wide eyes jumped off the PADD he was scouring as Merrick spoke to him. When he was but a boy, the mere mention of his name, in any tone or volume of voice, would elicit a serious startle from him. Even if it was expected, he would snap to attention, face taught and body primed to face the non-existent predators. To the present day, he hated roll calls.:: ::He hadn’t meant to ignore the men already in conversation- chit chat and work rarely mixed well, especially for him. Besides, why intrude upon their discussion? Looking up at Merrick, he realized that no matter how often he saw the first officer, he’d likely never get used to those pitch black orbs of flesh. He was never certain if R’Ven was staring at him directly, and though he hated to admit it, it was subconsciously highly uncomfortable. He seemed blind, and visually able, at the same time. It didn’t help that he considered it only polite to bore into his target of attention with those same unsettling eyes.:: ::He afforded a quick, but respectful nod in R’Ven’s direction.:: Shayne: Hello, sir. ::As the door opened with its characteristic swoosh, and diverted the attention of the officers in the room, Shayne returned to his PADD. He’d insisted that damage control reports regarding not just the helm, but the entire effort, be routed to his device. If there was one thing he craved at the moment, it was a clear picture of the entire vessel- every nook, cranny, EPS conduit, relay, isolinear chip, potted plant. Was he becoming paranoid? It was a valid question- indeed, he had now served on not one, not two, but three starships that had suffered critical failures in crucial moments. The first incident dated back years, to 2392. Aboard the Gemini, he had nearly been relieved of his existence when a subspace rift had utterly deprived the Dakota class medium cruiser of power. Ensign Shayne had barely survived an unfortunate encounter with an open shuttlebay hanger- an experience that haunted him to his core even in the present day. The next incident came in the form of a most malicious computer virus, placed in the Darwin’s systems by the treasonous scumbag Iy in a long game of deception. Just when they’d been needed most, the shields had failed. Shayne had done his best in the ensuing close quarters combat, but he knew that without the now-transferred Logan’s excellent weapon’s skills, they would have all been worse off. Looking back, when the action had been taking place, he was caught between painfully excited and indomitably tranquil. It was the following days, weeks and months that had hit him the hardest. To try your best- to send your starship flinging through the stars in maneuvers so complex and deadly and random that they often defied intention- and to still feel countless groaning shudders as weapons fire smashed through the reinforced tritanium, and realizing that every blow was likely the end of the line for some crewman, technician, officer...it was nightmarish.:: ::He trusted the engineers of Starfleet implicitly, but patterns could not be ignored. Or could it be his fault? Was he simply a magnet for this kind of trouble? Would he forever bring bad luck, on whatever ship he served aboard? His imagination was a wild, mad, even dangerous place, where magic could exist, the Chicago Cubs still played, and the Federation hadn’t lost 39 starships at Wolf 359. But he had only craved a concrete answer to a question more once in his life. Not only was his own burning curiosity unstated, but he would now have to pass on that general lack of fulfilment to a captain that needed just the opposite now.:: ::Every few seconds, his screen updated with the findings of the engineering team, and each time he looked at the changes with a tiny surge of hope. Perhaps this report would explain what had gone wrong. Maybe the next one would shed some light on the subject. Each time, though, he was disappointed.:: ::Whether he wished to admit it or not, he was at least somewhat experienced as an officer of Starfleet. He had racked his brains whenever the mission to retrieve the core had allowed it. What could spontaneously cause an entire subsystem to freeze? Past events had taught him that the symptoms most accurately fitted a computer virus of some sort. But that didn’t follow far. The only other time he’d been involved in such a situation, the assailant had been aboard for more than a year. He refused to point fingers at comrades- that sort of thinking would descend them into chaos with dispatch. But as he strained for answers, he kept coming back to the same conclusion. Perhaps it was entirely wrong. He hoped so. He was really getting sick of sabotage.:: ::Another change on the screen, and as with all the others, Shayne looked at it, not expecting anything of interest or benefit at all. After a moment, he squinted and looked closer. Some ensign belowdecks was reporting an EPS conduit that had been locked off, apparently on its own volition. That was not surprising in and of itself- the devices, so crucial to the functionality of the starship, were programmed to lock down should a surge of electro plasma be detected. Such things had occurred all over the ship as a result of Mr. Wilmer’s inventive solution. What was surprising was that it was the only locked down conduit for four decks in either direction. Conduits most often shut down in packs. So why would this lone device be affected? He resolved to keep an even closer eye on the developing reports.:: ::The ambient conversations and semi-constant opening and closing of the doors had melded into the background of his mind, and he did not realize that the meeting was being called to order until he noticed the lack of white noise, and the standing personnel round the table. Shayne immediately joined his colleagues as Zaekia and Renos took their seats.:: Zaekia: Alight. Thank you all for attending. I appreciate we’ve all just been through quite the ordeal but we need answers. We need to know this vessel is fit for purpose and won’t let us down again like it has here today. ::Shayne could feel the bitterness in the CO’s voice, and he wondered if the blue-skinned man was really talking about the crew. Or himself. He doubted it, but the resentment was plain, and who could blame him? How unfair was it that the good-intentioned confidant could not act on the unexpressed feelings of another without looking like a fool?:: R’Ven: Yes Captain. To that end I have had each of the department chiefs compile reports of the current state of their department and how it applies to the current state of the ship. ::At that, the helmsman gave a very small cough and rubbed the back of his neck. He rarely enjoyed speaking in large groups, and almost never enjoyed reporting personally to his superior. But even then, he had something to report. The lack of information here would be painfully conspicuous.:: Zaekia: Engineering, let’s start with you. How bad is the damage and how long will it take us to complete repairs? Yesna: The damage is not as bad as first thought engines can be back up within the next couple of hours and the deflector will take around five hours to get it back up and running, but when we do return to a space dock I would recommend a full replacement. The power systems will need a few tweaks and bypass as we fix the dish. We could do all this with the help of the Consortium within 12 hours and we can be underway again. ::Shayne agreed with the engineer’s assessment, given the reports he continued to receive. However, the mention of Consortium assistance rankled, and for more reason than simply wounded pride. Being towed back to a drydock by a non-Starfleet vessel had stripped him of much of his already. No, his bigger concern was the ongoing investigation. The Consortium, Shayne felt, was highly untrustworthy. After seeing their conduct during the previous mission, he could not help but dislike them. First, their distaste for life was repulsive. And their robots, which had caused more than their fair share of havoc aboard the Atlantis, were provided to the crew by the Consortium. They seemed...disingenuous. Greasy. And very dangerous. True, the tow had been of great help, and Captain Dar, who Shayne had first considered to be a bit of a schmuck, was eventually highly accommodating. But he knew better than to let a single positive experience color his judgement.:: Zaekia: I know but we need their help, Admiral. ::Shayne looked up, confused. It seemed Zaekia was reprising his strange behavior that had first debuted on the bridge before Blackwell had sustained her damage. There, too, he was overheard replying to questions no one had asked. Shayne had inquired about it, but the captain had given every indication that he was perfectly well, and there was a fine line between asking out of concern and doubting the CO’s ability to function. He was careful not to cross that line then, but now, he reconsidered. On the bridge, it had been a little easier to ignore. Now, though, with the entire senior staff hanging onto his words and reactions, it became impossible to hide. Shayne’s eyes flipped to Merrick’s, which, if he was correct, were staring intensely at Zaekia. Good- at least Shayne wasn’t hearing things. But the question was, could the same be said for Zaekia?:: Zaekia: ::Clearing his throat and turning slightly deeper blue about the cheeks:: Sorry. Alright, let’s move on. I think we have a pretty good sense of where the ship is at right now and what sort of repairs timeline we’re looking at. Thank you Ensign Yesna. How are things going with regards to the investigation into what happened? ::Shayne knew that it was his turn to speak. Standing, he cleared his throat.:: Shayne: Sirs, so far, the results of the investigation regarding the difficulties at the helm are...less than conclusive. We’ve looked at mechanical fault of all kinds. We’ve even... ::Here, he gave an apologetic glance over at Wilmer. He hated to say it, but it was a formal report- it was his duty.:: Shayne: oO Forgive me, Nate. Oo Shayne: We’ve even considered pilot error. So far, nothing has turned up. But I’ve got a team on it- they’re going to look until they find the problem. ::In the beginning, they’d had several working theories, each one slightly less likely than the last. But as damage control had made its way through the ship, repairing and reporting, one by one, those possibilities dropped away. It was as frustrating as it was helpful.:: ::He tried to keep a stolid face as he beheld the captain's and admiral’s reaction to the news. This wasn’t a Klingon ship- he wouldn’t be shot for not producing the relevant information, or thrown in the brig. But sometimes, a look of disappointment from someone you admire is worse than any corporal punishment. Thoran then began to speak, and Shayne was grateful to the lieutenant for his timely intervention.:: Thoran: Response(s) ::A pause. Shayne utilized the moment to again check the PADD. It appeared the engineer that had reported the strange EPS conduit was having some difficulty in reopening it. Curious. Though he’d like to know what the problem was, he had more pressing matters to attend to.:: R’Ven: Captain, I would like to ask a few question to make the situation a little more clear? ::Shayne didn’t know which of his thoughts to acknowledge first. Certainly he was not looking forward to more questioning from anyone, but that was a personal failing- one he would overcome by offering whatever information was required. The manner in which R’Ven had asked the question also captured his attention. The executive officer would be exercising his role as the captain’s right-hand man by following up with questions. Maybe he was simply being formal, but Shayne felt there was something more. There was grave respect in Merrick’s bearing. And then it became clear. The opaque-eyed Rodulan was trying to protect an already frazzled Zaekia. Such a subtle attempt to help was his way of letting Zaekia know this was not an attack against his authority, but in fact a protective measure, to take the pressure off his beleaguered superior. He almost smiled in wonder. Human nature in action. Though, since this was taking place between a Kalean and a Rodulan, that term hardly applied. Still, it was fascinating, and most welcome, given the circumstances.:: Zaekia: Response R’Ven: Thank You. ::With a small bow, R’Ven focused back on the officers that remained standing.:: R’Ven: Commander Shayne, Lieutenant Thoran and Ensign Yesna, your accounts are thorough. Thank you. ::without pause Merrick turned to Yesna:: However to add one additional point. Ensign, I had also asked you to look into any sort of unauthorized access to our systems. Were you able to find anything? Yesna: Response ::Shayne’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, though he tried to hide it. As second officer, he no longer had the luxury of appearing dismayed or unsure, no matter how prevalent the feelings might be within him. However, he flicked his gaze about, catching his comrade’s reactions to the news. An unauthorized entry into a system was an enormous deal, and it all but proved that his earlier suspicions had been warranted.:: R’Ven: And were you able to determine the source? ::Shayne listened intently. As Yesna explained, he glanced over at Thoran. This would change the tide of their investigation. At least now they would have a place to base their efforts from.:: Yesna: Response R’Ven: Thank you Ensign I appreciate your efforts in this regard. ::Merrick now turned his never-ending gaze towards Shayne and Thoran. For some reason, even though he’d found the first officer’s eyes exceptionally disconcerting, as he looked back at them now, he realized he didn’t feel quite the same about it. Maybe it was something to do with they eyes themselves- he didn’t see the cornea directed at him. They barely even registered as eyes to him. That, perhaps combined with the fact that Merrick was of slightly lower rank, served to place the helmsman a little more at ease.:: R’Ven: Commander Shayne, Lietenant Thoran. There was an event that happened on the Atlantis. Is it possible that these events could have been connected? ::Shayne froze, mind suddenly leaping a million miles a minute. The memories of that terrible day came flooding back- the robots, springing from their hiding place, the gruesome injuries they imposed on several members of the crew, the subsequent hunt for them. Though he knew better than to underestimate the abilities of the machines, his immediate reaction to R’Ven’s question was “no.” How could there be any relation? The robots had been aboard theAtlantis, and hadn’t had any physical contact with theBlackwell. True, one robot had been found with its probe in a bulkhead, downloading what seemed to be the entirety of the Federation database into its own memory. But, again, how would that connect to theBlackwell?:: ::Unless…:: Shayne: ::Murmuring in horror:: Oh, my god. ::Quickly, he turned to Thoran, realization and terror filling his gaze.:: Shayne: When you were chasing that robot on the Atlantis, it was on Deck 6- auxiliary control, correct? Thoran: response ::The theory was coming together in chunks. It was beautifully insideous.:: Shayne: You said something about it perhaps trying to transmit its data to whoever had designed it. What if you were half right? What if it was transmitting something, but not to its creator? Do you get what I’m saying? ::If his supposition turned out to be in any way true, they were lucky to be alive.:: Thoran: response ::Shayne looked back down at his PADD. The conduit he’d been paying such close attention to was back online- obviously the engineer had finally been successful. But now he had more important matters to consider.:: Zaekia/Renos: Response Rhyn: response Anyone: response Tag/TBC… Lieutenant Commander Randal Shayne Helmsman/Ops Officer/Second Officer USS Blackwell NCC 58999 G239202RS0
  3. @Theo Whittaker (( Starliner Meridia )) (( Time Index: Approximately 10 minutes after Theo leaves the smoking room. )) :: Commander Theo Whittaker had taken his leave of Kasun, Taelon and the newly arrived Ensign Harper, intent on looking for the Zaldan man that had aroused his and the new counsellor's suspicions. He could not get the man's reserved demeanour in the middle of a room of excitable- and irate- passengers. It didn't make sense. His first idea was to ask the computer for information on the location of any Zaldans aboard the civilian starliner- only to find that there were six, three of which were guests- the other three being assigned to the staff. He then refined his search to identify the one Zaldan who had been in the smoking lounge and to give him his present location. Apparently, he was in a holography lab on the far side of the deck. With the information, he had set out in the direction- only he had failed to remember just how large the Meridia was. It was several minutes before he realised he was lost. Standing a cross roads, he looked down each of the three new corridors before him, stumped. oO It's like my first day aboard the station all over again... although without a renegade Starfleet captain trying to start a war with the Romulans... where on earth is this holo-lab? Oo He was about to ask the computer for directions when he heard a faint sound coming from his right. Giving it his full attention, he turned his head and strained to catch a detail that he could identify. It was faint, but melodic... oO Is that... music? Oo. He was half way down the corridor before he had realised he had begun walking again. The melody was growing louder, but with a distinct echo, as though it was being played in a chamber of some kind. Without warning, he shuddered involuntarily as he realised he was growing colder. Rubbing his arms to generate heat, he pressed on, beginning to hear details of the melody- and a vocal that was accompanying the music... "I just want you for my own, More than you could ever know," oO Sounds like... classical music? Oo he pondered to himself, oO Rather lacking in finesse... not that I'm an expert... Oo. "Make my wish come true," He reached an open doorway, where a list mist- likely holographic mist was spilling out around his feet. He peered into the room to find himself looking at some kind of winter wonderland- a kind of ice palace decorated with ornate icicles hanging from the ceiling and floor, the walls were decorated with snowflake patters. Temporarily blinded by the sheer beauty of the sight in front of him, it took him to several seconds to spot a truly gruesome sight. Somebody had been impaled by a particularly solid icicle, yellow blood dribbling from the wound and pooling on the floor, where the body was laying flat. At that the precise moment, the music came came to some kind of climax, having slowly built in intensity: "All I want for Christmas..... iiiiiiiiiiiiiiis yoooooooooooooou!" The song changed track, bursting into some kind of high-energy, jaunty song as Theo darted forward and crouched down next to the man. He reached out a hand, intending to touch the icicle, but stopped himself- realising that he risked contaminating what he already suspected was the scene of a crime. Standing back up, he realised who he was looking at. The Zaldan he was seeking. oO Wonderful! Bloody wonderful! Oo he thought, the irony of his bitter rebuttal not lost on him. He tapped his comm badge, not looking away from the body. Whittaker: =^= Whittaker to Taybrim. =^= Taybrim: ? Whittaker: =^= We've got another situation. =^= :: they were never going to catch a break. =^= Another body has turned up. A Zaldan male. =^= :: beat :: Computer, identify Zaldan male. Computer: DNA scan identifies Zaldan male as Akal-Teke, guest. Whittaker: =^= Did you get that, sir? =^= Taybrim: ? :: Theo was about to reply to his Captain, when a shrill, piercing scream interrupted him. Whirling around, he saw a Benzite lady stood in the doorway, looking at the sight before her, hands against her blue, tendril-laced cheeks. Judging from her elegant gown that appeared to be made of ice- or a fabric approximation of it- and an outrageously large blonde wig on top of her head, she was a guest. oO Oh no... Oo. :: Whittaker: =^= Sal... I'll be right back, I'm about to become a murder suspect. =^= :: he tapped his badge again and started walking towards the Benzite. =^= Ma'am, this is not what it looks- =^= :: The rest of his sentence was drowned out by another high pitch scream as the Benzite fled down the corridor in terror, her wig slipping off her bald head and landing on the floor in an unceremonious heap. :: Whittaker: =^= Whittaker to Taybrim. Sal, I'm going to need a lawyer.... =^= Taybrim: ? TAG -- Commander Theo Whittaker Executive Officer Starbase 118 Operations/USS Columbia C239203TW0
  4. ((USS Blackwell, Conference Room 1)) ::Ensign Verato Sarjak sat up straight in his chair, hands clasped before him on top of the table in the Conference Room aboard the USS Blackwell. Around him all the officers sat, waiting for the Admiral and Captain to show up and address them. It was a dicey situation they all found themselves in. One in which he himself was admittedly curious to see how it all played out.:: Verato: oOIt’s a deadly game we all play out here on the outskirts of space, isn’t it Verato? It’s a dangerous balancing act of the will and mind, of truth and lies, of war and peace out here on the frontier of it all? So much more exciting than playing it safe wouldn’t you think Verato?Oo ::Just then the conference room doors finally slid open, snapping him back to reality as Captain Zaekia and Admiral Renos entered the briefing room together. As they sat at the head of the table, Verato shifted his full attention away from his personal demons back to the grim matters at hand.:: Zaekia: Alight. Thank you all for attending. I appreciate we’ve all just been through quite the ordeal but we need answers. We need to know this vessel is fit for purpose and won’t let us down again like it has here today. R’Ven: response Zaekia: Engineering, let’s start with you. How bad is the damage and how long will it take us to complete repairs? Yesna: ::Studying her notes::The damage is not as bad as first thought engines can be back up within the next couple of hours and the deflector will take around five hours to get it back up and running, but when we do return to a space dock I would recommend a full replacement. The power systems will need a few tweaks and bypass as we fix the dish. We could do all this with the help of the Consortium within 12 hours and we can be underway again. ::Verato did not think highly of the Consortium. Truly, he never had. But no matter how swift and charitable the Consortium might prove to be in helping repair the Blackwell, even the vaguest whiffs of undesirable intent he and the others had experienced thus far, was enough to put him on edge. Afterall, it was in Verato’s experience that such gestures, though sometimes noble enough in appearance, often times came with much more costly and unspoken price tags than one could easily afford.:: Verato: oOThen again, when one makes a deal with the ‘devil,’ it often doesn’t end well for the soul. Isn’t that right ,‘Old Friend?’Oo ::A grumble in his gut and a sour taste in his mouth were the only responses he received or needed.:: ::The Admiral appeared to sour at this news slightly, but then Captain Zaekia peculiarly responded, as if somehow aware of nirs thinking on the matter.:: Zaekia: I know but we need their help, Admiral. ::Looking around slightly at some of the other officer's faces, he wondered if any others had found this a bit odd. He wasn’t sure what to make of it frankly. There was a beat of silence between the two highest ranking officers, before the Captain cleared his throat again and carried on with the briefing, perhaps a bit bluer ‘around the gills’ for whatever had just transpired.:: Zaekia: Sorry. Alright, let’s move on. I think we have a pretty good sense of where the ship is at right now and what sort of repairs timeline we’re looking at. Thank you, Ensign Yesna. How are things going with regards to the investigation into what happened? ::As he listened, Verato nevertheless felt that same gently irreverent tug at the back of his own craw that reminded him of the events at the product launch. He had not heard back from the mysterious young researcher Shalena yet. In truth, he wondered if he ever would. Perhaps she was not as eager to speak with Starfleet as he had surmised. Or, worse yet, maybe something unpleasant had happened once they had been summoned back by the Captain to regroup. Either way, he had seen no sign of her and his personal comm had had no message awaiting him. It was something deeply troubling to him nonetheless.:: Shayne/Thoran: Response(s) R’Ven: Response ::Listening to the others report, Verato wondered even more than ever what the next plan of attack would be moving forward. Suddenly, blinking his eyes at that last notion, he realized the thought struck him too as a bit odd. Verato: oOHere you are Verato, a diplomat, an envoy of peace, sitting here awaiting a new strategy of ‘attack,’ a new angle to work and win over your enemy. Maybe there really is more of Sar Jonn to your personality now than you realize. Perhaps one way or another, no matter what we truly desire, we always find ourselves casting lots for our fortune and grasping at scraps of fate like spare rags. Perhaps you are no longer your own Verato. perhaps you never were. Perhaps none of us ever truly are.Oo TAGS ANY TBC ---------------------------------------- Ensign Verato Sarjak Diplomatic Officer USS Blackwell NCC-58999 Andaris Task Force A239403LA0
  5. ((Security Complex, Deck 11, USS Blackwell)) Thoran: Three...two…one ::He swung round, charging into the room. Like most of the security complex, the room was filled with a dim blue hue. In the centre of the room was a moderately sized table, surrounded by seven orange coloured chairs, which Jarred knew from experience were not the most comfortable. Entering the room he found Chief Raewa and Crewman Dairro facing off against Crewman Vesen, a male Vulcan, currently positioned next to the window at the opposite end of the briefing room. As they turned to face Jarred, Vesen took the opportunity to flee, vaulted across the table and knocking Jarred out of the way.:: Raewa: ::Shouting:: Get after 'im. 'e's not 'imself ::Although suffering from a serious case of what the hell, Jarred turned heel and chased after the Vulcan. It was short lived chase, as Raewa dashed passed him, and with all his might launched himself at Vesen, with all the elegance and graze of a hippo, tackling Vesen to the ground.:: ::Vesen was the stronger and arguably fitter of the two, but Raewa, having been involved in more than a fair share of fights deftly overpowered the Vulcan with a couple of well placed firm fists to the face, knocking him unconscious. Dusting himself off as he rose, he turned to Jarred.:: Thoran: ::Agast at what he had just witnessed:: Chief, what is going on? What was all that about? ::He could just imagine filling out the report now.:: oO I stood by whilst the senior enlisted in security beat the recent transfer into submission. Oo ::Dairro tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Jarred half turned, half twisted to her, finding a weak, disarming smile across her face.:: Dairro: We’re not quite sure exactly what happened sir. The Chief, Vesen and I were just at our stations when all of a sudden. Raewa: 'e started askin' if we could 'ear a drum beat. So I tell 'im nah, can't 'ear aahhht. Dairro: He seemed to get quite flustered, started talking about snake eyes and a horde of monkeys. Raewa: Said summit abaht everythin' will revert ter normal once the game is finished. Dairro: All of a sudden he blurted out the name Alan and a lion and rushed into the briefing room. ::Jarred was finding it hard to keep up with the rendition of events. Vesen had only recently transferred to security from ops, but had a flawless service record and came highly recommended. Adding to that, he was a Vulcan and they weren’t supposed to feel, were they? And definitely not act like this, something strange was going on.:: Thoran: Did he do anything out of character or different before he started to talk about the drums? Neither of you heard anything at all? Raewa: ::Looking across to Dairro:: Nah sir. We were just sat 'ere, busyin' ourselves. Only sound we could 'ear was these consoles buzzin' away. ::Rubbing his face, Jarred thought it over. It was definitely going to make for one of his more interesting reports. In the meantime he had to do something about Vesen before he came to and caused himself or others any harm.:: Thoran: Thank you both very much. Chief, could you give me a hand taking him to sickbay. Dairro, keep an eye on things here, let me know if anything else like this happens across the ship. ::Raewa and Jarred sidled over to were Vesen lay, and very carefully heaved him up, supporting him between them, his head flopping onto his chest. With his feet dragged behind him, the pair slowly half carried, half dragged Vesen out of the complex, along the corridor and to the nearest turbolift. With a swish the doors opened allowing them entry to the turbolift.:: Thoran: Sickbay, deck 18. ::Jarred eased himself against the wall, his shoulders and arms feeling like fire after carrying Vesen and let out a sigh. The Chief shot him a look. It was the disapproving look most officers got from senior enlisted crew.:: Raewa: If I 'adn't of, 'e could 'ave ended up runnin' 'round 'is quarters chasin' lions. ((Primary Sickbay, Deck 18, USS Blackwell)) ::Jarred snorted at the remark. From what he had already been told, he wouldn’t have been too surprised if that had been the next development. Jarred closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before hauling himself back up with Vesen. The doors to the turbolift opened and the pair continued on their march to sick bay. Several crew watched as they stumbled by, Jarred now starting to get out of breath. Reaching sickbay one of the nurses directed them to a bed, which with a one two three the pair were able to heave Vesen onto. A few moments later, the nurse joined them, medical tricorder in hand and started making circles about Vesen’s head with it.:: Nurse: What has happened here? Thoran: I’ll leave Chief Raewa here to fill you in. Thank you nurse and ::Turning to Raewa, patting him on the shoulder.:: Thank you for your uh assistance Chief. -------------------------------- Lieutenant Jarred Thoran Acting Chief of Security Andaris Task Force, USS Blackwell NCC-58999 A239405JT0
  6. G’Renn: Well Mr. Wilmer, it seems that removing that metal fragment may have been meaningless. But something tells me the captain has a plan. ::Though Nate would never acknowledge their imminent doom verbally, part of him wondered if perhaps her fears in this matter were not unfounded. One minute thirty seconds was not enough time to get back to Charlie, to tell her that he loved her. He would not be able to send a message to Kael to tell her to grow up to be an honorable young woman—though he had no doubt she would.:: ::Nate had only enough time before their explosive porkchop filled doom, to rest a comforting hand on G’Renn’s shoulder and offer the only hope he had left.:: Wilmer: Zaekia’s a Starfleet captain. They always have something up their sleeve.
  7. Dar: =/\= We can send engineers to help. We do know a thing or two about warp cores=/\= Zaekia: =/\= That would be appreciated but don’t put yourselves at unnecessary risk. =/\= ::Caring for the welfare of others to the last. Now that was a Starfleet captain.:: Computer: Warp core breach in one minute thirty seconds. ::Threatening to detonate in an absurdly short amount of time. Now that was a Starfleet vessel.::
  8. ((This is aMSPNPC post by @Kurt Logan and I think it is absolutely fantastic. One of his best sims! Very well done )) ((Par'tha Expanse, Beta Quadrant, Burellion, Consortium Head Quaters)) ::It was far to sweet and far to bubbly for her tastes but Carna kept sipping the drink the hosts had called 'Champagne' when ever one of them walked past. Fortunately she didn't have to do it for much longer as various waiting staff were already moving round the room with trays of replacement drinks:: ::As the waiter moved past Carna caught his eye causing a knowing half smile to form on his face. His tray was almost filled with half drunk glasses of Champagne and a couple of replacement drinks, placing her glass on the tray she selected a locally made fruit punch which her taste buds had far more liking towards:: ::Gazing around the room after the conversation she had been a part of drifted away naturally, Carna spotted others from various companies all here for this Consortiums launch night. They had relocated to the Expanse wishing to open up new areas of trade, after the inhabitants dealings with the Romulans it was a healthy change to have people also from outside Expanse wishing to be a part of and not dominate this region of space and the people within it:: ::Guests were now starting to gaze out of the floor to ceiling window now daylight had faded, that wasn't accurate as the Red Giant that Burellion orbited around gave it almost blinding light during the day. That dropped to what most would call daylight after the sun set, and at night the red glow of the sky kept the planets night at a twilight level:: ::Arriving earlier Carna was thankful for her peoples adaptation to their own planet, as just as here her planet was subject to blinding daylight. However they didn't have a Red Dwarf to blame but radiation in the upper atmosphere that multiplied the light from their sun. Over their evolution they had developed a third eye lid that acted to filter the light of even the brightest day thus alleviating the problem:: :: If the physiology of the Vulcan's had been known to her she would have been fascinated by that similarity between the races. Being a Doctor had long been her dream but unfortunately Medical school proved that was not to be, however a transfer to 'Provisions' while not having the glamour or respect of a qualified Doctor did mean that the Medical field was still at her finger tips:: ::Walking over to the almost floor to ceiling windows that lined the outside of the lounge they were all in, she looked out over the vast landscape of buildings that made up the Consortiums grounds. A true triumph of Burellion architecture as well as efficient building practices had this whole complex up and running in a matter of months:: Carna oO Maybe I should talk to them about other areas and not just Pharmaceuticals Oo ::The window she stopped at showed a ghostly shadow of herself as she looked out, the light red colour of her skin which along with her protective eyelids were a gift of her planets radiation:: ::She had seen the full extent of the complex as she was shuttled in earlier in the day along side the other representatives for the negotiations tomorrow when the Consortium official began trading. This time no one was against anyone else, trying bargain someone out of a deal. There was no finite resource to play for, Carna wasn't stupid and did realise that no resource was infinite but on this occasion she didn't have to bet against others mearly represent House Larokon:: ::Of course that didn't mean she couldn't spoil the waters for them as coming out of this obtaining the drug treatments that the Consortium produced, which were massively ahead of anyone else in the Expanse, with a good deal was one thing. Having a better deal than the rest especially House Tadere well that was the best win of all, and she had succeeded far more often than she had failed:: ::Three new arrivals caught her attention and all three were wearing the same uniform:: Carna oO Federation, Star Fleet. Are they here to buy or just watch Oo ::She had heard of them, seen reports and been told stories regarding them but she had never seen any of them till now. The pale one of the three appeared to be in charge with the way he spoke first and introduced the other two. A blue skinned female and a dark haired human made up the trio, at the moment they were not in her sights or her concern a Consortium manager was. Turning on her warm smile Carna walked her high heeled shoes in his direction, her Burellion styled business suit cut to accentuate her toned physique and above average height:: ::To some trading on your looks was shallow but to Carna what ever advantage she could get was worth getting. Standing close to the Consortium Manager she cast a quick eye across to the Federation trio then turned her full attention to the Manager, which during the conversation she managed to drop a few tit bits of information against House Tadere:: Malan Carna House Larokon Representative Pharmaceutical Division Chief Negotiator and Buyer As simmed by Ensign Kurt Logan – Security/Tactical Officer USS Blackwell, NCC-58999 E239203KL0
  9. @Randal Shayne Dude, I think anytime you use the word "bulbous" in a post, that's worthy of appreciation. I loved it! ((Bridge, Deck 1, USS Blackwell)) ::Shayne nodded to an ensign near him, conveying that she should try and speak to engineering. She complied, and Shayne turned back to the problem at hand. Their priorities were aviate, navigate, communicate, in that order. They needed to stop this bulbous thing. For the time being, they had to assume that conventional methods of control had failed. What could even begin to slow them down at three quarters impulse?:: Shayne: ::Spewing the idea as it came to him.:: What if we explosively decompressed the forward sections of the ship? It would knock us back, negate some of our inertia. ::It sounded good for a split second, but he realized it would never work. By the time they’d cleared the forward sections of personnel, they might as well be stopped by one of those asteroids. Plus, it wasn’t just the fact that they were maintaining a constant speed; it was becoming increasingly apparent that the Blackwell was losing lateral stability. A sudden decompression of the scale he was suggesting would likely thrust her into a completely unmanageable tailspin.:: Shayne: No, no- strike my last, all. ::What a wonderful first impression to present to Zaekia. Blast it!:: Tu’Peq: Response Zaekia: response ::It was at that moment, that both he and Thoran recognized the same sensor data at the same time. There was one hazard directly in their path and sensors at both helm and tactical lit up like a Christmas tree. Two asteroids, roughly the size of Texas, had collided directly in the Blackwell’s path several hundred meters ahead. An explosive emissive purple cloud sent a shockwave from the center of the collective mass.:: ::Sensors, as limited as they were in their functionality, indicated a large dilithium cache at the center of the largest smashed asteroid. Though this was fascinating stuff, and more than likely could explain the source of the uncontrolled Eichner radiation spike, it would not help them get around their current predicament. If the Blackwell could not regain control of herself in time and collided with either large debris mass, it would spell most certain disaster for both ship and crew.:: Thoran: We’ve got a lot of debris up ahead. If we don’t stop or divert course soon, we’re all going to be in a lot of trouble. Wilmer: Captain, recommend full manual control on helm. ::It was a desperate option, to be sure. At this speed, with such clumsy controls, and with such a dangerous adversary ahead, Wilmer was proposing suicide. Unless their newest helmsman was a force of nature, they’d had it.:: Zaekia: response Wilmer: Tactical, reroute all available power to the main deflector. We can’t go around, we got to go through. ::Why did the universe hate him? Wilmer was right- there wouldn’t be enough time to avoid a collision- their collective best bet was to dive forward, and pray that the deflector would hold.:: Thoran: Main deflectors all primed Commander. Just hope it can take the hits. ::Shayne made sure that the power he’d taken from the replicators and the holodecks was now being filtered into the deflector system- every little bit counted.:: Wilmer: Captain, I’m modulating power from the main deflector to emit a constant, intermittent shock-pulse. Shayne: oO Oh, you brilliant man. Oo ::The shock pulse might just keep the larger objects out of their way. Almost as if they were swatting them from their path. If the deflector was strong enough to keep every asteroid on a harmless trajectory, they might just make it through the gauntlet. But should even a single rock penetrate Wilmer’s brilliance, their entire plan of attack could easily fail.:: Zaekia: Response Wilmer: Everybody hang on, we’re going to scream our way through. ::There were few things worse than being a passenger. Shayne kept his eyes glued on his instruments, seeking ways to improve their chances. But at the end of the day, it was up to Wilmer.:: ::And then his teeth disintegrated.:: ::The low-pitched tone of the enhanced deflector, combined with the skull shaking vibrations, formed a barrage against his psyche that he was unlikely to soon forget. It was so uncomfortable he could barely stand it. But he forced his mind to stay on the task at hand. Eyes wide with determination, teeth clenched in righteous anger, he attempted to balance the power surges that had begun to show themselves. The strain Wilmer was putting on the EPS grid was likely biblical.:: Ilsam: =/\=Ilsam to Bridge.=/\= ::Shayne could barely hear the call over the deafening white noise.:: Zaekia: =/\=Response=/\= Ilsam: =/\=We have concluded the situation in the Greenhouse, sir, and the patients are being escorted to Sickbay by a nurse. While it will be necessary at some stage to speak further with the patients, at the present time, I find myself free and able to go where I am most needed.=/\= ::He saw it an instant before its effects were known. A preposterously large spike in the main grid alerted him to the disaster unfolding, but not quickly enough to do anything about it. The deflector detonated beneath them, and the ship was flung into chaos.:: ::The randomness of the Blackwell’s newest course made it impossible to brace himself. He was tossed about like a ragdoll in a skydive, smacking a nearby console and a wall with resounding might. For a moment, there were two bridges, two realities, two Shaynes. And then it all came back together with resounding clarity. His lower neck screamed, and for a horrific moment, he wondered if there was damage to his spinal column. With dread, he tried to move his arm. He never thought he’d be so positively overjoyed to see his limb follow his commands.:: Zaekia: response Wilmer: (pulling himself up from the floor and to his seat) Well…we’ve stopped…helm control restored….what’s left of it. ::With great deliberation, Shayne picked himself off the ground. He struggled to his station, and attempted to get an understanding of their condition.:: Shayne: It looks like someone’s taken the nacelles offline. The EPS grid is a disaster zone. Tu’Peq: response Zaekia: response Wilmer: response Tag/TBC… Lieutenant Commander Randal Shayne Helmsman/Ops Officer/Second Officer USS Blackwell NCC 58999 G239202RS0
  10. Bar fight. Love it. The chaos sustains me. Excellent characterization, and the last line made me lose it.
  11. Thank you @Wilmer for this amazing post. I greatly enjoyed getting to learn more about Charlotte. ((Wilmer’s Quarters, Deck 7, USS Blackwell)) ::It had been a fairly short walk from the transporter to their assigned quarters, at least it had felt as such. Charlotte had been so eager to get home to their new ship, that each step had taken less and less toll on her, and of course, journeys were never so bad when someone else was carrying your luggage.:: ::The quarters, were much to her satisfaction, quite adequate. Like usual, Starfleet had drab highlights of gray metal walls and chrome finish. There were all the things that one would expect, a replicator, an ample sized full bed, a couch, a coffee table, and wall monitor for communications, both inter-ship and external.:: ::She did very much enjoy the way her touch was influencing their soon-to-be mutual quarters. Nate’s accent pieces were all memories from the old days, photographs, books, memorabilia, model starships and the like. However, Charlotte had brought with her, several antique old English clocks, and fine pieces.:: ::There was a genuine Louis the 14th chair, complete with gilded armrests and royal red upholstery. This had been a wedding gift from her adoptive mother. Nate’s mother, on the other hand, had given as a wedding present a pram. Charlotte could not tell if this had been a suggestive joke, or more at a stab at her son for already having a child out of wedlock.:: ::Nate’s father had been raised by Vulcans, and his mother had been so uptight and conservative that she might as well have been Vulcan herself. Neither one of them had liked Charlotte very much. On one occasion Nate’s father had even tried to get Charlotte arrested by Federation authorities. But that had been a long time ago.:: ::Charlotte began unpacking and had started by throwing a couple of pillows onto the couch. The pillows themselves were new but retro in design, something out of old the Earth style; complete with 1960’s geometric designs on them. She lit a Vulcan incense stick, and put on some music, something the computer had selected completely at random. It was Bajoran, not that she minded.:: ::It hadn’t take long to unpack the furniture. It would take forever to put away all of her clothes. If only that helpful young crew person who had carried her luggage could have stayed and helped her put away her things. But alas, this was not a luxury liner, nor was it likely to cater to her every whim.:: ::Nate had begun to have an effect on her, ever since she proposed to him last year. She had always decided that she would determine the time and place of their engagement, and now, after years of picking the wrong path for herself, life with Nate just seemed right.:: ::It had taken her forever to get passed her own stubborn headed bossy nature. It had taken even longer than that for her to realize that she was still in love with him. Now all that remained was for Charlotte to find an appropriate wedding dress in ships stores, and her work was done. She trusted Nate to select the venue for their actual ceremony, but she had done all the legwork.:: ::Literally getting down on one knee, she had reverse roles somewhat in Paris and proposed to him. Nate was so taken aback that he had nearly stepped on her hand. He had later explained that her actions had confused him and he thought at first that she had dropped something. His Neanderthal type brain later caught up with what was actually happening and he soon gladly responded with a booming YES.:: ::His resulting retort had startled an older French woman next to them, who looked to them wild mild annoyance, as it had been the middle of the night, and half the city was asleep.:: ::That day had been so perfect, and life with Nate ever since their engagement, was becoming exciting and unexpected with every day they spent together.:: ::When Nate received the offer to return to active service in the Beta Quadrant, they both knew what the answer would be. Nate was happy to go back into space, and Charlie, much to her own surprise was happy to be at his side, and they went with it.:: ::For once, in the many years they had known one another, they were finally on the same page.:: ::It was then that the door chime rang. Charlotte was startled, and had not expected visitors. Additionally, there was no way that Nate would be off duty so soon, nor would he bother to use the door chime.:: ::With an aristocratic bid to enter, Charlotte continued her work, whilst unpacking their things.:: Farnsworth: Come in. Anyone: ((anyone with a PNPC who feels like writing a get to know you, feel free to jump in! I’d love to write with you.)) PNPC Charlotte Farnsworth As written by… Lt. Cmdr. Nate Wilmer Helm Officer E239107NW0
  12. @Alucard Vess giving an evocative description: ::Plasma stream. Otherwise known as superheated nebula gasses. Otherwise known as star farts.::
  13. As we end the Top Sims Contest, we want to make sure there's a place to share your appreciation for the hard work of other community members, including their great writing. So we've set up this forum as an open place where anyone can post a new thread appreciating their fellow members. Simply start a new thread with a descriptive title, and then tag the person you're appreciating in the body of the post! This can be for anything – from a great sim, a quote from a sim, or even someone's OOC work or support. If you're posting a sim, unlike the Top Sims Contest you're welcome to include sims with open tags, and give any background you want on the sim itself. Go wild! Have questions? Post them below and we'll get them answered. And thanks to all of you for being members
  14. @Anath G'Renn wrote this. ((Duty Doctor’s Office - Deck 18, USS Blackwell)) ::Sleepwalking would be the best way to describe Anath the entire day of the memorial service for the lost members of the Blackwell crew who had been lost when the ship had run into that minefield. It was strange, every time she thought that her feelings of grief and anger couldn’t get any worse they always managed to.:: ::When the disaster first happened there was so much raw fury and grief mixed in with the fear and confusion of being caught in the moment, fueled by adrenaline and anxiety. It couldn’t get worse than that. Then came the aftermath and the autopsies. Those hazy memories clouded by stress and a storm of feelings almost felt like one long and very dark nightmare. Having to perform the gruesome task of verifying just how each one had died hit home how very real everything had been. The barely contained despair, the flashes of anger whenever her thoughts turned towards those responsible. It couldn’t get worse than that. Then there was their shore leave on Oscion, a time for relaxation and time with friends. But in the back of her mind she kept remembering the names on the casualty list, whenever she was finding herself enjoying their shore leave. She always drifted back to the people who would have no more shore leaves, and no more missions either. No matter what she did she couldn’t escape that nagging feeling. It couldn’t get worse than that.:: Nurse: Doctor G’Renn, it is time for shift change! The rest of us are going to the memorial service. ::She looked up from her desk, pulled back into the present from her world of introspection by the nurse’s voice. Anath nodded quietly and motioned for the sickbay staff to switch out with their replacements. She had tried to build the schedule that day to allow as many people as possible could have the option to attend the memorial service. The massive sickbay felt somewhat off with a meager skeleton crew on watch as was always often the case during shore leave.:: Nurse: Will you be joining us, doctor? G’Renn: Go ahead, I’ll catch up with you… ::Anath handed over the reigns to sickbay to the next doctor on duty before hanging up her lab coat and heading towards the turbolift. As she walked, memories of one of the autopsies played back in her mind.:: ((Flashback - USS Blackwell, Morgue - Two days after the minefield encounter)) ::Anath keyed a sequence of commands into the wall panel, causing the morgue cold chamber to seal back shut. She had just finished the formal set of scans and tests that protocol dictated were done to confirm what she already knew. Ensign Kalto had died of multiple internal injuries caused by a piece of ceiling falling on her. Anath knew very well what had happened as she had been the one to drag the debris off of the ensign and have her moved to sickbay.:: Nurse: Subject scans are being uploaded to the file now. Autopsy report just needs you to sign off on it. G’Renn: Thank you for your help, I’ll handle it from here. ::After the nurse left Anath approached the desk where the autopsy report was open on a desktop monitor. She scrolled through the report to make sure they hadn’t missed anything or filled in any information incorrectly.:: G’Renn: Everything seems right… ::But it wasn’t. Nothing about the situation she was in was right! The autopsy report was filled out correctly and it was not an unusual situation for a doctor to find themselves in, but the whole encounter with the minefield and the alien ships were just all wrong. The damage to the ship, the destruction of the other alien vessel, and the deaths of her crewmates. What for, what meaning did their losses have? Starfleet officers knew the risks of their chosen profession well. The threat of death was omnipresent when exploring the final frontier and defending the Federation from threats. But there was no heroic death or even a meaningful sacrifice for the crewmembers that now occupied the cold chambers in the morgue. Just casualties lost in a tragic accident all caused by some coward’s minefield.:: G’Renn: Computer, confirming details for autopsy report Kalto, Alyssa. Authorization G’Renn Omega 4-5. ::The computer beeped to confirm that it had saved the autopsy report. She sighed and sunk deeper into the chair before glancing around the morgue. There were still autopsies to be done, too many. She never wanted to see the room so full ever again if she could help it.:: ((End Flashback)) ((Corridor - Deck 18, USS Blackwell)) G’Renn: oO Yes, her too! Oo ::When an inquisitive child had asked whether or not their substitute teacher was going to be saved as well that had been her answer. Ensign Kalto had not been dead upon discovery. She was still fighting for life when they found her under a piece of ceiling in the schoolroom. But even getting there in time hadn’t been enough to save her. Anath had promised that she would be safe too, and now she was dead. Names and faces came to mind as she walked down the corridor.:: G’Renn: oO Alyssa Kalto. Ensign. Found in the schoolroom. Oo G’Renn: oO Nigel Buchanan. Ensign. Found in his quarters Oo G’Renn: oO Robert Smith. Petty Officer, 3rd Class. Found in the gymnasium. Oo ::The fire of feelings spread through her, boiling away any sense of tranquility and order in her mind left as she stepped into the turbolift. She couldn’t face it! Growing up on Vulcan had made it hard to find ways to express her emotions, and it was coming back to haunt her now especially. She couldn’t take it, or let the others see her in such a state.:: G’Renn: Deck 12 ((G’Renn’s Quarters - Deck 12, USS Blackwell)) ::Once she was in her quarters she stepped into the small bedroom off of the common area in her quarters and let out a long sigh. She pulled off her uniform jacket and the teal shirt beneath it, untucking her gray undershirt before falling onto the bed and letting out a long sigh. The grief was driving her up the wall, and she felt powerless to stop it. Only making things worse was the realization of how poorly prepared she was revealing herself to be.:: ::The uniform shirt now laying on the foot of the bed was teal. The color of the Science department in Starfleet, as well as the Medical department. She was a doctor, first and foremost! While she might like to focus on the good she did, having studied medicine to keep as many people as possible from experiencing the same experience of a loved one’s death that she had gone through so many years before. She always assumed that she could handle the inevitable times when she would lose patients. It wasn’t her fault, she had done everything that she could to save them. But that thought did little to calm the whirlwind of emotions inside. Part of her wondered if she really had what it took to be a doctor at all if she couldn’t deal with the inevitable downside of being a healer. Questions kept popping up as Anath set her head on her pillow and let the exhaustion win. Could she truly expect to never lose a patient? How was she going to cope when she did? If she couldn’t handle that fact, did she have any business wearing that uniform?:: ::Those were questions she had to answer, but she didn’t have to answer them right away.:: Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Anath G'Renn Medical Officer, USS Blackwell - Andaris Task Force A239402AG0
  15. The very first post by a newly assigned ensign! Great work. ((Deck 6 Cargo Bay 2)) ::Emilia had begun her day bright and early, her morning routine consisted mainly of making sure her appearance was at her standard of "acceptable". Which lead to her re doing her hair half a dozen times until she came across the style that was correct for her. Emilia left her quarters that morning with her hair done up in a neat bun that rested just above the centre of the back of her head with her fringe hanging just above her eyebrows, similar to what she did for her final exam. As of now, she was holding a PADD in her hand and was given the assignment to do a full inventory of cargo bay 2. It wasn't exactly the assignment she first had in mind, but that didn't mean Emilia wasn't going to try her best, she wants to do everything she can to make a good first impression on her superior officers after all. Emilia had made her way through almost the entire cargo bay, but she'd lost track of time. For all she knows, she could've been at this for more than four hours. As she lifted the lid off the second last container she noticed that it was almost empty. She brought her PADD close to her body once again and began mumbling as she typed up the list of items in the storage container.:: Krugol: Condensed helium gas... EPS coil... medical tricorder... ::Emilia spoke as she examined the items carefully with some level of uncertainty in her voice.:: Krugol: I hope I've done this right... ::Emilia placed her PADD on a nearby closed container and used her free hands to close the crate she had just finished inventorying, she picked up her PADD and walked over to a console that was located near the entry of the cargo bay.:: Krugol: Computer, display internal chronometer. ::Emilia yawned as she access the ship's internal chronometer.:: 13:47... that sure kept me busy. ::With a nervous sigh Emilia left the cargo bay. As she walked she straightened her uniform and fixed up her hair almost constantly doing her best to look as presentable as possible. She passed by multiple crew members but tensed up and didn't say anything lest she make a fool out of herself. As she finally approached the turbolift through the seemingly endless corridors, she nodded to a human passerby who was no doubt in some sort of rush, well, either that or he just had a naturally quick walking pace. She tapped on the panel to the turbolift and the doors swung open. She stepped into the turbolift and spoke.:: Krugol: Deck one ((Deck One, Corridor)) ::with that command she had liftoff, in no time the doors swung open once again, unsure of which way she needed to go to get to the bridge she brought up a display of the internal schematics of deck 1 on a nearby panel outside the turbolift:: Krugol: Okay... so left. :: Emilia passed by several people on the way to the bridge and held tightly to her PADD. But suddenly a noise rang through Emilia's mind. She stopped to think for a second and realised the ship went to red alert.:: Krugol: oO Crap! I have to get to the bridge! Oo ::Her pace increased drastically and after less than a second after this increase in pace, her ears began to ring, all she could hear other than the ringing was a small explosion from one of the nearby bulkheads, followed by a small shower of sparks as Emilia was thrown into a wall to her left, she had lost grip of her PADD as her back hit a neighbouring bulk head. A mild pain shot through her body as she landed face first onto the floor. She stayed there for a few seconds but eventually sat up as dizziness overtook her and she lost her train of thought of what happened. Reprocessing everything she noticed the blaring red lights flooding her vision. Her hand moved to her left arm where she noticed a somewhat severe burn, as if trying to stop the pain and discomfort currently pulsating throughout her body. Emilia stood up and regained her bearings, with her vision still a little fuzzy, Emilia looked around the corridor to assess the damages in her area, thankfully it was nothing major, just a few singed inner platings and burnt carpet. Something had caught her attention, there had been a cry in pain from someone just down the corridor. Emilia winced as she stood up and began slowly moving further down the corridor, only to find that a crewman was lying on the floor with his head bleeding. His lack of movement made Emilia assume the worst of the situation. As she made her way to his side, she started to panic and checked his pulse, quickly forgetting about her PADD, thankfully he was still alive, but he was badly hurt.:: Krugol: what do I do! ::she spoke with obvious panic in her voice.:: he's injured, injured people got to... sickbay! ::With this she tapped her comm badge.:: Krugol: =/\= Ensign Krugol to sickbay, ::she tried to speak with confidence:: we have several casualties and a possible fatality on deck one! =/\= Anyone in Sickbay: response ::she moved her head to the man's chest, he was breathing for now, but she had no idea if he'd stay that way. If anything went wrong she could try to resuscitate the man, she learned basic CPR as apart of her field medic training, but for now, all she could do was wait for the medics to get to deck one.:: _____________ Ensign Emilia Krugol USS Gorkon Security/Tactical officer G239409EK0
  16. (( CO's Office - StarBase 118 )) :: It had been another uneventful morning in the Operations Tower Hub. That was, until Theo had been alerted to the distress call from the civilian cruise liner Meridia. He had braced himself for an emergency situation, but had pleasantly surprised- and amused- by the fact that the vessel's engines had shut down because of targ urine. He had had to stifle a chuckle, but had allowed himself a grin at the news. Now the Meridia was safely ensconced in the cradle of the station's docking bays, where Rusty Hael's engineering teams were busy repairing the damage. For once, Theo was privately relieved he was no longer an engineer. He did not envy those unfortunate officers who were now draining targ urine from every square inch of the Meridia's warp drive. Theo left it an hour or so before he ascended from lowest level to the door of Captain Taybrim's office. He rang the doorchime and the door opened a moment later. Poking his head around the doorframe. Seated behind his desk was Sal Taybrim, waving him in.:: Taybrim: Theo! Just the person I was hoping to see! :: Whittaker: Have you heard the news? :: with an unabashed grin. :: It was targ urine. How on earth... :: he trailed off into a snicker. :: ::Sal nodded, leaning forward.:: Taybrim: I did just speak with Captain Doreln. She was mortified to find out the cause. I get the feeling that her transition from moving freight around to taking a command where the vast majority of the people onboard are arrogant passengers has been a difficult one. Whittaker: I think I can relate. :: not the first time, he was reminded of the vast difference :: beat :: I hear that the Captain invited us for dinner aboard the Meridia this evening as a show of gratitude? ::Sal nodded an assent.:: Taybrim: I already accepted her invitation. That's where you come in ::his dark eyes sparkled:: I promised her that I wouldn't be the only guest. I need you to wrangle the senior staff - get them to come to dinner tonight. Whittaker: That shouldn't be a problem. Although I hope that this dinner will be better than the last one we attended. :: he made a motion with his fingers indicated himself and Sal, while also recalling the misadventure almost two years before, a relic of which lay cooing quietly in a habitat near the Captain's desk. Taybrim: She told me dress nicely. I'm not quite sure what that means, but it is a fancy dinner on a very impressive cruise liner, so perhaps encourage everyone to wear whatever finery they feel most comfortable in. :: For the first time since Theo stepped foot into Sal's private sanctum, his smile wavered. To many Starfleet officers 'finery' meant dress uniforms, and he was no fan of the white monstrosity that the service made it's officers and enlisted personnel wear. He visibly blanched at the idea. :: Whittaker: :: with a note of despair. :: Dress uniforms? Taybrim: ::He chuckled evenly:: Oh goodness, no! No dress whites. Just... nice dress. :: Relieved, the smile returned to Theo's face. A formal dinner without that hated uniform was an idea that he could get behind. He nodded eagerly. :: Whittaker: I think I can arrange that. Do you have any idea what you will be wearing? :: he asked, as he mentally decided on the ruby red suit he had brought several weeks previously. He had been looking for an excuse to wear it. :: Taybrim: ::He shook his head:: I'm sure you have better fashion sense than I do. ::He leaned forward and spoke in a nearly conspiratorial tone:: I actually like dress whites because I don't have to think about what to wear. Whittaker: :: with a raised eyebrow. :: You are a strange, strange man, Sal Taybrim. :: a chuckle. :: What time is dinner? Taybrim: ? Whittaker: Understood. I'll have everybody dripping with opulence. Taybrim: ? (( Time Jump )) (( Executive Officer's Office - Starbase 118 )) (( Twenty Five Minutes Later )) :: It had not taken Theo long to finish composing the memorandum to the senior staff and nor had he found it particularly taxing. He had had to alter some of the Beta and Gamma Shift duty rosters to ensure that every members of the Operations Tower's senior staff could attend- again not a difficult endeavour. He was sat behind his desk, checking the wording of the message he was about to send out and sipping leisurely from a hot cup of black, gingerbread-flavoured coffee. :: To: Operations Tower Senior Staff From: Commander Theo Whittaker, Executive Officer, Starbase 118 Operations Tower Subject: Formal Dinner This Evening. You are cordially invited to a formal dinner aboard the starliner Meridia this evening at 1900 Hours, Local Station Time. This is a show of gratitude from Captain Doreln for our quick response to her distress call. Attendance is mandatory, although you are not required to wear dress uniforms. Please arrive promptly and dressed appropriately. Any dietary requirements must be passed on to the Meridia's head of catering no later than 1600 Hours. Bring your best smile! :: Smiling at the last comment, he was satisfied he had not missed any important detail and thus, he sent the message. Sitting back in his chair, he hoped the night would pass without a major incident. The last thing he wanted was for a repeat of last year's tribble convention. oO I hope Sal keeps a lock on Moby's habitat. Oo he thought with a snicker. :: (( Time Jump )) (( Meridia's Berth - Starbase 118 Main Hangar Bay )) (( Time Index: 1855 Hours, Local Station Time )) :: Theo caught sight of his reflection in the transparent aluminium window and- not for the first time since donning his suit- checked himself over. The suit fit perfectly and his hair was laid perfectly. A good job since there was enough product in it for five people. He had swept his fringe to one side in a prepatory style. The stubble he had allowed to grow into a quasi-beard had all been shaved away thanks to a last minute trip to a barber shop in the Commercial Sector's San Francisco District. He had gone back and forth about whether to keep the stubble or not, reasoning that without it, he looked like a 16 year old boy- not exactly something he wanted to project given his position in the station's command structure. In the end, however, he could not deny that he looked smarter without it and so he had had it removed. oO I'll just have to look like I'm too young for the academy. Oo. He nodded approvingly at his reflection, touching his hair for good measure. oO I look good! Oo he thought to himself. Turning to the gangway that led from the departure lounge and towards the Meridia, he realised that he was not the first to arrive. A moment later, it dawned on him that they had seen his display of vanity a moment ago. He could feel the heat in his cheeks as they turned red with embarrasment. :: Whittaker: E-evening! Did you see that just now? :: he jerked a thumb to the transparent aluminum. Aitas: It is my job to be observant, sir. Whittaker: I don't do that all the time, I really don't. oO Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP! Oo. Aitas: ::still smiling:: You look good, sir. I find myself feeling as if I didn't have quite enough to properly prepare. -- Commander Theo Whittaker Executive Officer Starbase 118 Operations / USS Columbia C239203TW0
  17. (( USS Constitution - Main sick bay )) ::Vulcans rarely registered awkwardness, and T'Reshik even more rarely than most, but as she sat beside Saveron's biobed with her eyes resolutely ahead, she found herself gaining an intimate understanding of the word.:: Saveron: Lieutenant. It is agreeable to know that you were not affected by the same affliction as myself. ::He said at length.:: :: T'Reshik was silent for a moment before responding. :: T'Reshik: Commander. It is acceptable to see you recovered. Saveron: Recovering. I believe that you will be operating at full efficiency prior to myself. T'Reshik: ::After another pause:: To be candid, Commander, I see no reason for us to interact on anything other than a professional basis. ::She didn't look at him.:: Saveron: I believe that it is within the scope of professional interactions to be cordial to one another. However if you find conversing with me disagreeable, I will not insist. ::He replied evenly.:: Your basis for objection is our previous interaction. T'Reshik: It is not that I do not appreciate your previous actions - on the contrary, they were far above the call of duty and executed with commendable sensitivity. ::She paused.:: I mean in the sense that you - put aside your own personal discomfort in order to preserve my wellbeing. :: T'Reshik trailed off. A pause hung between them.:: Saveron: T’Reshik, ::he said gently:: whilst it was not an encounter I would have chosen purely for it’s own sake, I was not discomforted. I am aware that you would have preferred such had not been necessary, but I had not considered that it would affect future interactions. ::That did make T'Reshik look round.:: T’Reshik: I had. Hence my concern. ::Saveron shrugged.:: Saveron: If your concern is over the potential expectation of future interactions, I have none. I find your low-grade antagonism towards the universe at large personally disagreeable. However I do not see that there should be any logical obstacle to our having a functional professional relationship. ::T'Reshik actually seemed to relax a little at this.:: T’Reshik: That is agreeable to hear, since I find both your ethics and your style of communication overly accommodating. We would be poorly-matched as a couple. ::Pause:: As colleagues, however - providing neither of us expect anything more - I concur with your assessment. Saveron: Then we have an understanding. ::His eyes drifted shut. T'Reshik stared at him for a moment more. She had the strangest urge to thank him, but didn't give in to it..:: T'Reshik: We do. ::She looked ahead again, and the silence was easier now.:: END Lt jg T'Reshik Science USS Constitution D239311T10
  18. (( Starbase 118 - Chief of Security’s Office) ((Timeframe - right after Ishani ends her meeting with Sakon)) :: Having just finished her first meeting with former Orion Syndicate Slave Sakon, Ishani had knew she needed to talk to Aitas before she made her decision regarding Sakon’s treatment, specifically where his treatment would take place. She wasn’t super close to Aitas, but they were colleagues and certainly friendly if not actual friends and so Ishani felt that she owed Aitas a chance to hear her out regarding her desires about her father’s treatment. Ishani had told him that she wouldn’t harm his treatment based on its effect on Aitas, and she fully intended to keep her word on that matter, but that didn’t mean she would allow his treatment to harm Aitas’ recovery either. Which is why she was now in the privacy of her own office typing up a carefully worded message to Aitas requesting a fairly urgent meeting. Hopefully Aitas would have time to meet with her soon. :: (( Timeskip - 1600 hours)) :: Ishani still wasn’t quite settled into her new office by the time their meeting took place. Knick knacks and personal touches remained in boxes stacked up next to her desk and the furniture was a hodgepodge mix between the ultra spartan remnants of her predecessor and her own far homey and personable pieces moved over from her former office. It probably wasn’t the best place to have a potentially emotional meeting, but given that this was a meeting between colleagues, rather than one between patient and therapist, meeting in one of Crisis’ treatment rooms seemed even worse. :: ::Aitas couldn’t say she had been utterly surprised by the message; she was her father’s only family left, and thus the only one who might hold any other weight when it came to his treatment. At least for now.:: Kasun: :: At Aitas’ entrance Ishani smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way. :: Thank you for making time for this so quickly. Aitas: He’s my father, I couldn’t do anything less. Kasun: :: Nodding:: Has your father mentioned anything about his plans or what he would like to do? Aitas: We discussed it briefly, I know he wishes to refresh his credentials at the Vulcan Science Academy. Kasun: :: Well at least Ishani wouldn’t be breaking the news to her. :: That’s what he told me as well. He expressed a preference to receive his treatment on Vulcan in order to re up his credentials while also receiving his treatment Aitas: Ah. ::she paused a moment too long.:: Did he tell you when he wishes to return? Kasun: oO He didn’t tell her. Oo :: Ishani sighed. :: He wished to return by the end of the calendar year and finish up his treatment on SB 118. :: Not the complete truth. Sakon had been under the impression that his treatment would be done by then; Ishani knew better. :: Aitas: ::she managed an uncertain smile.:: I don’t wish to hamper his treatment, but I also can’t fault his desire to be around for the birth of his grandson. Kasun: Grandson!? :: Ishani couldn’t hide the shock in her voice. :: You’re pregnant!? Aitas: Yes. It was...a bit of a surprise. Kasun: :: She gave Aitas an irritated look; this was no doubt what her father had been referring to during their meeting. :: That would have been good to know when you volunteered to go down into the mine earlier. oO No wonder Theo looked uncomfortable with the idea. Oo Aitas: Doctor Ezo and Commander Whittaker already knew, if they’d felt it was too dangerous they’d have prevented me from going. ::She managed a weak smile. Mirra’s protectiveness was not something to be dismissed.:: But as I was the only expert on the Syndicate there, it was...complicated. Kasun: :: Ishani raised an eyebrow. :: I think that would be understating things a bit. Aitas: I’ve no desire to go any such missions in the future, trust me. Kasun: oO Good. Oo :: Ishani took a deep breath and pushed aside her irritation. :: Do you have any issues with your father returning to Vulcan for his treatment? Aitas: ::she smiled weakly:: Yes, but nothing that should actually affect his decision. Kasun: I am inclined to grant his request, but obviously as he does not exist in a vacuum, whether he stays or goes affects more than just himself. :: Any irritation from before was gone from Ishani’s expression; she gave Aitas a kind and understanding smile. :: I do have to take any impacts on you into account. It would be irresponsible for me to not do so. Aitas: I’ll miss him, but...I don’t think either of us is in a position to make up for twenty years lost right now. And it’s not as if he’ll be gone forever. ::She clenched one of her hands at that thought, nails digging into her flesh.:: :: Ishani stayed silent, her expression one of comfort and kindness. :: Aitas: I’ll be glad once he’s back, though. I- ::she paused, uncertainty creeping into her expression.:: Just hope he isn’t disappointed with my life here. Kasun: :: Ishani took a breath. She could certainly understand the desire for parental approval, and, although she was long past the age where she was driven by it, the want for parental approval had been the source of probably three fourths of her psychiatric practice. :: Given the circumstances, whatever disappointment he allows himself to feel is directed at the situation rather than you. Aitas: ::smiling weakly:: He used to hope that I’d grow up to be a scientist. He always cared so much for his work. Not that he’d admit to it. Illogical emotions and all of that. ::She could still remember how his face lit up whenever he found some new tidbit of insight.:: Kasun: Every good parent wants what they feel is the best for their child, and frequently what is actually best is both something different and usually picked by the child. Parents usually have years if not decades to come to terms with this, but your father never got that chance. He is on top of having been a slave and forcefully removed from your life for nearly two decades dealing with the choices you have made regarding what you want to do with your life after the fact. Aitas: ::she nodded, and gave Kasun a grateful smile.:: You make a good point. I just hope we can figure all of it out. It’s a lot to work through. Kasun: ::Ishani smiled kindly back. :: Mourning for the what ifs and what was lost is normal given you and your father’s circumstances, but we can’t change what has happened and I believe your father understands that. Aitas: I’m sure he intends to be completely logical about it... Kasun: :: A slight smirk graced her lips. :: Him being a Vulcan both helps and hinders in these kinds of circumstances, yes. Aitas: Indeed. But I shouldn’t take too much of your time. Was there anything else you wished to ask me about? Kasun: No that was it. I’m assuming that you have already made arrangements for your own mental care? :: Aitas was far better about that then several others she could name on the station. :: Aitas: I’ve my counseling appointments arranged already. I can at least admit that I need them. Kasun: Good. :: She gave Aitas a playful smile. :: Some people never get that far. Aitas: And thank you, Doctor. I’m glad to know my father has someone so skilled looking out for him. Kasun: :: kindly :: You’re welcome. ---------------------------- Lt. Commander Aitas Chief Intelligence Officer Starbase 118 Ops O239307A10 & Lieutenant Ishani Kasun MD, PhD Chief of Security Starbase 118 Ops O239306IK0
  19. (( Electric Dream )) ::Somewhere, in another life, Laris' face was wet. He barely felt it. He hadn't cried since he was eight years old. It was hard to believe he was doing so now.:: Laris: oO She wasn't blessed. She was just... an alien. They don't even believe in Her. Oo Ombro: ::dubious:: oO She stood before them. They could reach out and touch Her. They did Her bidding. Oo Laris: oO They're mortals. They came from other worlds to - to take charge. To make us like themselves. Oo Ombro: oO Oh, little one, there is so much you don’t know. Oo Laris: oO I am threespirited. The shaman told me... I was sacred. I could walk in the world of thought. I followed the laws, passed the trials that earnt me my name- is this all it meant? That I could do the exact same thing as some unbeliever from another planet who just happened to have the right... abilities? Technology? Is this what I have devoted my life to upholding? Oo Ombro: ::sighing, annoyed:: oO You know little, kitten. You mewl of knowledge yet you balk at truth. What do you think the first Woman of Light was? She was fire incarnate, made of the stars. Like the sun feeds plants and makes them grow, She raised the H’inji from the dirt. But she taught her Guardians that fire burns, that even suns die. Only today, you met the Woman of Light, and now you have heard Her truth. She was a god, but She left her creations believing She had erred, and her protection was the little she could offer us. She returned to Her kind. As it was then, so it is now. Oo Laris: oO But the shaman... told me... Oo Ombro: oO If your “shaman” has inferred misinformation as sacred teachings, this reflects only on the H’inji’s fanciful, unprepared minds. If you have received some ability you share with a strange smelling “unbeliever” from the stars, it may be little more than an error of time and biology. Oo Laris: oO An... error of biology? This - if what you say is true, then... I can't get my head around this. Oo Ombro: oO As I said, kitten, fire burns. Perhaps you can take that teaching to your shaman. Oo Laris: oO If there's nothing special about me, if there's nothing special about us - what do I do? Where do I go from here? Oo Ombro: ::barking laughter:: oO Little one, you are so concerned with how you’ve been wronged, that you cannot see the jungle for the bushes! You are beget from a being of the stars, who was beget from a people with powers that eclipsed even Her’s. She has returned, yet you see “aliens.” You’ve accepted the role of “threespirit,” yet you are limited by the history it represents. If the Woman of Light were here, she would swat you on the nose and tell you to sit in the corner like the good little pet you are. You are a fierce animal with a mind given to you by a god, yet you whine like the domesticated herd you come from. You are H’inji! That is the Woman of Light’s legacy. Oo ::The ombro's presence began to move away.:: Laris: oO Wait. Please. I have questions. Oo Ombro: ::not looking back:: oO I emerge from a long and painful nightmare. My belly is empty and my claws twitch for the hunt. I will leave you to your electric dream, but when you leave this place you will not be able to find it again. If you try, I will kill you. Hunt well, kitten. Oo ::Laris didn't reply. Footsteps sounded in the distance, and he felt the dream recede around him, like the fading of sunlight at the end of the day. He took his hand away from the white stone, stunned.:: Drajev: Laris! ::Laris turned; Drajev faltered for a moment, perhaps seeing his red-rimmed eyes, but then he stormed forward and flung his arms around him and Laris could not help but return the gesture.:: Drajev: ::pulling away:: The monastery is on fire. I thought you'd been hurt. ::pause:: What is this place? Laris: Drajev - the sunmother - she's an alien. Was an alien. A scientist. This is... where she worked from. ::Drajev looked around, expression inscrutable. After a moment, his eyebrows twitched upwards a bit.:: Drajev: Gotcha. Laris, do you think this place is fireproof? Because if it's not, we should probably think about getting out of here. Laris: Are you serious? Did you even hear what I just told you? ::Drajev took his wrist and started dragging him toward the tunnel again. Laris offered only a moment of resistance, too stunned to do much else.:: Drajev: I heard. You think it changes anything? Laris: You think it doesn't? :: Drajev glanced up at the ceiling, then stopped, turned to face him.:: Drajev: Laris, ever since we made first contact with aliens, we've always known that the universe might reveal more truths than we were previously aware of. The Sunmother created us, right? That's still true? ::Laris nodded.:: Well then. Does where she came from change who she is? Or who we are? Laris: You don't get it. She's no different from the aliens out there. She didn't perform miracles, she just... used machines. It was all just machines. Drajev: Love. To the small-minded, miracles can look every bit like advanced technology. It doesn't mean we should abandon faith. ::Laris felt Drajev grip his hand, and remembered what the ombro had said. Maybe it wasn't over, after all.:: Drajev: Let's go. We both have questions, and there are people out there who might be able to help us answer them. Also, let's not forget that this place is also on fire. Laris: Right. Fire. Yep. :: Hand in hand, the two pelted back down the tunnel, and for a moment Laris could not tell whether he was on two feet or four. He glimpsed the Sunmother once last time, dressed in the garments of the aliens, bright and smiling among them - and then in a flash of light they were gone.:: end Drajev and Laris Nesterovi Heralds of a new age simmed by Lt jg T'Reshik Science USS Constitution D239311T10
  20. ((USS Gorkon – Deck 7 – Sickbay)) :: Mek'Tuk swaggered into sickbay with a wide grin. The swagger was nothing new and the grin was often common but it had been a permanent feature since he'd received his orders to join the Gorkon. This was the third ship that he'd served on since leaving the Empire and joining Starfleet and it was by far the most powerful and, perhaps more importantly, it had an excellent name.:: ::His previous assignments were on the USS Salem and USS Des Moines. He'd joined the Salem as a member of its SAR - Search & Rescue – team before transferring to the Des Moines as a Ranger medic. Initially, Mek'Tuk had been dismayed when he joined his first ship and discovered that it was an Ambassador class. Mek'Tuk was a warrior and wanted nothing to do with Ambassador's or their private vessels, so it had come as a pleasant surprise when he was informed that the class was actually a Heavy Cruiser. It was certainly old but it was still strong and powerful, befitting his presence. He'd seen far older birds-of-prey service the Klingon Houses to deadly effect.:: ::He'd enjoyed his time on the Salem so much that when it came time for a new assignment he had requested a transfer to her sister ship, the USS Des Moines. It just so happened that the Des Moines held a platoon of Starfleet Rangers who here short a medic, and as Mek'Tul was trained as both healer and warrior he was a perfect fit. He considered himself truly favored by the ancestors.:: ::Now he had again been assigned as a Ranger as its Medic, but this time on the USS Gorkon. Mek'Tuk's It was this news that had given birth to his wide grin.:: :: Often Starfleet had a strange fascination with giving its ships weak names. Why would anyone name a ship, for example, Stargazer? Who wanted to spend there entire time aboard ship gazing at stars? Even for Starfleet, there must be a limit to such fruitless endeavors. Then there was the Enterprise and while every Klingon respected the name, even those who had fought the vessel, the respect was due to the reputation. They respected the fighting spirit of Kirk, the sacrifice of Garratt and the honor Picard. They did not respect the meaning of the name. As far as Mek'Tul could figure out the name's meaning had something to do with a monopoly of business, like it should be crewed by Ferengi.:: ::But with the Gorkon, Starfleet had gotten it right. It was a magnificent name, taken from the Klingon battle fleet commander and later Chancellor who had brokered alliance between the Federation and Empire, only fitting that Mek'Tul serve on her. When Mek'tul had gotten an opportunity to see the ship class his grin had widened to the point that his face barely contained it. It was a Sovereign-class battle cruiser… officially Starfleet called it an Explorer, but Mek'Tul was no fool and in a Klingon fleet it would have been listed as a Battle Cruiser. It was the prestige of his new assignment that caused Mek'Tul to be in such high spirits when he entered the sickbay. However, he did not get far before he was confronted by a member of the medical team.:: EMH: Please state the nature of the medical emergency? :: The doctor looked at Mek'Tul and not seeing any injury, suggested.:: EMH: Are you here for a physical? :: Mek'Tul chuckled.:: Mek'Tul: Indeed Doctor, I'm ready for my physical! :: He announced loudly.:: Shall I disrobe here or in your private quarters? :: Mek'Tul tugged at his belt for effect and the human blanched.:: EMH: Private quarters? I am a doctor, not a cheap date! :: Mek'Tul Roared in laughter.:: Mek'Tul: Of course not! There will be blood wine first! :: The Human took a step back.:: EMH: First, No alcohol is permitted aboard the USS Gorkon. Secondly, I am the ship's Emergency Medical Hologram and I do not have personal quarters. :: Another step back.:: If you are not injured I must insist that you leave. Mek'Tul: Hologram? No alcohol? What kind of Klingon ship is this? EMH: The USS Gorkon NCC-82293, is a Federation Starship under the command of Fleet Captain Quinn Reynolds. The nearest Klingon vessel is two light years in that direction. :: The EMH pointed his finger in the direction of the sickbay exit. Mek'Tul shook his head in resignation, Starfleet continued to be a very strange place.:: Mek'Tul: It would not be called a battle if it was easy.:: Mek'Tul said philosophically with a shrug to the confusion for the hologram.:: I am not here for a physical, phantom of the lower deck. I am due to report to the Chief Medical Officer. :: He reached for a Padd and handed it to the hologram.:: Mek'Tul: I am Petty Officer 3rd class Mek'Tul, Son of Kortok, House of Tenalor. I am a Ranger Medic and when not on duty with the 451st, sickbay nurse. EMH: Sickbay Nurse? :: The hologram looked at the Padd with a look of shock.:: Mek'Tul: Indeed, Siren of the Sickbay. Now, where is the Chief Medical Officer? EMH: The position of Chief Medical Officer is currently vacant. :: Mek'Tul frowned. He withdrew his Mek'leth blade from its holster and scratched his ridges with it.:: Mek'Tul: Who activated you? EMH: You can't have a sword in the sickbay! :: Mek'Tul stopped scratching his ridges and looked at the hologram in confusion.:: Mek'Tul: Sword? Do you mean my Mek'leth? It's fine, consider it my scalpel. I am Nurse but, I am a Ranger Medic first. EMH: Scalpel? You can NOT perform surgery with THAT. Mek'Tul: What is the alternative? A Bet'leth? :: Mek'Tul scoffed.:: Don't be ridiculous, the balance would be all wrong. :: Mek'Tul place the blade back in its holster.:: Now, who activated you, Poltergeist of Deck Seven? EMH: Ensign Yiggtissi activated me. Mek'Tul: I assume Ensign Yiggtissi is a member of the medical team? :: The EMH nodded.:: Mek'Tul: And where would the brave Ensign be now? EMH: I am a Doctor, not a secretary. :: Mek'Tul squinted his eye's, showing anger for the first time.:: Mek'Tul: Have you considered a career change to intelligence. :: The EMH huffed at that.:: EMH: I believe he is on the Bridge with Ensign Wakefield, another member of the ship's medical team. :: Mek'Tul hummed and looked around the empty sickbay. Clearly, most of the staff were on leave or off duty.:: Mek'Tul: Very well. I shall return at a more convenient time. :: Mek'Tul turned to leave.:: EMH: Wait. :: Mek'Tul turned back with a raised eyebrow.:: EMH: Could you deactivate me? :: Mek'Tul nodded firmly.:: Mek'Tul: I could. :: With that, Mek'Tul turned and exited the Sickbay. Leaving the sulking Hologram behind him.:: =/\= PNCP Petty Officer 3rd Class Mek'Tul 451st Ranger Medic USS Gorkon Simmed by Ensign Sera zh' Aella Engineering Officer USS Gorkon V239107TZ0
  21. ((CMO's office - Starbase 118)) ((Time index - Night before Keal's party)) ::There was a small crack in the wall. Barely noticeable. It looked more like a chip of paint, probably leftover from when she'd moved her desk the first time and stubbornly refused help to do it. The crack was jagged, but easily fixed. In fact, the more she stared, the more she wondered if it was a crack at all, or just a shadow. All the lights were off, nothing except the soft glow of her monitor at her desk. The desk which she'd vacated about an hour ago, to curl up on the sofa and stare at the wall. Seven hundred souls. Seven hundred rescued slaves. Since they returned to base, Mirra had been working with Ishani and her crisis response team, as well as Aelia and her veritable army of counselors. They'd all been running ragged, offering aide when and where they could. They were exhausted. But...they didn't have her job. After the treatment plan had been developed and implemented, she was approached with a rather delicate situation. That mine had been under Syndicate operation for years. Given the conditions of the rescued workers, life expectancy in the mines varied...but was consistently short. Her job, had been attempting to identify the remains. Cataloging the species in hopes, bringing closure to families who had long ago given up hope of ever finding out what happened to their missing loved ones. Tucked away in her office, she shouldered the burden and began her work. The worst was the before pictures. Smiling, healthy faces with the bold red "Missing" banner, and the date. Some were old enough to be her grandparents. Each match she made would bring a small bit of peace to those waiting at home, but each match took a bit of her soul with it. Mirra had to step away for a moment before she gave it all away. And that brought her to the innocent little crack in her wall. So absorbed in her examination of the curious little crack, she missed the light tapping on the door of her office.:: Zotav: ::quietly:: Mirra...? ::Aelia Zotav had been Mirra's roommate at the academy. Both had majored in medicine, but life had taken them to different paths. Separated by duty for years, they'd recently been reunited, Aelia choosing to move from medicine to counseling, her trained eye took a backseat. Mirra at this moment didn't need a therapist, she needed a friend. She carefully settled next to Mirra, who was staring intently at the wall, knees up and arms wrapped protectively around them. Maximum safety position. Aelia knew what Mirra had been doing, and her heart broke just a little for her friend. Laying her head against Mirra's shoulder, she spoke softly.:: Zotav: ::gently:: How many...? Ezo: ::evenly:: Three hundred and twelve. ::Three hundred and twelve souls returned to their Gods, freed from the mines long before Starfleet ever arrived. Those were the only ones she'd been able to identify, so far. There were countless numbers she hadn't been able to match...yet. She planned to ask Aitas to do some more extensive digging. Some of those people were most likely drifters, no official medical record reports to match them to. There were even more so degraded they would never be identified. They were cataloged in a massive log that hurt to even think about. Those lives would be remembered as a file, on a database somewhere, and nothing more.:: Zotav: ::wrapping her arms around Mirra in a tight squeeze:: You did a good thing. Ezo: ::hollow:: I didn't do anything...I couldn't ::her voice cracked:: Zotav: ::gently:: You brought peace. Closure. ::hugging tighter:: Mirra...they were already gone... ::Mirra took one arm from around her own legs and wrapped it around Aelia. Burying her face into the ocean of inky black curls of her friends hair, and lost the battle against her tears.:: Zotav: ::holding her friend close, her own tears slipped down her face. She kept her voice even:: And now, you honor them with your tears. You've been doing this for hours...alone. Ezo: ::whimpering softly:: So many I can't...they won't match...and...no one will remember them if I can't find them... Zotav: ::softly:: It's alright...you've done everything you can...and we will remember them. We will honor them. ::Aelia moved her hand through Mirra's hair, making soft soothing motions and humming softly. After a few moments, they both managed to stop crying, and the two friends linked hands, each in their own thoughts, but focused on the small crack in the wall.:: Ezo: ::quietly:: I should fix that crack... Zotav: ::tilting her head:: It kind of looks like a happy little bunny...I think it's cute. You should leave it. ::A small smile broke across Mirra's face. No matter how dark the moment, Aelia was never far from the sun. She snuggled closer to her friend, who never ceased to bring Mirra back into the light. Nuzzling her shoulder affectionately, Mirra gazed on her little bunny shaped crack in a new light. Even in the most dire of times, with Aelia's help, she'd work a little harder to find the bunny. In whatever shape it took.:: ------------------------------------------ PNCP Lt. Aelia Zotav Counselor & Lt. Commander Mirra Ezo, MDChief Medical Officer Starbase 118 OpsC239205ME0
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